BESIEGED IN FORT RIDGELY
The remainder of that afternoon and the following night passed without
serious alarms, but it was heavy with labor for the little garrison. The
roofs of the storehouses and of the barracks for enlisted men were
covered with earth to protect them against fire arrows, and their sides
were loop-holed. Earth and log barricades were erected at various points
overlooking the heads of ravines. Little could be done to protect the
officers' frame quarters or the log stables and outbuildings, which lay,
much exposed, at the western corner of the fort. Early in the evening
Major Galbraith's Renville Rangers came into the fort, forty-five
strong, weary with a twelve-hour forced march from St. Peter, where they
had been overtaken by the courier sent to recall them. A large majority
of these men remained loyal to their duty during the ensuing days but a
few of them, their slumbering ferocity roused by the reports of the
uprising of their savage kindred, skulked away and joined the hostiles,
committing before they left an act of dastardly treachery. Several small
cannon, in charge of the gallant Ordnance Sergeant John Jones, of the
United States regular army, were placed in commanding positions in the
fort, and that night a heavy chain guard was posted all around the
place. But, though several false alarms were given, no Indians appeared,
and the night passed in reasonable quiet. Mrs. Briscoe, still too
overwhelmed with dumb grief to do more than mechanically comply with the
arrangements made for her and Annie by Al and her friends, passed the
night not uncomfortably in the hospitable but over-crowded home of the
Smiths; and Al slept with a dozen men and boys, including Wallace, on
the floor of the store below, his musket and revolver beside him.
The early part of the next day was spent like the one preceding it, in
further strengthening the barricades and buildings, in cleaning weapons,
and, beyond that, simply in endless discussion of the ghastly events of
the past few days and uneasy speculation upon the future. Though many of
the refugees would have gladly given all that remained of their
shattered fortunes to get to St. Paul or some other place of assured
security, the attempt was not to be thought of, for it was known that
the hostiles were skulking all about the post and any party which might
start out for the East would undoubtedly be set upon and destroyed. A
few scattered survivors of the massacre continued to come in now and
then, exhausted, famished, often wounded, and always nearly insane from
the unnumbered perils and rigorous hardships through which they had
passed. An attack on the fort was expected at any time, as Lieutenant
Sheehan's words to Al had indicated, and the only cause for wonder was
that it had not come sooner. Indeed, had the defenders but known it,
Little Crow had been urgent in the councils of the Indians for an
overwhelming assault on Fort Ridgely on the evening of the eighteenth,
immediately after the bloody defeat of Captain Marsh's detachment. But
some of his more cautious followers opposed the plan on the ground that
many of the warriors were still out over the country, murdering settlers
and destroying property, so that the full strength of their forces could
not yet be brought against the fort. This view was eagerly sustained by
the strong element among the hostiles who were opposed to the whole
outbreak on principle, seeing in it nothing but ultimate disaster for
their people, yet who did not dare openly to champion the cause of the
whites for fear of being summarily dealt with by their more violent
associates. This element hoped that a delay in the attack on the fort
might enable the whites to gather a sufficient force there to repulse it
when it should be made, and assuredly the delay had rendered it possible
for the defenders to place the post in a much better state of defence by
the afternoon of August 20 than it had been two days before.
It was about one o'clock on that hot, still afternoon when Al and
Wallace stepped out of the Smiths' store, having just finished their
dinner. They were about to start over to the storehouse of the fort,
where some work was still being done, when Wallace noticed a loose horse
wandering down into one of the ravines not far from the store.
"That's one of our horses," he exclaimed. "He must have slipped his
halter. If he goes far the Indians will catch him. Come on; let's get
him!"
Followed by Al, he dashed into the stable for a halter and then started
on a run for the ravine. The latter was quite wide and thickly fringed
with bushes and small trees, while the bottom of it was carpeted with
luxuriant grass, which the horse was nibbling as they came up. But their
appearance startled him and with a snort he leaped past them and
galloped on some distance further, when he again halted. The boys
followed, Wallace this time approaching more diplomatically and saying
in a soothing tone,
"Come, Frank; come boy! Nice boy!"
"He'll give you a jolt in the ribs if you get too close," warned Al, as
he noticed the animal begin to edge his hind feet around in the
direction of Wallace.
But Frank was not so mischievous as he looked; for in a moment Wallace
had the halter on his head and the boys were just about to turn again up
the ravine toward the fort, when, without the least warning, there
sprang from the bushes not ten yards behind them two Indian warriors,
dressed only in breech-clouts and both armed with bows and arrows.
Uttering not a sound they sprang toward the boys with the evident
intention of taking them alive. Al and Wallace were too dumbfounded to
move until the Indians were almost upon them. Then Wallace dropped the
horse's halter and, catching up a heavy stick lying at his feet, hurled
it at the head of one of the warriors. It caught the savage fairly
across the face and he reeled for an instant from the force of the blow,
while his companion, somewhat daunted, halted also. The boys ran at full
speed up the ravine, not even pausing to note the effect of Wallace's
throw, which he afterward admitted had found its mark by pure accident.
They had gone but a few yards when an arrow whizzed past Al's head and
struck in the ground in front of them. They only ran the faster. A
half-dozen more arrows flew by them and then Wallace uttered a cry of
pain as one struck him fairly in the left arm. But by this time,
fortunately, they were at the head of the ravine and only a few feet
from the nearest buildings. Al stole a glance behind him, to see that
their two pursuers had been joined by more than a dozen others; and then
the boys dashed around the corner of the building, out of range,
shouting at the tops of their voices,
"Indians! Indians!"
All over the fort men sprang to their feet, seized their guns, and such
as were not already behind them rushed to the barricades and protected
buildings. But by no means all of them had reached cover when a
scattering, but numerous volley of musket shots and arrows was poured
into the fort, not only out of the ravine from which the boys had
escaped but from a number of others. Al then saw why the Indians
following them had not fired on them with guns, for that would have
spoiled the contemplated surprise of the fort, which their unexpected
appearance in the ravine in pursuit of Frank had, perhaps, precipitated.
The defenders replied to the Indian fire so promptly and vigorously
that the savages fell back from their first rush and concealed
themselves about the heads of the ravines, whence they began a steady
and well-sustained fire. The women and children, however, had nearly all
reached places of shelter, when Al hurried up to the Smiths' store after
his musket and revolver, almost dragging Wallace who, beside himself
with pain, was frantically trying to pull the deeply imbedded arrow from
his arm. They encountered Mr. Smith and his wife, accompanied by Mrs.
Briscoe and Annie, who were fleeing from the exposed store, through
which the Indian bullets were crashing, to the shelter of the barracks
building.
"Here, Al," cried Mr. Smith, thrusting the latter's musket, revolver,
and ammunition into his hands. "Don't go in there; you'll be killed.
Come on, Wallace. God, lad, are you hurt?"
Wallace made no reply, but all of them ran, crouching low, to the
barracks, which they reached safely after a race of a few rods, though
it seemed like a mile with the bullets and arrows whistling about them.
Here Dr. Alfred Muller, the brave assistant surgeon of the fort, aided
by his heroic wife, took charge of Wallace and soon had the arrow
extracted from his arm and the painful, though not serious, wound
properly dressed. It was the first of nearly a score of similar cases
which the Mullers were called upon to treat in Fort Ridgely. Wallace was
much distressed at his inability to take his place with the defenders,
but Al and Mr. Smith had to leave him in the surgeon's charge and hasten
out to join the rest of the active garrison. On their way they
encountered Sergeant Jones, working desperately with several other men
over the vent of one of the small cannon. Al had already wondered dimly
why he had heard none of the cannon firing, but he understood after Mr.
Smith had asked,
"Why don't you open with the guns, sergeant? It would scare the Indians
worse than anything."
"Can't," replied the sergeant, without looking up from his work. "Some
of Major Galbraith's infernal half-breeds have spiked every one of the
guns and then skipped out. But I'll have them in action in a few
minutes."
He continued boring furiously with the drill he was using to clear the
nail from the gun's vent and in a moment he shouted,
"Hooray! She's clear!" Then he added, addressing the cannoneer of the
detachment, "Give them two-second shell and spherical case, fast as you
can work her. Sweep the head of the ravine and aim low. I'll see if I
can open the next one."
Drill in hand, he rushed away toward another gun some distance off,
totally oblivious to the fire opened on him as soon as he appeared on
the open ground. Mr. Smith and Al followed him and took their places
among a number of others already there, behind a log barricade which
stood not far from the next gun and facing the post stables out beyond
the western corner of the fort. The men around them were chiefly
refugees and some of them were greatly excited, firing rapidly and
without aim, while a few others crouched down and did not attempt to
shoot at all. There were no officers among them and no one seemed to be
in command.
"Don't fire without something to aim at, Al," said Mr. Smith. "Wait
till you see the flash of a gun or a movement in the grass and then
shoot at the spot."
Mr. Smith was armed with a muzzle-loading rifle, which he was firing
very slowly and carefully, and Al followed his example, for neither of
them had much ammunition. Mr. Smith knew that the other men with them
were not much better off, for the small arms ammunition supply of the
fort was perilously low, and he tried with some success to induce them
to fire more deliberately. The panic-stricken skulkers, however, he
could not arouse to their duty. They merely lay still and cursed him
when he told them to get up and sneered at their cowardice.
Out to their left, Sergeant Jones was still trying unsuccessfully to
open the vent of the field-gun. Occasionally the boom of the gun which
he had already repaired roared out above the crackle of musketry, and in
the ravine which its fire was sweeping the Indians gave way and retired.
Presently he succeeded in getting the second gun into action, and the
assailants disappeared from that front also; and by the time he had them
all working the Indians had become discouraged. Their fire gradually
slackened, and as night approached, their main body drew off; though
enough warriors still remained in well concealed places to maintain a
desultory fire, and the weary garrison, resting on their arms, caught
but fitful repose through the hours of darkness, for no one could tell
when the attack might be renewed.
The fort remained in a state of siege all the next day until near
evening, the garrison taking reliefs in guarding the defences. But about
dusk the Indian fire ceased altogether, and total silence settled over
the hillsides, which for thirty hours had echoed the turmoil of battle.
Three soldiers lay dead within the fort and eight others of the garrison
were wounded. The quiet which reigned through the night and the morning
of the twenty-second was more disturbing than the uproar which had
preceded it. While the latter prevailed, the garrison at least knew
where their enemies were and what they were doing, while now no one
could tell what new and formidable plans they might be hatching. No one
believed that they had given up the hope of taking the fort and those in
the garrison most familiar with the Indian methods of warfare regarded
it as certain that they were making ready for a final, great assault.
Early on the afternoon of the twenty-second it came, beginning with a
sudden and tremendous volley fired into the fort from all sides at once.
The Indians, in a seemingly countless horde, then sprang up and made a
rush for the fort, which seemed about to be overwhelmed by sheer weight
of numbers. But the garrison was in position and ready for them. Volley
after volley poured into the approaching mass of savages, while the
shells of the artillery tore through their ranks. Unused to bearing the
losses of an open, stand-up fight, the Indians quickly gave way and fled
back to the ravines, where, however, they remained, stubbornly pouring
in an intense fire, which searched every portion of the fort. Little
Crow was some distance behind the Indian lines, directing the general
attack, while on the field itself, Mankato, Good Thunder, Big Eagle and
other veteran chiefs were leading the savage hosts, which outnumbered
the garrison five to one. They pressed the attack relentlessly. Musket
and rifle balls tore through the officers' wooden quarters and other
exposed structures, and now and then a fire arrow whizzed through the
air and struck its blazing torch into one of the frame buildings. Soon
several of the latter, including the Smiths' store, broke into flames
and the roar of the conflagration added to the terrifying confusion of
the battle, while stifling smoke clouds rolled across the field, both
blinding and choking the defenders.
But though the attack was vigorous all along the line, it was especially
so at the western corner of the fort, where the Indians had discovered
that if they could gain possession of the exposed stables they could
command and render untenable a considerable extent of the interior
defences. Al was at the same barricade which he had occupied two days
before, but it was being defended now chiefly by men of the Renville
Rangers, who were fighting as courageously as the best of veterans. All
at once Al saw Lieutenant Sheehan and Lieutenant Gorman, of the Rangers,
run up to the field gun near them, and heard Sheehan cry to the gunners:
"Fire shell into the left of those stables! Set them afire if you can.
The Indians are trying to get in them."
Then the officers ran on to their barricade.
"Boys," shouted Lieutenant Gorman to the Rangers, "those stables on the
right must be burned. Come on! Don't go near the ones on the left; the
cannon is going to knock them to pieces. Hurry up!"
He sprang across the barricade, and a number of the men without the
least hesitation darted after him over the exposed ground in front,
their guns trailing beside them and their heads bent low. Hardly
thinking what he was doing but eager to be of service, Al followed them,
and in the general uproar he did not hear Lieutenant Sheehan shouting to
him to come back. The distance was not great, and though the bullets
seemed to rain around them, almost before he knew it Al found himself
with Lieutenant Gorman and his dusky companions inside the stable, and
none of them hurt. Under Lieutenant Gorman's quick orders, the Rangers
snatched up handfuls of hay, lighted them, and blew them into flames
along the inner walls of the building. But Al, during the moment they
were thus occupied, peered out through an opening in the western end of
the stable. What he saw alarmed him. There were Indians everywhere, just
below the edge of the hill out of the direct line of fire from the fort,
and a number of them were actually along the outside wall of the stable
itself. Al thrust his revolver through the opening and fired three times
in rapid succession, with what effect he never knew, for he heard
Lieutenant Gorman shout,
"She'll burn now. Come on, get away! Get away!"
The inner walls of the stable were a seething mass of flames as they
fled through the doorway, hearing as they ran the crash and explosion of
a shell in the stables beside the one which they had just left. As he
sprang back behind the barricade again, Al felt a hand grasp him roughly
by the arm, and heard Lieutenant Sheehan's voice saying in his ear:
"You young rascal, what do you mean by running out like that and
risking your life? You're not a soldier; I didn't order you out. What
would your mother and sister do if you were killed?"
This aspect of the matter had not occurred to Al before. He began to
reply, in penitent confusion,
"Why,--I don't know, sir. I--"
"Well, hang it, don't do it again, that's all," broke in the officer.
Then he added, while a half smile came over his face, powder-grimed and
wet with perspiration: "Anyhow, you're a plucky youngster. Your father
would be proud of you."
"I should say he is plucky," interjected Gorman. "He started to clean
out the redskins over there, but hadn't time to finish the job."
The two officers disappeared through the smoke up the line, and Al
resumed his methodical musket practice, the Rangers around him now and
then glancing at him approvingly, though he did not notice it.
The fire along their immediate front relaxed a little as the stables
blazed into ruins and the assailants found that they could not utilize
this coveted point of vantage. But the Indians clung to the ravines
with a stubbornness truly amazing, the utmost efforts of the artillery
failing to dislodge them. Presently one of the Rangers kneeling beside
Al, with a gesture of despair threw down his gun,--a cumbersome,
old-fashioned weapon of the type called "Harper's Ferry muskets," with
which all Major Galbraith's men were armed,--and exclaimed,
"No more bullets!"
It was an ominous announcement and one which was very soon followed by
others of similar nature, not only at their barricade, but all over the
fort. Consumed by the rapid fire which had been necessary to hold back
the fierce Indian attack, the small arms ammunition supply of the fort
was almost exhausted, and a few moments more of such work would see it
all expended. A dreadful contingency faced the defenders. With their
ammunition all gone, their assailants would be able to rush in and
slaughter them almost at will. One by one the men of the garrison ran
out of bullets and the fire perceptibly slackened. The Indians quickly
noticed this and, guessing the cause, redoubled their efforts.
Al, thanks to his careful use of ammunition, still had quite a supply
left, but he saw with horror what the general situation was and realized
that unless something could be done to relieve it, they would all be
massacred in a few minutes. Being under no orders and wishing to be with
his mother and sister at the last moment, if this was really at hand, he
left the barricade and ran to the barracks building, where they were
crowded with the other noncombatants. A distressing scene met his eyes
as he entered. Many of the women were gathered in groups, weeping and
wringing their hands, their children clinging about them, while here and
there others knelt, praying aloud or absorbed in silent supplications. A
long row of wounded lay stretched on pallets at one side. But across the
room he saw another group, the only one in which the spirit of courage
and determination seemed still to prevail. To Al's surprise, his mother
was one of this party, apparently perfectly calm and her face lighted by
an expression of noble resolution and self-forgetfulness. With her were
several other women of like firm spirit, and two or three men, all of
them busily absorbed in some occupation around a stove in which a hot
fire was blazing. Al soon found that they were casting musket balls,
their supply of lead consisting of the flattened bullets of the Indians,
which men were gathering up outside and bringing to them to be
re-moulded. The rapidly increasing supply which they were thus preparing
was being augmented by some of Sergeant Jones's artillerymen, who were
opening spherical case shot and removing from them the balls, which
served perfectly for musket ammunition. Although Lieutenant Sheehan and
Sergeant Jones had thought of these providential expedients but a few
moments before, already small quantities of the new balls were being
taken out and distributed to the men in the defences, whose fire,
consequently, was resuming its former volume.
His hope and enthusiasm all returned to Al as soon as he found that a
vigorous defence could still be maintained, and after an affectionate
embrace and a few words with his mother and Annie, he ran back again to
the barricade. It was not long after his return there, and late in the
afternoon, that the Indians once more made a determined effort to storm
the position. Marshalling their forces below the crest of the hill, they
rushed up from the ravines in throngs, brandishing their weapons and
whooping at the tops of their voices; while the flare of their
many-colored war-bonnets and robes, the tiger-like contortions of their
muscular, naked bodies, and the glint of rifle barrel and knife blade,
flashing back the rays of the sinking sun, made a spectacle as wildly
magnificent as it was awe-inspiring. But again the heroic garrison
proved equal to the emergency. From barricade and loop-holed wall the
infantry poured steady volleys into them, while the artillery, holding
its fire until the charge was well under way, lashed their ranks with
case shot. Though they had started forward with the utmost enthusiasm,
they soon began to hesitate and break. With their undisciplined methods
of fighting, the Indian does not live who could withstand such a fire.
In a moment they had halted, and a few seconds more saw them scurrying
back to the ravines, utterly repulsed, while from the throats of the
sturdy little garrison rose cheer after cheer of victory, and men leaped
upon the barricades and tossed their hats in the air. Every one felt
that the enemy had made his last, supreme effort, and such, indeed,
proved to be the case. The Indian fire gradually died away, and by
nightfall silence again reigned over Fort Ridgely, wrecked, smoking, and
shot-torn, but triumphant.
The stables and outlying buildings, with the exceptions of the
guard-house and the magazine, were smouldering ruins; the officers'
quarters were riddled through and through; the storehouse and barracks
were pock-marked and splintered with bullets; nearly all the oxen and
mules belonging to the quartermaster's department were captured or
killed, and seven more wounded men lay beside those who had been injured
two days before. But the fight was won. Through the night the garrison
lay on their arms, watching the glare of distant conflagrations off to
the southeast, where the defeated Indians were burning farm-houses and
stacks as they marched on to the village of New Ulm, sixteen miles away.
Fort Ridgely remained undisturbed, though New Ulm, where two hundred and
fifty volunteer citizens under the command of Judge Charles E.
Flandreau had gathered to defend the town and the one thousand five
hundred non-combatants in refuge there, was desperately attacked next
day, almost wholly burned, and nearly captured by the infuriated
savages. Though the Indians seemed to be gone from their vicinity, the
occupants of Fort Ridgely were obliged to remain inert for several days
longer, and then, at last, on the morning of the twenty-seventh, their
eyes were gladdened by the sight of a large column of troops approaching
from the eastward, and the little army of Colonel H. H. Sibley, hastily
recruited and as yet poorly disciplined and wretchedly armed, but full
of ardor, marched into the quadrangle of shattered buildings amid the
cheers of the men and the tearful thanksgivings of the women. The
never-to-be-forgotten siege was over.