cannon were trained as nearly as could be upon the approaching boats.
The women soldiers had kissed their children a fond good-bye, and shut
them up in the bomb-proof magazine, away from danger of flying
projectiles.
When the flotilla had arrived within easy range, the young drummer
commenced discharging the battery as fast as he could pull the lanyards.
After him hurried the women, reloading the heated cannon. The roar of
the discharge came re-echoing back from the rocky cliffs repeated over
and over again, and the smoke-clouds temporarily hid the fort from view.
This unskilful volley went wide of the mark, as was to be expected under
the circumstances, and yet inflicted great damage upon the
privateersmen. The thing came about after the following fashion: Upon
the very beginning of the cannonade, the officer in command of the
leading boat had bade his rowers swing their craft directly head on to
the fort, thus presenting as small a target as possible. Those in the
second boat, however, more intent upon watching the course of the
projectiles than anything else, had not noticed this manoeuvre, and
so, before anything could be done to prevent it, came smashing against
the other's gunwale. In the heavy sea then running this was specially
disastrous. The stricken boat had her side stove in, and the on-comer
was overturned. Both crews quickly found themselves struggling in the
water. Well convinced of the hopelessness of continuing their present
assault, the men in the remaining pinnace confined their efforts to
rescuing drowning comrades and getting out of range again as quickly as
possible.
The gale had now increased considerably, and its gathering force gave
promise of still fiercer might. By the time the survivors of the boat
expedition had returned to their ship the day was drawing close to
twilight. Captain Rabentine well realized his double danger. Failing
shelter, which could only be found farther up the harbor, and in range
of the fort's cannon, he must put to sea. He was wild with anger at his
repulse. What would have been his condition of mind if he had known that
the defenders consisted merely of a boy and a few women dressed in
soldier clothes?
Hastily ordering the cable slipped, Captain Rabentine saw to the
spreading of some small storm-sails, and tried to beat out of the
inhospitable harbor. But even here fortune seemed to be against him. The
full flood-tide was running, and although _La Belle Cerise_ strutted
bravely, she could make no perceptible offing. The only road to safety
lay directly past the fort and out the other entrance. The privateer
Captain well knew that one lucky shot might disable his ship, and cause
him to lose control over her. In such a wind and upon such a coast this
meant almost certain death and destruction. But it appeared to be his
only chance, and he had to take it.
Down on the wind swept the privateer. Her decks were awash with foam.
She rolled and pitched like a mad thing. Her guns were lashed fast to
the deck ring-bolts. It would have been suicidal to try to use them in
such a sea. The crew clung to shrouds and railings, gazing ruefully upon
the nearing battlements which they had so unsuccessfully attempted to
assail. In a few minutes they were almost abreast of the green hill.
Scarcely a hundred yards distant were the grinning embrasures, from
which protruded the muzzles of cannon in plain view.
[Illustration: SHE ROLLED AND PITCHED LIKE A MAD THING]
Within the fort Rupert Haydon stood ready, lanyard in hand. The guns had
been more carefully sighted this time, and he felt sure that they could
not all miss such a monstrous mark. One pull upon the blackened cord and
the chances for a prosperous voyage of _La Belle Cerise_ of St. Malo
would be small. For a second he hesitated. Then dropping the lanyard,
cried:
"No, no. It would be murder, not battle."
Seizing the white flag of truce that had already been used in the
preliminary negotiations, and leaping upon the parapet, he waved it to
and fro.
The meaning was instantly comprehended on board of the privateer. Not to
be outdone in courtesy, some sailors, at risk of life and limb,
scrambled aft to their own halyards. As the ship swept by, the proud
ensign of France descended to the deck in salute to the drummer-boy of
Warburton's. Ere it was hoisted again, _La Belle Cerise_ was a receding
speck upon the darkening, storm-swept ocean.
XV
ROGERS' RANGERS
The Famous New Hampshire Scouts of the Old French War
Rogers' Rangers were a famous partisan corps during the old French War.
Besides the regular forces employed, there were irregular or partisan
bodies, composed of Canadian French and their Indian allies on one side,
and English frontiersmen on the other. They acted as scouts and rangers
for either army, guarding trains, procuring intelligence, and
intercepting supplies destined for the enemy. Both were composed of
picked men, skilled in woodcraft, and excellent marksmen. One of Rogers'
companies was composed entirely of Indians in their native costume.
The Rangers were a body of hardy and resolute young men, principally
from New Hampshire. They were accustomed to hunting and inured to
hardships, and from frequent contact with the Indians they had become
familiar with their language and customs. Every one of these rugged
foresters was a dead shot, and could hit an object the size of a dollar
at a hundred yards.
There was no idleness in the Rangers' camp. They were obliged to be
constantly on the alert, and to keep a vigilant watch upon the enemy.
They made long and fatiguing journeys into his country on snow-shoes in
midwinter in pursuit of his marauding parties, often camping in the
forest without a fire, to avoid discovery, and without other food than
the game they had killed on the march. On more than one occasion they
made prisoners of the French sentinels at the very gates of Crown Point
and Ticonderoga, their strongholds. They were the most formidable body
of men ever employed in Indian warfare, and were especially dreaded by
their French and Indian foes.
It was in this school that Israel Putnam, John Stark, and others were
trained for future usefulness in the struggle for American Independence.
Several British officers, attracted by this exciting and hazardous as
well as novel method of campaigning, joined as volunteers in some of
their expeditions. Among them was the young Lord Howe, who during this
tour of duty formed a strong friendship for Stark and Putnam, both of
whom were with him when he fell at Ticonderoga shortly afterwards.
Major Robert Rogers, who raised and commanded this celebrated corps, was
a native of Dunbarton, New Hampshire. Tall and well proportioned, but
rough in feature, he was noted for strength and activity, and was the
leader in athletic sports, not only in his own neighborhood, but for
miles around.
Rogers' lieutenant was John Stark, afterwards the hero of Bennington.
When in his twenty-fourth year Stark, while out with a hunting-party,
was captured by some St. Francis Indians and taken to their village.
While here he had to run the gauntlet. For this cruel sport the young
warriors of the tribe arranged themselves in two lines, each armed with
a rod or club to strike the captive as he passed them, singing some
provoking words taught him for the occasion, intended to stimulate their
wrath against the unfortunate victim.
Eastman, one of Stark's companions when he was taken, was the first to
run the gauntlet and was terribly mauled. Stark's turn came next. Making
a sudden rush, he knocked down the nearest Indian, and wresting his club
from him, struck out right and left, dealing such vigorous blows as he
ran that he made it extremely lively for the Indians, without receiving
much injury himself. This feat greatly pleased the old Indians who were
looking on, and they laughed heartily at the discomfiture of the young
men.
When the Indians directed him to hoe corn, Stark cut up the young corn
and flung his hoe into the river, declaring that it was the business of
squaws and not of warriors. Stark was at length ransomed by his friends
on payment of L100 to his captors.
During the Revolutionary war Stark's services were rendered at the most
critical moments, and were of the highest value to his country. At
Bunker Hill he commanded at the rail fence on the left of the redoubt,
holding the post long enough to insure the safety of his overpowered and
retreating countrymen. At the capture of the Hessians at Trenton he led
the van of Sullivan's division, and at Bennington he struck the decisive
blow that paralyzed Burgoyne and made his surrender inevitable.
Skilful and brave as were the Rangers, they were not always successful.
The French partisans, under good leaders, with their wily and formidable
Indian allies, well versed in forest strategy, on one occasion inflicted
dire disaster upon them.
Near Fort Ticonderoga, in the winter of 1757, Rogers with 180 men
attacked and dispersed a party of Indians, inflicting upon them a severe
loss. This, however, was but a small part of the force which, under De
la Durantaye and De Langry, French officers of reputation, were fully
prepared to meet the Rangers, of whose movements they had been
thoroughly informed beforehand. The party Rogers had dispersed was
simply a decoy.
The Rangers had thrown down their packs, and were scattered in pursuit
of the flying savages, when they suddenly found themselves confronted
with the main body of the enemy, by whom they were largely outnumbered
and of whose presence they were wholly unsuspicious. Nearly fifty of the
Rangers fell at the first onslaught; the remainder retreated to a
position in which they could make a stand. Here, under such cover as the
trees and rocks afforded, they fought with their accustomed valor, and
more than once drove back their numerous foes. Repeated attacks were
made upon them both in front and on either flank, the enemy rallying
after each repulse, and manifesting a courage and determination equal to
those of the Rangers. So close was the conflict that the opposing
parties were often intermingled, and in general were not more than
twenty yards asunder. The fight was a series of duels, each combatant
singling out a particular foe--a common practice in Indian fighting.
This unequal contest had continued an hour and a half, and the Rangers
had lost more than half their number. After doing all that brave men
could do, the remainder retreated in the best manner possible, each for
himself. Several who were wounded or fatigued were taken by the pursuing
savages. A singular circumstance about this battle was that it was
fought by both sides upon snow-shoes.
Rogers, closely pursued, made his escape by outwitting the Indians who
pressed upon him--such at least is the tradition. The precipitous cliffs
near the northern end of Lake George, since called Rogers' Rock, has on
one side a sharp and steep descent hundreds of feet to the lake. Gaining
this point, Rogers threw his rifle and other equipments down the rocks.
Then, unbuckling the straps of his snow-shoes, and turning round, he
replaced them, the toes still pointing towards the lake. This was the
work of a moment. He then walked back in his tracks from the edge of
the cliff into the woods and disappeared just as the Indians, sure of
their prey, reached the spot. To their amazement, they saw two tracks
towards the cliff, none from it, and concluded that two Englishmen had
thrown themselves down the precipice, preferring to be dashed to pieces
rather than be captured. Soon a rapidly receding figure on the ice below
attracted their notice, and the baffled savages, seeing that the
redoubtable Ranger had safely effected the perilous descent, gave up the
chase, fully believing him to be under the protection of the Great
Spirit.
By a wonderful exercise of his athletic powers, Rogers, availing himself
of the projecting branches of the trees which lined the rocky ravines in
his course, had succeeded in swinging himself from the top to the bottom
of this precipitous cliff. It was a fortunate escape for him, for if
captured he would surely have been burned alive.
In this unfortunate affair the Rangers had eight officers and one
hundred men killed. Their losses, however, were soon repaired, and they
continued to render efficient service until the close of the war.
XVI
THE PLOT OF PONTIAC
How Detroit was Saved in 1763
The long contest between England and France for the right to rule over
North America, which lasted seventy years, and inflicted untold misery
upon the hapless settlers on the English frontier, was at last brought
to an end. England was victorious, and in 1763 a treaty was made by
which France gave up Canada and all her Western posts.
With the exception of the Six Nations, the Indian tribes had fought on
the side of the French, whose kind and generous course had won their
affection. But the claims to the country which they and their
forefathers had always possessed were utterly disregarded by both
parties. Said an old chief on one occasion:
"The French claim all the land on one side of the Ohio, and the English
claim all the land on the other side. Where, then, are the lands of the
Indian?"
The final overthrow of the French left the Indians to contend alone with
the English, who were steadily pushing them towards the setting sun.
Seeing this, and wishing to rid his country of the hated pale-faces, who
had driven the red men from their homes, Pontiac, the great leader of
the Ottawas, determined--to use his own words--"to drive the dogs in red
clothing" (the English soldiers) "into the sea."
This renowned warrior, who had led the Ottawas at the defeat of General
Braddock, was courageous, intelligent, and eloquent, and was unmatched
for craftiness. Besides the kindred tribes of Ojibways, or Chippewas,
and Pottawattomies, whose villages were with his own in the immediate
vicinity of Detroit, a number of other warlike tribes agreed to join in
the plot to overthrow the English. Pontiac refused to believe that the
French had given up the contest, and relied upon their assistance also
for the success of his plan.
All the English forts and garrisons beyond the Alleghanies were to be
destroyed on a given day, and the defenceless frontier settlements were
also to be swept away.
The capture of Detroit was to be the task of Pontiac himself. This
terrible plot came very near succeeding. Nine of the twelve military
posts on the exposed frontier were taken, and most of their defenders
slaughtered, and the outlying settlements of Pennsylvania and Virginia
were mercilessly destroyed.
On the evening of May 6, 1763, Major Gladwin, the commander at Detroit,
received secret information that an attempt would be made next day to
capture the fort by treachery. The garrison was weak, the defences
feeble. Fearing an immediate attack, the sentinels were doubled, and an
anxious watch was kept by Gladwin all that night.
The next morning Pontiac entered the fort with sixty chosen warriors,
each of whom had concealed beneath his blanket a gun, the barrel of
which had been cut short. His plan was to demand that a council be held,
and after delivering his speech to offer a peace belt of wampum. This
belt was worked on one side with white and on the other side with green
beads. The reversal of the belt from the white to the green side was to
be the signal of attack. The plot was well laid, and would probably have
succeeded had it not been revealed to Gladwin.
The savage throng, plumed and feathered and besmeared with paint to make
themselves appear as hideous as possible, as their custom is in time of
war, had no sooner passed the gateway than they saw that their plan had
failed. Soldiers and employes were all armed and ready for action.
Pontiac and his warriors, however, moved on, betraying no surprise, and
entered the council-room, where Gladwin and his officers, all well
armed, awaited them.
"Why," asked Pontiac, "do I see so many of my father's young men
standing in the street with their guns?"
"To keep the young men to their duty, and prevent idleness," was the
reply.
The business of the council then began. Pontiac's speech was bold and
threatening. As the critical moment approached, and just as he was on
the point of presenting the belt, and all was breathless expectation,
Gladwin gave a signal. The drums at the door of the council suddenly
rolled the charge, the clash of arms was heard, and the officers present
drew their swords from their scabbards. Pontiac was brave, but this
decisive proof that his plot was discovered completely disconcerted him.
He delivered the belt in the usual manner, and without giving the
expected signal.
Stepping forward, Gladwin then drew the chief's blanket aside, and
disclosed the proof of his treachery. The council then broke up. The
gates of the fort were again thrown open, and the baffled savages were
permitted to depart.
Stratagem having failed, an open attack soon followed, but with no
better success. For months Pontiac tried every method in his power to
capture the fort, but as the hunting-season approached, the disheartened
Indians gradually went away, and he was compelled to give up the
attempt.
In the campaign that followed, two armies were marched from different
points into the heart of the Indian country. Colonel Bradstreet, on the
north, passed up the lakes, and penetrated the region beyond Detroit,
while on the south Colonel Bouquet advanced from Fort Pitt into the
Delaware and Shawnee settlements of the Ohio Valley. The Indians were
completely overawed. Bouquet compelled them to sue for peace, and to
restore all the captives that had been taken from time to time during
their wars with the whites.
The return of these captives, many of whom were supposed to be dead, and
the reunion of husbands and wives, parents and children, and brothers
and sisters, presented a scene of thrilling interest. Some were
overjoyed at regaining their lost ones; others were heartbroken on
learning the sad fate of those dear to them. What a pang pierced that
mother's breast who recognized her child only to find it clinging the
more closely to its Indian mother, her own claims wholly forgotten!
Some of the children had lost all recollection of their former home, and
screamed and resisted when handed over to their relatives. Some of the
young women had married Indian husbands, and, with their children, were
unwilling to return to the settlements. Indeed, several of them had
become so strongly attached to their Indian homes and mode of life that
after returning to their homes they made their escape and returned to
their husbands' wigwams.
Even the Indians, who are educated to repress all outward signs of
emotion, could not wholly conceal their sorrow at parting with their
adopted relatives and friends. Cruel as the Indian is in his warfare, to
his captives who have been adopted into his tribe he is uniformly kind,
making no distinction between them and those of his own race. To those
now restored they offered furs and choice articles of food, and even
begged leave to follow the army home, that they might hunt for the
captives, and supply them with better food than that furnished to the
soldiers. Indian women filled the camp with their wailing and
lamentation both night and day.
One old woman sought her daughter, who had been carried off nine years
before. She discovered her, but the girl, who had almost forgotten her
native tongue, did not recognize her, and the mother bitterly complained
that the child she had so often sung to sleep had forgotten her in her
old age. Bouquet, whose humane instincts had been deeply touched by this
scene, suggested an experiment. "Sing the song you used to sing to her
when a child," said he. The mother sang. The girl's attention was
instantly fixed. A flood of tears proclaimed the awakened memories, and
the long-lost child was restored to the mother's arms.
THE END
STRANGE STORIES FROM HISTORY
Each Post 8vo, Illustrated, with Introduction, 60 cents.
AMERICAN HISTORICAL FICTION FOR BOYS AND GIRLS
These books tell thrilling stories of the personal life and heroic deeds
of Americans in the great struggles of Colonial times, the Revolution,
1812, and 1861, which have welded together and built up the American
nation. They are full of a close human interest and a dramatic quality
which cannot be imparted in compact histories, although these tales are
usually founded upon actual historical events. They enlist and hold the
attention of readers, and they also clear the historical perspective and
convey lessons in courage and patriotism. Mr. George Cary Eggleston's
successful "Strange Stories from History" deals in part with heroes of
other nations, but these books, while similar to that in many respects,
tell of those whose gallant deeds gave us the America of to-day.
The following are the titles:
STRANGE STORIES OF COLONIAL DAYS. By Francis Sterne Palmer,
Hezekiah Butterworth, Francis S. Drake, G. T. Ferris, Rowan
Stevens, and others.
STRANGE STORIES OF THE REVOLUTION. By Molly Elliot Seawell,
Howard Pyle, Winthrop Packard, Percival Ridsdale, and others.
STRANGE STORIES OF 1812. By W. J. Henderson, James Barnes, S.
G. W. Benjamin, Francis Sterne Palmer, and others.
STRANGE STORIES OF THE CIVIL WAR. By Robert Shackleton, W. J.
Henderson, Capt. Howard Patterson, U.S.N., L. E. Chittenden,
Gen. G. A. Forsyth, U.S.A., and others.
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Transcriber's Note:
Minor punctuation errors (e.g. periods instead of commas) have been
corrected without note. Inconsistent hyphenation and capitalization have
not been corrected.
Illustrations have been moved to directly after the corresponding
paragraph. An advertisement has been removed from the beginning of the
book, as there is an identical one at the end, and a duplicate title
page has been removed from between the introduction and the beginning of
Chapter I.
Decorative italics (e.g. on chapter subtitles) have not been represented
in the plain-text versions of this book.
The following corrections were made to the text:
p. 32: extra hyphen removed (Tommy-Five-Canoes to Tommy Five-Canoes)
p. 152: Jar to Jaar (_Nieuw Jaar_)
p. 159: He to he (he seized a silver bowl)
p. 165: thout to thou (canst thou not me trust)
p. 166: missing close quote added ("There was no fun in calling on a
parcel of old _vrouws_,")
p. 174: extra close quote removed (lash of the slave-whip.)
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End of Project Gutenberg's Strange Stories of Colonial Days, by Various