Chapter 2: Escape.
Young Roche lay face downwards upon the rocky floor of the littlecavern, great sobs breaking from him which he was unable torestrain. Fritz, with a stern, set face, sat beside anotherprostrate figure--that of a man who looked more dead than alive,and whose head and arm were wrapped in linen bandages soakedthrough and through with blood.
It was Captain Pringle, their friend and comrade in Fort WilliamHenry, who had elected to remain with the garrison when the othertwo took part in a sortie and cut themselves a path to the forest.Had he remained with them, he might have fared better; he would atleast have been spared the horrors of a scene which would now bebranded forever upon his memory in characters of fire.
What had happened to that ill-fated fort Fritz and Roche knewlittle as yet. They had heard the tremendous firing which hadfollowed whilst they remained in hiding during the day the dawn ofwhich had seen the last desperate sortie. They had at night seenflames which spoke of Indian campfires all round the place, andfrom the complete cessation of firing after two they concluded thatterms of surrender had been made. They had meant to wander deeperand deeper into the forest, out of reach of possible peril fromprowling Indians; but they had been unable to tear themselves awaywithout learning more of the fate of the hapless fort and itsgarrison.
At daybreak--or rather with the, first grey of dawn--they hadcrept through the brushwood as stealthily as Indians themselves,only to be made aware shortly that something horrible and terriblewas going on. Yells and war whoops and the screech of Indian voicesrose and clamoured through the silence of the forest, mingled withthe shrieks of victims brutally massacred, and the shouts andentreaties of the French officers, who ran hither and thitherseeking to restrain the brutal and savage treachery of theirunworthy allies.
Roche had lost his head, and would have rushed madly upon the sceneof bloodshed and confusion; and Fritz must needs have followed, forhe was not one to let a comrade go to his death alone: but beforethey had proceeded far, they met their comrade Pringle dashingthrough the forest, covered with wounds, and pursued by half adozen screeching Indians, and in a moment they had sprung to hisrescue.
With a yell as fierce in its way as that of the Indians themselvesthey sprang upon the painted savages, and taking them unawares,they killed every one before the dusky and drunken sons of theforest had recovered from their surprise at being thus met andopposed.
But plainly there was no time to lose. The forest was ringing withthe awful war whoop. Their comrade was in no state for furtherfighting; he was almost too far gone even for flight.
They seized him one by each arm; they dashed along through thetangled forest by an unfrequented track known to Fritz, halfleading, half carrying him the while. The din and the horridclamour grew fainter in their ears. No pursuing footsteps gave themcause to pause to defend themselves. The centre of excitement roundthe fort drew the human wolves, as carrion draws vultures. Theforest was dim and silent and deserted as the fugitives pursuedtheir way through it.
From time to time the wounded man dropped some words full of horrorand despair. Young Roche, new to these fearful border wars, wasalmost overcome by this broken narrative, realizing the fearfulfate which had overtaken so many of his brave comrades of the pastweeks.
When at last they reached the little cave for which Fritz washeading, and where they felt that for the moment at least they weresafe, he could only throw himself along the ground in an agony ofgrief and physical exhaustion: whilst the hardier Fritz bathed thewounds of their unfortunate comrade, binding them up with no smallskill, and refreshing him with draughts of water from the pool hardby, which was all the sick man desired at this moment.
All three comrades were exhausted to the uttermost, and for a longwhile nothing broke the silence of the dim place save thelong-drawn, gasping sobs of the lad. Gradually these died away intosilence, and Fritz saw that both his companions slept--the fitfulsleep of overwrought nature. Yet he was thankful even for that.Moving softly about he lighted a fire, and having captured one ofthe wild turkeys which were plentiful in the forest at that season,he proceeded to prepare a meal for them when they should awake.
Roche slept on and on, as the young will do when nature has beentried to her extreme limits; but Pringle presently opened his eyes,and looked feebly about him.
Fritz had a little weak broth to offer him by that time, and afterdrinking it the Captain looked a little less wan and ghastly.
"Where are we?" he asked, in a weak voice; "and how many are thereof us?"
"We have only Roche with us. We have been in the forest since thesortie when we cut our way out. We met you the next day with half adozen Indians at your heels. We know nothing save what you havespoken of treachery and massacre. Can it be true that the Frenchpermitted such abominations? The forest was ringing with the Indianwar whoops and the screams of their wretched victims!"
A shudder ran through Pringle's frame.
"It is too true," he said; "it is horrible--unspeakably horrible!Yet we must not blame the French too much. They did what they couldto prevent it. Indeed, I heard the Marquis de Montcalm himselfbidding the Indians kill him, but spare the English garrison, whichhad surrendered, and had been promised all the honours of war and asafe escort to Fort Edward."
"If men will stoop to use fiends to do their work," said Fritzsternly, "they must expect to be disgraced and defied by thesefiends, over whom they have no sort of influence. If men will useunworthy instruments, they must take the consequences."
"Yes; but the consequences have been the massacre of our haplesssick and wounded, and scenes of horror at thought of which my bloodcurdles. They have fallen upon us, not upon them."
"For the moment, yes," said Fritz, still in the same stern tone;"but, Pringle, there is a God above us who looks down upon thesethings, and who will not suffer such deeds to pass unavenged. Weare His children; we bear His name. We look to Him in the darkmoments of despair and overthrow. I am sure that He will hear andanswer. He will not suffer these crimes against humanity andcivilization to go unpunished. He will provide the instrument forthe overthrow of the power which can deal thus treacherously, eventhough the treachery may be that of their allies, and not theirown. It is they who employ such unworthy tools. They must bear theresponsibility when these things happen."
There was a long silence between the two men then, after whichPringle said:
"If they had only sent us reinforcements! I know that we shall hearlater on that the reserves were on their way. Why do we doeverything a month or more too late? It has been the ruin of ourwestern frontier from first to last. We are never ready!"
"No; that has been the mistake so far, but I think it will notalways be so. There is an able man in England now whose hands areon the helm; and though full power is not his as yet, he can andwill do much, they say. Even the more astute of the French begin todread the name of Pitt. I think that the tide will turn presently,and we shall see our victorious foes flying before us like chaffbefore the wind."
"You think that?"
"I do. I have seen and heard much of the methods of France in thesouth--her ambition, her presumption, her weakness. Here in thenorth she has a firmer grip, and Canada is her stronghold. But ifonce we can shake her power there, all will be gone. They say thatPitt knows this, and that his eyes are upon the Western world.France has her hands full at home. A great war is raging in Europe.A few well-planted blows, ably directed from beyond the sea byEngland herself, might do untold harm to her western provinces. Ihope to live to see the day when those blows will be given."
Young Roche began to stir in his sleep, and presently sat up,bewildered and perplexed; but soon recollection swept over him, andhe stumbled to his feet, and joined the other two by the fire.
"Tell us all," he said, as they began to think of supper; for heand Fritz had scarcely broken their fast all day, and nature wasnow asserting her needs. "I would learn all, horrible though it is.Tell us--did Fort William Henry surrender?"
"Yes; there
was nothing else for it. New batteries opened upon us,as well as the old ones. There was a great breach in the wall whichcould have been carried by assault at any moment, and our guns wereall burst, save a few of the smaller ones. They gave us lenientterms. We were to march out with the honours of war, and keep oneof our guns; they were to give us safe escort to Fort Edward; wewere to take our baggage with us. The Marquis showed himself agenerous foe--of him we have reason to think well; but the Indians,and even the Canadians--well. I will come to that in its turn.Thank Heaven, I did not see too much; what I did see will haunt meto my dying day!"
The lad's eyes dilated. It was terrible; but he wanted to hear all.
"All was arranged. The French soldiers marched in and tookpossession. We marched out to the intrenched camp to join ourcomrades there, who, of course, had been included in thecapitulation. In the charge of the French we left our sick, whocould not march. Hardly had we gone before the Indians swarmed inin search of plunder, and finding little--for, as you know, therewas little to find--they instantly began to murder the sick,rushing hither and thither, yelling wildly, waving scalps in theirhands!"
"And the French allowed it!" exclaimed Roche, setting his teethhard; for he had friends and comrades lying sick at the fort whenhe left it.
"It was done so quickly they might not have known. One missionarywas there, and rushed hither and thither seeking to stay them; buthe might as well have spoken to the wild waves of the sea in astorm. But that was not all. In an hour or so they were clamouringand swarming all round the camp, and the French soldiers told offfor our protection either could not or would not keep them out.Montcalm, in great anxiety, came over himself seeking to restoreorder; but the Indians were drunk with blood, and would not listento him. He begged us to stave in our rum barrels, which wasinstantly done; but the act provoked the savages, and they pouncedupon our baggage, which had been reserved to us by the terms of thetreaty. We appealed to the Marquis; but he advised us to give itup.
"'I am doing all I can,' he said to Colonel Monro; 'but I shall beonly too happy if I can prevent a massacre!'"
"Horrible!" ejaculated the young lieutenant. "Oh, better, farbetter, to have held the fort and perished in open fight than to beset upon in cold blood by those fiends!"
"Yes," quoth Pringle sternly; "that is what we felt and said. Butit was too late then. The Indians were all amongst us. They werehere, there, and everywhere. They got hold of the long hair of thewomen and the terrified children, and drew their scalping knivesand menaced them till they shrieked and cried aloud in abjectterror--"
Pringle paused; a spasm of horror shook him. After a brief pause herecommenced in more rapid tones:
"Why prolong the tale? it has lasted already too long. No properguard was provided for us. Why I cannot tell, for the Marquis wastruly horrified at what was going on. Perhaps he thought the stepshe had taken were sufficient, or that the rage of the Indians wasappeased; but be that as it might, when we marched out towards FortEdward, we had no efficient protection, and the Indians were allround us, snatching at caps and coats, and forcing the soldiers togive them rum from their canteens, every drop of which seemed toadd fuel to the fire."
"And you had no escort?"
"None of any efficacy. Monro, our gallant Colonel, went back to theFrench camp to protest and petition; but while he was gone thespark kindled.
"It was the Anenaki chief who first raised the war whoop, and theeffect was instantaneous. They sprang upon us like fiends. Theyseized the shrieking women and children and bore them off to thewoods, killing and scalping them as they ran. We had guns, but noammunition, and were almost exhausted with what we had beenthrough.
"In a moment all was a scene of indescribable horror and confusion.I can only speak of what I saw myself. I was set upon by thesavages; but I could give blow for blow. They sprang after othersless able to defend themselves. I saw a little lad rush screamingthrough the wood. I at once ran after him, and knocked down hispursuer. He clung about me, begging me to save him. I took hishand, and we dashed into the forest together.
"As we did so, I was aware that some French officers, with theMarquis de Montcalm, were rushing up to try to appease the tumult;but I doubt me if their words produced any effect. The boy and Iran on together. Then out dashed a dozen or more warriors upon us,with scalps in their hands--a sight horrible to behold. I set theboy against a tree, and stood before him; but they were all roundus. I felt his despairing, clutching hands torn from round my waistwhilst I was hacking and hewing down the men in front. I heard theshriek of agony and the gurgling cry as the tomahawk descended uponhis head.
"I knew that he was dead, and the rage which filled me drove me onand on with the strength of madness. I had lost the sense ofdirection. I only knew that I had burst through the ring of myassailants, and that I was running my headlong course with thewhole pack of them yelling at my heels. Now and again a cry fromright or left would divert one or another of my pursuers, but someof them held resolutely on, and I knew that my strength musteventually give out, and that only a horrible death awaited me.
"Then it was that I heard shouts in the English tongue, and knewthat some person or persons had come to my rescue. But my eyes werefull of blood, and my senses were well nigh failing. It was only bydegrees I came to know who had saved my life. I shall never forgetit, though I cannot say what is in my heart."
He held out his hand first to one and then to the other of hiscomrades, and they grasped it warmly. Roche lifted his right handand shook it upwards.
"May Heaven give me the chance to revenge this day's work upon thefoes of England! May the time come when France shall drink deep ofthat cup of suffering and humiliation which she has caused us todrink withal; and may I be there to see!"
And yet, before many months had passed, Roche and his companionshad reason to know that their foes could be chivalrous and generousto an enemy in distress.
The comrades lay in close hiding for many days, until the work ofdemolishing the hapless fort had been accomplished, and the French,together with their savage allies, had withdrawn back to their ownlines at Ticonderoga.
There was no dash made upon Fort Edward, as might well have beenthe case. Satisfied with what he had accomplished, and under ordersto permit the Canadian troops to return home in time to gather inthe harvest, the Marquis de Montcalm withdrew his forces when histask was finished. Possibly he felt that victory was too dearlypurchased at the cost of such horrors as had followed the captureof Fort William Henry.
Pringle recovered from his wounds, which, though numerous, werenone of them severe. The spell of rest was welcome to all after thefatigues and privations of the siege. Fritz was an expert huntsman,and kept their larder well stocked; and when they were ready totravel, he was able to lead them safely through the forest, towardsthe haunts where Rogers and his Rangers were likely to be met with.
It was upon a clear September afternoon that they first met whitemen, or indeed human beings of any kind; for they had sedulouslyavoided falling in with Indians, and the loneliness of the foresthad become a little oppressive to Pringle and Roche, although theywere eager to learn the arts of woodcraft, and were proving aptpupils. They were both going to volunteer to join Rogers' bold bandof Rangers, for they had grown almost disheartened at the regulararmy service, where one blunder and disaster was invariably cappedby another; and the life of the Rangers did at least give scope forpersonal daring and adventure, and might enable them to strike ablow now and again at the enemy who had wrought them such woe.
They heard themselves hailed one day out of the heart of the forestby a cheery English voice.
"What ho! who goes there?"
"Friend to Rogers and his Rangers!" called back Fritz, in theformula of the forest, and the next minute a bronzed andbright-faced, handsome man had sprung lightly out of the thicket,and stood before them.
He was a stranger to Fritz, but something in his dress and generalaspect proclaimed him to be a Ranger, and he grasped Fritz by thehand warmly. br />
"You come in good time to give us news. We have been farafield--almost as far as Niagara itself. We hear rumours ofdisaster and treachery; but hitherto we have had no certaintidings. Is it true that Fort William Henry has fallen?"
The tale was told once again, other Rangers crowding round to hear.Pringle was naturally the spokesman, and Fritz, singling out fromthe group a man whom he had known before, asked him who thegallant-looking stranger was who seemed like the leader of a band.
"That is Lord Howe," was the answer. "He came out from England tofight the French; but the expedition to Louisbourg came to nothingthrough delay and mismanagement. He landed, and whilst waiting forfurther orders from home he has joined the Rangers, in order tolearn their methods of fighting. Never was hardier or braver man,or one more cheerful and blithe. Even the stern Rogers himselfunbends when he is near. He has been the very life of our partysince he has joined us."
Fritz soon found that this was no exaggeration. Howe was a splendidcomrade and Ranger, full of courage, the hardiest of the hardy,never failing in spirits whatever were the hardships of the life,and showing such aptitude for generalship and command that alreadyhe had made his mark amongst the hardy Rangers, and was entrustedwith enterprises of difficulty and danger.
It was not much that could be done against the foe with theinclement winter season approaching. The snow fell early. TheCanadians and regulars had gone into winter quarters; but there wasstill a garrison in Ticonderoga, and to harass and despoil thatgarrison was the pastime of the Rangers. They stole beneath thewalls upon the frozen lake. They carried off cattle, and madebanquets off their carcasses. If they could not do with all themeat themselves, they would leave the carcasses at the foot of thewalls, sometimes with mocking letters attached to the horns.
Thus, after a more than usually successful raid, when they hadtaken two prisoners and driven off a number of head of cattle, theytied to the horns of one of the slain beasts the following words,written large for all to read.
"I am obliged to you, sir, for the rest you have allowed me totake, and for the fresh meat you have supplied me with. I shalltake good care of my prisoners. My compliments to the Marquis deMontcalm.
"--(Signed)
"ROGERS."
But in spite of these successful raids, a misfortune was in storefor the gallant Rangers in the early spring which broke up andscattered their band for that season, and spread throughout thedistrict the false report of Rogers' death.
Captain Hebecourt was commanding the French at Ticonderoga, and inMarch he received large reinforcements of Canadians and Indians,and the latter instantly detected recent marks of snowshoes in thevicinity betraying the neighbourhood of white men. An attack wastherefore organized to try to rid the place of the pestilentRangers, as the French called them; whilst, as it so happened, theRangers had no knowledge of the reinforcements which had come in tothe fort.
Rogers' fault was ever a daring rashness, and when one day he andhis little band saw the advance of a party of Indians, he drew hismen under cover and greeted them with a hot and fatal fire.
But this was only the advance guard. Unknown and unguessed at byRogers, the large body behind was approaching, and the next momentthe whole place was echoing with triumphant yells, as the pursuingRangers were met by a compact force outnumbering them by four toone, who sprang furiously upon them, trying to hack them to pieces.
Rogers, gallantly backed by Lord Howe, who had all the instinct ofthe true general, recalled them hastily and formed them up on theslope of a hill, where they made a gallant stand, and drove backthe enemy again and again. But outnumbered as they were, it was aterrible struggle, and Ranger after Ranger dropped at his post;whilst at last the cry was raised that the foe had surrounded themupon the rear, and nothing was left them but to take to the forestin flight.
"To the woods, men, to the woods!" shouted Rogers. "Leave me, andevery man for himself!"
Indeed it was soon impossible for any party to keep together. Itwas just one dash from tree to tree for bare life, seeking to evadethe wily foe, and seeing brave comrades drop at every turn.
Rogers, Howe, and about twenty fine fellows were making a runningfight for it along the crest of the ridge. Pringle, Roche, andFritz were separated from these, but kept together, and by the useof all their strength and sagacity succeeded in eluding the Indiansand hiding themselves in the snow-covered forest.
All was desolation around them. A heavy snowstorm gathered andburst. They were hopelessly separated from their comrades, andFritz, who was their guide in woodcraft, was wounded in the head,and in a strangely dazed condition.
"I can take you to Rogers' camp, nevertheless," he kept repeating."We must not lie down, or we shall die. But I can find the road--Ican find the road. I know the forest in all its aspects; I shallnot lose the way."
It was a terrible night. They had no food but a little ginger whichPringle chanced to have in his pocket, and a bit of a sausage thatRoche had secreted about him. The snow drifted in their faces. Theywere wearied to death, yet dared not lie down; and though alwayshoping to reach the spot where Fritz declared that Rogers wascertain to be found, they discovered, when the grey light ofmorning came, that they had only fetched a circle, and were at theplace they had started from, in perilous proximity to the Frenchfort.
Yet as they gazed at one another in mute despair a more terriblething happened. The Indian war whoop sounded loud in their ears,and a band of savages dashed out upon them. Before they couldattempt resistance in their numbed state, they were surrounded andcarried off captive.
"We can die like men; that is all that is left to us!" saidPringle, pressing up to Roche to whisper in his ear. "Heaven grantthey kill us quickly; it is the only grace we can hope for now."
Dizzy and faint and exhausted, they were hurried along by theircaptors they knew not whither. They had come out from the forest,and the sun was beginning to shine round them, when they suddenlyheard a voice shouting out something the meaning of which theycould not catch; and the next moment a body of white men camerunning up wearing the familiar uniform of French soldiers andofficers.
"Uncle!" cried a lad's clear voice, speaking in French, a languageperfectly intelligible to Fritz, "that tall man there is the onewho saved Corinne and me in the forest that day when we weresurrounded and nearly taken by the Rangers. Get him away from theIndians; they shall not have him! He saved us from peril once; wemust save him now."
"Assuredly, my son," came the response, in a full, sonorous voice;and Fritz, rallying his failing powers, shook off for a moment themists which seemed to enwrap him, and saw that a fine-looking manof benevolent aspect, wearing the habit of an ecclesiastic, wasspeaking earnestly to the Indians who had them in their hands,whilst several French officers and soldiers had formed up roundthem.
There was some quick and rather excited talk between the Abbe andthe dusky savages; but he appeared to prevail with them at length,and Fritz heard the order given:
"Take these men into the fort, and give them every care andattention. I shall come later to see how my orders have beencarried out."
The men saluted. They cut the cords which bound the prisoners. Theyled them away kindly enough.
The lad who had first spoken pressed up to the side of Fritz.
"I will take care of you, and my uncle will heal your wound. Youremember how Corinne promised some day to return the good favourthat you did us. You are our guests; you are not prisoners. Myuncle, the Abbe, has said so, and no one will dare to dispute hisword. He is the Abbe de Messonnier, whom all the world loves andreveres."