CHAPTER IX
IN WHICH NATHAN TAKES PART IN THE BATTLE OF WYOMING
Barnabas and his companions checked their horses, and for severalminutes they sat still in the saddle, gazing with stirring emotions onthe peaceful and beautiful scene. In vain they listened for hostileshots; in vain they scanned the horizon for the smoke and flames ofburning dwellings.
"We've come in time!" exclaimed Nathan.
"We have, lad; no doubt of it," assented Barnabas. "God grant the restof the force get here before the trouble begins. And now let's bepushing down to the fort."
"Hold on, comrades," said Abel Cutbush. "Here our ways must separate.I'm a married man, and I'm going to strike fur Wilkesbarre, where mywife and child will be expecting me."
"They may be yonder at the fort," suggested Barnabas.
"Perhaps, man," was the reply; "but I'll look at home first."
So, with a few words of farewell, Cutbush turned sharply off tothe left. The other four urged their steeds cautiously down themountainside, and without mishap they reached the valley. They crossedthe Susquehanna by a fording, spurred up the farther bank, and wereshortly challenged by watchful sentries. A little later they rodetriumphantly through the gates of Forty Fort, which was a large,stockaded inclosure with double rows of huts inside.
Here thrilling sights were to be seen, and it was evident that a battleor a siege was shortly expected. The fort was full of men, women, andchildren. The former were hard at work, cleaning and loading muskets,measuring out powder and ball, and repairing clothes and shoes for amarch. Many of these eager defenders ranged in age from fourteen tosixteen, and there were also a number of very old men. The littlechildren were prattling and playing as though they had been brought tothe fort for a holiday. Of the women, some had given way to utter griefand were weeping bitterly; others, more stout of heart, were cheeringand encouraging their husbands.
Barnabas and his companions were joyfully greeted, many friends andrelatives pressing around to clasp their hands. When the firstexcitement was over Colonel Zebulon Butler pushed to the spot,accompanied by his associate officers, Colonels Denison and Dorrance.
"My brave fellows, you are heartily welcome," cried Colonel Butler. "Doyou come from Washington? What news do you bring? Where are the rest ofthe Wyoming men?"
"A couple of days' march behind, sir," replied Barnabas, in answer tothe latter question. Then he briefly went on to tell of the battle ofMonmouth, the departure of the Wyoming troops, and the subsequentadventures of his own little party. Men and women listened to thenarrative with breathless attention, and when they learned of theuncertain fate of Captain Stanbury--who was known and liked throughoutthe valley--Nathan was the recipient of numerous looks and words ofsympathy. But all other news dwindled to insignificance beside the factthat the relieving force was still miles away, and how sorely the absentones were needed Barnabas and his friends soon understood.
It appeared, according to Colonel Butler's hasty account, that the enemyhad entered the head of the valley on the 30th of June. They numberedmore than a thousand in all, six or seven hundred of them beingblood-thirsty Seneca Indians under the terrible half-breed Brandt, andthe remainder consisting of Colonel John Butler's Rangers, CaptainCaldwell's Royal Greens, and Tories from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, andNew York. Colonel John Butler, who was in no wise related to the patriotleader, was in full command.
The enemy were too strong in numbers to be successfully resisted, andsince the first of July they had ruthlessly murdered half a score ofsettlers, taken possession of Fort Jenkins, the uppermost one in thevalley, and had advanced to the next fort, called Wintermoot's. Herethey now were, on this morning of the 3d of July, and it was believedthat they were preparing to move on Forty Fort.
"So you see that the situation is critical," Colonel Butler concluded."We have not yet decided what to do, but the day can hardly pass withoutaction of some sort. It is useless to hope for aid from the relievingforce--they cannot arrive in time. The little army assembled here nowunder my command, is all we can count upon. They have come mostly fromthe neighboring lower part of the valley. A few companies of our homeregiment are unfortunately in the outer settlements, and they can'treach us inside of twenty-four hours."
"Then we must get along without them, sir," exclaimed Barnabas. "We'llgive the Tories such a lesson as Washington gave Clinton at Monmouth afew days ago."
"God grant that we may!" Colonel Butler said fervently. "I expect wordshortly concerning the movements of the enemy, and then will be the timeto form our plans. And now, my good men, I want to thank you for yourheroic march. You will be provided with food, and everything else youmay need, and I shall depend on your support in the coming struggle."
"You are sure to have it, sir," declared Barnabas; and this opinion waseagerly echoed by the rest.
During the next hour the work of preparation went on, fresh recruitsstraggling in at intervals. Nathan and his companions, who were alreadyfully equipped, lent what aid they could, or engaged in conversationwith old friends and neighbors.
About eleven o'clock in the morning a settler named Ingersoll, who hadbeen captured by the enemy several days before, near Wintermoot's fort,arrived under a flag of truce, in custody of an Indian and a Tory. Hewas the bearer of a message from Colonel John Butler, demanding theimmediate and unconditional surrender of all the forts in the valley andall public property. This was, of course, refused, and Ingersoll leftwith his guards, the latter having taken advantage of their visit toobserve the condition of the fort, and the number and spirit of itsdefenders.
Colonel Zebulon Butler now called a council of war, at which opinionswere freely expressed. Many of the settlers were admitted to this,including Barnabas and his companions. Colonels Denison and Dorrance, aswell as a number of others, were in favor of delaying action, on theground that the absent militia companies and the relief force sent byWashington might yet arrive in time to save the valley. But ColonelButler was opposed to delay, and made an eloquent oration against it.
"For three days the enemy have been within the valley," he said, "andthey have steadily carried on their work of destruction and murder. Twoforts are already in their possession, and if we show an inclination tobe idle they will certainly press their advantage. They have boats, andthey can easily cross the river from Wintermoot's to Pittston, and takethe little fort there under Captain Blanchard. They can march or floatfrom place to place, and will destroy the valley piecemeal. And once thebutchers spread throughout the country, we will no longer be able tohold our little army together. Each man will fly to protect his ownhome. The relief force cannot reach us in time, and it is doubtful ifthe absent militia companies will arrive within two days. So we mustclearly depend on God and ourselves, and I assert that to attack anddefeat the enemy is the only hope for the settlement."
These spirited words made an impression, and at once won over a largemajority. The rest were finally induced to assent, and without furtherdelay the preparations for the advance were begun.
Six companies were available, and of these one consisted of regularsunder Captain Hewitt. The others were as follows: Captain Whittlesey'scompany, from Plymouth; Captain McKarrican's, from Hanover; the LowerWilkesbarre and Upper Wilkesbarre Companies, commanded respectively byCaptain Bidlack and Captain Geer, and a company from Kingston underCaptain Aholiab Buck. Barnabas and Nathan were assigned to CaptainWhittlesey's company, as were also Reuben Atwood and Collum McNicol. Inall, the force was three hundred strong--two hundred and thirty enrolledmen, and about seventy boys, elderly settlers, judges of the valleycourts, and civil magistrates. And this brave but meager army was aboutto attack one thousand Tories and Indians!
It was an hour past noon when the band of defenders filed out throughthe gates of Forty Fort, leaving a few sentries behind them to protectthe weeping and well-nigh distracted women and children. It was a clear,warm day, and never had the Wyoming Valley looked more beautiful andpeaceful. Birds were twittering, and the sun shone brightly on fo
restand river.
Forward the column marched, not knowing that their movements were beingwatched by vigilant spies. But such was the case, and fleet couriersbore word of the advance to Colonel John Butler, at Wintermoot's. He atonce sent a message to his rear guard at Fort Jenkins, who weredestroying the defenses of that place, to hasten down to join him andmeet the Yankees.
In the neighborhood of three o'clock the Americans approachedWintermoot's fort, and from a distance they saw that it was inflames--the motive for which act on the enemy's part was never fullyunderstood. At this point there were two plains between the river andthe mountain, the upper and lower flats being divided by a steep bankfifteen or twenty feet in height. The fort stood on the brow of thebluff.
Colonel Zebulon Butler sent several officers forward to reconnoiter theground, and when they returned with their reports, and with theintelligence that the foe were close in front, the little army at onceproceeded to form in line of battle. They ascended the dividing bluff,and deployed across the upper plain. Their right rested on the steepbank, and the left stretched across the flat to a morass that separatedthe bottom land from the mountain. The plain was sparsely wooded withyellow pine trees and oak scrubs. Captain Whittlesey's company, to whichNathan and his friends belonged, was on the extreme left, and that flankwas in charge of Colonels Denison and Dorrance. Colonel Butler himselfcommanded the right wing.
The enemy's left, under Colonel John Butler, rested on Wintermoot'sfort, which was now on fire, and from which the Susquehanna was distantabout eighty rods. A flanking party of Indian marksmen were hidden insome logs and bushes near the top of the bank. Next to Colonel JohnButler were more Indian marksmen and Caldwell's Royal Greens, while themain body of the Senecas under Brandt formed the right wing, whichextended over the plain to the morass.
Thus face to face, the two armies remained inactive for some littletime. At a distance Nathan's keen eyes could make out the glitter of auniform here and there, or see the feathered plumes of the Indiansnodding. Through the green of the trees the sun shone on tomahawks andmusket barrels.
"How do you feel, lad?" asked old Barnabas.
"Ready for the fight," was the cool reply.
"But this ain't the battle of Monmouth, lad. There's worse odds ag'inus."
"All the more reason why we should fight the better," declared Nathan."Monmouth was for our country and this is for our homes."
"Ay, that's proper talk," exclaimed Reuben Atwood. "I'm thinkin' we mustall fight to the bitter end, since there's no mercy to be looked forfrom them fiends over yonder."
Now a sudden excitement spread throughout the lines, and the menstraightened up at attention. Colonel Zebulon Butler came riding fromright to left, and checking his horse near Captain Whittlesey's companyhe repeated the brief address he had just made to his followers on theright.
"Men, we are about to attack," he cried. "Yonder is the enemy. Slaughterwithout mercy is what we must expect if we are defeated. We are here tofight for liberty, for our homes and families, for life itself. Standfirm with the first shock, and the Indians will yield. Let every manremember his duty."
Loud and hearty cheers followed the Colonel as he rode back to his post.Nathan gripped his musket tight, and as he recalled the massacres of thepreceding days he resolved to make each shot tell. "Hurrah! we'regoing!" he shouted.
"Yes, we're at it, lad," cried Barnabas. "Steady, now!"
The signal had been given, and the long line was in forward motion. Theydrew nearer and nearer, and suddenly the order to fire came from ColonelZebulon Butler. Crash! crash! the deadly volleys rang out. Still theAmericans advanced, firing rapidly and steadily. Crash! Crash! Men beganto fall, some dead and some wounded. The bluish powder smoke rolled overthe field, mingling with the yellow clouds from the burning fort. Louderand louder blazed the musketry fire. In spite of the pluck of itsofficers the British line gave way a little. But it quickly rallied, andthe enemy stood their ground stubbornly.
The American right was now hotly engaged with the Senecas and Rangers,and soon the fight was waging along the entire line. On both sides thedead and wounded increased, and as the Indian sharpshooters fired theyuttered fearful and hideous yells. Nathan was surprised at his owncoolness. He loaded and fired like an old soldier, never pulling triggeruntil he had a bead drawn on a foe. Some of the men on the left began towaver as their comrades fell about them, but a few words from ColonelDorrance had the effect of closing the broken line up.
For half an hour the battle went on, growing warmer and warmer. As yetNathan was unhurt, and so far as he could tell his friends had fared asfortunately. Animated by the hope of victory, the Americans displayedthe utmost valor and bravery. But now, alas! the enemy began to show thepower that superior numbers gave them. A large force of Indians wasthrown into the swamp, thus completely outflanking the left of thepatriot line. Seeing the danger, Colonel Denison ordered Whittlesey towheel his company at an angle with the main line, and thus present afront to the foe.
It is always difficult to perform such an evolution under a hot fire,and in this case the result was disastrous. No sooner had CaptainWhittlesey's company made the attempt than the Indians rushed forwardwith blood-curdling yells. Some of the Americans understood the order tofall back on flank to mean a retreat, and by this fatal mistake thewhole of the left line was thrown into confusion. A part stood theirground, and others fled in panic. Seeing the disorder and confusionhere, and finding that his own men on the right were also beginning togive way, Colonel Zebulon Butler rode recklessly to and fro between thefires of the opposing ranks.
"Stand firm!" he cried in ringing tones. "Don't forsake me! Make astand, my brave men, and the victory will yet be ours."
But it was too late. In vain did the daring commander harangue his men;in vain did his officers support him by words and actions, and thedrummers beat the charge. The rout began--a rout that was toooverwhelming and widespread to be checked. The right and left lines ofthe Americans fled in all directions, hotly pursued by the vengefulTories and Indians. The crack of muskets and the dull crash of thetomahawk mingled with the shrieks of the dying and the yells of thevictors. Stephen Whiton, a young schoolmaster, was butchered by the sideof the man whose daughter he had just married. Darius Spofford, alsolately married, fell dead in the arms of his brother Phineas. Everycaptain that led a company into action was slain. Bidlack, Hewitt,Whittlesey--all died at the head of their men.
And now, the battle over and the massacre begun, horror was piled onhorror. There was little chance of escape for the fugitives. Theflanking party of Indians pushed hastily to the rear to cut off theretreat to Forty Fort, and thus the wretched and panic-stricken settlerswere driven in the direction of the river, over the open ground andthrough fields of uncut grain. Some few swam to Monockasy Island, whichoffered a temporary refuge. But many were speared and tomahawked at thewater's edge, and others, shot while swimming, were borne away lifelesson the current. A man named Pensil, who had gained the island, waspursued there and slain by his own Tory brother. Lieutenant Shoemaker,as he plunged into the river, glanced over his shoulder to see a Torynamed Windecker who had often dined at his table in past times. Swimmingback to shore, he begged his old friend to protect him. The foulruffian pretended to consent, but while he helped the officer out of thewater with his left hand, with his right he drove a tomahawk into hisbrain. Many others were thus lured to shore by promise of quarter, onlyto be ruthlessly butchered. A number of the prisoners were thrown aliveon the burning logs of Fort Wintermoot, and no less than a score weretomahawked by Queen Esther, an Indian fury in the form of a woman. Sheslew them with her own hand while the savages held them, and the bodiesof her victims, scalped and mutilated, were subsequently found lying ina circle where they had fallen. The carnage would have been greater hadnot night intervened. Under cover of darkness a small proportion of thefugitives escaped, and of the number was Colonel Denison and ColonelZebulon Butler. The latter was borne off the field on his horse, and bya devious route he fi
nally reached the fort at Wilkesbarre.
Good fortune also fell to the lot of Barnabas and Nathan. After standingtheir ground until valor had ceased to be a virtue they fled, side byside, to the river, firing at intervals as they went. At the water'sedge they confronted and killed a Tory and an Indian who had overtakenthem, and then, being good swimmers, they safely reached the oppositeshore some distance below the island. In company with several otherrefugees they pushed down the Susquehanna, recrossed the stream, andsafely entered Forty Fort at nightfall. They were rejoiced to learn thatReuben Atwood and Collum McNicol had arrived some time before.
Pitiful and heartrending were the scenes within the fort as the hours ofdarkness dragged on. Women and children wept and wrung their hands asthey called the names of loved ones who would never return. Bleeding andpowder-grimed men stood about in weary and dazed groups. Of the band ofthree hundred who started out to battle at noon-time less than one-thirdhad straggled back. The rest lay dead and mutilated in the woods, on thesands of Monockasy Island, or were drifting on the rippling tide of theriver. So terrible was the defeat that the survivors had utterly lostheart; they were ready to submit to any terms to save their lives.
The night was full of horror, for an attack was constantly expected. Inthe interval between darkness and dawn, a few settlers with theirfamilies flocked to the fort from the lower part of the valley, andseveral sorely-wounded fugitives crept in. Nathan could not sleep, andfor hours he wandered about the stockade. The disaster had stunned him,unused as he was to the horrors of Indian warfare. The past week, withits record of bloodshed and battle, had made a man of the lad. Howdreamlike and long ago seemed his happy student life in Philadelphia!
The outcome of the Tory and Indian raid upon the colonists of theWyoming Valley may be briefly told. On the morning of the 4th ofJuly--the day following the massacre--Colonel Zebulon Butler started forthe nearest town on the Lehigh to send a report to the Board of War.That morning one of the absent militia companies arrived at Forty Fort,and there was some talk of offering further resistance. But this wasspeedily abandoned, as messengers who had been sent out reported thatthe panic-stricken inhabitants of the valley were fleeing in everydirection to the wilderness. It was also learned that Fort Brown, atPittston, had been surrendered by Captain Blanchard.
So Colonel Denison at once opened negotiations with the leaders of theenemy, and after hours of suspense and discussion it was decided tosurrender the fort on condition that the lives of the survivors shouldbe spared. The articles of capitulation were signed, and on theafternoon of the 5th a sad and bitter ceremony took place on the bluffof the Susquehanna. The gates of Forty Fort were thrown open, the flagwas hauled down, and to the music of drums and fifes the enemy marchedin behind Colonel John Butler--company after company of Rangers andTories, Captain Caldwell's Royal Greens, and the sullen, painted-facedIndians headed by two human fiends--Brandt and Queen Esther.
Colonel Butler prevented any immediate bloodshed, but the settlers wereruthlessly plundered as they filed out. Knowing their danger too wellthey fled in all directions, some toward the Delaware, others down theSusquehanna by water and land.
The Senecas and Tories shortly laid waste the valley, destroying whatthey could not take away, burning the town of Wilkesbarre and manycabins, and driving the horses and cattle to Niagara. The relief forcethat had started from Washington's army turned back when the news of themassacre reached them at Stroudsburg, and for a time the lovely Vale ofWyoming was abandoned to ruin and solitude.