CHAPTER XXXI
FALL OF FORT NIAGARA
So intent were Dave and his enemy on getting the better of each otherthat neither noticed their close proximity to the river until it was toolate to do anything to save themselves.
Down they went through the flying spray, to strike the boiling waterswhich flowed so rapidly at the base of the rocks. Both went under like aflash and with equal quickness were borne along by that treacherouscurrent which had proved the death of so many in the past and will mostlikely bring death to many more in the future.
The redman did not relax his hold even when both had been under thesurface for some time. To him it was a struggle to the death, and hecared not how the grim terror might come, so long as the hated whiteperson should go down with him.
But Dave, much younger, and with the hope of youth in his veins, did notintend to give up thus easily. As the waters of the river closed overhim the idea of further battle with his opponent ended, and his onethought was now of how to save himself from drowning. He had been warnedof the stream's treachery, and he knew that to keep from perishing wouldbe no easy task.
With all the strength he could command he essayed to push the Indianaway from him. But the warrior clung closer, for he could not swim andknew he could gain nothing by being left to himself. Thus the paircontinued to struggle, and in the meanwhile the current carried themfurther and further away from the spot where the unfortunate tumble hadoccurred.
"I must get loose somehow!" thought the youth. "If only I could breakthat hold on my throat!" But the hold was like that of a steel band, andinstead of loosening it seemed to grow tighter, until poor Dave's headbegan to swim and he gave himself up for lost. He drew up his knee andforced it against the Indian's breast, but still his endeavors had noeffect. And now the water began to enter his mouth and nose and he felthimself growing unconscious. A thousand thoughts flashed through hismind--of Henry and Sam, and of his father and the other dear ones leftbehind. Was this to be the end of all--this drowning in the grasp of ahideously painted Indian?
Suddenly came an awful shock which threw Dave heels over head in theswirling waters. In their rapid passage down the stream, the Indian'shead had struck fairly and squarely on a jagged rock just below thesurface. The fearful impact of the blow had crushed in the warrior'sskull like an egg-shell, and instantly his hold relaxed, and in a momentmore the body passed from sight.
The shock threw Dave on another rock, rising less than a foot above thesurface of the stream. Amid the foam and spray he felt the edge of thestone and by instinct more than reason he clutched at it wildly and heldfast. Then, as he recovered his breath, he drew himself up until hishead and his back were out of the water. His feet swung around with thecurrent and there he remained, with the water tugging strongly to draghim down from his temporary place of safety.
He was in this position when discovered by the sharp eyes of Henry andSam Barringford, and with all possible speed they ran down to the bit ofshore which stuck out to within thirty feet of Dave's resting place.
"Dave! Dave!" called Henry. "Are you all right?"
"Henry! Help me! I--I can't stand th--this strain much longer," was theanswer, delivered with a jerk and a gasp.
"We'll have to git a rope," came from Barringford. He raised his voice."Hold tight, Dave, and we'll save you!"
He was off on the run then and Henry heard him crashing along the trailof the portage. Dave could hear but little save the pounding and rushingof the river torrent on all sides. He looked toward his cousin throughthe flying spray and the appeal went straight to Henry's heart.
The young soldier looked around. Not far away grew a number of saplings.He leaped toward the nearest, and with his hunting knife commenced tohack it down. The task was almost completed when Barringford reappeared.
"Thought I knowed whar I could git a rope," said the backwoodsman, as heheld up the article. "Seen a dead Frencher with it a spell back. Goingto git a tree, eh? Perhaps we'll need thet too. Let's try the ropefust."
He made a noose, and flung it forth with care. It slid close to whereDave lay, but the youth failed to grasp it. Then the rope was flung asecond and a third time.
At last Dave caught the noose, and managed, although not without greatdifficulty, to slide it up his left arm above the elbow. This wouldleave his hands free to battle with any obstruction which mightthreaten him in the dangerous passage from the rock to the shore.
"Are you ready to be pulled in?" queried Barringford.
"Yes, but be careful. There's a sharp rock just below this point. I justcaught sight of it," answered Dave.
"We'll pull you up stream--if we can," answered the backwoodsman.
In another moment Dave was again in the mad current. Planting their feetfirmly between cracks in the rocks on shore, Henry and Barringfordpulled in as quickly as possible.
As all had supposed, the current swung Dave down the stream and thenflung him up along the rocks lining the bank. Still holding the ropeBarringford told Henry to run down and help his cousin out of the water,and this the young soldier did.
Poor Dave was more dead than alive, and for a good half hour felt tooweak to move from the river bank. While he was resting, with the othersbeside him, a small detachment of the English grenadiers came up.
"The battle is over," said one of them, in answer to Barringford'squestion on that point. "We've whipped 'em finely, and it's doubtful ifthey ever come back to try it over again."
"If that's the fact, then it means the fall of Fort Niagara," put inHenry. "The commander there has undoubtedly been waiting forreinforcements."
"Well, we're here to make the fort surrender," answered the soldier fromEngland.
The soldiers had some rations with them, including some coffee, andafter Barringford had started a fire whereat Dave might dry himself, theyouth was given something hot to drink, which did much to revive him.
What Henry had said about the fall of the fort was true. That veryevening General Johnson sent a Major Harvey to the commander of thefort, with news of the defeat at the falls and stating that the fort hadbetter surrender at once, otherwise the Indians friendly to the Englishmight take it into their heads to massacre all the French prisoners.
At first Captain Pouchot could not believe that the disaster to theFrench cause had been so great, and to convince him he was allowed tosend an aide into the British camp. The aide reported that the contestwas indeed lost, and thereupon, early on the following morning, FortNiagara surrendered, and six hundred and eighteen officers and menbecame English prisoners. Later on, the majority of the prisoners weresent to England while the women and the children who had been driven tothe fort for protection were, at their own request, allowed to departfor Montreal.
The fall of Fort Niagara accomplished all that the English governmentand the colonists had hoped for. It broke the chain of defenses theFrench had established between the lakes and the lower Mississippi, andclosely following this disaster the enemy were compelled to vacateVenango, Presqu'ile, La Boeuf, and other points, including the tradingposts on the Ohio and the Kinotah. They retired to Detroit, and to theupper bank of the St. Lawrence, and the English and colonists quicklytook possession of the places vacated.
It was not deemed necessary that Dave and his friends return to thevicinity of the fort the next day, and they and a party of rangersnumbering eighteen encamped along the bank of the Niagara. Two of therangers were suffering from wounds in the shoulders, and they and Davewere made as comfortable as possible, so that by the next night theyoung soldier felt once more like himself.
"But I never want to tumble into that river again," he said to Henrywith a shudder. "I felt as if every minute was going to be my last."
"Yes, you were lucky though," answered his cousin. "Think of what thatredskin got. It might have been your head instead of his."
"I've seen that Indian before, Henry. I can't tell where, exactly, but Ithink it was out at father's trading post."
"That's not unlikely. I s
uppose all those rascally French Indians cameon with the French soldiers and traders to wipe us out. Well, they gotwhat they least expected."
While the majority of the rangers were resting several of the numberwent off in search of game, for provisions were now running low. Themost of the birds and wild animals had been scared away by the noise ofbattle, and the hunters had to beat about for several miles before theyfound what they wanted.
On the return to the camp beside the river they heard a man callingfeebly in French, and moving toward the sound, discovered a Frenchtrader lying in some brushwood, covered with blood and dirt, the pictureof weakness and despair. The trader had been shot in the leg and couldnot walk and was suffering for the want of food and water as well asattention to his wound.
"For ze love of heaven, do not leave me here," he begged, piteously."Help me, kind sirs, and I vill revard you vell."
The trader was evidently a rough sort of a man, yet the rangers tookpity on him, even though he did belong to the ranks of the enemy. Foodand drink were furnished, and the wound washed and bound up, and thenthe rangers carried the prisoner with them to the camp.
Dave and Barringford saw the rangers returning, and at the sight of theprisoner Barringford leaped to his feet in high excitement.
"Jean Bevoir!" he exclaimed. "Jean Bevoir, jest as sure as fate!"
"Bevoir!" ejaculated Dave.
"Bevoir?" repeated Henry, who stood near. "Do you mean to say thatfellow is Bevoir?"
"It is!" answered Barringford. "He's wounded, too."
Without waiting to hear more, Henry, followed by Dave, ran forward towhere the prisoner had been placed on a moss-grown bank.
"You are Jean Bevoir," he began, sternly.
"Ah! you know me, eh?" returned the French trader. "I do not seem toknow you?" and a puzzled look crossed his face.
"Then I'll tell you who I am!" roared Henry, clenching his fists. "I amHenry Morris, of Will's Creek. This is my cousin Dave Morris. Youhelped to steal my little sister Nell. Where is she? Tell me thisminute!"
As Henry finished he advanced, as if to strike the prisoner down wherehe sat. Jean Bevoir grew pale and trembled with fear.
"No! no! do not heet me!" he cried. "I no do zat. Eet ees von mistake! Ino see ze gal! I----"
"Don't talk that way to me!" interrupted Henry, whose blood wasthoroughly aroused. "You'll tell me where she is, and at once, orI'll--I'll--" he hesitated and looked around, and then caught up a gunstanding near. "I'll blow your head off, that's what I'll do!"
It is doubtful whether Henry would have carried out his threat, but hismanner was so earnest that for once Jean Bevoir, wounded as he was, waswell-nigh scared to death. He put up his hands beseechingly. Then helooked at the rangers gathered around; but no one stepped to his aid,for all had heard of his doings, and of how little Nell and the Rosetwins had been carried off into captivity by the Indians and of howBevoir had plotted to hold them for a ransom. Many looked at him aslittle short of a brigand, or pirate, and would not have been sorry hadhis miserable existence been ended then and there.
"No! no!" cried the trader and clasped his hands tremblingly before him."No shoot, please you!"
"Then tell me where my little sister is!"
"I--I know not zat--now. I--I--the Indians da run away, an----"
Bevoir broke off short. The gun had been lowered, but now it was oncemore brought up and the muzzle touched his forehead. He gave a yell ofterror and rolled backward.
"Stop! No shoot me! I will tell you all!" he screamed. "No shoot! De galshe in von cave up de river, near de falls. Da Indians bring her dare.No shoot! I show da place. No shoot!"
"In a cave near the falls?" queried Henry.
"Yees, yees! Not far from here. She dare now, if not runned avay. Ishow, you no shoot me!"
"Then show the way," commanded Henry. "And remember, if you are tellinga lie, it will go hard with you."