Kitabı oku: «Marching on Niagara: or, The Soldier Boys of the Old Frontier», sayfa 13

CHAPTER XXVII
NEWS OF IMPORTANCE

When General Prideaux left Oswego for Fort Niagara he was well aware that the French would more than likely make an attack on the new fort Colonel Haldimand was building, consequently, he cautioned that officer to be on his guard at all hours of the day and night.

But Haldimand needed no word of warning. His military training was of a high order, and the very first thing he did before setting his men to work to cut logs for the new fort was to have them arrange the pork barrels, containing a large portion of their food, in a circle, and outside of this lay a dense mass of brushwood in such a fashion that to climb over or through it would be no easy task.

This "pork fort" as it was called later on, caused many a laugh, yet it proved no mean defense, as we shall soon see. Behind the barrels Haldimand planted such cannon as Prideaux had left him; and then went to work to build the fort proper without loss of time.

The French came over the lake with as much secrecy as possible. In the darkness they landed behind some brushwood and tall timber and took up what they thought was a position of advantage.

The battle began the next day, while the English were hard at work chopping down trees and cutting them up into proper sizes for the new fort. A scout gave the alarm and this was immediately followed by several shots from the French and the blood-curdling war-cry of the hostile Indians.

Realizing at once that the enemy had tried to steal a march on him, Haldimand ordered his command to stop work and make for the "pork fort." Dropping their axes, the soldiers and pioneers seized their guns and ran for the shelter of barrels and brushwood. Several were wounded, one seriously, and seeing this, the command was given to fire in return, and something of a pitched battle occurred. But the Frenchmen between the English and the improvised fort were easily scattered, and then Haldimand brought up his troops inside the barrel barricade and manned his guns with such vigor that all of the enemy lost no time in seeking the shelter of the forest so close at hand.

It was this first encounter which reached the ears of Henry and his friends. By the time they were on shore the firing had ceased and utter silence prevailed as they crept slowly forward in the direction of Haldimand's command.

"Do you think it possible that the French have withdrawn?" asked Henry, presently, as Barringford put up his hand as a signal to halt.

"I think they are up to some trick," was the low answer. "Hist! down with ye!"

Barringford had seen a tall French soldier moving toward them. The fellow was a sharpshooter and carried his rifle ready for immediate use.

The soldier was coming directly toward them and in a moment more Henry felt they would be discovered. Then, without warning, Barringford leaped forward like a lightning flash, caught the soldier by the throat, and bore him to the ground.

Before Henry could recover from his bewilderment it was all over, and the soldier lay flat on his back, for in going over his head had struck on a sharp rock, rendering him unconscious. Barringford took the man's gun and his ammunition box and handed them to the youth. "Now you're armed as good as any o' us," he whispered. "It's lucky I cotched him jest right, otherwise we might have had to do some powerful rasselin', eh? Come."

Once again they moved forward, until they felt the barricade of pork barrels could not be more than a hundred yards distant. Then a fresh firing broke out on their left, and soon fifty or more French soldiers hove into sight as they were making a detour from one side of Haldimand's defense to the other.

"Come, we must get out of here!" shouted Barringford, and as the enemy came closer, he fired at the leading soldier. Henry and Gangley also emptied their pieces and three of the enemy went down, all badly wounded.

Running with all possible swiftness, our friends soon reached a point where they could see some of the pork barrels. Barringford held up his hands and was recognized.

"Come in!" was the cry. "Don't stay out there!" And then the three went forward again. But the French had also noticed them and half a score of rifles were turned in that direction. Henry felt a bullet sing unpleasantly close to his head and then saw Barringford, who was close beside him, stagger and go down in a heap.

"Oh, Sam!" he cried, in deep horror, "are you hit?"

There was no reply to this, and Henry saw the blood beginning to show itself around the old hunter's neck. In desperation he caught up Barringford's body and commenced to drag it to the entrance between the pork barrels. Gangley assisted him and soon they were behind the temporary shelter with their burden.

"I hope he isn't dead?" said Henry, as he surveyed the motionless form. "Isn't there a surgeon handy?"

A medical officer soon appeared, and Barringford was carried to an improvised hospital but a short distance away, and here the medical man made a hasty examination.

"He isn't dead, but he's pretty hard hit," was the surgeon's conclusion. "I'll do what I can for him. No, you can't help me. Better go to the front and do your duty. There is no telling how strong the French are, and if they defeat us, you know what we can all expect – a dreary life in a Canadian prison – or worse."

There was no time to say more, for the shooting had now started up once more. It came from three sides. The enemy remained hidden behind the trees and it was only occasionally that the English could get a shot in return.

"Will they make a general attack, do you think?" asked Henry, of Gangley.

"That depends on how strong they are," was the reply.

It was a fearfully hot day and those behind the improvised fortification suffered much both from heat and thirst. It was only occasionally that a French soldier or an Indian showed himself and often he was picked off before he could again find shelter.

Presently, about two in the afternoon, came a fierce yelling of Indians to the west of the fort, and the redskins could be seen moving through the forest, although they took care not to expose themselves too much to an attack.

"They are coming!" was the cry.

But Haldimand was not to be caught by any trick, and he divided his force, one half to meet the expected attack of the redmen and the others to guard the side upon which the French were still located.

But the attack did not come off. Not over a score of redmen ran out into the open, and when three of these were stretched lifeless by the rangers, or the Royal Americans, as they were officially designated, the remainder ran back with all possible speed.

After this came another lull, and Henry ran to where Barringford had been placed. He found the old frontiersman propped up against some brushwood, over which a pair of blankets had been spread. He tried to smile at the youth.

"Got it putty bad," said Barringford, in a low voice. "In – the – neck – can't talk."

"Then don't say another word, Sam," returned Henry tenderly. "I am glad to learn it's no worse. You keep quiet. I reckon we are safe, so far;" and that was all that was said between them.

"He'll be all right in a few days," said the surgeon. "But he had a narrow escape. Had the bullet cut in half an inch deeper it would have gone through his windpipe."

Slowly the hours dragged by after this, with only an occasional shot. But now Haldimand was laying his plans for moving on the enemy. Some guns were brought into play on a certain bit of forest before the pork barrel fort and when these were discharged the cries that followed told that the French had been taken by surprise.

"They are running for their boats!" was the announcement, a little while later. "They are on the retreat!"

A cheer went up at this announcement, and regardless of orders some of the rangers leaped out over the barrels and brushwood and made after the French, who seemed to have suddenly become panic-stricken.

It was seen that La Corne was indeed retreating. The French soldiers and the Indians were running in all directions, and in the excitement a dozen or more were sent sprawling on the shore.

"After 'em! After 'em!" was the cry. "Don't let 'em escape!" And then came the rapid crack-cracking of guns and rifles and long pistols and thirty of the enemy were killed and wounded. La Corne was struck among the number, but not seriously wounded.

With the rangers who left the fort was Henry, and soon he and Gangley and four other pioneers were hurrying after a number of Indians who were fleeing up the lake shore. These were the redmen who had made Henry a prisoner and he was anxious to "square accounts" with them.

The Indians had three canoes secreted in the bushes and they were anxious to gain possession of the craft. After a swift run of ten minutes they came in sight of the spot where the canoes were located. But now the rangers opened fire on them and two of the Indians went down, both wounded. The Indians returned the fire with a rifle shot and several arrows, but nobody was struck.

"They shan't git away so easy!" cried Gangley, and as the redmen leaped into their canoes, he opened fire again. The others reloaded with all speed, and a volley was delivered as the light craft shot out into the lake. One more redman was brought low and fell into the water with a loud splash, and then the canoes drew out of range with all possible speed.

The Indian who had fallen into the water was a stranger to Henry. He was not seriously wounded and not wishing to drown, came ashore, although evidently in terror of the whites.

"Don't shoot him!" cried Henry, as two of the others leveled their guns.

"Why not?" drawled one of the rangers. "Reckon as how he desarves it, don't he?"

"I want to question him."

In a few minutes more the Indian was a prisoner, and then the rangers turned their attention to the pair that lay wounded some distance back. One was dying, but the other suffered only from a slight wound in the leg. The dying redman was left where he had fallen and the others were taken back to the fort.

It was not until some time later that Henry got a chance to question the captured Indians. One could speak fairly good English but it was only with difficulty that the young soldier could make him tell anything concerning the Indians in general and the prisoners they were holding.

But after Henry had taken the trouble to dress the wounded one's hurt and had supplied him with water and food, the redman's tongue became loosened, and he listened to what Henry had to say with increased interest.

"Yes, Missapaw has seen the little girls," he said. "Two are of the same birth, and the other is called 'Nell.'"

"And where are they now?" demanded Henry, eagerly.

"They are with some Indians and some French traders, in the west – at the mighty fall of waters."

"You mean Niagara Falls?"

The Indian nodded.

"And who are the French traders?"

"Missapaw knows but one of them – a trader of the Kinotah."

"What, you don't mean Jean Bevoir?" cried the young soldier.

"Yes, that is his name."

"And they are helping the Indians to hold the little girls captive. What is their object?"

"To make the little girls' fathers pay well for the return of the little ones," was the answer.

CHAPTER XXVIII
SOMETHING ABOUT FORT NIAGARA

We will now go back to Dave, at the time he was thrown into the waters of the lake, in the midst of the storm.

For the moment after the waters closed over him, the young soldier was too bewildered to do more than throw out his hands wildly. He attempted to cry out, and the water rushed into his mouth, almost drowning him. Then he spluttered and struggled, and more by instinct than anything else began to strike out.

When he came up he took a fresh breath and dashed the water from his eyes. He could see but little in the darkness, and although he could hear many cries, and a shout or two from distant boats, yet the craft remained invisible to him.

At length another flash of lightning showed him that one batteau had gone down and also showed him the sailor-soldier struggling near him.

"Hullo there!" shouted the other, whose name was Simon Lapp. "Can you swim?"

"Yes, but not extra well," panted Dave.

"Move this way, then – the shore's over yonder, and I think we'll soon strike bottom with our feet."

Dave did as suggested, and ranged up alongside of Simon Lapp. The proximity of the sailor-soldier gave the youth confidence, and he did his best to keep up with the man.

It was the hardest swim of his life and more than once Dave felt as if the weight of his uniform would carry him down. The two were alone in the vicinity, the others having either gone down or struck out for the uninjured boats nearest to them.

When Dave was almost exhausted he felt bottom under him, and hand in hand he and Simon Lapp waded ashore. The rain was now coming down harder than ever, and both crawled to the shelter of some overhanging trees, regardless of the danger from lightning.

"We're in a pickle, that's certain," observed Dave, when he felt able to speak. "Do you reckon anybody will come to shore for us?"

"More'n likely some of the boats have been driven ashore," answered Lapp. "Let us be thankful that our lives have been spared."

Dave was thankful, and as they crouched there in the darkness he uttered a prayer to God for His mercies, and prayed that this adventure might speedily be brought to a safe conclusion.

As we know, the storm was not of long duration, and by nightfall Dave and Lapp were walking along the shore, searching for friends, or for some signs of the other batteaux.

But, strange as it may seem, no boats showed themselves, nor did a single human being come into sight.

"Might as well give it up," said the sailor-soldier at last. "I'm too tired to stick on my pins a minit longer. Let's make a fire and dry off."

Dave was agreeable, and the fire was started, although not without great difficulty. In moving along the shore they had come across a few small fish thrown up by the fury of the wind and these they cooked and ate.

The next day found Dave and Lapp still in the woods. In some manner they had strayed from the lake front and before nightfall they had covered many miles in an endeavor to set themselves right once again. They had found no more game, and being without means of shooting anything, or even of going fishing, were almost starved for the want of food.

"We've got to do something," said Dave, on the following morning. "If we don't, we'll starve. I'm going to try to bring down some birds with sticks and stones."

He tried his best, but though he followed his plan up for fully an hour not a bird did he hit, and by that time his arm was so tired that further throwing was out of the question. In the meantime, his course had brought him out on the lake front once more, and now while he rested, Simon Lapp tried his hand at fishing, with a hook made out of a thorn and some line manufactured from threads from his shirt.

But the fish would not bite, and in an hour Lapp gave up the attempt in disgust. Each looked at the other inquiringly.

"The lake is full o' fish, and the woods full o' game – an' yet it looks like we were meant to starve, Morris," said Lapp, slowly.

"Oh, don't say that!" cried Dave. "Something may turn up – it must turn up!"

He had scarcely spoken when Lapp leaped to his feet and pointed down the lake shore. "A boat!" he cried.

There was a speck on the water, and as it grew larger, Dave saw that it was indeed a boat, quite a large affair, carrying a small sail and in addition several men at oars.

Were those in the craft friends or enemies? That was the interesting question, and Dave felt his heart beat rapidly. If they were friends all would be well, but if enemies – ? They would not wish to expose themselves, and yet to starve to death was out of the question.

As the boat came closer, they crawled behind some bushes and crouched down out of sight. Slowly the craft glided up, until it was less than a hundred yards away. Then Simon Lapp leaped up and swung his arms wildly.

"Boat ahoy!" he cried. "Boat ahoy!"

Those in the craft heard the call and the rowers stopped rowing, while all looked with interest toward the shore. Then Dave uttered a yell.

"Henry! Henry!"

"Hullo, Dave, is that you?" was the answer.

"Yes. Come in and take us on board. We are almost starved!"

"How many of you there?" questioned the officer in charge of the boat.

"Only two," answered Simon Lapp. "And unarmed at that."

"It's all right, sir," said Henry, to the officer in command. "That is my cousin, who left Oswego with General Prideaux's command. I don't know what he is doing here though."

The boat came ashore, and soon Henry was shaking Dave by the hand. The hungry ones were provided with food, and although this consisted of nothing better than some boiled pork, with beans and crackers which were anything but fresh, never had a meal tasted sweeter to both.

The officer and the others listened with interest to what Lapp and Dave had to tell. They had come across the waterlogged remains of the wrecked batteaux and had been watching sharply for any signs of floating bodies. They had come across that of Lieutenant Naster and had buried it but a few hours before. The news that the lieutenant was dead caused Dave to shudder.

The rangers were bound for the Niagara River, having been sent out by Colonel Haldimand with a message to General Prideaux, telling the latter of the defeat and retreat of La Corne. It was possible that La Corne would now move onward to assist in the defense of Fort Niagara in which case measures would have to be taken to cut him off. But La Corne had been too thoroughly whipped to move westward, and, besides, he was soon after needed in other directions.

Of course the news which Henry had to tell about little Nell and Jean Bevoir was of great interest to Dave.

"Did the Indian tell you just where she was being kept?" he asked.

"He said so far as he knew the captives and the traders were at an Indian village called Shumetta, not over two miles away from Niagara Falls. He said Jean Bevoir spent part of his time at Shumetta and the rest at Venango, where he has charge of a company of traders, who intend to fight in the French army, if the war is carried into that territory."

"I hope Bevoir does fight, and that we get a chance at him!" cried Dave. "I really think I'd take pleasure in laying him low – such a rascal as he is!"

After the privations of the past two days Dave was well content to take it easy as the boat sped on its way along the dark and silent shore of Lake Ontario, then presenting an almost unbroken line of forest and rocks, to-day the sites of many villages and thriving cities. As the craft moved on, constant watch was kept for a possible French sail, but none appeared.

It took General Prideaux's flotilla between six and seven days to make the journey westward, and it was not until the troops were landing that the boat containing Dave and Henry reached the main army. General Prideaux was at once acquainted with what had occurred at Oswego and seemed well pleased to think that La Corne's strategy had not availed him. He already knew of the loss of Lieutenant Naster and of four others who were swept away by the storm.

Dave and Lapp had been given up for lost by their friends who had escaped from the wrecking of the batteau, and their re-appearance was hailed with delight.

It was General Prideaux's plan to land some distance from Fort Niagara, and then lay siege to the place. The soldiers disembarked as silently as possible, the trees, rocks and bushes keeping them well hidden from those in the fort. Then, while several companies were left behind to guard the boats and baggage, the rest of the army moved through the woods, the engineering corps going ahead, to throw up entrenchments as soon as such a move seemed necessary.

The old fort, which was speedily to see its last days under French rule, stood on the right bank of the Niagara River, where that picturesque stream empties into Lake Ontario. It was both large and strongly built, after the fashion of French fortification of that period. Within the outer defenses were several buildings of considerable importance, for this fort had stood as a guardian of lake and river for many years.

The commander at the fort was Captain Pouchot, an able French officer, who had seen service for many campaigns. He had under him a force of about six hundred soldiers – trained veterans who could boast of more than one victory. Up to a short while before, there had been other soldiers in this vicinity, but not dreaming of an attack – for his Indian spies had this time failed him – the French officer had allowed these to depart – to Venango and other trading posts, and to several of the nearby Indian villages. It was mid-summer, and traders and Indians hated to do military duty when they could bring down game and make trades.