Marching on Niagara: or, The Soldier Boys of the Old Frontier
"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.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE BATTLE NEAR THE FALLS
"We are certainly in for a fight now, Henry!"
It was Dave who spoke, as he examined the priming of his new gun, to make sure that the weapon was ready for use. "That little brush day before yesterday woke the French up, and they will sail into us heavily – if they can," he added.
"Well, we came to fight," returned Henry, as he, too, looked his weapon over. "And I guess we can be thankful, all things considered, that we are here to do them battle and not killed, or laid up as Sam Barringford is."
"I hope Sam pulls through and that quickly."
"The surgeon said he would – if he'll keep quiet for a while. But it's like putting a torch to gun-powder to keep him quiet when there's a scrimmage in sight, – he's such a born fighter."
The two young soldiers were standing behind a breastworks which had been thrown up early that morning. The first works thrown up by the English engineering corps had proved untenable and the French had fired on them with disastrous effect. But now they were comparatively safe; and the English gunners were serving their various cannon steadily and effectively, knocking the logs of the fort into bits with almost every discharge.
The fort had been under bombardment for several days, and the young soldiers had been out on the firing line three times. But only one of these times had been of any consequence and that was when a French cannon ball, hitting some loose stones, had sent the latter in their faces, scratching them both on each cheek and blinding a soldier standing between them.
The bombardment had been opened at rather long range, for General Prideaux had not known the exact strength of the French garrison. Now the worthy English general was dead, having been killed on the second day by the unexpected explosion of a shell as it was being fired by some English gunners from a small bronze mortar, generally called a coe-horn.
The killing of General Prideaux placed the command of the expedition in the hands of Sir William Johnson, who up to this time had been giving all of his attention to the Indians who had volunteered to aid their English brothers. Johnson was as quick to act as he was brave, and having stationed his Indians where he could call upon them at a moment's notice, had the English make another advance on the next day, which brought the cannon to bear directly on the most vital parts of the fort.
Captain Pouchot was now thoroughly alarmed, and under cover of darkness, sent out messengers in various directions, to bring up the soldiers, traders, and friendly Indians from Venango, Presqu'île, Detroit, and other points. These different forces were to join together at some point near Lake Erie and then sail down the Niagara River to the vicinity of the Falls, where they were to disembark and then march forward with the idea of attacking the English from the rear.
Having sent forth his messengers the French commander now undertook to do his best until the reinforcements should arrive. The English attack was answered with spirit, so that day after day the air was filled with shot and shell, hurled either into the fort or from it.
The attack Dave had mentioned came late that afternoon and was followed by another on the next day and still another two days later.
It was hot work, for the July sun blazed down with unmitigating vigor, and had the young soldiers not been toughened to a life in the open they would have done as many of the English grenadiers did, fallen down in the entrenchments exhausted. There was a continual demand for water and it was fortunate for all that a good supply was close at hand. This same supply more than once saved the fort from burning down.
Both Dave and Henry had hoped to gain permission from General Johnson to go off in search of little Nell, taking several friends with them. But when they broached the subject the brave-hearted Irish commander shook his head.
"It will do you no good, young men," he said, kindly. "Stay with me, and if we win out – as we must – I will do all possible to rescue the children."
The general was sure of a victory and his spirit proved contagious to all under him. As the days went by the bombardment of the fort continued, until Captain Pouchot had lost fully half a hundred of his garrison. Impatiently he awaited the reinforcements from up the river.
But if he had expected to catch Sir William Johnson napping he was sadly mistaken. The commander of the English forces was thoroughly wide-awake, and had his scouts out in all directions, and these included a dozen old backwoodsmen and fully a score of Indians who could be depended upon to do their best, no matter what the risk. It may be as well to mention that among these scouts was White Buffalo, who had followed from Oswego to Fort Niagara, not alone to aid Sir William Johnson but also to assist the Morrises to find little Nell.
The attack on the fort had begun on the seventh of July. On the twenty-fourth word came in through the spies that a force of French and Indians were coming down the river from Lake Erie. This body of soldiers, traders and Indians was twelve hundred strong, and was commanded by several French officers of note. The traders were of the most savage and lawless kind and many of them were in the habit of dressing like the Indians and smearing their faces with the same war-paint.
The word concerning this body came in late in the day and that night General Johnson ordered forward a large part of his force, including some grenadiers, some rangers and his Indians. The troops were cautioned to move forward without making unnecessary noise, and to be certain of what was taking place before opening fire.
"Now for some real fighting!" cried Dave. "This won't be any such play as besieging the fort."
"Well, that hasn't been play to my notion," answered Henry. "At least it wasn't play when that cannon ball came and blinded poor Campbell."
"Well, I'm with ye, lads!" came a voice from behind them, and turning swiftly they beheld Sam Barringford standing there, rifle in hand, and with his throat done up in a bandage.
"Where in the world did you come from?" ejaculated Henry. "Why, you ought to be in the hospital!"
"Not by a jugful, Henry! I'm well enough ag'in, I can tell ye – though I allow as how my neck's a bit stiff."
"How did you get here?"
"Came up on a boat that brought some ammunition. Reckon I'm jest in time, too, eh?"
"You ought to take it easy, Sam," said Dave. "You've done enough – "
"Cut it short, lad; I can't sit still when thar's a scrimmage on – no two ways about it. Besides, I promised your folks to stay with ye, remember thet, – an' I'm bound to keep my promise. Come along, an' tell me what ye've been up to sence we parted company."
As they trudged forward, along the Indian trail which led along the bluff on the east side of the Niagara River, the youths related their various adventures. Barringford was astonished to learn how Dave had been nearly drowned and starved and how Henry and others had come up just in the nick of time.
"It's the work of an all-wise an' all-powerful Providence, thet's what it is, lads," he said, reverently. "When we can't help ourselves it does seem jest like an arm reached down out o' the clouds to give us a lift."
On and still on went the soldiers, some keeping to the trail and others skirting the river and the thick forest beyond. To those who had been on guard duty during the day it was a tiresome tramp, but the life of the soldier, as I have had occasion to say before, is not all glory, but is usually a mixture of one-tenth glory and nine-tenths work and duty-doing.
At last came the welcome command to halt. The soldiers were now less than a mile away from the falls and in the stillness of the early morning the great body of falling waters could be distinctly heard – a muffled roar which keeps on day and night now just as it did in those days and just as it has done probably for centuries upon centuries.
The rangers to which our friends belonged came to a halt in a little grove of trees and both Dave and Henry were glad that they were not called upon to do picket duty. They sank down to rest, and despite the undertone of excitement observable on every hand, fell into a light slumber, from which Barringford did not arouse them until it was absolutely necessary.
When they awoke there was a fierce yelling in the distance, followed by a number of scattering shots. The fight had opened between the Mohawks on one side and the Iroquois on the other. Soon the French traders leaped into the fray, and then the soldiers on both sides followed.
The French and their allies had come around the falls by the portage trail and the battle began at some little distance below the falls. The Indians fought like so many demons, both sides taking as many scalps as possible. Soon the forest and the open space were filled with gun-smoke.
"Forward!" came the cry. "Forward! We must drive them back! They must never reach the fort!" And forward went our friends, and in a moment more Dave, Henry, and Barringford found themselves in the very thickest of the fray.
Dirty looking traders confronted them, several Dave had seen before, on the Kinotah, and some of these tried their best to bring down the son of the English trader they so hated. But Dave was un-touched, although one bullet did pierce his jacket. The rush of the English rangers was successful and soon the Frenchmen scattered to the right and the left.
But now a body of French soldiery was coming forward on the double-quick. The rangers had no time to reload their weapons, and so leaped forward for a hand-to-hand contest, such as soldiers of to-day know little or nothing about, where bayonet met clubbed musket and sword the long and equally dangerous hunting knife of the pioneer, and where many a contest was settled in short order with the naked fist, if no better weapon was handy. It was a time to bring out "real grit" in the best meaning of that term.
Henry had discharged his gun and was now trying to club off two French soldiers who had attacked him with their bayonets. He struck one of the enemy on the head, sending him reeling, but the force of the blow made him lose his balance and he too fell, but only upon his knees.
"Ha! now we have you!" cried another French soldier, close by, as he saw Henry slip, and lowering his bayonet he charged on the youth, intending to run him through on the spot!
CHAPTER XXX
INTO THE NIAGARA RAPIDS
For the moment it looked as if poor Henry's last moment on earth had come and the young soldier closed his eyes to meet the fate he thought could not be averted.
"Back with you!" came a cry from Dave, and making a wild leap forward, he swung his clubbed musket at the French soldier's head. The blow, however, merely grazed the enemy's cap, which fell upon the forest sward. Then the Frenchman drew back and made another desperate lunge forward.
At that instant a rifle report rang out. Sam Barringford, who had just reloaded his weapon, had seen Henry go down and was as quick to act as Dave had been. He was in such a position that he could not get a full view of the Frenchman but he could see the extended arms and the gun with the bayonet, and he fired at these.
His aim was true, and with a howl of pain, as the bullet cracked his elbow joint, the enemy dropped the weapon just as the bayonet point was entering the cloth of Henry's jacket. Then, finding himself wounded and defenseless, the Frenchman lost no time in retreating and was soon lost to sight behind the trees.
Now was no time to thank Barringford for what he had done, for the fighting still continued on every side. Dave helped his cousin to his feet, and soon the pair, with the faithful old frontiersman, were again in the thick of the fray. The forest was heavy with gun smoke so that in spots but little could be seen, and more than once it happened that one side or the other fired into the ranks of its friends.
Inside of quarter of an hour our friends found themselves in something of an open spot bordering the river, at a point where the rapids rushed furiously along the rocks on their way to the lake. Here, as they were moving forward, to join a body of English soldiers fifty yards away, they were suddenly confronted by a body of Iroquois who came upon them uttering the most horrible war-cries the youths had ever heard, and brandishing their tomahawks and scalping knives.
"On yer guard thar!" came from Barringford. "They air after us hot-footed now!"
He swung around, and as the nearest Iroquois came within a dozen steps of him, he let the savage have the contents of his gun full in the breast, killing him instantly. Then the boys also fired, wounding two others. This halted the Indians for the moment, but quickly recovering, they darted forward with increased fury, bent upon adding the scalps of the three whites to their belts ere the battle should come to an end.
It was Dave who found himself the first attacked. A tall Iroquois, straight as an arrow, leaped upon him and tried to stab him with a hunting knife. The young soldier warded off the blow, with his gun, and in a trice the pair were locked in each other's arms and swaying back and forth over the rocks. The Indian muttered something between his set teeth, but Dave did not understand what was said.
Henry and Barringford were also attacked, so they could do nothing for their companion. The Iroquois were ten strong, and soon it looked as if all our friends would undoubtedly be killed and scalped.
The Indian who had attacked Dave had made a desperate clutch at the young soldier's throat. But Dave had caught the wrist so quickly thrust forth, and now the two were fighting with one arm of each thrust out and up and the other wound tightly about the enemy's neck. Thus they swayed back and forth, each doing his best to force an advantage and each failing. Both looked about, thinking that possible assistance might be at hand, but all the others engaged in the combat were too busy to notice them.
Slowly but surely the pair drew closer to the edge of the river, which at this point was some fifteen or twenty feet below the ledge of rock upon which the combat was occurring. In the stream the rapids swirled and boiled in every direction, occasionally sending a shower of spray up to their very feet. The dampness made the rocks slippery and both had all they could do to retain their footing.
At last Dave seemed to obtain a slight advantage. The Indian relaxed his vigor for just a moment and in that fraction of time the young soldier caught him by the throat and gave him such a squeeze that the redman's windpipe was well-nigh dislocated.
At this the Indian uttered a grunt and began to back away, but still retained his grip on Dave. This brought the pair closer than ever to the edge of the rocks.
"Look out!" came a sudden cry from Henry, who happened to see the movement. "Dave! Dave! Look out!"
Dave heard the cry, but was powerless to heed it. At the very edge the rocks were worn smooth, and of a sudden the Indian slid backward dragging the young soldier with him! Over went both, into the flying spray, to disappear a moment later beneath the surface of the fiercely running rapids.
Henry saw the fall and his heart leaped into his throat, for he felt that it could mean but one thing for his cousin, and that death. But even had he been able to do anything, which was doubtful, he was given no chance, for now the advancing Iroquois surrounded him and Barringford upon every side.
The scene to follow was one which it would be hard for pen to describe. Feeling that it might be his last stand on earth, Barringford's whole will-power arose to the occasion, and once again he was the very personification of reckless courage, just as he had been when the Indians had attacked the trading post on the Kinotah. With clubbed musket he whirled around from right to left and left to right so quickly that the human eye could scarcely follow him.
"Come on, ye red sarpints o' the woods!" he yelled. "Come on, an' I'll show ye the real trick o' fightin'! Ye don't know what a roarin', blusterin' hurricane ole Sam Barringford is when he's woke up, do ye? Thar's one fer ye, an' thar's another, an' another! Cut me loose, will ye! I'll show what a generwine ole Injun fighter kin do! Yer nuthin' 'tall but a lot of measly pappoose, thet's wot ye be, an' don't yer go fer to wake up sech a roarin' mountain painter as me!"
Barringford had just brought down his third Indian and was still at it, with Henry lending all the aid possible, when there came a sudden war-cry from the woods to the north of the opening. It was the cry of Indians friendly to the English, and scarcely had it ended when White Buffalo burst into view, followed by a number of his braves.
A glance told the chief what was happening, and without delay he leaped in to aid our friends, and in a moment more the redmen on both sides were having a battle as warm as the one just ended. But the Iroquois had suffered about all they could stand, and soon those that were able to move were in full retreat, while the others were just as speedily dispatched and scalped by the redmen who had put them to flight.
As soon as he was at liberty to do so, Henry approached the edge of the rocks, to ascertain, if possible, what had become of his cousin. Here, while he was peering eagerly down into the rapids and flying spray, Barringford joined him. Both were suffering from several small wounds from which the blood flowed freely, but to these hurts they, just then, paid no attention.
"Whar's Dave?" was the frontiersman's question, as he proceeded to reload his rifle.
"Why, didn't you see him, Sam? He and a redskin had each other by the throat and both went over into the river."
"Gollywhoppers, Henry, you don't mean it! When was thet?"
"Just before White Buffalo and his braves came up."
"And they went over right here?"
"Yes."
Barringford peered sharply down the stream for nearly half a minute, while Henry did the same.
"Don't see no sight of 'em; do you?" he said, slowly.
"No." Henry drew a long breath and shuddered. "Oh, Sam, I – I hope Dave isn't drowned!"
At this the backwoodsman shrugged his shoulders.
"So do I hope it, lad. But war is war ye must remember, an' we can't expect to kill the enemy right along an' hev nuthin' happen to us."
"Yes, but – " Henry could not finish because of the lump which came up in his throat. "I'm going to follow the river and see if I can't find out the truth," he blurted out at length.
"Sure. Come on."
The fighting now seemed to be at an end in that neighborhood, and although they could hear gun-shots in the direction of the falls, and further to the southward, not a French soldier or an unfriendly Indian remained in sight.
For the day had been irretrievably lost to the enemy, and with one hundred and fifty of the French and Indians killed, and over one hundred French taken prisoners, the remainder of the attacking force had fled in wild confusion past the falls and upper rapids to where lay the boats which had brought them down from Lake Erie. Into these boats they tumbled with all possible speed and sped in the direction whence they had come. They were followed by some of the English and by Indians, who ran along the shore for a distance of half a mile, shooting down every enemy who could be reached by bullet or arrow.
CHAPTER XXXI
FALL OF FORT NIAGARA
So intent were Dave and his enemy on getting the better of each other that neither noticed their close proximity to the river until it was too late to do anything to save themselves.
Down they went through the flying spray, to strike the boiling waters which flowed so rapidly at the base of the rocks. Both went under like a flash and with equal quickness were borne along by that treacherous current which had proved the death of so many in the past and will most likely bring death to many more in the future.
