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CHAPTER 1
"Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared: The worst is wordly loss thou canst
unfold:-- Say, is my kingdom lost?"-- Shakespeare
It was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of North America, that the toils and
dangers of the wilderness were to be encountered before the adverse hosts could
meet.
A wide and apparently an impervious boundary of forests severed the possessions
of the hostile provinces of France and England.
The hardy colonist, and the trained European who fought at his side, frequently
expended months in struggling against the rapids of the streams, or in effecting the
rugged passes of the mountains, in quest of
an opportunity to exhibit their courage in a more martial conflict.
But, emulating the patience and self-denial of the practiced native warriors, they
learned to overcome every difficulty; and it would seem that, in time, there was no
recess of the woods so dark, nor any secret
place so lovely, that it might claim exemption from the inroads of those who had
pledged their blood to satiate their vengeance, or to uphold the cold and
selfish policy of the distant monarchs of Europe.
Perhaps no district throughout the wide extent of the intermediate frontiers can
furnish a livelier picture of the cruelty and fierceness of the savage warfare of
those periods than the country which lies
between the head waters of the Hudson and the adjacent lakes.
The facilities which nature had there offered to the march of the combatants were
too obvious to be neglected.
The lengthened sheet of the Champlain stretched from the frontiers of Canada,
deep within the borders of the neighboring province of New York, forming a natural
passage across half the distance that the
French were compelled to master in order to strike their enemies.
Near its southern termination, it received the contributions of another lake, whose
waters were so limpid as to have been exclusively selected by the Jesuit
missionaries to perform the typical
purification of baptism, and to obtain for it the title of lake "du Saint Sacrement."
The less zealous English thought they conferred a sufficient honor on its
unsullied fountains, when they bestowed the name of their reigning prince, the second
of the house of Hanover.
The two united to rob the untutored possessors of its wooded scenery of their
native right to perpetuate its original appellation of "Horican."
(FOOTNOTE: As each nation of the Indians had its language or its dialect, they
usually gave different names to the same places, though nearly all of their
appellations were descriptive of the object.
Thus a literal translation of the name of this beautiful sheet of water, used by the
tribe that dwelt on its banks, would be "The Tail of the Lake."
Lake George, as it is vulgarly, and now, indeed, legally, called, forms a sort of
tail to Lake Champlain, when viewed on the map.
Hence, the name.)
Winding its way among countless islands, and imbedded in mountains, the "holy lake"
extended a dozen leagues still further to the south.
With the high plain that there interposed itself to the further passage of the water,
commenced a portage of as many miles, which conducted the adventurer to the banks of
the Hudson, at a point where, with the
usual obstructions of the rapids, or rifts, as they were then termed in the language of
the country, the river became navigable to the tide.
While, in the pursuit of their daring plans of annoyance, the restless enterprise of
the French even attempted the distant and difficult gorges of the Alleghany, it may
easily be imagined that their proverbial
acuteness would not overlook the natural advantages of the district we have just
described.
It became, emphatically, the bloody arena, in which most of the battles for the
mastery of the colonies were contested.
Forts were erected at the different points that commanded the facilities of the route,
and were taken and retaken, razed and rebuilt, as victory alighted on the hostile
banners.
While the husbandman shrank back from the dangerous passes, within the safer
boundaries of the more ancient settlements, armies larger than those that had often
disposed of the scepters of the mother
countries, were seen to bury themselves in these forests, whence they rarely returned
but in skeleton bands, that were haggard with care or dejected by defeat.
Though the arts of peace were unknown to this fatal region, its forests were alive
with men; its shades and glens rang with the sounds of martial music, and the echoes
of its mountains threw back the laugh, or
repeated the wanton cry, of many a gallant and reckless youth, as he hurried by them,
in the noontide of his spirits, to slumber in a long night of forgetfulness.
It was in this scene of strife and bloodshed that the incidents we shall
attempt to relate occurred, during the third year of the war which England and
France last waged for the possession of a
country that neither was destined to retain.
The imbecility of her military leaders abroad, and the fatal want of energy in her
councils at home, had lowered the character of Great Britain from the proud elevation
on which it had been placed by the talents
and enterprise of her former warriors and statesmen.
No longer dreaded by her enemies, her servants were fast losing the confidence of
self-respect.
In this mortifying abasement, the colonists, though innocent of her
imbecility, and too humble to be the agents of her blunders, were but the natural
participators.
They had recently seen a chosen army from that country, which, reverencing as a
mother, they had blindly believed invincible--an army led by a chief who had
been selected from a crowd of trained
warriors, for his rare military endowments, disgracefully routed by a handful of French
and Indians, and only saved from annihilation by the coolness and spirit of
a Virginian boy, whose riper fame has since
diffused itself, with the steady influence of moral truth, to the uttermost confines
of Christendom.
(FOOTNOTE: Washington, who, after uselessly admonishing the European general of the
danger into which he was heedlessly running, saved the remnants of the British
army, on this occasion, by his decision and courage.
The reputation earned by Washington in this battle was the principal cause of his being
selected to command the American armies at a later day.
It is a circumstance worthy of observation, that while all America rang with his well-
merited reputation, his name does not occur in any European account of the battle; at
least the author has searched for it without success.
In this manner does the mother country absorb even the fame, under that system of
rule.)
A wide frontier had been laid naked by this unexpected disaster, and more substantial
evils were preceded by a thousand fanciful and imaginary dangers.
The alarmed colonists believed that the yells of the savages mingled with every
fitful gust of wind that issued from the interminable forests of the west.
The terrific character of their merciless enemies increased immeasurably the natural
horrors of warfare.
Numberless recent massacres were still vivid in their recollections; nor was there
any ear in the provinces so deaf as not to have drunk in with avidity the narrative of
some fearful tale of midnight ***, in
which the natives of the forests were the principal and barbarous actors.
As the credulous and excited traveler related the hazardous chances of the
wilderness, the blood of the timid curdled with terror, and mothers cast anxious
glances even at those children which
slumbered within the security of the largest towns.
In short, the magnifying influence of fear began to set at naught the calculations of
reason, and to render those who should have remembered their manhood, the slaves of the
basest passions.
Even the most confident and the stoutest hearts began to think the issue of the
contest was becoming doubtful; and that abject class was hourly increasing in
numbers, who thought they foresaw all the
possessions of the English crown in America subdued by their Christian foes, or laid
waste by the inroads of their relentless allies.
When, therefore, intelligence was received at the fort which covered the southern
termination of the portage between the Hudson and the lakes, that Montcalm had
been seen moving up the Champlain, with an
army "numerous as the leaves on the trees," its truth was admitted with more of the
craven reluctance of fear than with the stern joy that a warrior should feel, in
finding an enemy within reach of his blow.
The news had been brought, toward the decline of a day in midsummer, by an Indian
runner, who also bore an urgent request from Munro, the commander of a work on the
shore of the "holy lake," for a speedy and powerful reinforcement.
It has already been mentioned that the distance between these two posts was less
than five leagues.
The rude path, which originally formed their line of communication, had been
widened for the passage of wagons; so that the distance which had been traveled by the
son of the forest in two hours, might
easily be effected by a detachment of troops, with their necessary baggage,
between the rising and setting of a summer sun.
The loyal servants of the British crown had given to one of these forest-fastnesses the
name of William Henry, and to the other that of Fort Edward, calling each after a
favorite prince of the reigning family.
The veteran Scotchman just named held the first, with a regiment of regulars and a
few provincials; a force really by far too small to make head against the formidable
power that Montcalm was leading to the foot of his earthen mounds.
At the latter, however, lay General Webb, who commanded the armies of the king in the
northern provinces, with a body of more than five thousand men.
By uniting the several detachments of his command, this officer might have arrayed
nearly double that number of combatants against the enterprising Frenchman, who had
ventured so far from his reinforcements,
with an army but little superior in numbers.
But under the influence of their degraded fortunes, both officers and men appeared
better disposed to await the approach of their formidable antagonists, within their
works, than to resist the progress of their
march, by emulating the successful example of the French at Fort du Quesne, and
striking a blow on their advance.
After the first surprise of the intelligence had a little abated, a rumor
was spread through the entrenched camp, which stretched along the margin of the
Hudson, forming a chain of outworks to the
body of the fort itself, that a chosen detachment of fifteen hundred men was to
depart, with the dawn, for William Henry, the post at the northern extremity of the
portage.
That which at first was only rumor, soon became certainty, as orders passed from the
quarters of the commander-in-chief to the several corps he had selected for this
service, to prepare for their speedy departure.
All doubts as to the intention of Webb now vanished, and an hour or two of hurried
footsteps and anxious faces succeeded.
The novice in the military art flew from point to point, retarding his own
preparations by the excess of his violent and somewhat distempered zeal; while the
more practiced veteran made his
arrangements with a deliberation that scorned every appearance of haste; though
his sober lineaments and anxious eye sufficiently betrayed that he had no very
strong professional relish for the, as yet,
untried and dreaded warfare of the wilderness.
At length the sun set in a flood of glory, behind the distant western hills, and as
darkness drew its veil around the secluded spot the sounds of preparation diminished;
the last light finally disappeared from the
log cabin of some officer; the trees cast their deeper shadows over the mounds and
the rippling stream, and a silence soon pervaded the camp, as deep as that which
reigned in the vast forest by which it was environed.
According to the orders of the preceding night, the heavy sleep of the army was
broken by the rolling of the warning drums, whose rattling echoes were heard issuing,
on the damp morning air, out of every vista
of the woods, just as day began to draw the shaggy outlines of some tall pines of the
vicinity, on the opening brightness of a soft and cloudless eastern sky.
In an instant the whole camp was in motion; the meanest soldier arousing from his lair
to witness the departure of his comrades, and to share in the excitement and
incidents of the hour.
The simple array of the chosen band was soon completed.
While the regular and trained hirelings of the king marched with haughtiness to the
right of the line, the less pretending colonists took their humbler position on
its left, with a docility that long practice had rendered easy.
The scouts departed; strong guards preceded and followed the lumbering vehicles that
bore the baggage; and before the gray light of the morning was mellowed by the rays of
the sun, the main body of the combatants
wheeled into column, and left the encampment with a show of high military
bearing, that served to drown the slumbering apprehensions of many a novice,
who was now about to make his first essay in arms.
While in view of their admiring comrades, the same proud front and ordered array was
observed, until the notes of their fifes growing fainter in distance, the forest at
length appeared to swallow up the living mass which had slowly entered its ***.
The deepest sounds of the retiring and invisible column had ceased to be borne on
the breeze to the listeners, and the latest straggler had already disappeared in
pursuit; but there still remained the signs
of another departure, before a log cabin of unusual size and accommodations, in front
of which those sentinels paced their rounds, who were known to guard the person
of the English general.
At this spot were gathered some half dozen horses, caparisoned in a manner which
showed that two, at least, were destined to bear the persons of females, of a rank that
it was not usual to meet so far in the wilds of the country.
A third wore trappings and arms of an officer of the staff; while the rest, from
the plainness of the housings, and the traveling mails with which they were
encumbered, were evidently fitted for the
reception of as many menials, who were, seemingly, already waiting the pleasure of
those they served.
At a respectful distance from this unusual show, were gathered divers groups of
curious idlers; some admiring the blood and bone of the high-mettled military charger,
and others gazing at the preparations, with the dull wonder of vulgar curiosity.
There was one man, however, who, by his countenance and actions, formed a marked
exception to those who composed the latter class of spectators, being neither idle,
nor seemingly very ignorant.
The person of this individual was to the last degree ungainly, without being in any
particular manner deformed. He had all the bones and joints of other
men, without any of their proportions.
Erect, his stature surpassed that of his fellows; though seated, he appeared reduced
within the ordinary limits of the race. The same contrariety in his members seemed
to exist throughout the whole man.
His head was large; his shoulders narrow; his arms long and dangling; while his hands
were small, if not delicate.
His legs and thighs were thin, nearly to emaciation, but of extraordinary length;
and his knees would have been considered tremendous, had they not been outdone by
the broader foundations on which this false
superstructure of blended human orders was so profanely reared.
The ill-assorted and injudicious attire of the individual only served to render his
awkwardness more conspicuous.
A sky-blue coat, with short and broad skirts and low cape, exposed a long, thin
neck, and longer and thinner legs, to the worst animadversions of the evil-disposed.
His nether garment was a yellow nankeen, closely fitted to the shape, and tied at
his bunches of knees by large knots of white ribbon, a good deal sullied by use.
Clouded cotton stockings, and shoes, on one of the latter of which was a plated spur,
completed the costume of the lower extremity of this figure, no curve or angle
of which was concealed, but, on the other
hand, studiously exhibited, through the vanity or simplicity of its owner.
From beneath the flap of an enormous pocket of a soiled vest of embossed silk, heavily
ornamented with tarnished silver lace, projected an instrument, which, from being
seen in such martial company, might have
been easily mistaken for some mischievous and unknown implement of war.
Small as it was, this uncommon engine had excited the curiosity of most of the
Europeans in the camp, though several of the provincials were seen to handle it, not
only without fear, but with the utmost familiarity.
A large, civil cocked hat, like those worn by clergymen within the last thirty years,
surmounted the whole, furnishing dignity to a good-natured and somewhat vacant
countenance, that apparently needed such
artificial aid, to support the gravity of some high and extraordinary trust.
While the common herd stood aloof, in deference to the quarters of Webb, the
figure we have described stalked into the center of the domestics, freely expressing
his censures or commendations on the merits
of the horses, as by chance they displeased or satisfied his judgment.
"This beast, I rather conclude, friend, is not of home raising, but is from foreign
lands, or perhaps from the little island itself over the blue water?" he said, in a
voice as remarkable for the softness and
sweetness of its tones, as was his person for its rare proportions; "I may speak of
these things, and be no braggart; for I have been down at both havens; that which
is situate at the mouth of Thames, and is
named after the capital of Old England, and that which is called 'Haven', with the
addition of the word 'New'; and have seen the scows and brigantines collecting their
droves, like the gathering to the ark,
being outward bound to the Island of Jamaica, for the purpose of barter and
traffic in four-footed animals; but never before have I beheld a beast which verified
the true scripture war-horse like this: 'He
paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength; he goeth on to meet the armed
men.
He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder
of the captains, and the shouting' It would seem that the stock of the horse of Israel
had descended to our own time; would it not, friend?"
Receiving no reply to this extraordinary appeal, which in truth, as it was delivered
with the vigor of full and sonorous tones, merited some sort of notice, he who had
thus sung forth the language of the holy
book turned to the silent figure to whom he had unwittingly addressed himself, and
found a new and more powerful subject of admiration in the object that encountered
his gaze.
His eyes fell on the still, upright, and rigid form of the "Indian runner," who had
borne to the camp the unwelcome tidings of the preceding evening.
Although in a state of perfect repose, and apparently disregarding, with
characteristic stoicism, the excitement and bustle around him, there was a sullen
fierceness mingled with the quiet of the
savage, that was likely to arrest the attention of much more experienced eyes
than those which now scanned him, in unconcealed amazement.
The native bore both the tomahawk and knife of his tribe; and yet his appearance was
not altogether that of a warrior.
On the contrary, there was an air of neglect about his person, like that which
might have proceeded from great and recent exertion, which he had not yet found
leisure to repair.
The colors of the war-paint had blended in dark confusion about his fierce
countenance, and rendered his swarthy lineaments still more savage and repulsive
than if art had attempted an effect which had been thus produced by chance.
His eye, alone, which glistened like a fiery star amid lowering clouds, was to be
seen in its state of native wildness.
For a single instant his searching and yet wary glance met the wondering look of the
other, and then changing its direction, partly in cunning, and partly in disdain,
it remained fixed, as if penetrating the distant air.
It is impossible to say what unlooked-for remark this short and silent communication,
between two such singular men, might have elicited from the white man, had not his
active curiosity been again drawn to other objects.
A general movement among the domestics, and a low sound of gentle voices, announced the
approach of those whose presence alone was wanted to enable the cavalcade to move.
The simple admirer of the war-horse instantly fell back to a low, gaunt,
switch-tailed mare, that was unconsciously gleaning the faded herbage of the camp nigh
by; where, leaning with one elbow on the
blanket that concealed an apology for a saddle, he became a spectator of the
departure, while a foal was quietly making its morning repast, on the opposite side of
the same animal.
A young man, in the dress of an officer, conducted to their steeds two females, who,
as it was apparent by their dresses, were prepared to encounter the fatigues of a
journey in the woods.
One, and she was the more juvenile in her appearance, though both were young,
permitted glimpses of her dazzling complexion, fair golden hair, and bright
blue eyes, to be caught, as she artlessly
suffered the morning air to blow aside the green veil which descended low from her
beaver.
The flush which still lingered above the pines in the western sky was not more
bright nor delicate than the bloom on her cheek; nor was the opening day more
cheering than the animated smile which she
bestowed on the youth, as he assisted her into the saddle.
The other, who appeared to share equally in the attention of the young officer,
concealed her charms from the gaze of the soldiery with a care that seemed better
fitted to the experience of four or five additional years.
It could be seen, however, that her person, though molded with the same exquisite
proportions, of which none of the graces were lost by the traveling dress she wore,
was rather fuller and more mature than that of her companion.
No sooner were these females seated, than their attendant sprang lightly into the
saddle of the war-horse, when the whole three bowed to Webb, who in courtesy,
awaited their parting on the threshold of
his cabin and turning their horses' heads, they proceeded at a slow amble, followed by
their train, toward the northern entrance of the encampment.
As they traversed that short distance, not a voice was heard among them; but a slight
exclamation proceeded from the younger of the females, as the Indian runner glided by
her, unexpectedly, and led the way along the military road in her front.
Though this sudden and startling movement of the Indian produced no sound from the
other, in the surprise her veil also was allowed to open its folds, and betrayed an
indescribable look of pity, admiration, and
horror, as her dark eye followed the easy motions of the savage.
The tresses of this lady were shining and black, like the plumage of the raven.
Her complexion was not brown, but it rather appeared charged with the color of the rich
blood, that seemed ready to burst its bounds.
And yet there was neither coarseness nor want of shadowing in a countenance that was
exquisitely regular, and dignified and surpassingly beautiful.
She smiled, as if in pity at her own momentary forgetfulness, discovering by the
act a row of teeth that would have shamed the purest ivory; when, replacing the veil,
she bowed her face, and rode in silence,
like one whose thoughts were abstracted from the scene around her.