University of Virginia Library

LETTER XI.

After hearing Du Quesne without interruption,
“Are you (said he) true men and no spies?—
Is it not to spy out the nakedness of the land ye
are come? You, sir, must be a Frenchman, and
surely, if ever I saw one, this is an Indian. Know
you not that it is against such that I have come to
fight? I have the authority of scripture history.
It is in vain for the Keemites to attempt deceiving
me, with their old shoes, and clouted, tattered garments,
and moldy bread, and broken bottles.”

The dialogue between them lasted some time.
The engaging manners and conversation of Du
Quesne interested the chieftain, though it was apparent
he doubted the truth of the story, and looked
on the disinterested heroism of Weshop particularly
as apocryphal.

But aside from his incredulity, and some strong
suspicions of design, he resolved not to cross the
jake, but to keep his provincials within the boundary

of New-England. He cared as little for the
Dutch as for the French.

“Let them, (said he to himself,) fight it out between
themselves, and if the Indians take sides, so
much the better.”

Great was the joy of Du Quesne when he heard
that Dudley, his long lost, and as he supposed, far
distant friend, was on the spot, and the second in
command. He hastened to his quarters, where he
found Dubourg and his daughter. Standish was
present at this cordial interview, and listened once
more, but with greater confidence and interest, to
the story and request. The anxiety of Dudley
was extreme. He saw the emaciated form of Du
Quesne, worn down by famine, fatigue and suffering—represented
to himself the exposure of Van
Tromp to a fate from which it might even now be
too late to save him, and made up his mind.

“I will go, and that immediately, if I go alone.
Major Standish, (said he) this is no matter of political
or provincial interest—it is my private business,
and of great emergency. Providence gives
me this opportunity—perhaps the only one, of redeeming
a sacred pledge; my sworn, my bosom
friend is in peril. See (said he pointing to Weshop)
what an example even this man has set me.”

“Ah, he's a Keenite, (said Standish, wringing
Weshop's hand,) worthy to be ranked with Squantum
himself. In a case like this, I will not be outdone
by the best heathen that ever lived. Weshop!
—but come, there's no time to lose—beat to arms.
I wish (added he in a lower tone to Dudley) that
Weshop was a christian—he would make a better
one than some white men I know of---but now have
the boats ready—I'll show you how to deal with
Indians, when you catch them on fair ground, in a
body. Weshop, you must lead us. Captain Dudley,

we march Indian file, without music. Three
ferriages will carry over as many as we want. Let
the ladies stay with those who keep guard at the
camp. If I don't return, I'll send for them.”

During the bustle of a slight and rapid preparation,
the young lady found means to set her large
dark eyes on Du Quesne, and beckon him towards
her.

“This, sir, (said she) is no time for ceremony,
or affected delicacy. I feel interested for the safety
of your friend. I shall wait here—oh! with how
much anxiety!—to hear of your arrival in time to
save him, and beg that as soon as it is safe, I may
be immediately sent for, to join you and Mr. Dudley
at the Blasted Tree. I know from your zeal
you will save him—I know you will. But you
have eaten nothing: these hasty men have forgotten
to ask you, and you have forgotten to call. Here—I
will set a table for you, and wait upon you myself.”

“I must not eat without my friend.”

“Who?”

“The Indian warrior that brought me here.”

“Oh! Weshop. I know him, let me call him
myself.”

Weshop came back; but the honest fellow could
not stay for a regular meal; he took a quantity of
provision in his hand to eat as he went onward to
the place of embarkation, saying as he left the shore
—“Make haste!-make haste!”

The party, in fine order, and under strict discipline,
were soon paraded, marched and wheeled to
the landing.

The lake, at a narrow place, was ferried over
again and again, till all but a guard for the defence
of the women and the few effects that were
left behind, had quit the shore. Miles Standish directed
the embarkation himself, and brought up

the rear in the last boat, with his drummer, trumpeter
and bugleman; and as he had an ear for
music, and a strong taste for sublime scenery, he
directed them to play Old Hundred and accompanied
them with his voice, in these noble words—
This psalm he sung to the end, as he sat in the
stern of the boat, and the bugleman swelled his
cheeks in vain to overpower the loud bold tones of
this vocal accompaniment.

They landed, and took up their line of march
in the dark, till the moon, just past the full, shone
on the rocks and woods west of Champlain.

Van Tromp and his small garrison had evidence
of the misfortune that had befallen his friends, when
they saw, the second day after their departure, the
straggling remnants of the hunters, returning in
haste and disorder. His anxiety for Du Quesne
and Weshop was succeeded by a horrid conviction,
when he saw his savage enemies assembling in formidable
numbers near the edge of the wood on the
south side, at a little more than gunshot distance.
There they seemed deliberating whether to commence
an immediate attack, or wait for some less
hazardous mode of gaining their purpose. The
latter course was adopted principally because they
expected by the next night to be joined by another
body. In the mean time the best preparations were
made in the garrison against an Indian massacre.

The night and the next day were spent watching,

and the ensuing evening witnessed the expected
addition to the Indian force. An assault was now
certain, and indiscriminate murder would be the
probable consequence of their success. Twenty
times a day had Jonathan's head, as he raised it
above the breastwork, been a mark for musket balls
and Indian arrows, and twice as often, through the
loopholes and crevices, had he returned this mark
of attention with his rifle.

“What think's become of Weshop? (said Shadrach,)
I never missed him so much afore in my
life.”

“Poor fellow, (said Jonathan Hodges,) I guess
that bag of hair is off his head by this time—'twas
a mighty handy thing to catch him by.”

“It makes me crawl to the heart, Jonathan—but
I expect we shall be killed to-night. They may
kill my master—I most hope it'll be my turn first.
There's him, poor soul, hobbling about when he
ought to be abed.”

“Ah, Shadrach, we shall have a field bed tonight,
and a bloody one too, I'm thinking.”

Shadrach, in obedience to an order from Van
Tromp, posted himself on the top of the house to
look out. It was now night, and the full moon had
been some time risen. The Indians from without
commenced storming the place, and rushed towards
the abattis with yells and war whoops. They attempted
to cut them down and to set them on fire;
but as they had been newly made of green trees
drawn close together, with their roots inwards, they
found themselves stopped and exposed to the sure
aim of the marksmen who shot from the bastions.

They then attacked the gate, hand to hand, and
the fight became furious—but the besiegers had the
advantage of numbers, and it was pretty certain
that they would soon make good their entrance.

The assailants were animated with the hope of success,
and the defenders made desperate at the fate
which impended over them and theirs.