University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

“The sensation produced by this adventure
on the crew was too deep to readily subside,
and they remained upon deck for the
remainder of the night, now questioning me
upon the particulars of the ghostly visitation,
now speculating upon the consequences it
foreboded; all of them agreeing, in the end,
that it was an omen of some disaster, which
must sooner or later, occur. There was no
carelessness or negligence now; the helm was
doubly manned, as were also our three pair
of oars, at which the men voluntarily placed
themselves, not indeed, to row, but ready to
give way with all their force, at the first appearance
of danger.

“In this condition of things, we floated onwards

till the gray of dawn; at which period
a fog began to settle on the river, obscuring,
although not entirely concealing, the banks,
the larger objects, as the hills and trees, being
still partially discernible at the distance of
one or two hundred yards. At this period
also, we noticed an appearance upon the shore
which immediately forced upon us the conviction
that the warning of the spectral appearance
had not been made in vain. This
was the sudden gleam of a fire on the right
bank of the river, followed by a second, and
this again by others; until, in fact, no less
than six or seven different fires were seen
faintly glimmering through the fog and dusk
of morning.

“It will be readily supposed that this appearance
struck us all with alarm, as, indeed,
it did. Not doubting that these portentous
lights came from Indian watchfires, and that
they were burning in the camp of which we
had heard so much at Gallipolis, we immediately
sent word down to our commander, and
then, without waiting for orders, began to direct
the boat over towards the Virginia, or
Kentucky side, taking care, however, to handle
our oars with as little noise as possible,
not at all desiring to disturb the slumbers of

the red barbarians, who, we doubted not,
were lying stretched around the fires.

“But there were vigilant watchers in the
dreaded camp; and just as our commander,
startled out of gout and incapacity by the
sudden intelligence, hobbled out upon deck, a
clear voice rang from the shore—`Boat ahoy!'
and then hastily added—`If you are good
Americans, hold oars a moment; we have
good news for you—and for all honest men
—to carry down to the settlements.'

“`You lie, you refugee rascal!” cried Colonel
Storm, with a voice louder than the hailer's:
`Can't put any of your cursed tricks
upon an old soldier. Handle your arms, men,'
he added, addressing the crew, and still speaking
at the top of his voice;—`handle your
arms, and give the villain a shot.'

“`Give me a shot!' exclaimed the stranger,
with a tone of indignation; `why, who the
devil do you take us to be?'

“`You!' quoth Colonel Storm, `I take to
be a white Indian—a renegade ragamuffin
from the settlements—whose business is to
decoy numskull emigrants into ambush; and
your companions I take to be a knot of
damnable savages, ripe for plunder and murder.'

“`Sir,' quoth the invisible speaker, `you
were never more mistaken in your life. We
are white men, and soldiers—a detachment
of five hundred mounted men from the army
at Fort Hamilton.'

“`Hah!' cried Colonel Storm, while all of
us pricked our ears in amazement—`white
men? a detachment from St. Clair's army?
Who's your commander?'

“`Colonel Darke, of the Infantry,' was the
immediate reply.

“The name of this gallant officer, already
well known as one of the best of St. Clair's
lieutenants, completed our surprise, besides
throwing Colonel Storm into a ferment of
delight. `Knew him of old—were captains
together at Monmouth!' he cried; and immediately
after, having ordered the rowers to
back oars, demanded `what they—the detachment—were
doing, or had done there?'
an inquiry which was, however, anticipated
by the stranger crying—`We have broken
up the Indian camp here—fell upon the dogs
this morning by daybreak—took them by
surprise, destroyed and captured fifty-three
warriors, drowned a dozen or two more, with
a loss on our own side of only eleven killed
and wounded.'

“`Back oars;—three cheers for Darke and
his gallant men!' cried Colonel Storm, adding
his own warlike voice to the lusty and joyous
hurrahs, which we instantly set up.

“`Now,' quoth our friend on shore,' you
behave like men of sense! I am on duty
here to hail boats; by the first one of which
that arrives, our commander desires to send
the news of our victory to the settlements
and the Commander-in-chief.'

“`Will bear his despatches, were it to the
end of the earth!' cried Colonel Storm, with
enthusiasm.

“`And, perhaps,' said the officer-sentinel,
for such he seemed, `you could make room
for a poor wounded officer—young Darke,
the Colonel's nephew—whom the commander
is anxious to send to the settlements?'

“`Shall have my own bed!' roared our
veteran chief; adding immediately a command
to `put the boat ashore;' an order
which the crew, excited to rapture by the
glorious news, received with loud cheers, and
instantly put into execution. The prow was
turned to the shore, and all that could seized
at once upon the oars, urging the clumsy
vessel across the current; while the stranger
ran along the bank, directing us to the most
advantageous point to land.

“In two minutes, the broad-horn grated
upon the sand, and three of our men, one of
them holding a rope, leaped ashore to make
her fast; the rest of us crowded together on
the deck, looking eagerly for our new friends,
those gallant spirits who had so effectually
swept the banks of the dreaded Indians.

“`Three more cheers for Darke and his
brave boys all!' roared Colonel Storm; at
which words a great halloo was raised—but
not by us. It was the yell of a hundred savages,
who suddenly started to life, leaping
from among stones and bushes; and, giving
out such whoops as were never before heard
but from the lungs of devils incarnate, poured
a sudden fire of rifles upon us, which, aimed
at us, all clustered together on the narrow
deck, and from the distance of only a few
paces, wrought the most horrible carnage,
killing, I verily believe, one-half of our whole
number, and wounding, with but two or three
exceptions, every other soul on board. And
in the midst of it all, we could hear the voice
of the fiendish renegade, to whose unparallelled
duplicity we had thus miserably become
the victims, exclaiming, with a taunting laugh,
`What do you think of the “cursed refugees'
tricks” now, my fine fellows?'