University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.
THE FLIGHT.

Reclining, not sleeping, in her guarded tent, the unfortunate
Ellen passed the slow watches of the night in an
agony of apprehension. Each hour diminished her hope,
and she knew that another day's flight would probably
place her beyond the reach of rescue, and render certain
the fearful doom with which she was threatened. She had
heard nothing of Dudley since the day of his departure for
Fort Dayton, and fears for his safety formed an additional
item in her distress. She had not even been able to communicate
with Rogers since the retreat commenced, although
the faithful sergeant had contrived to be allotted to
the same boat which conveyed her, and with two Indians,
and one of his fellow privates, constituted its full company.
The vessel which had been selected for Ellen was of a fanciful
construction, and had received from Waldon the name
of “the gondola.” It was much smaller than the batteau,
and was propelled by only two pairs of oars. Waldon
himself, fearful perhaps of his captive's reproaches, and
knowing the impossibility of her escape, had contented himself
with occupying the boat next preceding in the line.
The bustle and stir without at length announced to Ellen
the approach of day, and the note of preparation for departure
fell with dismal forebodings upon her ear. She
was immediately in readiness, and although there were yet
no signs of light, she pulled aside the canvass door of her
tent and looked out. She knew that she was closely

guarded, but she was not prepared for the uncivil command
which at once forbade her egress. A second speaker,
in a voice still more gruff, approached the door, and uttering
some well dissembled words of reproof, contrived to
slip a paper into her hands and immediately withdrew.
By the faint light of a taper, Ellen, trembling with excitement,
perused the following words: “Make every possible
delay in leaving your tent and embarking. Minutes are
worth millions. Be watchful and discreet.” Uttering a
hearty ejaculation of thanksgiving for the indefinite hope
thus held out to her, she instantly burned the paper, and
hastily divesting herself of part of her apparel, retired to
bed. By feigning a sleep, sound and difficult to dispel,
when summoned to arise, by tardiness in dress and many
ingenious resources, she succeeded in faithfully obeying the
injunctions of her mysterious visitor.

The part to be performed by Dudley's party on obtaining
entrance into the camp was of the most difficult nature.
They were not only to man the boat which was designed
for Ellen in their assumed character, but it was necessary
in some way to get rid of three of its former crew. Lastly,
and almost equally important was the necessity of delaying
its departure, so that it might be in the rear of the
whole line. Success in all these preliminaries was essential
to attaining even the threshold of escape. Simultaneous
with the first movements in the camp, they proceeded
to take possession of the boat, and Rogers, having instructed
his disguised companions how to simulate as nearly
as possible the deportment of its former occupants, stepped
upon the shore to await their approach. In the mean time
the bustle and stir incident to the breaking up and departure
of the camp was rapidly increasing. Many of the
boats were already filled, but Waldon, who had charge of
that division of the flotilla, had not yet arrived. As the

two Indians who formed part of the gondola's crew approached,
Rogers hastened to meet them, and said:

“The light is breaking on the hills, and the deer are already
abroad. There will be gold for him who brings game
for the pale-faced maiden. Go quickly and meet us an
hour hence by yonder bluff.”

The Indians were ready armed, either for war or the
chase, and needed no second bidding to so agreeable a task.
Their ideas of discipline were too lax to admit of their questioning
the authority of Rogers, and readily signifying
their assent, they disappeared in the forest. For his fellow-soldier,
who soon arrived, the sergeant was prepared
with an equally ingenious device. “You complained yesterday,”
he said, “of illness and fatigue. Mr. Waldon
has sent us another oarsman, and you are to go in either
of the large batteaux.” The fellow, unsuspecting, gladly
turned away and joined a crowd who were filling up some
of the largest sized boats. Thus far events looked promising,
but it was not yet light, and the scrutiny of Waldon's
eye was still to be undergone. It was not until many
of the foremost boats had started, and the others were rapidly
forming in line, that he arrived upon the beach, accompanied
by the trembling Ellen. He had been detained
in waiting for her and appeared in great ill humor.

“I think I will take a seat in your boat this morning,
Mr. Rogers,” he said. “Our fair ally here exhibits unusual
alarm, and may need my personal attention.”

“The gondola draws much water,” the sergeant quickly
replied, “and rows heavily; but if you choose to take my
oar, I can go in one of the batteaux.”

“By no means,” said Waldon, laughing, “the day promises
to be too warm for that; but keep as near in position
as possible, and if any thing goes wrong, I shall be in easy

hailing distance. Hasten now, or we shall be the very last
to embark.”

He handed Ellen to the boat and was about to depart,
but suddenly pointing to one of the Oneidas, exclaimed—

“How's this, sir? Have you changed your crew, or who
is this broad shouldered savage?” Instantly continuing
his inspection, before the sergeant could reply, he called
out: “A light! quick, bring a light—we have strange visitors
here.”

Rogers stood with one foot in the boat and one upon the
beach, and Waldon, standing upon the shore in a stooping
posture was peering into the vessel. A thrill of horror
shot through the company, and instant detection seemed
unavoidable. There was no time for reflection. Dealing
a silent but staggering blow upon the bended head of his
companion, the sergeant sprang into the boat, and seizing
an oar, whispered—“Pull now, for your lives.”