 | CHAPTER IX. Wyandotté, or, The hutted knoll |  |
9. CHAPTER IX.
Making sounds as they tread,
Ho-ho! how they step,
Going down to the dead.”
Coxe.
The time Maud consumed in her meditations over the
box and its contents, had been employed by the captain in
preparations for his enterprise. Joyce, young Blodget, Jamie
and Mike, led by their commander in person, were to compose
the whole force on the occasion; and every man had
been busy in getting his arms, ammunition and provisions
therefore, had taken leave of his family, he found the party
in a condition to move.
The first great desideratum was to quit the Hut unseen.
Joel and his followers were still at work, in distant fields;
but they all carefully avoided that side of the Knoll which
would have brought them within reach of the musket, and
this left all behind the cliff unobserved, unless Indians were
in the woods in that direction. As Mike had so recently
passed in by that route, however, the probability was the
whole party still remained in the neighbourhood of the mills,
where all accounts agreed in saying they mainly kept. It
was the intention of the captain, therefore, to sally by the
rivulet and the rear of the house, and to gain the woods
under cover of the bushes on the banks of the former, as
had already been done by so many since the inroad.
The great difficulty was to quit the house, and reach the
bed of the stream, unseen. This step, however, was a good
deal facilitated by means of Joel's sally-port, the overseer
having taken, himself, all the precautions against detection
of which the case well admitted. Nevertheless, there was
the distance between the palisades and the base of the rocks,
some forty or fifty yards, which was entirely uncovered,
and had to be passed under the notice of any wandering
eyes that might happen to be turned in that quarter. After
much reflection, the captain and serjeant came to the conclusion
to adopt the following mode of proceeding.
Blodget passed the hole, by himself, unarmed, rolling
down the declivity until he reached the stream. Here a
thicket concealed him sufficiently, the bushes extending
along the base of the rocks, following the curvature of the
rivulet. Once within these bushes, there was little danger
of detection. As soon as it was ascertained that the young
man was beneath the most eastern of the outer windows of
the northern wing, the only one of the entire range that had
bushes directly under it, all the rifles were lowered down to
him, two at a time, care being had that no one should appear
at the window during the operation. This was easily
effected, jerks of the rope sufficing for the necessary signals
when to haul in the line. The ammunition succeeded; and,
were soon collected on the margin of the stream.
The next step was to send the men out, one by one,
imitating the precautions taken by Blodget. Each individual
had his own provisions, and most of the men carried some
sort of arms, such as a pistol, or a knife, about his person.
In half an hour the four men were armed, and waited
for the leader, concealed by the bushes on the border of the
brook. It only remained for captain Willoughby to give
some instructions to those he left in the Hut, and to follow.
Pliny the elder, in virtue of his years, and some experience
in Indian warfare, succeeded to the command of the
garrison, in the absence of its chief. Had there remained a
male white at the Knoll, this trust never could have devolved
on him, it being thought contrary to the laws of nature for
a negro to command one of the other colour; but such was
not the fact, and Pliny the elder succeeded pretty much as
a matter of course. Notwithstanding, he was to obey not
only his particular old mistress, but both his young mistresses,
who exercised an authority over him that was not
to be disputed, without doing violence to all the received
notions of the day. To him, then, the captain issued his
final orders, bidding him be vigilant, and above all to keep
the gates closed.
As soon as this was done, the husband and father went
to his wife and children to take a last embrace. Anxious
not to excite too strong apprehensions by his manner, this
was done affectionately—solemnly, perhaps—but with a
manner so guarded as to effect his object.
“I shall look for no other signal, or sign of success,
Hugh,” said the weeping wife, “than your own return, accompanied
by our dearest boy. When I can hold you both
in my arms, I shall be happy, though all the Indians of the
continent were in the valley.”
“Do not miscalculate as to time, Wilhelmina. That
affectionate heart of yours sometimes travels over time and
space in a way to give its owner unnecessary pain. Remember
we shall have to proceed with great caution, both
in going and returning; and it will require hours to make
the detour I have in view. I hope to see you again before
even become necessary to defer the final push until after
dark.”
This was melancholy intelligence for the females; but
they listened to it with calmness, and endeavoured to be, as
well as to seem, resigned. Beulah received her father's
kiss and blessing with streaming eyes, straining little Evert
to her heart as he left her. Maud was the last embraced.
He even led her, by gentle violence, to the court, keeping
her in discourse by the way, exhorting her to support her
mother's spirits by her own sense and steadiness.
“I shall have Bob in the Hut, soon,” he added, “and
this will repay us all for more than twice the risks—all but
you, little vixen; for your mother tells me you are getting,
through some caprice of that variable humour of your sex,
to be a little estranged from the poor fellow.”
“Father!”
“O! I know it is not very serious; still, even Beulah
tells me you once called him a Major of Foot.”
“Did I?” said Maud, trembling in her whole frame lest
her secret had been prematurely betrayed by the very attempt
to conceal it. “My tongue is not always my heart.”
“I know it, darling, unless where I am concerned. Treat
the son as you will, Maud, I am certain that you will always
love the father.” A pressure to the heart, and kisses on
the forehead, eyes, and cheeks followed. “You have all
your own papers, Maud, and can easily understand your
own affairs. When examined into, it will be seen that
every shilling of your fortune has gone to increase it; and,
little hussy, you are now become something like a great
heiress.”
“What does this mean, dearest, dearest father? Your
words frighten me!”
“They should not, love. Danger is never increased by
being prepared to meet it. I have been a steward, and
wish it to be known that the duty has not been unfaithfully
discharged. That is all. A hundred-fold am I repaid
by possessing so dutiful and sweet a child.”
Maud fell on her father's bosom and sobbed. Never
before had he made so plain allusions to the true relations
which existed between them; the papers she possessed having
Nevertheless, as he appeared disposed to proceed no further,
at present, the poor girl struggled to command herself, succeeded
in part, rose, received her father's benediction, most
solemnly and tenderly delivered, and saw him depart, with
an air of calmness that subsequently astonished even herself.
We must now quit the interesting group that was left
behind in the Hut, and accompany the adventurers in their
march.
Captain Willoughby was obliged to imitate his men, in
the mode of quitting the palisades. He had dressed himself
in the American hunting-shirt and trowsers for the occasion;
and, this being an attire he now rarely used, it greatly
diminished the chances of his being recognised, if seen.
Joyce was in a similar garb, though neither Jamie nor Mike
could ever be persuaded to assume a style that both insisted
so much resembled that of the Indians. As for Blodget, he
was in the usual dress of a labourer.
As soon as he had reached the bottom of the cliff, the
captain let the fact be known to Old Pliny, by using his
voice with caution, though sufficiently loud to be heard on the
staging of the roof, directly above his head. The black had
been instructed to watch Joel and his companions, in order
to ascertain if they betrayed, in their movements, any consciousness
of what was in progress at the Hut. The report
was favourable, Pliny assuring his master that “all 'e men
work, sir, just as afore. Joel hammer away at plough-handle,
tinkerin' just like heself. Not an eye turn dis away,
massa.”
Encouraged by this assurance, the whole party stole
through the bushes, that lined this part of the base of the
cliffs, until they entered the bed of the stream. It was
September, and the water was so low, as to enable the party
to move along the margin of the rivulet dry-shod, occasionally
stepping from stone to stone. The latter expedient,
indeed, was adopted wherever circumstances allowed, with
a view to leave as few traces of a trail as was practicable.
Otherwise the cover was complete; the winding of the rivulet
preventing any distant view through its little reaches,
and the thick fringe of the bushes on each bank, effectually
their movements.
Captain Willoughby had, from the first, apprehended an
assault from this quarter. The house, in its elevation, however,
possessed an advantage that would not be enjoyed by
an enemy on the ground; and, then, the cliff offered very
serious obstacles to anything like a surprise on that portion
of the defences. Notwithstanding, he now led his men,
keeping a look riveted on the narrow lane in his front, far
from certain that each turn might not bring him in presence
of an advancing party of the enemy. No such unpleasant
encounter occurred; and the margin of the forest was
gained, without any appearance of the foe, and seemingly
without discovery.
Just within the cover of the woods, a short reach of the
rivulet lay fairly in sight, from the rear wing of the dwellings.
It formed a beautiful object in the view; the ardent
and tasteful Maud having sketched the silvery ribbon of
water, as it was seen retiring within the recesses of the
forest, and often calling upon others to admire its loveliness
and picturesque effect. Here the captain halted, and made
a signal to Old Pliny, to let him know he waited for an
answer. The reply was favourable, the negro showing the
sign that all was still well. This was no sooner done,
than the faithful old black hurried down to his mistress, to
communicate the intelligence that the party was safely in
the forest; while the adventurers turned, ascended the bank
of the stream, and pursued their way on more solid ground.
Captain Willoughby and his men were now fairly engaged
in the expedition, and every soul of them felt the
importance and gravity of the duty he was on. Even Mike
was fain to obey the order to be silent, as the sound of a
voice, indiscreetly used, might betray the passage of the
party to some outlying scouts of the enemy. Caution was
even used in treading on dried sticks, lest their cracking
should produce the same effect.
The sound of the axe was heard in the rear of the cabins,
coming from a piece of woodland the captain had ordered
cleared, with the double view of obtaining fuel, and of increasing
his orchards. This little clearing was near a quarter
of a mile from the flats, the plan being, still to retain a
half-a-dozen acres of land, having now been used four or
five years for the same purpose. To pass between this
clearing and the cabins would have been too hazardous, and
it became necessary to direct the march in a way to turn
the former.
The cow-paths answered as guides for quite a mile, Mike
being thoroughly acquainted with all their sinuosities. The
captain and serjeant, however, each carried a pocket compass,
an instrument without which few ventured far into the
forests. Then the blows of the axes served as sounds to
let the adventurers know their relative position, and, as they
circled the place whence they issued, they gave the constant
assurance of their own progress, and probable security.
The reader will probably comprehend the nature of the
ground over which our party was now marching. The
`flats' proper, or the site of the old Beaver Dam, have
already been described. The valley, towards the south, terminated
at the rocks of the mill, changing its character below
that point, to a glen, or vast ravine. On the east were
mountains of considerable height, and of unlimited range;
to the north, the level land extended miles, though on a platform
many feet higher than the level of the cleared meadows;
while, to the west, along the route the adventurers
were marching, broad slopes of rolling forest spread their
richly-wooded surfaces, filled with fair promise for the future.
The highest swell of this undulating forest was that
nearest to the Hut, and it was its elevation only that gave
the home-scene the character of a valley.
Captain Willoughby's object was to gain the summit of
this first ridge of land, which would serve as a guide to his
object, since it terminated at the line of rocks that made the
waterfall, quite a mile, however, in the rear of the mills.
It would carry him also quite beyond the clearing of the
wood-choppers, and be effectually turning the whole of the
enemy's position. Once at the precipitous termination
caused by the face of rock that had been thrown to the surface
by some geological phenomenon, he could not miss his
way, since these rugged marks must of themselves lead him
directly to the station known to be occupied by the body of
his foes.
Half an hour served to reach the desired ridge, when the
party changed its march, pursuing a direction nearly south,
along its summit.
“Those axes sound nearer and nearer, serjeant,” Captain
Willoughby observed, after the march had lasted a long
time in profound silence. “We must be coming up near
the point where the men are at work.”
“Does your honour reflect at all on the reason why
these fellows are so particularly industrious in a time like
this? — To me it has a very ambuscadish sort of look!”
“It cannot be connected with an ambuscade, Joyce, inasmuch
as we are not supposed to be on a march. There
can be no ambuscade, you will remember, practised on a
garrison.”
“I ask your honour's pardon — may not a sortie be ambushed,
as well as a march?”
“In that sense, perhaps, you may be right. And, now
you mention it, I think it odd there should be so much industry
at wood-chopping, in a moment like this. We will
halt as soon as the sounds are fairly abreast of us, when
you and I can reconnoitre the men, and ascertain the appearance
of things for ourselves.”
“I remember, sir, when your honour led out two companies
of ours, with one of the Royal Irish, a major's command,
of good rights, to observe the left flank of the French, the
evening before we stormed the enemy's works at Ty—”
“Your memory is beginning to fail you, Joyce,” interrupted
the captain, smiling. “We were far from storming
those works, having lost two thousand men before them, and
failed of seeing their inside at all.”
“I always look upon a soldierly attempt, your honour,
the same as a thing that is done. A more gallant stand
than we made I never witnessed; and, though we were
driven back, I will allow, yet I call that assault as good as
storming!”
“Well, have it your own way, Joyce. — The morning
before your storming, I remember to have led out three
companies; though it was more in advance, than on either
flank. The object was to unmask a suspected ambush.”
“That's just what I wanted to be at, your honour. The
general sent you, as an old captain, with three companies,
into it.”
“He certainly did — and the movement had the desired
effect.”
“Better and better, sir. — I remember we were fired on,
and lost some ten or fifteen men, but I would not presume
to say whether the march succeeded or not; for nothing
was said of the affair, next day, in general orders, sir—”
“Next day we had other matters to occupy our minds.
It was a bloody and a mournful occasion for England and
her colonies.”
“Well, your honour, that does not affect our movement,
which, you say, yourself, was useful.”
“Very true, Joyce, though the great calamity of the succeeding
day prevented the little success of the preceding
morning from being mentioned in general orders. But to
what does all this tend; as I know it must lead to something?”
“It was merely meant as a respectful hint, your honour,
that the inferior should be sent out, now, according to our
own ancient rules, to reconn'itre the clearing, while the
commander-in-chief remain with the main body, to cover the
retreat.”
“I thank you, serjeant, and shall not fail to employ you,
on all proper occasions. At present, it is my intention that
we go together, leaving the men to take breath, in a suitable
cover.”
This satisfied Joyce, who was content to wait for orders.
As soon as the sounds of the axes showed that the party
were far enough in advance, and the formation of the land
assured the captain that he was precisely where he wished
to be, the men were halted, and left secreted in a cover
made by the top of a fallen tree. This precaution was
taken, lest any wandering savage might get a glimpse of
their persons, if they stood lounging about in the more open
forest, during the captain's absence.
This disposition made, the captain and serjeant, first examining
the priming of their pieces, moved with the necessary
caution towards the edge of the wood-chopper's clearing.
The axe was a sufficient guide, and ere they had proceeded
far the light began to shine through the trees, proof
in itself that they were approaching an opening in the forest.
“Let us incline to the left, your honour,” said Joyce, respectfully;
“there is a naked rock hereabouts, that completely
overlooks the clearing, and where we can get even
a peep at the Hut. I have often sat on it, when out with
the gun, and wearied; for the next thing to being at home,
is to see home.”
“I remember the place, serjeant, and like your suggestion,”
answered the captain, with an eagerness that it was
very unusual for him to betray. “I could march with a
lighter heart, after getting another look at the Knoll, and
being certain of its security.”
The parties being both of a mind, it is not surprising
that each looked eagerly for the spot in question. It was
an isolated rock that rose some fifteen or twenty feet above
the surface of the ground, having a width and depth about
double its height—one of those common excrescences of
the forest that usually possess interest for no one but the
geologist. Such an object was not difficult to find in an
open wood, and the search was soon rewarded by a discovery.
Bending their steps that way, our two soldiers
were quickly at its base. As is usual, the summit of this
fragment of rock was covered with bushes; others shooting
out, also, from the rich, warm earth at its base, or, to speak
more properly, at its junction with the earth.
Joyce ascended first, leaving his rifle in the captain's
charge. The latter followed, after having passed up his
own and his companion's arms; neither being disposed to
stir without having these important auxiliaries at command.
Once on the rock, both moved cautiously to its eastern brow,
care being had not to go beyond the cover. Here they
stood, side by side, gazing on the scene that was outspread
before them, through openings in the bushes.
To the captain's astonishment, he found himself within
half musket shot of the bulk of the hostile party. A regular
bivouac had been formed round a spring in the centre
of the clearing, and bodies of trees had been thrown together,
so as to form a species of work which was rudely,
but effectually abbatied by the branches. In a word, one
of those strong, rough forest encampments had been made,
which are so difficult to carry without artillery, more especially
if well defended. By being placed in the centre of
the assailants, and the spring always assured to the garrison
the great requisite, water.
There was a method and order in this arrangement that
surprised both our old soldiers. That Indians had resorted
to this expedient, neither believed; nor would the careless,
untaught and inexperienced whites of the Mohawk be apt to
adopt it, without a suggestion from some person acquainted
with the usages of frontier warfare. Such persons were not
difficult to find, it is true; and it was a proof that those
claiming to be in authority, rightfully or not, were present.
There was something unlooked for, also, in the manner
in which the party of strangers were lounging about, at a
moment like that, seemingly doing nothing, or preparing
for no service. Joyce, who was a man of method, and was
accustomed to telling off troops, counted no less than forty-nine
of these idlers, most of whom were lounging near the
log entrenchment, though a few were sauntering about the
clearing, conversing with the wood-choppers, or making
their observations listlessly, and seemingly without any
precise object in view.
“This is the most extr'ornary sight, for a military expedition,
I have ever seen, your honour,” whispered Joyce,
after the two had stood examining the position for quite a
minute in silence. “A tolerable good log breast-work, I
will allow, sir, and men enough to make it good against a
sharp assault; but nothing like a guard, and not so much
as a single sentinel. This is an affront to the art, Captain
Willoughby; and it is such an affront to us, that I feel certain
we might carry the post by surprise, if all felt the insult
as I do myself.”
“This is no time for rash acts or excited feelings, Joyce.
Though, were my gallant boy with us, I do think we might
make a push at these fellows, with very reasonable chances
of success.”
“Yes, your honour, and without him, too. A close fire,
three cheers, and a vigorous charge would drive every one
of the rascals into the woods!”
“Where they would rally, become the assailants in their
turn, surround us, and either compel us to surrender, or
starve us out. At all events, nothing of the sort must be
of Major Willoughby. My hopes of success are greatly
increased since I find the enemy has his principal post up
here, where he must be a long half-mile from the mill, even
in a straight line. You have counted the enemy?”
“There are just forty-nine of them in sight, and I should
think some eight or ten more sleeping about under the logs,
as I occasionally discover a new one raising his head.—
Look, sir, does your honour see that manœuvre?”
“Do I see what, serjeant?—There is no visible change
that I discover.”
“Only an Indian chopping wood, Captain Willoughby,
which is some such miracle as a white man painting.”
The reader will have understood that all the hostile party
that was lounging about this clearing were in Indian guise,
with faces and hands of the well-known reddish colour that
marks the American aborigines. The two soldiers could
discover many evidences that there was deception in these
appearances, though they thought it quite probable that
real red men were mingled with the pale-faces. But, so little
did the invaders respect the necessity of appearances in
their present position, that one of these seeming savages had
actually mounted a log, taken the axe from the hands of
its owner, and begun to chop, with a vigour and skill that
soon threw off chips in a way that no man can successfully
imitate but the expert axe-man of the American
interior.
“Pretty well that, sir, for a red-skin,” said Joyce, smiling.
“If there isn't white blood, ay, and Yankee blood in that
chap's arm, I'll give him some of my own to help colour it.
Step this way, your honour—only a foot or two—there,
sir; by looking through the opening just above the spot
where that very make-believe Injin is scattering his chips
as if they were so many kernels of corn that he was tossing
to the chickens, you will get a sight of the Hut.”
The fact was so. By altering his own position a little on
the rock, Captain Willoughby got a full view of the entire
buildings of the Knoll. It is true, he could not see the lawn
without the works, nor quite all of the stockade, but the
whole of the western wing, or an entire side-view of the
dwellings, was obtained. Everything seemed as tranquil
sabbath in the wilderness. There was something imposing
even, in the solemn silence of their air, and the captain now
saw that if he had been struck, and rendered uneasy by the
mystery that accompanied the inaction and quiet of his invaders,
they, in their turns, might experience some such
sensations as they gazed on the repose of the Hut, and the
apparent security of its garrison. But for Joel's desertion,
indeed, and the information he had carried with him, there
could be little doubt that the stranger must have felt the influence
of such doubts to a very material extent. Alas! as
things were, it was not probable they could be long imposed
on, by any seeming calm.
Captain Willoughby felt a reluctance to tear himself away
from the spectacle of that dwelling which contained so many
that were dear to him. Even Joyce gazed at the house
with pleasure, for it had been his quarters, now, so many
years, and he had looked forward to the time when he
should breathe his last in it. Connected with his old commander
by a tie that was inseparable, so far as human
wishes could control human events, it was impossible that
the serjeant could go from the place where they had left so
many precious beings almost in the keeping of Providence,
at a moment like that, altogether without emotion. While
each was thus occupied in mind, there was a perfect stillness.
The men of the party had been so far drilled, as to
speak in low voices, and nothing they said was audible on
the rock. The axes alone broke the silence of the woods,
and to ears so accustomed to their blows, they offered no
intrusion. In the midst of this eloquent calm, the bushes
of the rock rustled, as it might be with the passage of a
squirrel, or a serpent. Of the last the country had but few,
and they of the most innocent kind, while the former
abounded. Captain Willoughby turned, expecting to see
one of these little restless beings, when his gaze encountered
a swarthy face, and two glowing eyes, almost within reach
of his arm. That this was a real Indian was beyond dispute,
and the crisis admitting of no delay, the old officer
drew a dirk, and had already raised his arm to strike, when
Joyce arrested the blow.
“This is Nick, your honour;” said the serjeant, inquiringly—“is
he friend, or foe?”
“What says he himself?” answered the captain, lowering
his hand in doubt. “Let him speak to his own character.”
Nick now advanced and stood calmly and fearlessly at
the side of the two white men. Still there was ferocity in
his look, and an indecision in his movements. He certainly
might betray the adventurers at any instant, and they
felt all the insecurity of their situation. But accident had
brought Nick directly in front of the opening through which
was obtained the view of the Hut. In turning from one to
the other of the two soldiers, his quick eye took in this
glimpse of the buildings, and it became riveted there as by
the charm of fascination. Gradually the ferocity left his
countenance, which grew human and soft.
“Squaw in wigwam”—said the Tuscarora, throwing forward
a hand with its fore-finger pointing towards the house.
“Ole squaw—young squaw. Good. Wyandotté sick, she
cure him. Blood in Injin body; thick blood—nebber forget
good—nebber forget bad.”
| CHAPTER IX. Wyandotté, or, The hutted knoll | |