University of Virginia Library

16. CHAPTER XVI.

It was late at night, but still Algernon Reynolds sat beside Ella Barnwell,
relating the sad story of his many hair-breadth escapes, and almost intollerable
sufferings. A rude sort of light, on a rough table, a few feet distant, threw
its faint gleams over the homely apartment, and discovered the persons of
Isaac and his mother, his wife and her parents, together with several others,
attracted hither by curiosity, grouped around our hero, and listening to his
thrilling narrative with breathless attention.

“After being sufficiently recovered from my wound and bruises, to proceed
upon my journey, (continued Reynolds, to resume the account of his
adventures since leaving him at Piqua) Girty came to me, and inquired what
I thought of my fate, and how I felt concerning it; to which I replied, rather
briefly, that it was no worse than I had expected, since knowing into whose
hands I had fallen. `Perhaps you think to escape?' said he, sneeringly.

“`I have no such hope,' I replied.

“`No, and by G—I you needn't have, either,' rejoined he, with a savage
grin; `for I'm determined you shall experience the torture to its fullest
extent, if for nothing else than to revenge myself on you for your insults.
I have only one thing to regret; and that is, that you didn't suffer in place
of Younker, who is the only one whose torments I would I had no hand
in. But you—you I could see tormented forever, and laugh heartily
throughout. But I'll wreak my vengeance on you yet; I will by —!' and
with these words he left me to the charge of my guards, with whom he spoke
a short time in the Indian tongue—probably giving them instructions of caution
regarding myself.

“It was about mid-day, when, with my arms tightly bound, we set off for
Upper Sandusky, where, as I had previously been informed by Girty, I was
condemned to suffer before the assembled tribes of the different nations,
which would there shortly meet, to receive their annual presents from the

British. Our march, very fatiguing to myself, was without incident worthy
of note, until one night we arrived at a small village on the Scioto river,
where one of my guards, who could speak a little English, informed me
resided the celebrated Mingo chief, Logan. A thought suddenly flashed
across my brain. I had often heard of Logan, as the great and good chief,
humane in his principles, and friendly to the whites—particularly those who
were signally unfortunate—and it occurred to me, that could I gain an
interview, I might perhaps prevail upon him to assist me in making my
escape; and accordingly I at once expressed to my informant my desire of
beholding one so celebrated. To my great delight, he replied that it was in
Logan's cabin I was to pass the night—such being the private orders, as
I afterwards learned, of Black Hoof—who had, it seems, from some cause
unknown to myself, formed the design of saving my life; and had sent by
the Indian in question, a verbal request to Logan, to use all his influence to
this effect.

“As we entered the village, we were immediately surrounded by men
women and children, who stared hard at me, but offered no violence. In a
few minutes we gained Logan's hut, in the door of which I observed standing
an old, noble-looking warrior, with a commanding form, and mild, benevolent
countenance, who proved to be the chief himself. To him one of my
guards now addressed a few words in Indian, and uttering a grunt, and looking
closely at me some seconds, he moved aside and we all passed in. Here
I soon had a good supper of homminy provided me, whereof I did not partake
lightly, having been from sunrise to sunset without tasting a morsel of
food. Immediately after I had finished my repast, Logan approached me,
and in tolerable good English, said:

“`White man, where from?'

“I motioned toward the east, and answered, `From sunrise—away beyond
the big mountains.'

“Logan shook his head sadly, and replied, with a sigh:

“`Ah! so all come. Poor Indian get run over—he no place lay he head.
But how you come all tied so?'

“In answer, I entered into a full explanation of all that had occurred
respecting the proceedings of Girty, from first to last. Logan listened
throughout with great attention, shook his head, and rejoined:

“`Ah! Simon Girty bad man, berry. Me always tink so. Me sorry you
for. Me do all me can for you. You shall sleep here. Me promise you
nothing. Me tell you more sometime—to-morrow mebby!'

“With this he rose and left the cottage, and I saw him no more that
night.

“Early in the morning, however, he came to me, and said that I was to
remain at his cabin through the day; that he had laid a plan to effect my
release from death, but not from captivity—the latter not being in accordance
with his principles, nor in his power; that for this purpose he had despatched
two young braves to Upper Sandusky, to speak a word in my favor; but that
I must mot be elated with hope, as it was very doubtful how much they
might effect.[1] Notwithstanding his caution to the contrary, my spirits
became exceedingly exhilerated, and grasping his hand in both of mine, I
pressed it to my heart in silence, while my eyes became suffused with tears,
and the old chief himself seemed not a little affected.

“Late the night following, the messengers returned, and on the morning

succeeding, we resumed our journey. In parting from the noble old chief,
he shook my hand cordially, but gave me no intimation of what would probably
be my fate.

“When within sight of Upper Sandusky, crowds of warriors, women and
children came out to meet us, and, seeing me, set up many a hideous yell,
until I again became alarmed for my safety and fearful that Logan had not
succeeded in his magnanimous design. This impression was the more
strongly confirmed, shortly after, by one of my guides informing me that I
must again run the gauntlet. Accordingly every preparation being speedily
effected, I started upon the course; but possessing more strength and activity
than before, and a better knowledge of what I had to perform, I succeeded in
breaking through the lines, and reaching the council house unharmed. Here
I was safe for the present, or until, as I was informed, my fate should once
more be decided by a grand council.

“The council in question was speedily convened, and on the opening
thereof, a British agent, one Captain Druyer, made his appearance, and
requested permission to address the assemblage, which was speedily granted.
He spoke rapidly, for a few minutes, with great vehemence, and though I
understood not a word he uttered, yet something whispered me it was in my
favor; for I observed that the glances directed towards me, were milder far
than those on my previous trial.

“To sum up briefly, it seemes that Logan had despatched his messengers to
Druyer, urging him to exert all his influence in obtaining my reprieve; and
to effect this humane design, the latter had begun by stating to the Indians
that their great white father, of whom he was an humble representative,
was at war with the Long Knives; that nothing would please him better, than
to hear of his red children having sacrificed all their enemies; but that in
war, policy was ofttimes more effectual than personal revenge, in accomplishing
their destruction; and that he doubted not, if the prisoner present were put in
his possession, and taken to Detroit, that the great white chiefs of his own
nation, would there be able to extort from him such valuable information as
should make the final conquest of the Long Knives comparatively easy.
To this proposition, which was received rather coldly, he had added, that
for this privilege he was willing to pay a fair recompense; and that so soon
as all the information necessary had been gleaned from the prisoner,
he should, if thought advisable, again be returned to them, to be put to
death or not, as they might see proper. To this arrangement, all having at
last consented, the gallant Captain advanced to me, shook my hand, and said
that my life was for the present safe, and that I was to accompany him to
Detroit, where I would be treated as a prisoner of war.

“It is impossible to describe my feelings, on hearing this joyful intelligence;
therefore I shall leave you to imagine them, aided as you will be by your
own experience under similar circumstances. And now let me close my
long narrative, as briefly as possible, for the hour is already late, and I must
rise betimes on the morrow, to join this expedition against the savages.”

“Surely, Algernon,” exclaimed Ella, with pale features, “you are not
going to leave us again so soon?”

“Where duty calls, Ella, there is my place; and if I fall in honorable
action, in defence of my country and friends, perchance the atonement
may suffice for matters whereof you are not ignorant.”

Ella buried her face in her hands, to conceal her emotion, and Algernon,
with an effort at composure, again proceeded.

“At Detroit I experienced kind treatment, as a prisoner of war; but still
it was captivity, and I longed for freedom. Many, many an hour did I employ

in planning my escape; yet month upon month rolled on, and still I
remained in durance. At last startling rumors reached me, that the Indians
of the different tribes were banding together, to march upon the frontiers
and depopulate the country; and remembering the savage threat of Girty, I
doubted not he was the instigator, and would be leader of the expedition;
and I determined, at all hazards, if such a thing were in the province of possibity,
to effect my escape, and give the country warning of the impending
danger. To be brief, I succeeded, as my presence here tells for itself; but
no one knows, save myself, and he who knows all things, the misery I suffered
from fatigue, lack of food, and the fear of again being captured by some
roving band of savages—the which I shall detail, perhaps, should my life be
spared me, at some future period, but not at the present.

“I swam the Ohio, a short distance above the Falls, and made my way, to
the best of my judgment, directly towards Boonesborough, where I arrived, a
few days since, in a state of complete exhaustion. The noble old hunter received
me warmly, from whose lips I heard with thrilling emotion, the particulars
of the pursuit, headed by himself, and the rescue of two of my dearest
friends, their present abode, as also many startling events that had transpired
during my absence; and in return, I communicated to him the alarming intelligence
which I have before alluded to. So soon as I felt myself sufficiently
strong for the journey, I left Boonesborough for Bryan's Station, and
here I am, and thus my tale.”

“And a mighty tough time you've had on't, Mr. Reynolds, for sartin, and
no mistake,” rejoined Mrs. Younker, with a sigh, wiping her eyes. “Ah!
me—poor Ben!—poor Ben!—I'm a widder now in arnest. Well, the Lord's
will be done. The good Book says, `The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh
away, blessed be the name of the Lord;' and them good words, my children
and friends, must be our consolation.”

But little more was said, for each of the party felt oppressed with a weight
of sadness, at the thought of the many mournful events a year had brought
forth, and as the hour was late, each and all presently betook themselves to rest.

Meantime the preparations of the garrison for the morrow, had been going
forward in every part of the station; lights were moving to and fro, and all
within the cabins, and on the common, was bustle and activity. At last the
sounds gradually ceased, the lights went out one by one, and all finally become
tranquil for the night.

About an hour before day-break, the sleepers began to rouse themselves,
and all was soon again in commotion. Horses were led forth, saddled, returned
and fed, and every thing got in readiness to throw open the gates and
march forth, so soon as it should become sufficiently light for the purpose.

At last came the exciting moment for all. Some were standing in groups,
and weeping bitterly at the thought of parting, perhaps for the last time,
with their fathers, husbands and sons; some were running to and fro with
anxious messages; some were clasping each other to their hearts, in agonizing
silence, and praying in secret, that the Great Ruler of all might preserve
and happily restore them again to the idols of their affections; some had
mounted their noble steeds, or were leading them forth for the purpose—and
all was in Babel-like confusion.

“Farewell, my friends,” said Algernon, as he stood in the door of Mrs.
Younker's cottage, grasping one after another the proffered hands of its
weeping inmates, among whom was the wife and mother-in-law of Isaac.
“Farewell, dearest Ella; we may never meet again on earth. Farewell—farewell!”
and pressing her hand to his lips, he rushed forth with a heaving
heart, not daring to trust himself longer in her presence. Isaac and his

father-in-law followed the example of Reynolds, moved away with weeping
eyes, and all were quickly in their saddles.

A few minutes later the roll was called, and the order given by the commanding
officer to form in double file and throw open the eastern gate.
Scarcely were the words uttered, when their arose a series of terrific Indian
yells, accompanied by a volley of firearms, and every face became blanched
with surprise and dismay, and looked from one to the other in astonishment.

“By heavens!” cried a voice, “our fighting 'll be at home, I reckon,
judging by the specimen before us.”

Dismounting from their horses, the garrison, together with many of the
women and children, now rushed to the southern pickets, where, through
loop-holes and crevices, they beheld, only a few rods distant, about a hundred
savages, running to and fro, jumping up and down, whooping, yelling,
screeching and firing at the station, accompanied with all the wild, fantastic
gestures of loosened madmen.

“Thar's not more nor a hundred o' the varmints, any how,” cried Isaac;
“and I reckon as how we can jest lick them, and no mistake. Hurray for a
fight.”

“Hurray for a fight!” echoed a dozen voices, as they rushed back to remount
their horses.

“Hold!” cried the deep voice of Father Albach. “Hold! lads, don't do
things rash! Them Indians wouldn't be dancing and sky-larking round that
way, ef thar warn't some object in it, you may depend on.”

“And that's my opinion too,” answered another gray-headed veteran.
“The fact is, they're only a decoy party, sent out thar from the main body,
jest to draw us out, so that the others can rush on and make an easy conquest
on't. I tell you, friends, thar's no mistaking it; we're surrounded by
a tremendous body o' the red heathen, and we're likely to have warm work
on't. I've lived in the woods all my life, and I know the nater of the painted
varmints as well as I know my own. Ef them war all thar war on'em,
we'd have seen very different proceedings, I assure you.”

“But what's to be done?” cried several voices in consternation.

“I would suggest that we send immediately to Lexington for a reinforcement,”
spoke up Reynolds, in reply.

“Who'll volunteer to go with me on the dangerous mission?” cried a
young man, by the name of Bell.

“I will!” instantly responded another, called Tomlinson.

“Brave lads!” returned Father Albach. “You'll be doing us and your
country a service, which we at least will ever gratefully remember. I'd advise
your leaving by the western gate, riding round the station, and keeping
away to the right, and you'll maybe pass them without trouble. But ef you
go, now's your only chance.”

As he spoke, the young men in question sprang forward to their horses,
and immediately quitted the fort, amid cheers for their gallantry and courage,
and prayers for their safety and success.

A council of the leading men was now speedily convened to deliberate
upon the best means of insuring the safety of themselves, their wives and
children.

“They'll no doubt attack us on the western side,” said Father Albach,
“where the pallisades are somewhat out o' kilter; and it's my opinion, that
we'd better repair them as soon as possible, and station the main part of the
garrison thar, ready to receive 'em with a military salute, while we send out
a few o' our young men to fire on them as is in sight, to deceive the others; for I

believe with neighbor Nickolson, here, that thar's a large party in ambush
close by.”

“Ay, and doubtless led by the renegade,” said Reynolds, “as I presume
this Indian army is the same whose approach I have foretold. Thank God!”
added he with energy and emotion, as his mind reverted to Ella, “that they
came as they did; for an hour later, and they would have found the fort defenceless,
when all within would have been food for the tomahawk and scalping
knife.” He shuddered at the thought, and placed his hand to his eyes.

“Indeed, it seems like a direct Providence in our favor,” rejoined another.

“But thar's one thing you've overlooked, in your proposition, Albach,”
said the old veteran called Nickolson. “Ef the siege be protracted, what
are we to do for water?”

Each face of the company blanched, and turned toward the speaker with a
startled look. It was a question of the most grave importance, and all felt it
to be so. The spring was without the pallisades, as we have previously
mentioned, on the northwestern side of the station. The path to it was
through a rank growth of tall weeds, wherein the main body of the Indians
was supposed to be concealed—so that, should the garrison venture forth in
that direction, they would in all probability be cut off, and the fort fall into
the possession of the enemy. This of course was not to be thought of. But
what was to be done? To be without water in a protracted siege, was a
dangerous and painful alternative. In this agitating dilemma, one of the
council suddenly exclaimed:

“I have it!—I have it!” All looked at the speaker in breathless expectation.
“I have it!” continued he, joyfully. “The women!—the women!”

“The women!” echoed several voices at once.

“Ay! you know they're in the habit of going for water—and this the savages
know too—and ef they venture forth by themselves, as usual, the wily
scoundrels will be deceived for once, for they won't mistrust thar hiding
place is known; and as thar object is to carry the fort by stratagem, they
won't unmask till they hear firing on t'other side.”

“Good!—good!” exclaimed several voices; and forthwith the council
proceeded to summon all the women of the station, and make known their
plan for procuring a supply of water. Not a little consternation was expressed
in the faces of the latter, when informed of the perilous undertaking
required of them.

“What! go right straight in among the Injen warmints—them male critters?”
cried an old maid, holding up her hands in horror.

“Do you think we're invisible, and they can't see us?” said a second.

“Or bullet proof?” added a third.

“Or that our scalps arn't worth as much as yourn,” rejoined a fourth.

“Or of so little account you arn't afeared to loose us?” put in a fifth.

“We don't think any thing o' the kind,” returned the spokesman on the
part of the council; “but we do think, as I before explained, that you can
go and come in safety; and that ef we don't have a supply o' water, we're
likely to perish any how, and might as well throw open the gates and be
butchered at once.”

This last brief speech produced the desired effect, and a few words from
Mrs. Younker completely carried the day.

“Is this here a time,” she cried, with enthusiasm, her eyes flashing as she
spoke, “to be hanging back, till the all important moment's gone by, and
then choke to death for want o' water? What's our lives any more'n the
men's, that we should be so orful skeered about a few ripscallious, painted
varmints, as arn't o' no account, no how? Han't I bin amongst 'em once?—

and didn't the Lord presarve me?—and shall I doubt His protection now, when a
hundred lives is at stake? No! no! I'm not skeered; and I'll go, too, ef I
has to go alone. Who'll follow me?”

“I will!” cried one.

“And I!” said a second.

“We'll all go!” exclaimed several voices.

Dispersing in every direction, each flew to her own cabin, and seizing upon
a bucket, hurried to the rear gate, where, all being assembled, they were at
once given exit.[2]

Perhaps in the whole annals of history, a more singular proceeding than
this—of men allowing their wives and daughters to deliberately put themselves
into the power of a ferocious, blood-thirsty enemy, and women with
nerve and courage to dare all so bravely—could not be found. But these
were times of stern necessity, when each individual—man, woman or child—
was called upon to dare and do that which would surprise and startle their
descendants. Still it must not be supposed that they, on either side, were
without fears, and those of the most alarming kind. Many a palpitating
heart moved over the ground to the spring, and many a pale face was reflected
in its placid waters; while many a couragous soul within the fort trembled
at the thought of the venture, and what might be its result, as they had
never done before—even with death starting them in the face—and as they
probably would never do again. Each party, however, knew the step taken
to be a serious alternative; and the women believed, that on their caution
and presence of mind, their own lives and those of their fathers, husbands,
and children were depending; and in consequence of this, they assumed an
indifference and gaiety the most foreign to their present feelings. As for Algernon,
we leave the task to lovers of imagining his feelings, when he saw
the lovely Ella depart with the rest. It was indeed a most anxious time for
all; but the stratagem succeeded to a charm; and, to use the words of a historian
on the subject, “Although their steps became quicker and quicker on
their return, and, when near the gate of the fort, degenerated into a rather
unmilitary celerity, attended with some little crowding in passing the apperture,
yet not more than one-fifth of the water was spilled, and the eyes of the
youngest had not dilated to more than double their ordinary size.”