 | Peter Pilgrim, or, A rambler's recollections |  |
THE
BLOODY BROAD-HORN.
1. CHAPTER I.
WESTERN STEAMBOATS—THE OHIO RIVER.
The frequency, and dreadful character, of
accidents by steam on the Western waters,
have, among other effects, very generally induced
the good people of the East to regard
an Ohio or Mississippi steamboat as nothing
better than a floating man-trap—a locomotive
volcano, on which Western ladies and
gentlemen take their seats for the purpose of
being blown into eternity.
After forming such a conception, and drawing
in his mind a suitable picture of the infernal-machine,
in which he is to take his
chance of a visit to the other world—a picture
of some clumsily constructed hulk, painted
over with flames and fiery devils, like the
San-benito of a prisoner of the Inquisition,
victims—the traveller is somewhat astonished
to find himself in a stately and splendidly
appointed barge, that might have served the
need of Cleopatra herself, and which will certainly
vie with, if it does not entirely surpass
in magnificence, the finest steamers he has
ever floated in, in any other part of the world.
His astonishment will increase, when, searching
out the commander, whom he expects to
discover picking his teeth with a bowie-knife,
or drinking grog out of a barrel, he lights
upon a very well behaved and companionable
personage, who does the honours of his vessel
with all courtesy, and declares he never
yet blew up a boat, and never even races, unless
when his passengers particularly request
it; when he finds the engineer oiling his pump-rods,
instead of weighing down the safety-valve;
and the pilot industriously sighting his
distances, instead of shooting down strangers
on the shore. In short, after making many
more equally surprising discoveries, he will
at last come to the conclusion that the occurrence
of accidents in a great many Western
steamboats does not necessarily imply that
accidents must, or even may, happen in all;
and that he is, perhaps, as safe and has as
as if caged in the quietest “low-pressure”
on the Delaware.
When a man discovers that he may enjoy
himself, it is a very common consequence that
he will do so. And it is my impression, confirmed
by repeated enterprises in those formidable
vessels, that a man may enjoy himself
to as great, if not to greater advantage
in a Western steamboat than in any other
in the land. One chief reason of this is the
length of the voyage one commonly takes in
the Western boat, whereby travellers have
time to turn about them, to strike up friendships
with one another, and make the acquaintance
of the captain and officers, from
whom they may thus glean wayside anecdotes
and information, not to be gained in
shorter trips. Another reason is the general
frankness of manners which, a characteristic
of the West, all men seem naturally to fall
into, the moment they reach the West. But
perhaps the greatest reason of all will be
found in the peculiar structure of the Western
boat, which is so planned as to compel
travellers to congregate together in little
squads or knots, instead of in one great multitude,
whereby sociableness is in a manner
gathering-place, like the quarter-deck of an
Eastern steamboat, where passengers huddle
together upon benches, to stare each other
sadly and bashfully in the face; but a great
number of smaller retiring places—the boiler-deck,
the social hall, and, above all, the
galleries, in which little groups of men, accidentally
met, find no difficulty in forming
themselves into agreeable parties.
If I were to add, that the fact of there
being no place of convocation in a Western
steamboat equally free to the ladies as to the
gentlemen, may be another great reason why
the latter so easily enjoy themselves, I do not
know that I should be guilty of a libel upon
either. The truth is, that men in America,
and especially in the West, are so egregiously
civil to all womankind, and carry their
courtesy to such excess of painful respect, as
to embarrass both themselves and the fair
objects of their reverence, so that they reciprocally
act as dampers upon each other;
and I believe, upon observation, that they
are, in general, after being a few moments together,
in any general place of assemblage,
as happy to fly each other, as schoolboys to
escape a good aunt who has been stuffing
Of the voyage on the Mississippi I have
spoken in another place. The voyage on the
Ohio is infinitely more agreeable, La Belle
Rivière being rich in all those charms of bold
and varied scenery, of which the Father
Water is almost entirely destitute. One is
not here oppressed by a continual succession
of willows and cottonwoods springing from
swampy islands and quagmire shores, and a horizon
so low as to be ever concealed from the
eye. Beautiful hills, springing here from the
margin of the tide, there rising beyond cultivated
fields or gleaming towns, track the
course of the Ohio from its springs to its
mouth; and high bluffs, crowned with majestic
planes, shingled beaches, and lovely
islands, changing and shifting in myrioramic
profusion, present an ever changing series of
prospects, of strongly marked foregrounds
relieved against blue distances, so dear to
the eyes of painters and lovers of the picturesque.
Add to this that the Ohio has its storied
shores, its places of renown, its points to
which we can attach the memories of other
days; and we may imagine what pleasure
once succeeded, as, in general, he will very
easily do, in throwing aside all fears, and
thoughts, of half-burned boilers and desperately
weighted safety-valves.
For my own part, I can say that in no
river of the United States do I always more
confidently expect, or more uniformly experience,
the enjoyment of a steam excursion,
than on the upper Ohio; and I hold a trip, in
the dull season—that is, when the vessels are
not over-crowded with passengers—in a neat
little summer boat—if a slow one, so much
the better—with a pleasant captain, a civilized
cook, and good humoured companions
—whether the voyage be up or down—as
one of the most agreeable expeditions that
can well be taken.
On such an occasion, one is pretty sure of
finding companions both able and willing to
talk—men who possess in an uncommon degree
the intelligence and powers of conversation
so general in the West, who know
every man and thing in, and appertaining to,
their own states or districts, and every local
history and anecdote which a curious person
might desire to hear. One may even light,
at such times, upon an old pioneer and founder
or Ohio, a contemporary, perhaps, of
Boone and Clark, who, solicited by his junior
fellow-travellers, and warmed as much by
their interest in his conversation, as by his
own stirring recollections, can speak of the
days of the border, of the times and scenes
that tried men's souls, and pour a stream of
forest story, the fresher and more delightful
to his hearers for being thus drunk at the
fountain-head.
It was once my fortune, on such a voyage,
to meet such a story-teller, a venerable old
man who was acquainted with every point of
note on the river, and had descended it more
than forty years before, performing a voyage,
which—at that period, always dangerous—
was, in this case, attended with circumstances
peculiarly perilous and dreadful. His story,
interesting in itself, had, moreover, the additional
merit of being told upon the place of
its occurrence, upon the river whose waters
had been dyed with his own blood and the
blood of many a hapless companion, and at
the very spot which had witnessed its fearful
catastrophe. It was a tale strongly illustrative,
and with but few exaggerated features,
of the earlier navigation of the Ohio, when
the place of the steamer; when men inexperienced
in navigation, and entirely unacquainted
with the river upon which they so
boldly launched, were the only sailors and
pilots; and when, above all, the river-banks
were lined with Indians, lying in wait to plunder
and murder.
It was a fine evening of early October,
183—; the beautiful hills, forest-clad to the
top, had put on their glorious mantles of gold
and scarlet; the clumps of trees on the shores
and islands,—some half bared of leaves, displaying
the tufts of green misletoe on their
branches and the purple ivies draping their
pillared trunks, some still in full leaf and glowing,
here like a sunshiny cloud, and there
like a hillock of cinnabar—glassed themselves
in a tide as smooth and bright as quicksilver,
in which their reflections, and the images of
bank and hill, were as clear and distinct to
the vision as the objects themselves; so that
we seemed to be rather sailing down a river
of air than any grosser element.
It was an hour when—every one having
finished his supper—travellers felt sentimental
and philosophic, and dragged their
chairs to the boiler-deck; where—with the
bursting, they were in the best place in the
boat to be blown to atoms—each surveyed
the Eden-like prospects continually arising,
admired, commented, and prepared his store
of anecdote, to take part in the story-telling
conversation, which always formed the entertainment
of the evening.
It was at this period that the old gentleman,
(Mr. Law, he said, was his name,) who
had on previous occasions narrated many interesting
anecdotes of other persons, without
doing more than hint at his own adventures,
was prevailed upon to speak of himself, of his
own travel's history; which he did with such
unction and effect, at least so far as regarded
myself, that I was never easy afterward
until I had fully committed his story to writing.
I have only to regret that I did not obtain
for it, as thus faithfully recorded, the
proper evidence of authenticity; that is, a
certificate of its accuracy by the narrator,
under his own hand and seal; which would
have settled the doubts of all such skeptical
persons as may be disposed to regard it as a
fiction and coinage of my own imagination.
2. CHAPTER II.
IN WHICH MR. MICHAEL LAW BEGINS HIS STORY: WITH
SOME ACCOUNT OF COLONEL STORM AND HIS FAMILY.
“Had Fulton and Stevens, and the other
great men who have covered the rivers of
America with steamboats,”—thus began the
narrator,—“commenced their experiments
twenty years earlier than they did, the
history of the West would have presented
no such tales of blood as I am now about
to relate, and its settlement would have
advanced with equal rapidity and safety.
With a steamboat on the Ohio, to waft us,
the first invaders of the wilderness, upon our
voyage, instead of the wretched broad-horns
in which so many of us went to our deaths,
the voyage to Kentucky would have presented
which colonization was so seriously retarded,
and the rich fields of the West left so long in
possession of the savage Red-man.
“I was born in Virginia, in what is now
Jefferson county, on the Upper Potomac,—
an honourable birth-place; but I cannot boast
a lineage either rich or distinguished. On
the contrary, I found myself, at the age of
eighteen, in the month of March, 1791, an
ignorant younker, (ignorant of every thing
but the rifle, which I had learned to handle in
hunter's style by mere instinct, and the hoe,
the use of which noble implement starvation
and a hard-labouring father had as early
taught me,) set adrift upon the world, to seek
my fortune, or, in other words, shift for myself
as I could; my father, Michael Law,
(which is also my own name,) having brought
home to his cabin, one fine morning, a new
friend in the person of a step-mother; who
was never at rest until she had succeeded in
driving me from the house; a catastrophe to
which my father the more readily consented,
as I was now, he said, `a man grown, and
full as able to make my way in the world as
he was.'
“He gave me his blessing, a knife, a new
to put them in, a dried venison-ham,
(which was, however, of my own shooting,)
and as much parched corn as I chose to carry;
and my step-mother adding, as proofs of
her affectionate regard, a pair of stockings
and a worsted nightcap of her own knitting,
I bade them farewell; and, in company with
three other adventurers like myself, turned
my face towards Pittsburg, with the design
of proceeding to Kentucky; where I was told
I might have a fine farm for nothing, save an
occasional fight for it with the Indians, and
plenty of stock, horses and cows, as many as
I might want, from any body for the mere
asking.
“Arriving at Pittsburg, then a miserable
little hamlet, in which no wiseacre could fore-see
the bustling and important city into which
it has now grown, I began to be somewhat
alarmed at the dismal stories every one had
to tell of the terrors of the downward voyage,
of the frequent, nay, daily destruction
of boats with all on board, by the Indians;
from whom, many declared, it was a mere accident
and miracle that any boats should escape
at all. My companions were even more
dismayed than I, one of them returning home
out at labour upon the fortress, which
the government of the United States was
then constructing at Pittsburg.
“As for me, having a little money in my
pocket, won at sundry-shooting matches during
the preceding winter, and treasured up
against a rainy day, I resolved to play the
gentleman as long as it lasted, and then determine
upon the course to be pursued—to
go to work like my friends, for which I had
but little appetite, having a soul quite above
my condition, or join some enterprising boat's
crew, and proceed to Kentucky, for which I
still felt a hankering, notwithstanding the notorious
perils of the voyage.
“My money, as I employed it freely, first,
in decorating my person with a much handsomer
suit of clothes than had ever before
decked it, and, secondly, in establishing myself
in the best tavern in the place, I soon
managed to make away with; upon which,
having now made up my mind for Kentucky,
I began to look about me for a boat, and the
means of obtaining a passage in it to Kentucky.
“In this I found no great difficulty. The
great preparations which General St. Clair,
Ohio, and commander of the national forces
in the West, was making at his camp, Fort
Hamilton, the site, as all know, of the present
Cincinnati, for a great expedition, which,
every body supposed, was to sweep the Indians
from the face of the earth, and so end
the Indian wars in Kentucky for ever, had
given a vast impulse and increase to emigration;
and there was now not a week,—indeed,
scarce a day, in which some boat, or fleet of
boats, did not depart from Pittsburg. And
these were seldom so heavily laden, or strongly
manned, but that room could be readily
found for a single unencumbered man, a
sprightly lad like myself, who could balance
a rifle, had muscles for an oar, and otherwise
promised to make himself serviceable on the
voyage.
“It was my good fortune (for such, notwithstanding
the disasters of the voyage, I
shall always esteem it,) to find, among other
emigrants who were making their preparations
for descending the river, a certain Colonel
Storm, a worthy old gentleman of Virginia,
who had fought through the French
Wars and the Revolution at the head of a
regiment of Buckskins, and bore the reputation
He was on his way to Kentucky, to locate bounty-grants
of his own, as well as others belonging
to brother officers, for whom he acted as
agent; and he intended also to settle in Kentucky;
for which purpose, he had brought with
him his family—consisting, however, of but a
single daughter, a beautiful and amiable girl
of seventeen—and a great deal of property,
horses, cattle, furniture and farming implements,
and a dozen or more slaves, enough in
all to fill two or three boats of the ordinary
kind.
“With such a property at stake, and so
many things to encumber him on the voyage,
he was desirous to enlist the services of as
many bold assistants as he could procure,
and therefore offered, besides a free passage
and support, a considerable bounty to such
persons as would take service with him for
the expedition.
“Hearing of this, and that he had nearly
completed his crews, and expected to put off
in a very few days, I went to him forthwith,
to offer my services, and was immediately
ushered into his presence. He was a fine
portly, powdered, and military-looking old
gentleman, but, as I soon saw, hot and irascible
soured at the time of my visit, by a fit of the
gout, which had suddenly fastened upon one
of his legs; and as I entered the room, I heard
him scolding very bitterly at a young man,
who seemed to be his clerk or secretary, and
was busy among books and papers, which he
tumbled over in a hurried and confused manner,
as if irritated by the Colonel's remarks,
and yet struggling to keep down his anger
without reply.
“The old gentleman seeing me, demanded
very sharply, `who I was, and what I
wanted?'
“I told him, `I came to enter with him for
the Kentucky voyage;' upon which he gave
me a stare of contempt, and angrily exclaimed,—`What!
with that tailor's finery
on your back?' (for I had my best suit on:)
`Oons and death, I want men, not coxcombs!
Men, you jackdaw! men that can stare death
in the face, and take the devil by the top-knot!'
“I told him, being somewhat galled by his
contemptuous expressions, that `I was man
enough for his purpose, or any body else's;' at
which he burst into a passion, swore at me
for `an insolent hobnail,' and concluded the
for? and what I could do?'
“`Any thing,' replied I, as stiffly as a lord,
`any thing that any other man can do.'
“`Oh, ay, I doubt not!' said he, ironically,
and grinning over his shoulder at the young
man, his clerk, `you can read novels, and
write verses, and play the fiddle, and dangle
after the women, eh?' and he darted another
bitter glance at the young fellow, who put
his hand up to his head, and twisted it among
his hair, looking very much incensed, but
still made no reply.
“`I can read,' said I, and with great truth
and honesty, `very well in the Testament,
and any other book with big print: and I can
write, too, right smart; only my master never
put me in small-hand.' At which answer,
Colonel Storm burst into a laugh; which I
mistook for a laugh of incredulity, and therefore
hastened to assure him I spoke nothing
but the truth; adding, which I did with great
frankness, that `as for the fiddle, I knew
nothing about it, having never tried my hand
at any thing better than a banjo. But as for the
women,' I said, with equal honesty, `though
I don't know any thing about dangling,
any body.'
“`Well,' said Colonel Storm, fetching
another laugh, and then giving me a second
diabolical grin, which, I believe, was owing
to a sudden twinge in his foot, `that's neither
here nor there. What can you do that's
like a man? for there's the point to be considered?
“`I can draw a good bead upon a rifle,' I
replied; upon which the Colonel roared, with
approbation, `Now you talk like a man, and
not a jackass!' `Yes, sir,' I continued, swelling
with a sense of my importance and
superior skill in an exercise which, I perceived,
he regarded as a merit; `I can't pretend
to be any great shakes at the reading,
and writing, and fiddling; but I can go the
Old Sinner on a cut-bore, kill death at a knife
fight, and out-wrestle any man of my inches
this side the Alleghany!' All which was,
perhaps, more than half true; for in those,
my cubling days, I was, I am sorry to say,
something of what we, now-a-days, call `a
young screamer.'
“`Bravo!' cried Colonel Storm, turning
maliciously to the young secretary; `do you
hear that, Tom Connor? Here's a young
things a man can; and not a bit of reading,
and writing and fiddling, and woman-dangling
does he care for. Oons, sir, I thought I
should have made a man of you!'
“The young fellow, Connor, as the Colonel
called him, started up, as if stung by the old
man's remark, and, I believe, was about to
make some passionate rely; but just then the
Colonel's daughter came into the room, with
some drug-stuff in a cup she had brought her
father, and Connor instantly resumed his
seat, busying himself among the papers.
“The young lady remained in the room
but a few moments; but I had time to observe
she was what I called her—that is, a very
beautiful girl, whose charms and elegance,—
such as I had never before seen equalled among
the women of our rude border country,—almost
struck me dumb with admiration. I saw
her look very earnestly, as she passed his chair,
at the young secretary, who, however, kept
his eyes sullenly fixed on his papers; a circumstance
which appeared to me to displease
the young lady, who drew herself up and
proceeded to her father, to whom she presented
the cup, which, with sundry wry faces,
he swallowed; and then giving her a kiss, and
from the apartment.
“The old gentleman now gave me to understand
that he accepted my services, bade
me write my name on a book before the secretary,
whom he ordered to advance me a
sum of money, being a part of his bounty,
which Connor immediately did; and I found
myself enlisted, for such was the term the old
soldier applied to the engagement, in his `private
broad-horn service,'—so Colonel Storm
called it,—to be attached to Boat No. 1, in
the capacity of rifleman, oarsman, and, indeed,
all other capacities, as might be necessary. I
was ordered to present myself at the boat on
the following morning, and hold myself in
readiness to depart within two days, and then
took my leave.
“While I was leaving the room, there entered
a gentleman, with whose appearance I
was very much struck. He was a tall, elegant
man, thirty years old, wore a half-military
suit of clothes, finely made, had bright eyes,
and long black hair, which he wore without
powder, and, in short, had every air of a gallant
soldier and distinguished gentleman. I
heard Colonel Storm, who received him with
much warmth and cordiality, though grinning
him by the name of Captain Sharpe; and
I observed that while he bowed, which he did
very politely in passing, to Connor the secretary,
the latter, though he bent his head in
return, gave him a look as black as midnight.
It was evident he was no friend of Connor,
or Connor no friend of him.
3. CHAPTER III.
THE STORY OF MICHAEL LAW CONTINUED—A BORDER
BALL, AND AN INCIDENT.
“These things, which I mention so particularly
now, because they have an intimate
connection with my story, struck me with
some interest at the time. And having, besides,
a natural curiosity to know something
of the individuals who were to be my companions
in the voyage, I made inquiries concerning
them of sundry persons better acquainted
with their history than myself, though
without acquiring much more than I already
knew.
“The young man, Connor, I learned, was
a dependant and protégé of the Colonel, a
son of a poor soldier,—for his origin was no
higher,—who had, in some way or other,
Colonel. The latter, from gratitude to his
preserver, extended his protection to the soldier's
boy, whom he had reared up and educated
in his own house, and almost adopted
as his own child. I was assured, he always
had been, and was still, a great favourite with
the old gentleman, who was extremely fond
of him; but then the Colonel was a whimsical
and violent tempered man, and the gout had,
of late, made him a hundred times more
wayward and irascible than ever, so that it
was scarce possible for any one about him,
but his own daughter, to endure his furious
attacks of ill-humour. Connor was, from his
position continually near his person, more
exposed to suffer from his wrath than others;
but Connor had arrived at an age, when, beginning
to be conscious of his dependant condition,
he was naturally the more intolerant
of unkindness. The Colonel had twitted him
in my presence with certain effeminate propensities,
a love of books, music, female
society, &c., and neglect of all manly accomplishments;
which the young man must have
felt as the more unreasonable, since it was
represented that the Colonel had himself, by
scarce ever allowing the favourite out of his
habits he commended, and compelled him into
those effeminate ones which he condemned.
“But with all the scolding and fault-finding
he was forced to endure, I was assured, Connor
was as much beloved as ever, and that
there was more than a probability the Colonel
would, some day, prove his affection by making
him his son in reality,—that is, by giving
him his fair daughter Alicia to wife.
“Of Captain Sharpe, all I could learn was,
that he was a very gallant officer, a South
Carolinian, and son of an old military friend
and brother-in-arms of Colonel Storm, who
had stumbled upon him by accident in Pittsburg,
and received him to his friendship as a
worthy son of his old comrade. What had
brought such a fine gentleman as Captain
Sharpe to the frontier did not so clearly appear;
though some said it was because of an
unfortunate duel with a brother officer, which,
being of very recent occurrence, had compelled
the surviver to banish himself for a
time from society and the world. I must
confess, that I heard some uncharitable persons
hint a suspicion that Captain Sharpe
was not in all respects the honourable and
exemplary personage his fine appearance
was young Connor, the secretary,
who, I was informed, had got himself into a
difficulty with his hot-headed protector, by
acquainting the latter with his suspicions;
for, it seemed, the veteran had been captivated
by the soldier, `a man,' as he called
him, `after his own heart,' and would endure
no imputations against his honour, however,
to appearance, reasonable and just. Of this
I had myself, after a time, very good proof,
as I shall presently relate.
“Having thus obtained all the information
to be then acquired, and visited the Colonel's
boats, to make the acquaintance of my fellow
engagés, my affairs settled, and some money
again in my pocket, I turned about, like a
lad of spirit, to see how I could spend my
few days of liberty to the best advantage.
It happened that a ball, got up by the garrison
officers and others, the gentry of the
town, was to take place that night; and to
this, being blessed with an equal stock of
simplicity and assurance, I resolved to go,
not having the least suspicion that my appearance
there could involve any impropriety.
With a good coat on my back, I felt
myself equal to any body; and my border
of society.
“To the ball I accordingly went; and, as
it was held in the big room of a hotel, was
by no means managed with the tender solicitude
to keep out intruders that now prevails
at such entertainments, and exhibited among
its highly miscellaneous assemblage many individuals
not a whit more genteelly dressed
than myself, I neither found difficulty in making
my way into the room, nor, for a long
time, of maintaining my position in it.
“I must confess, that I was at first rather
daunted by the appearance of the company,
so much finer, notwithstanding an occasional
departure from elegance, than any I had ever
seen before; the dashing looks of the officers
in their uniforms, of young civilians with powdered
heads and velvet breeches, and, above
all, of the ladies arrayed in their silks and
satins, their plumes, and ribands, and laces;
and the fine music, for such it appeared to me,
made by a military band, added to some half
a dozen fiddles, had also its effects in abashing
and embarrassing me; and had any body
at that moment made objection to my intrusion,
I have no doubt I should have sneaked
quietly out of the room, conscious, for the
quite above my condition.
“But no one noticed me, and my embarrassment
began gradually to wear away; and
besides, I fell upon a means of recruiting my
courage in a still more expeditious and effectual
way. I observed that many of the gentlemen
dancers, after handing the usual ball-room
refreshments to their partners, turned
up their own noses at them—that is, not at
their partners, but the refreshments—and
slyly slipped down stairs to the bar of the
hotel, where more manly refreshments were
to be had. Perceiving this, and not knowing
what I could better do than imitate my betters,
I slipped down likewise, and, sorry I am
to say, not once only, but several times; so
that, in the end, my modesty took to itself
wings, and I found myself as bold as a lion
and happy as a lord; in short, entirely beside
myself. It must be recollected, that I was a
young and ignorant booby, who, besides being
just let loose upon the world, and therefore
incapable of taking care of myself, possessed
a brain none of the strongest for resisting
generous liquors.
“My first glass infused such courage into
my veins, that I was able to look boldly
gentleman a stiff look, and there staring a
lady out of countenance. While thus engaged,
my eyes fell by chance upon my employer's
daughter, the fair Alicia, who, it
seemed, was present, and, indeed, was considered
the great beauty of the ball. She was
about to dance a minuet, and, as it proved,
with Captain Sharpe, who led her into the
middle of the room; where space was immediately
made for them, the company clustering
eagerly around, as if expecting to witness
an uncommon display of elegant dancing.
Nor were they deceived. I had never before
seen such a dance as a minuet; the measures
which I had learned to tread being confined
to jigs and reels, and the still more primitive
double-shuffle. I saw a minuet, therefore,
for the first time, and, as it happened, danced
by as superb a pair of creatures as ever
trode a ball-room floor, or walked through
the mazes of that dance, the most dignified
and beautiful ever invented. Every body
was in raptures at the spectacle, and when
the dance was over, many clapped their
hands, and cried Bravo and Brava; while I
myself, being as much intoxicated with delight
as the rest, cried aloud, `Hurrah for
ag'in for God's sake!' It was fortunate that
the plaudits of the company, which were loud
and numerous, drowned my voice, and so
prevented the compliment outraging the ears
of the beautiful dancer, or, indeed, reaching
those of any other person.
“After this, I frequently observed the
Colonel's daughter, who was, during the
whole evening, so closely besieged by Captain
Sharpe, that no one else seemed able to
approach her; and I thought to myself, thinks
I, `if we don't get them boats off in no time,
the sodger will have the gal from the secretary,
or there an't no moonshine.' Verily,
the Captain seemed pleased with the lady,
and the lady with the Captain.
“It was no very long time after this that
I reached that grand acme of courage of
which I have spoken; and being tired of playing
the looker-on, I resolved to have a dance
as well as my betters. So, having paid
another visit to the bar, I returned to the
ball-room to select a partner; and, as the
Old Imp, the father of impudence, would have
it, who so proper to serve my turn as the
queen of the ball, the lovely Alicia. I can't
pretend to recollect what were precisely the
crowded my conceited noddle; but, I believe,
I had a kind of impression that,—from having
seen her, during the audience with her
father,—I had quite a right to claim her
acquaintance. At all events, I remember
well enough, that I marched up to her, and
making a bow and scrape, that unfortunately
swept a lieutenant of infantry off his legs,
besides some damage done to the skirts of a
lady's dress, `begged to ax the honour to go
a jig with her.' She started up, looking as
proud and haughty as a peacock, and gave
me such a bitter stare as I never thought
could come from such amiable eyes. I felt
quite incensed at her, thinking myself insulted;
and no doubt should have told her so;
had not a great confusion suddenly arisen
among the gentlemen, some of whom asked
`who the drunken scoundrel was, and how
he got in?' while others swore `I was a rascally
boatman,' and `must be kicked out.'
A tall officer, with two epaulettes on, seized
me by the shoulders, to hustle me out;
whereupon I knocked him down;—a favour
that was repaid with interest by half a dozen
others, who fell upon me, amidst a confusion
of shrieks from the women and outcries from
adventure; for what with kicks and cuffs, of
which I received an abundance, and a tumble
down the stairs, that terminated the controversy,
I was soon deprived of all sense and
remembrance.
4. CHAPTER IV.
NO MAN A HERO TO HIS OWN VALET-DE-CHAMBRE.
“I RECEIVED, in short, a terrible drubbing,
which was doubtless no more than I merited,
though more than I afterwards found agreeable.
I did not entirely and satisfactorily, indeed,
recover my wits until the next day, when I
found myself in bed, where I had been deposited
by some good-natured souls, and from
which it was more than a week before I found
myself able to rise again—so soundly and thoroughly
had I been threshed for my impertinence.
Nor do I believe I should have
escaped so soon, had it not been for young
Connor, the Secretary, who, with all his
faults, was a very kind and humane youth;
and, although I had no more claim upon him
than I derived from being in the service of
and administering to my wants, during the
time that I lay sick and suffering, and neglected
by every body else. His goodness
made a strong impression upon my feelings,
and I swore I would requite it with my
life-blood, if necessary. In truth, it gained
my heart entirely. I learned from him—a
piece of information which was the more
agreeable to me, as I feared my misfortune
would cause me to lose my commission in
the broad-horn service—that there was no
fear of my being left behind, the voyage
having been put off for a time in consequence
of my commander's sickness, Colonel Storm
being laid upon his back like me, but laid by
a different cause—that is, by a new fit of the
gout. And, indeed, I was entirely restored
before he recovered sufficiently to begin the
voyage; which was not until two weeks after
the day of my enlistment.
“In the mean while, I found myself a second
time with leisure on my hands, and as much
disposition as ever to enjoy it. I made several
new friends, whom, however, warned
by past experience, I did not seek for in a
ball-room, nor among those elegant personages,
who, I began to perceive, were, or were
At the start, I felt disposed to ask the friendship
of the gallant Captain Sharpe; I was
now content to swear everlasting friendship
with the Captain's man—a scoundrelly fellow,
who met my advances with extreme cordiality,
and immediately gambled me out of all
my money.
“This worthy individual, who had been a
soldier, like his master—a deserter from a
British regiment in the revolution—the evening
before the broad-horns got under way,
treated me to a supper and a bowl of punch;
in the course of which he acquainted me with
sundry interesting particulars in relation to
his master and himself, of which I had been
before entirely ignorant. And, first, he gave
me to understand, that his master, Captain
Sharpe, had volunteered his agreeable society
and valiant assistance to my employer, Colonel
Storm, in the voyage to Kentucky, having
resolved to sail with us, out of pure regard
for the Colonel, his father's friend; and, secondly,
that he himself, Samuel Jones, the
servant, could not countenance his master in
any such doings, having a great aversion to
Indians, and especially to Indians armed with
tomahawks and scalping-knives. In brief, I
of the perils of the voyage, which feeling he
did all he could to infuse into my own mind.
He had picked up every story, true and false,
that was told of Indian atrocities committed
on the Ohio; and to these he added legends
of spectres, devils, and other sepernatural
agents, by whom the voyager was often
haunted and harassed, and, in spite of himself,
driven into the hands of the savages.
Thus, he had a story of a phantom warrior
in a canoe, (supposed to be the ghost of old
Bald Eagle, the Delaware Chief, whose mangled
corse, set afloat by his murderer, forms
a well-known and ghastfully picturesque incident
in border history,) who dogged the
boats of emigrants, and by the mere terror
of his presence, drove them into the ambush
prepared by his living countrymen; and another
legend of a still more frightful spectre,
a gory refugee, who, when the navigators
slept, stole into their boats, and with their
own oars, rowed them silently ashore, into
the midst of their watchful enemies.
“These strange stories, which had, I confess,
the effect of renewing my alarms to a
certain extent, I remembered the more readily
as I found they had made their way
recalled to my mind by events that
occurred during the descent.
“Mr. Samuel Jones, having opened his
heart by repeated applications to the bowl,
did not refuse to carry his confidence still
further; and he told me many curious things
concerning his master and other persons, including
his excellent self, to which I should
have perhaps attached more importance, had
I not supposed the punch had made him poetical.
He told me what I then considered
a very preposterous story about his master;
namely, that this exemplary gentleman and
soldier, having broken his father's heart by
evil courses, and abandoned, after meanly
plundering of her property, a deserving but
unhappy wife, (for, Jones assured me, his
master was married,) had finished his villanies
by debauching the wife of his best friend,
and blowing out the husband's brains by way
of reparation; to which latter exploits he
owed his sudden exile to the back woods, a
further residence in a civilized community
having been thus rendered impossible.
“This account, I repeat, I considered a
mere invention of Mr. Jones. And in this
opinion I was confirmed by his telling me
I believed them, would have proved him as
thorough a rogue as his master. My incredulity,
however, I soon found, was, in this
latter particular, wholly misplaced; for Mr.
Jones, who was so unwilling to dare the
perils of the Ohio voyage, it was early next
morning discovered, had left his master's
service some time during the night, having
previously taken the precaution to rob the
gallant soldier of every valuable he possessed.
The only inconvenience resulting from
this was, that Captain Sharpe was compelled
to borrow all my generous employer's loose
cash, to refit for the voyage, having no leisure
left to look after the robber. Indeed, within
an hour after the discovery of his loss was
made—that is, at sunrise that morning, the
26th of April—we unmoored our boats and
were soon afloat upon the bosom of the Ohio.
5. CHAPTER V.
THE VOYAGE BEGUN.
“Our flotilla consisted of three boats, two
of them of very large size, and somewhat
overburthened with goods and cattle. That
in which I was stationed, being the flag-ship,
in which Colonel Storm commanded in person,
was somewhat smaller than the others,
not so heavily laden, and in all respects better
fitted out—a superiority which it doubtless
owed to the presence of the fair Alicia,
his daughter. It contained, besides the usual
cabin for the shelter of the crew, a smaller
one set apart for the use of the Colonel's
daughter—a sanctuary which none had the
privilege of entering, save the commander
himself, the lady's female attendants, and,
sometimes, the gallant Captain Sharpe. The
in fact, every thing on board of the commander's
boat seemed to have been arranged
with a view to detract as little as possible from
his daughter's comfort. The very crew
seemed to have been selected with an eye to
her approbation, consisting, besides four of
the Colonel's oldest and most faithful negroes,
of ten men, the soberest and best behaved of
all his engagés. There were nineteen souls
in all on board the boat—Colonel Storm, his
daughter and two female servants, Captain
Sharpe, and the fourteen men as above mentioned.
“I was surprised, and somewhat disconcerted,
to find that my friend Connor was not
in the Colonel's boat; but reflecting that the
latter had not yet entirely recovered from his
gout, and was, indeed, as fretful and irascible
as man could be, I thought in my heart
that the younker had shown his good sense
by entering, as I did not doubt he had done,
one of the other boats. What was my astonishment
to learn, which I did towards the
close of the day, that Connor was not with
the party at all—that he had left the Colonel's
service—nay, that he had been ignominiously
driven from it, in consequence of a
This I learned from some of the men whom
I heard whispering the matter over among
themselves, but who were too little informed
on the subject to be able to acquaint me with
all the particulars. It seemed, however, that
the quarrel had, in some way, grown out of a
dispute the secretary had had with Captain
Sharpe, in the course of which swords had
been drawn between them; though what had
so embittered these doughty champions
against one another, no one pretended to
say. All the men knew was, that the blame
was thrown upon Connor—that Colonel
Storm had taken part against him, and immediately
turned him adrift; since which, nothing
had been heard of him by any of the
party.
“This intelligence filled me with concern;
and such was my affection for the young man,
who I was sure (without knowing any thing
about it) had been harshly and unjustly treated
that I was, for a time, more than half inclined
to jump ashore, and return to Pittsburg, for the
purpose of seeking him out and offering him
my services. But, having mentioned the design
to some of my comrades, they gave me so
dismal an account of the difficulties and dangers
distance from Pittsburg, I should encounter
in making my way along the river, that I was
frighted out of my purpose, and determined,
although reluctantly to remain where I was.
“As the young man's misadventure arose
from his quarrel with Captain Sharpe, I contracted,
from that moment, a strong dislike to
the latter, who, it appeared to me, had ousted
Connor, only to step into his shoes—to take
his place in the affections of the grum old
Colonel, and, for aught I could tell, in those
of his daughter too. I still could not give
my belief to the stories told me of Captain
Sharpe by his servant; it seemed impossible
such things should be true of so elegant a
gentleman. Nevertheless, I bore them in mind,
resolved, if it should appear that Captain
Sharpe was actually making love to the fair
Alicia, to make her parent fully acquainted
with them.
“In this, I must confess, I had in view the
mortification of Captain Sharpe, rather than
the advantage of the Colonel's daughter, for
whom I felt, at first, no very friendly regard.
I remembered her haughty and scornful looks
at the ball, which I had not yet entirely forgiven;
and my disgrace and discomfiture on
to her. Besides, as I was now conscious of
the distance fate had placed between us, I
was, at the beginning of the voyage, in continual
fear, lest she should recognise me and
make me the butt of her ridicule; an apprehension,
however, I soon ceased to entertain,
being satisfied she had quite forgotten me.
“I will here add, that my dislike to the
young lady wore, of itself, rapidly away; for,
first, it was impossible I should indulge ill will
against a creature so young and lovely; and,
secondly, I perceived there was something on
her mind that rendered her unhappy—something
made visible on her face by a sadness
that seemed to me to grow deeper day by
day. I fancied the cause might be regret for
the absence and misfortunes of Connor; a
conceit that wonderfully raised her in my esteem.
“It happened, at the time when we began
our voyage, that the river had fallen for the
season unusually low; so that some of the
knowing persons in Pittsburg, considering the
size and weight of the Colonel's boats, had
advised him to wait for a rise of the waters;
a piece of advice of which he took no notice,
though other emigrants who were ready
“We were not long in discovering that
we gained little but trouble by being in a
hurry; for, besides that we got along but slowly,
and with hard rowing, in consequence of
the gentle current, we were perpetually driving
aground, some one boat or the other, upon
bars, and sandbanks, from which it was a
work of time and labour to escape. Indeed,
one of the boats we found it impossible to
get from a bar, on which she had grounded
some dozen miles or so above Wheeling; and
as, from her proximity to this settlement, and
her position in the middle of the river, it was
not thought she was in any danger from the
savages, the crew consented to remain in her,
waiting for a flood, and also for the fleet it
was expected to bring down from Pittsburg,
with which they were to descend the river.
We of the other boats, sick of our labours at
the oar, rather envied the happy dogs whom
we left taking their ease on the bar, with the
prospect, in a few days, of resuming their
voyage, borne along by the swelling current,
without any toil of their own: nevertheless
these happy personages, as we afterwards
discovered, were, two nights after we left
and not one of them escaped to tell the story
of their fate.
“Nor was that our only loss. Two nights
after—perhaps at the very moment when our
friends of the stranded boat were dying under
the axes of their Indian assailants—the remaining
large boat ran upon a snag, by which
she was rendered a complete wreck, and we
were compelled to abandon her. It was only
by the greatest exertions we were so fortunate
as to rescue the more valuable portions
of her cargo, including two of the Colonel's
finest horses, which we succeeded in transferring
to our own boat: the others we left to
their fate, after knocking away the side of
the boat, and driving them into the river,
whence they all swam to the shore, and
doubtless soon found Indian masters. The
crew, consisting of thirteen persons, was added
to our own, which was thus increased to
thirty-two souls—a number so greatly disproportioned
to the size of our boat, that they
were not received without the greatest inconvenience.
But this we cared for the less, as
we expected soon to reach the new settlement
of Marietta, at the mouth of the Muskingum,
where it was intended to put some of our superfluous
we had left behind.
“We reached Marietta the next day, and
got rid of eight of the wrecked crew, retaining
five, of whom two were slaves belonging
to our commander in chief, the others engagés.
Remaining at Marietta during the night,
we set out next morning under what might
have been considered favourable auspices.
The most important of these was a sudden
swell of the river, which rose several feet
in the night, and was still rapidly rising,
when we cast off from the shore. We had
thus a prospect of making our way by the
mere force of the current, and so escaping,
for the remainder of the voyage, the drudgery
of the oar; besides clearing all rifts and sandbars,
of which we had already had experience
more than enough. We set out, moreover,
with such a crew as might be supposed to
secure us a perfect exemption from Indian
attacks—thirteen engagés, all well armed,
and acquainted with arms, though no more
than one of them had ever faced an Indian
in battle; together with five able-bodied negro
men, whom the Colonel had provided
with muskets, and who could doubtless use
them after some fashion; not to speak of the
service, and Captain Sharpe, who, we had
no doubt, would fight when the time came,
though, at present, as it appeared, more
earnestly bent upon making himself agreeable
to the commander's daughter than upon
preparing for war.
With a military commander on board,
(though sorely incapacitated for command,)
it may be supposed, our forces were organized
upon somewhat a military foundation.
We were, at least divided into watches, each
of which under its captain, appointed by Colonel
Storm, had its regular turn of duty, both
by day and by night.
6. CHAPTER VI.
THE PHANTOM CANOE.
“These circumstances—the swell of the
river and our undoubted strength—removed
from the breasts of many the effects of an
unfavourable occurrence, of which I have not
yet spoken. It will be remembered, that honest
master Jones had informed me of the
river being haunted by a spectral Indian in a
canoe, whose appearance was the forerunner,
if not the cause, of disaster; and that our
boatmen had also been made acquainted with
the legend. The night before we reached
Marietta, such a spectre was seen, and seen
by all on board—that is to say, a canoe with
a human shape in it, dogging us at a considerable
distance behind, and dogging us all night
long. The watch, at first surprised, and then
and, as I said, all on board saw it, though all
were not, perhaps, of the same opinion in regard
to its character. The superstitious declared
it could be nothing less than the phantom
of which so much had been told: while
even those who denied its spectral nature,
could explain the phenomenon only by supposing
it was the boat of some Indian spy,
whose cut-throat companions were lying in
wait somewhere nigh at hand.
“Captain Sharpe, to whom we commonly
looked as our acting commander, (Colonel
Storm being seldom able to come on deck,)
upon being called up, laughed at us for a pack
of `cowardly noodles,' as he very politely
called us, declared we saw nothing but a floating
log, or at best, a drift canoe—certainly,
he vowed `there was no man in it'—and ordered
us to back oars a little, to let it float
by. Unfortunately for the Captain's explanation,
the moment the broad-horn ceased to
move, that moment the canoe, also, became
stationary; and some of us swore we could
hear the dip of the paddle by which it was
brought to a stand and made to stem the current.
`Ghost or no ghost,' said Captain
Sharpe, dryly enough, `it can do us no harm,
comes nearer, hail it; and if it make no answer,
let it have a taste of your rifles.' With
these words, and a desperate yawn, that cut
the last word in two, and kept it some forty
seconds in the utterance, the gallant soldier
went down to his mattress, treating the ghost
with a degree of contempt nobody else could
summon to his assistance. The ghost—for
so the majority were resolved to consider the
appearance—was well watched during the
night: it kept at a highly respectful distance,
and at, or before daylight, it suddenly vanished
away.
“The night after we left Marietta, which
was very dark and cloudy, the phantom again
appeared, and caused as much discussion, and,
among some, as much alarm as before; the
more so, perhaps, as, when first discovered,
it was found to be much nearer to us than on
the former occasion; a degree of audacity
which those on deck, the men of the second
watch, rewarded by a volley of rifle-bullets,
according to Captain Sharpe's instructions;
forgetting, however, the important preliminary
of hailing the mysterious voyager. The
effect of the volley was very happy, as boat
and boatman instantly vanished from view,
one, not even Captain Sharpe himself, found
fault with the men for only half obeying his
orders.
“The disappearance of the phantom restored
us all to good humour; and, conscious
now of our strength, conscious, too, of our
security on the top of the flood, by which we
were so rapidly borne upon our voyage, with
no necessity before us except that of keeping
our boat in the centre of the river, and so
out of all danger of Indian bullets from the
shore, we began to laugh at past terrors, and
assure each other that the voyage to Kentucky
was by no means the dreadful thing it
was represented to be.
“From this state of things it is not surprising
there resulted a certain degree of
carelessness among the men in the night-watches;
who, feeling that the hand at the
steering-oar could perform all the duty supposed
to be requisite to their safety—that is,
of keeping the boat in the mid-channel—very
frequently took advantage of the watch-hours
to throw themselves on the deck and steal a
pleasanter nap than could be enjoyed in the
crowded cabin below. And this kind of watching,
I confess, on two or three occasions, I
practised with great satisfaction myself.
7. CHAPTER VII.
DOMESTIC AFFAIRS IN THE BROAD-HORN.
“In due course of time, and without further
accident, we arrived at the little French
settlement of Gallipolis; which, being the last
upon the river before reaching the Kentucky
settlements, was always a stopping-place,
where the emigrant obtained fresh stores of
provisions, perhaps; but, certainly, the last
news of Indian knaveries on the river below.
At this place, it was resolved to remain for
a day and night, in the hope of being joined
by our stranded boat. The time was passed
by all attached to the broad-horn in such
frolics and diversions ashore as suited their
several humours. Even the fair Alicia, who,
by this time, was growing visibly thin and
pale—a misfortune which her father, himself
to the confinement of the boat—was
prevailed upon to take several rambles on
shore, in which she was attended by Captain
Sharpe, now, as every body could see, a fixed
favourite of her father, and, as every body
imagined, of the lady likewise. But it was
observable that Miss Storm never went ashore
without having one of her women also with
her.
“Rambling along the river myself, it was
my fate to stumble upon this little party, at
a moment when Captain Sharpe had taken
advantage of a momentary separation of the
fair Alicia from her servant, to drop upon his
knees, and pour into her tender ears a violent
declaration of love.—Not that I pretend to
have overheard his actual expressions, for I
was too far from the pair for that, besides
beating a retreat the moment I discovered
them, without their having noticed me; but,
as I saw him on his knees, in an extremely
elegant posture of adoration, I had no right
to doubt what kind of prayers he was making.
How the lady received his vows, whether
favourably or not, I had no means of knowing
or discovering, being in as great a hurry to
was to win the lady's heart.
“Having no longer any doubt that the
handsome soldier had really formed the design
of becoming the son-in-law of my commander,
and remembering Jones's story of his marriage,
as well as my resolution to make Colonel
Storm acquainted with it, if necessary,
I immediately returned to the boat; where
the old gentleman, incapable of leaving it,
was growling over his pangs, and, to my
surprise, invoking all kinds of maledictions
upon Connor, `for deserting him,' as he expressed
it, in a grumbling soliloquy, `in the
midst of his torments and cares.'
“`Sir,' said I, pouncing upon him without
ceremony, and thinking this a favourable
opportunity to open my communication, `I
thought, and so did every body else, you
turned off Mr. Connor yourself!”
“`What's that your business, you scoundrel?'
said he, as if enraged at my presumption:
`who gave you leave to talk to me
about Tom Connor, or any thing else?'
“`Nobody gave it—I take it,' said I; `and
I reckon, that, in turning off Mr. Connor,
you got rid of just as good a friend and
honest a servant as was ever misused in a fit
moreover, that, in putting Captain Sharpe
into his place, you have helped yourself to a
bit of snake-flesh, that will have a snap at
you, rale viper-fashion, or at some body you
love as well as yourself, some day, there's no
doubt on it.'
“`What, you dog!' cried Colonel Storm,
seeming both incensed and astonished, `are
you abusing Sharpe, too?'
“`I didn't know,' said I, `that any body
had ever said any thing against him. But, I
tell you what, Colonel Storm—not to make
a long story about it—Captain Sharpe is
making love to Miss 'Lishy; and it seems to
be generally agreed among us as how you
intend to give her to him.'
“`Well, you brazen rascal!' roared Colonel
Storm, looking as if he would eat me, `how
does that concern you?'
“I had, by this time, got too well accustomed
to the commander's mode of conversing
with his people, when in a passion, to
take offence at his expressions; and, therefore,
replied, with as much equanimity as when I
began the conversation,—`I don't see that it
concerns me much, any way, Colonel; but, I
young lady; and her honour—'
“`Her honour, you dog! Do you dare
talk to me about my daughter's honour?'
cried the old gentleman, with increasing fury.
“`Colonel? said I, `it don't signify being
in such a passion, and calling me hard names:
—I just mean to tell you, that, if you give
Captain Sharpe your daughter, she will get a
husband who happens to have one wife,—
perhaps half a dozen of 'em,—already.'
“`You lie, you thief!' said the veteran,
catching at his crutch,—I believe, with the
full intention of knocking me on the head; a
catastrophe which, supposing I should have
permitted it to be attempted, which I was
not disposed to do, was prevented by the
sudden appearance of the young lady; who,
still attended by Captain Sharpe, at that moment
entered the boat and the cabin where I
had sought her parent. The angry old gentleman's
eyes flashed with double rage, as
soon as they fell upon the soldier; but, as it
happened, it was with rage not at the latter:
—`Here, Sharpe, you thief,' he cried, `here's
the old story over again! Knock the villain's
brains out—Swears you are married!'
“`At these words, the daughter, who,
of stealing away to her own cabin, turned
round with a look of astonishment and inquiry.
`Same old story Tom Connor got up
—lying rascal!' continued the veteran: `wife
already,—poor deserted woman,—broken-hearted.—Rascally
invention.—Tumble the
dog into the river!'
“`I beg,' said Captain Sharpe, looking for
a moment a little confused, but soon recovering
his composure,—`I beg Miss Storm will
retire a moment, while I inquire into this odd
adventure.'
“Miss Storm gave the Captain a searching,
I thought even a scornful—though calmly
scornful—look, and then stepped up to her
father, upon whose shoulder she laid her
hand, gazing him earnestly and sadly in the
face. `Father,' she said, `the position in
which I have been placed—need I say, by
yourself?—in relation to Captain Sharpe, entitles
me to inquire into any charges affecting
his honour. I waive the right: I do not even
ask you, my father, to act upon it. But I
must be satisfied upon one point. You drove
from you an old and once trusted friend,—
Connor: and it seems, (although you never
acquainted me with it,) that he preferred
the very charges which, it seems, this young
man brings against him.—Father! was it because
of these charges you discarded poor
Connor?'
“`Ay!' grumbled the veteran;—`told lies
of the Captain:—all slander and malice.'
“`It is enough,' said the lady; and then
added,—`Slander and malice never stained
the lips of Thomas Connor.'
“`Spoken like a true-hearted gal!' said I,
vastly delighted to find the poor secretary
had another friend beside myself in the boat:
`And as for this here story about Captain
Sharpe's wife, I hold it to be as true as gospel,—'cause
how, his own man Jones told
me!'
“`Excellent authority on which to damn
a man's reputation, certainly,—that of his
own robbing, runaway lackey!' cried Captain
Sharpe, with a laugh; and then requested
that Miss Storm would `remain and hear all
that the fellow (meaning me) had to say
against him.'
“`It is neither necessary that I should
hear, nor he say, any thing more against one
who is now—whatever else he may be—
my father's guest,' replied Miss Storm, calmly:
hereafter. And I beg,' she added,
`that neither my father nor Captain Sharpe
will cherish any ill will against this young
man, for bringing charges, which, however unfounded
they may be, had certainly their
origin in good-will to my father, or to me.'
“With these words, she retired to her little
apartment; and Colonel Storm, denouncing
me as `a great impudent blockhead,'
ordered me out of the cabin. As for Captain
Sharpe, who, I expected, would have been
thrown into a terrible rage, he burst into a
laugh, as soon as Miss Alicia departed, and
told me I was `a very simple fellow, but
would grow wiser hereafter,'—a mode of
treating my charges which somewhat lessened
my own opinion of their justice.
“And so ended my assault upon the honour
and dignity of Captain Sharpe, in which,
though I met with nothing but discomfiture,
I had the good fortune, without, however,
knowing it until some time afterwards, to
make a friend of the fair Alicia.
8. CHAPTER VIII.
PREPARATION FOR WAR.—VISIT FROM A SPECTRE.
“The next morning, having waited in vain
for our lagging boat, we bade farewell to the
settlers of Gallipolis, by whom we were advised
to be on our guard during the remainder
of the voyage; and especially to beware
of the country about the mouth of the Scioto,
where several doleful accidents had already
happened, and where boats were so frequently
attacked that it was suspected the savages
had there formed a permanent post for the
annoyance of emigrants.
“We were told also to have a care against
being led into danger by white men—refugees
and renegades; who were accustomed
to present themselves on the banks of the
river, at the appearance of a boat, into which
themselves captives just escaped from
the Indians, or shipwrecked boatmen left
helpless amid the horrors of the wilderness;
which protestations, when hearkened to, commonly
led the unsuspecting emigrant into an
Indian ambush prepared for him on the shore,
and thus to death or captivity. This peculiar
caution had been several times before enforced
upon us at the settlements we had previously
visited; and we left Gallipolis with a
full determination to be cajoled by no such
villanous wiles, how craftily soever devised
and practised.
“We were now, as we had every reason
to believe, much nearer to danger from the
Indians than we had been before, in the higher
regions of the Ohio: yet, it is certain, we
left Gallipolis with less fear and anxiety
among us than when we set out. We had,
in fact, become accustomed to our boat, to
the Ohio, to the solitude of the wilderness
through which we floated, to the idea of danger,
which we had conned over in our minds
until we grew tired of it, and turned to happier
and more cheerful thoughts. We were
better navigators too, and understood our
power of keeping ourselves out of mischief,
river, and so beyond the reach of Indian rifles;
and, besides, we were all learned in Indian
wiles and stratagems, to know which
was to know how to escape them.
“And thus it happened, that we left Gallipolis
with light hearts, and approached the
scene where danger was most to be apprehended,
with a degree of indifference amounting
almost to fatality. Such blind security,
growing with increase of peril, and attended
with every kind of carelessness and negligence,
was often found among the Ohio voyagers
of that day, and was as often the cause
of calamities, which a little common-sense
solicitude would have enabled the unhappy
adventurers easily to avoid.
“The day on which we left Gallipolis proved,
perhaps, the most agreeable of the whole
voyage. It was now late in Spring; the weather
was warm and genial, and the magnificent
forests bordering the river were in full
leaf and bloom, filling the eye with beauty
and the nostrils with sweet odours. The
evening was still more delicious, and was
passed by the engagès in mirth and jollity, in
singing, and even in dancing; for which we
had an incentive provided in a fiddle, sawed
by one of the Colonel's negroes. And in
this kind of diversion we were freely indulged
by our commander, because it seemed to
amuse the mind of his fair daughter, who sat
for awhile looking on the dance, smiling encouragement.
“By and by, however, the weather changed,
and a shower fell, which put an end to the
untimely revelry; and the dancers retreated
to the cabin and their beds, leaving the deck
in possession of the usual watch of four men,
of whom the one at the steering oar was the
only one actually engaged in any duty. This
first shower was but the precursor of others,
which continued to fall at intervals during the
night, and of a change from warm to very
cold weather; so that, by and by, the deck
lost many of its chrms, even to the men of
the watch, becoming, in truth, the most uncomfortable
part of the whole boat. I remember
being vastly pleased at ending my own
watch, which happened at midnight, and
creeping down to a warm bunk in the cabin,
where slumber was so many degrees more
agreeable than in the cold wet air above.
“Upon leaving Gallipolis, Captain Sharpe,
who was often seized with fits of military
the crew upon the dangers we ought now to
expect to encounter, and exhort us to a careful
performance of all our duties, of which
the night-watching was, as he justly observed,
the most important; and as we should, in
all probability, during the course of the following
night, reach the mouth of the Scioto,
which, all knew, was regarded as the most
dangerous point of the whole navigation, he
especially enjoined it upon us, this night, to
watch in reality—that is, to keep our eyes
open and about us, instead of lying down to
sleep, as we had been in the habit of doing
for several nights past. And to encourage
us in our duties, he declared that he intended
for the future, or so long as danger should
seem to threaten, to share them with us—
that is, to take part with us in the watch;
and he accordingly appointed himself to the
middle watch, the longest and dreariest of
all, from midnight until four in the morning.
“His zeal greatly delighted Colonel Storm,
who swore, `that was the way for a soldier
to behave;' though I cannot say it was
equally agreeable to the boatmen. On the
contrary, I heard a great deal of grumbling
among them, upon this particular night,
Sharpe was heard getting up to join the next
band of watchers. It was generally apprehended
that the presence of the disciplined
soldier would interfere with all the little arrangements
which the men might otherwise
have taken to secure their own comfort.
Happily for the grumblers, Captain Sharpe
proved to be no such severe disciplinarian.
“I retired to my bed, and there slept, perhaps,
three hours; when I was wakened by a
terrible dream of Indians attacking the boat;
which so disturbed and disordered my mind
that I was not able to get to sleep again; and
being weary of my cot, I got up, and crept to
the deck, for the purpose of looking out upon
the night. As I made my way through the
cabin, in which was burning a little lamp,
yielding a meagre light, I was astonished to
perceive Captain Sharpe, with several—indeed,
as it afterward proved, all—the men of
his watch, lying sound asleep on the floor,
having evidently slipt away, one after the
other, from their duties on deck.
“Although surprised at this dereliction on
the part of the gallant soldier, especially after
the great zeal he had displayed during the
day, I was not at all concerned or alarmed,
expressed, when kept longer than I liked at
the helm—namely, that the boat could make
her way down the river just as well without
steering as with. Nevertheless, as the experiment
had never before been actually tried,
I felt some curiosity to find how it succeeded;
and accordingly stept immediately out on
deck to see; which was a feat the less disagreeable
as the showers were now over, the
clouds had broken away, and the stars shining
so brilliantly that objects nigh at hand
could be pretty distinctly discerned.
“Knowing that all the watch were in the
cabin fast asleep, judge my astonishment to
find, as I did, the moment I reached the deck,
a human figure at the steering oar, and the
boat within but half a dozen yards of the
river-bank, upon which the unknown helmsman
seemed urging it with might and main;
and fancy the terror that instantly seized me,
when, looking upon the apparition, I discovered
the spectral refugee, (for who could it
be but he?) the hero of the ghost story, who,
with a person all ghastly to behold, and a
visage bound with a bloody handkerchief,
and cadaverously resembling my poor discarded
friend, Tom Connor's, had stolen into
ashore.
“At this sight, I was seized with a terrible
panic, as may be supposed, and uttering
a yell that instantly roused every soul on
board, leaped from the deck among my comrades,
who came tumbling out, some shrieking
`Indians!' and others asking what was
the matter. I told them we were going
ashore, and that a ghost was at the helm;
upon which two thirds of them ran back into
the cabin, where they fell upon their knees
and cried for mercy, while others, bolder or
more curious, rushed upon the deck to have
a view of the spectre. But the spectre was
gone, entirely vanished away into air, or into
the river; and the only evidence of his visit
was seen as the broad-horn suddenly swept
round a jutting point, which it almost touched,
and then, borne onwards by a powerful
current, shot again into the channel.
“This extraordinary occurrence produced,
as may be imagined, an extaordinary ferment;
in the midst of which I was summoned to the
presence of the commander in chief; with
whom I found the fair Alicia, looking wild
with fright, and also Captain Sharpe, the latter
busily engaged in assuring Colonel Storm,
`all was well—nothing was the matter, only
an uproar made by a man roused from his
sleep by the nightmare.'
“`You saw a ghost, you loon?' said Colonel
Storm, turning from the soldier to myself;
`what's the matter?'
“Upon this, I told the veteran the whole
story, not omitting the soldierly desertion of
his post by the gallant Captain—notwithstanding
that this worthy gentleman made
me many significant hints to hold my tongue
—among others, by touching his pocket with
one hand and his lip with the other, as if to
say, `keep your peace, and you shall be well
rewarded;' and then scowling like a thundergust,
when he found I proceeded, without regarding
his efforts to check me.
“My relation produced a considerable effect
both upon the old gentleman and his
daughter; but it seemed to me, they were
more struck by the exposure of Captain
Sharpe's desertion of his post, than by any
thing else, the lady looking upon him with
mingled wonder and contempt, while the
Colonel grumbled his displeasure aloud—
`Conduct for a court-martial—Fine officer-like
behaviour, by George, sir!'
“Captain Sharpe declared `it was all a
mistake—a very unaccountable occurrence;
protested he had not left the deck two minutes,
and only left it to treat the watch, who
were cold and wet, to a glass of liquor; and
that it was a mere accident and inadvertence,
if the helmsman left his post at the same time;'
all which—as unconscionable a falsehood as
was ever uttered—the worthy personage
offered to prove by calling in the men; whose
assertions, backed by his own word, `he
hoped Colonel Storm would think sufficient
to disprove the charge of a single individual
like me, especially after the veritable nonsense
I had just told them about the ghost.'
“`Humph!' said the Colonel, with a snort
—`what sort of a ghost was it?'
“`It was like Mr. Connor,' said I; `only
that it was pale and grim, and had a bloody
handkerchief round its brows.'—At which
words, Miss Storm looked wilder than ever,
and even the Colonel her father started, with
a piteous `God bless my soul! Hope nothing
has happened the boy—Never forgive myself,
if he should haunt me!'
“Here Captain Sharpe interfered, asking
the Colonel with a laugh, `if he really believed
my ridiculous story? if he did not see
dreaming; and that all I had seen, or thought
I had seen, was mere visionary nothing.' In
short, I believe he quite staggered the Colonel;
who, however, having finished examining
me, ordered me out of the cabin; so that I
never knew what was the result of Captain
Sharpe's ingenious attempt to explain away
his desertion of his duties of deck.
9. CHAPTER IX.
THE INDIAN CAMP—AGREEABLE SURPRISE.
“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
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
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?'
10. CHAPTER X.
THE INDIAN ATTACK.
“`Push off!' cried Colonel Storm; but
there were none to answer his call. The
deck was occupied by the dead and the dying
only; all who could move having leaped down
below, where they lay, some groaning and
bleeding to death, some uttering hurried prayers,
but all in a frenzy of terror, all trying to
shelter themselves amongst bales and boxes
from the shot, which the enemy, not yet content
with slaughter, continued to pour into
our wretched boat. Colonel Storm, himself
struck down by a bullet through the thigh,
lay amidst the rest; not, indeed, cowering or
lamenting, but calling upon us, with direful
oaths, now to `push off, and handle the oars,'
now to `get up, like men, and give the dogs
which, however, no one regarded.
“We had struck the land at a projecting
point, and the strength of the current did for
us the service our commander called upon us
in vain to perform; it swept us free from the
bank, and we again floated down the tide—
but, alas, only for a moment. With men at
the oars to take advantage of the boat's liberation,
we might have easily profited by this
providential circumstance, and made our way
again into the middle of the river, and thus
to safety. But no one thought of daring the
peril of those fatal bullets, which swept the
deck and perforated our flimsy bulwarks of
plank. The broad-horn was left to herself—
to the current, which, having swept her from
the bank, in one moment more lodged her
among the branches of a fallen tree, a gigantic
sycamore, whose roots still embraced the
bank, while its branches, stretched out like the
arms of a huge polypus in the tide, arrested
her in her flight, and held her entangled at
the distance of twenty yards from the bank.
“`Is there a man in the boat?' yelled the
disabled commander, perceiving this new
misfortune, of which the Indians could be
seen taking advantage, by endeavouring to
the boat; `Is there a man who would rather
take a wound, trying to save himself, by cutting
loose from that tree, than die cowering
like a butchered dog, here in the bottom of
the boat?'
“Nobody replied, save by looks, which
each directed upon the other, full at once of
solicitation and horror. The Colonel's appeal
was the signal for new yells and hotter volleys
from the shore, by the latter of which
the two horses, whose furious kicks and
struggles had added to the terror of the
scene, were soon killed, affording a shelter by
their bodies, behind which several of my comrades
immediately took refuge.
“`Cowards!' roared Colonel Storm, `will
none of you make an effort to save your
lives?'
“He turned his eyes upon Captain Sharpe,
who, one of the first to leap from the deck,
now lay among the boxes, as pale as death,
and glaring in what seemed to me a stupor of
fear. `Sharpe, by G—!' cried Colonel Storm,
in tones of fierce reproach and indignation,
`do you call that acting like a soldier? Up
like a man; take an axe and cut us loose—or
never more look on my daughter!'
“Captain Sharpe made no other reply
than by opening his eyes still wider upon the
veteran, and looking even more ghastly than
before; upon which, Colonel Storm, bursting
into a terrible rage, reviled him in furious
language, as a `base dastard,' `a mean sneaking
villain'—in short, every thing that was
vile and contemptible; all which the dishonoured
soldier replied to only by the same unmeaning
and cadaverous stare.
“In the meanwhile, the bullets were still
showering among us like a driving rain, destroying
more lives, and wounding the wounded
over again; while the savages, whose terrific
yells were as incessant as the explosions
of their guns, were approaching on
the sycamore, to carry the devoted broad-horn
by boarding.
“`A hundred dollars—a thousand!' cried
Colonel Storm, looking around him with
eyes of mingled wrath and entreaty; `a thousand
dollars to any man who will cut loose
that cursed bough that holds us! Hark,
men! a thousand dollars! two thousand—ten
thousand—all I am worth in the world! do
you hear, dogs? all I am worth in the world.
Do you hear me, villains? If the savages
board us, they will murder my daughter.
her; ay, and herself, too! He that saves her
shall have her to wife, with my whole fortune
for her portion!'
“I know not what effect these frenzied words,
wrung by paternal anguish from the old soldier,
had in stimulating the spirits of those
few in the boat who really possessed any
power of resistance; but, certain it is, several
of the men immediately betrayed a disposition
to obey the Colonel's call, and attempt
somewhat towards the salvation of their companions.
Wounded by a shot through my
left arm, which was, however, not a serious
hurt, and, as I confess, as much overcome
by fright as the others, I felt a sudden courage
start in my veins; though such was the
disorder of my whole mind, that I know not
in reality whether it was incited by the great
prize offered by my commander, or by a feeling
of desperation, which, for a moment, took
possession of me. I snatched up a rifle with
one hand, and an axe with the other, and
sprang to my feet, with the full intention of
cutting the boat loose from the tree, or of
perishing in the endeavour; in which resolution,
however, I was forestalled by a fellow-boatman,
named Parker, who sprang up before
singular and shocking, considering his situation—`A
wife and a fortune, or death and
d—tion!' and leaped upon the forecastle,
from which he immediately fell backwards a
dead man, having received a rifle bullet
directly through the heart. His fall quenched
the fire of my own courage, filling me again
with dismay; and firing off my piece at a
yelling savage, whom I saw, at that very moment,
stepping from the sycamore into the
boat, I cowered away among the cargo, as
before, without even waiting to see the effect
of my shot.”
“`Villains and cravens!' cried Colonel
Storm, whom this mischance and failure
seemed to drive into greater frenzy than before—“villains,
who fear to face an Indian!
here's work that will suit your cowardly
spirits better: a thousand dollars to him that
will enter the cabin, and blow my daughter's
brains out! It is better she should die now
than by the scalping-knife of an Indian!'
11. CHAPTER XI.
RETURN OF THE SPECTRE—THE DELIVERANCE.
“I have no doubt, that in this hideous
proposal, the poor distracted father, incapable
of rising or moving, and, therefore, of
yielding his daughter any protection, was
quite in earnest; but, of course, this call was
as little likely to be obeyed as the other; though
it stung me into something like shame, that
among so many men as we had still alive in
the boat, there should not be one able or
willing to strike a blow on behalf of a young
and helpless woman. This shame nerved me
anew with a kind of courage, which I had immediately
an opportunity of employing to
advantage; although certain I am, it must
have soon died away under the horrors that
reached us from an unexpected quarter.
“Three Indians suddenly made their appearance
at the bow of the boat, of whom
one was still clambering among the shaking
branches of the sycamore, while the two
others sprang, with loud whoops, upon the
forecastle. I fired my piece, which I had recharged
at the first pulse of excitement, at
the foremost Indian, who fell down among
us in the agonies of death; while a second
shot, fired by some unknown hand from the
river, took effect on his comrade, who also
fell dead. At the same moment, there sprang
into the boat a figure in which I recognised,
at the first glance—could I believe my eyes?
—the phantom of the oar—that very spectre,
on whose pallid forehead was wrapped a
handkerchief spotted with crusted blood,
whose appearance had been supposed to portend
the calamity which had now overtaken
us. The likeness to young Connor was now
more apparent than ever; and, indeed, extended
even to the voice, with which the apparition,
as he leaped upon the forecastle, exclaimed,
in tones that thrilled us all to the
marrow—`If you are not the wretchedest
dastards that ever lay still to be murdered,
the boat loose!' With which words, he
snatched up from the forecastle, where it had
been dropt by the dying Parker, an axe, with
which he immediately attacked, and, with a
blow, struck down the third savage; and then
fell to work on the branch by which we were
entangled, shouting to us, all the while, to
`fire upon the enemy,' whose bullets, aimed
at himself, he seemed entirely to disregard,
while escaping them by a miracle.
“ `It is Tom Connor himself!' cried I,
fired by his extraordinary appearance into
such spirit as I had never before felt—`give
it to the dogs, and he will save us!'
“I seized upon another gun, of which the
dead and wounded had left enough lying
about, already loaded; and backed by three
other men, who now recovered their courage,
let fly among a cluster of savages who
were scrambling one over the other among
the boughs of the tree. My supporters did
the same; and our shots, each telling upon
an enemy, produced, among other good effects,
a diversion in favour of our auxiliary
with the axe; who, still wielding his weapon,
shouted to us to `leave our guns and take to
the oars'—a command that was obeyed by
me to the deck.
“We had scarce touched the oars, before
the broad-horn swung free, and floated rapidly
from the sycamore and from the bank.
“ `Give way, and all are safe!' cried our
preserver, dropping his axe, and springing to
the steering-oar, with which he directed the
boat into the centre of the river, calling all
the time, though in vain, for others to come
up and help at the oars. None were willing
—and, alas, as we soon discovered, few were
able—to help us; and the further labour, with
the danger, of completing our escape, was
left entirely to ourselves—to three men, each
of whom stood fully exposed to the shots of
the enemy, of which many a one took effect
on our bodies. It was not, indeed, until we
had put nearly the whole width of the river
between the broad-horn and her assailants,
and when the danger was almost, if not entirely
over, that we received any assistance.
Three men, of whom one was entirely unhurt,
the others but slightly wounded, then crept
up, and took our places at the oars, which
we were scarce able longer to maintain.
“I turned to Connor—for Connor it was—
we've saved the boat, if we die for it'—fell
flat upon his face on the deck, deprived of all
sense, and, as I at first feared, of life. He
was, indeed, desperately wounded in many
places; having, besides the recent marks of
combat, several wounds, one of which was
on his head, that seemed to have been received
several days before. Upon taking him
up, I discovered he was still breathing, though
faintly; on which, with the assistance of my
comrades, I carried him into the cabin, where
lay, or rather sat the wounded Colonel; who,
though aware of our escape from the Indians,
was yet ignorant of the means by which our
deliverance had been effected.
“ `Bravo! victory!' he cried, with exulting
voice, the moment he laid eyes on me;
`you've beaten the enemy, Mike Law, and
I'll make your fortune! But what poor devil's
this you're lugging among us, where there's
so many dead already?'
“ `This,' said I, `Colonel'—laying the young
man at his feet—`is the true-blue that won
us the victory—no less a man than your
turned-off friend, Tom Connor.'
“ `Tom Connor!' cried he, looking with
all pale and stained with blood; `'tis he, by
heavens! But how came he among us?'
“ `The Lord sent him,' said I—and said it
very seriously; `for, sure, he came in no mortal
way whatever. All I know is, that he
jumped right out of the river into the broad-horn,
shot a savage as he jumped, picked up
Sam Parker's axe, and killed another; and
then cut us loose from the sycamore, and
steered us into the channel.'
“ `What!' cried Colonel Storm; `Tom
Connor do this? Tom Connor, that was such
a fiddling, dancing, book-reading, verse-writing,
womanish good-for-naught? What! Tom
Connor kill two Indians, when that cursed
coward, Sharpe there, slunk away like a
ducked kitten? Call my girl here! He shall
have her, and cut Sharpe's throat into the
bargain. Throw the white-livered rascal over-board!'
“I turned my looks upon the dishonoured
soldier, who lay, as I had left him, still cowering
behind a box, with his eyes yet sending
out a ghastly glare as before. Looking at
him more intently, I perceived he was dead:
indeed, he had received a bullet directly
through the spine and heart, which had struck
from the deck. I informed the Colonel of
this mischance; but he was now hugging and
weeping over the wounded Connor, whom he
swore he loved better than his own soul, and
would never abuse again as long as he lived.
“The veteran then, being reminded of his
daughter, bade me look her out in her cabin;
where, guided by the lamentations of her
women, who burst into yells (for I believe
they took me for an Indian,) as I entered, I
found her lying in a swoon, into which she
had fallen at the beginning of the action.
Neither she nor her attendants had received
any hurt, the little cabin being bullet-proof;
and charging the latter to hold their peace,
recover their mistress from her swoon, and
then come to the assistance of the wounded
men, I went again into the main cabin, and
upon deck, to look upon the state of affairs,
and examine into the extent of our losses.
These were, indeed, dreadful. Of twenty
men, nine were already dead, and all the
others, one only excepted, severely wounded,
four of them, as it was afterwards proved,
mortally.”
12. CHAPTER XII.
CONCLUSION OF THE VOYAGE.
“But enough of these melancholy details,”
continued the narrator, looking around him.
“We are now upon the very scene of the
calamity. Upon that bank, where now stands
a flourishing town,” (it was the town of Ports-mouth,)
“were hidden our murderous foes;
upon yonder point lay the sycamore, in
whose boughs we were entangled; and yonder,
below, upon the Kentucky shore, is the
cove into which we threw the bodies of nine
men, our murdered companions.—The recollection
is saddening; and it comes to me still
more mournfully, surrounded by these hills,
and those clumps of trees—the remnants of
the old forest—which witnessed our disaster
and sufferings. I will but mention a few
the relation.
“The death of Captain Sharpe, who, whatever
were his faults, was undoubtedly no coward,
(indeed, I afterwards discovered he had
distinguished himself in some of the closing
scenes of the Revolution,) afforded the best
explanation of the supposed panic which had
kindled the indignation of our old commander;
and Colonel Storm himself used afterwards
to tell me, he was shocked to think the reproaches
and revilings he had given way to,
were poured into the ears of a corpse. But
I am sorry to say, we found upon his body
papers which fully established all the charges
made against him by his runaway servant,
and satisfied even Colonel Storm that, had
he given him his daughter, he would have
wedded her to dishonour and misery.
“At the very moment when we were engaged
casting his body into the river, we
came up with, and took possession of, a drifting
canoe; which threw, for the first time, a
little light upon the riddle, hitherto inexplicable,
of the sudden appearance of Mr. Connor.
It contained a blanket or two, a store of provisions,
ammunition, and other necessaries,
including a deal of superfluous clothing, all
the Ohio, then, in a canoe, and
alone!
“As this suspicion entered my mind, I bethought
me of the phantom boat, following
us by night; and was frighted to remember
that I had made one of the superstitious
party who saluted the solitary voyager with
their rifles. I remembered also the spectre
at the oar; and easily conceived that in that
spectre, falsely supposed to be directing the
boat ashore, I had seen poor Connor, who,
observing our deck deserted by the watch,
and the boat drifting upon the point of land,
had crept softly on board, and was urging her
again into deep water, when my appearance
drove him to flight.
“These suspicions were all soon confirmed
by Connor's own confessions, made when he
recovered his senses, and found himself again
restored to the veteran's favour. Though
discarded, and with disgrace, at a moment of
ill temper, which was perhaps increased by his
own petulance, his heart was still with his
benefactor, whom he resolved to follow to
Kentucky; and finding no other means of descending
the river, without waiting for the
rise of waters that was to waft away the fleet
to follow us in a canoe, which
he had procured for the purpose; and in
which, with a single companion, who, however,
alarmed at the perils to be encountered,
deserted him at Wheeling, he commenced the
voyage. From Wheeling, he had descended
the river entirely alone.
“He easily gained upon our boat, of which
he often heard news, and all that he sought
to know of his old patron, at our different
stopping-places; but shame and other feelings,
which a young, proud spirit may easily conceive,
prevented his joining us, or making
himself known; though they did not prevent
his hovering near us by night, until the unfortunate
volley we let fly at him, by which he
had been actually wounded, taught him to
preserve a more respectful distance. His
fears and anxieties, however, on this night,
(for he had also been told, at Gallipolis, of
the dangers of the Scioto,) caused him again
to approach the broad-horn; when, perceiving
that all hands were asleep, and the boat in
danger of going ashore, he had stolen aboard,
and had just succeeded in making her clear
the point, when discovered by me. In the
confusion that followed, he easily slipped
in the darkness of the night. From that
moment, he had kept at a distance, until the
sounds of conflict brought him to our side, to
render us the service to which we owed our
deliverance.
“Such was young Connor's story, with
which I may well close my own.
“A few hours after the battle we were
joined by a fleet of boats, the same we had
left at Pittsburg, which had passed the battle
ground without loss, and now supplied us
several fresh hands, with whose assistance
we were able to keep them company, until
the voyage was finished, early the next day,
at Limestone, in Kentucky.
“Colonel Storm and Connor both recovered
in a short time from their wounds; and
so did I. And in two months after our arrival
in Kentucky, I had the satisfaction of
dancing at the wedding of the fair Alicia and
her preserver.
“I may add, that to the friendship, or gratitude,
of these three individuals, all of whom
seemed to believe I had, in some way or
other, done them good service, I owed a
change in fortune and condition—a commencement
of happiness and prosperity, which
and uninterrupted benignity up to the
present moment.
Thus ended the story of the Bloody Broad-horn.—And
here its chronicler takes his leave
of the reader.
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