University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

“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

other circumstances, and then have done with
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

marked with Connor's name. He had descended
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

of broad-horns, he formed the desperate determination
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

back again into the canoe, and was hidden
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

have, I thank Heaven, followed me with unvarying
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.