University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

Reclining, not sleeping, in her guarded tent, the unfortunate
Ellen passed the slow watches of the night in
an agony of apprehension. She had heard nothing of
Dudley since the day of his departure for Fort Dayton,
and fears for his safety formed an item in her distress.
She had not even been able to communicate with Rogers
since the retreat commenced, although the faithful
sergeant had contrived to be allotted to the same boat
which conveyed her, and with two Indians and one of
his fellow privates, constituted its full company. The
vessel which had been selected for Ellen was of a fanciful
construction, and had received from Waldon the
name of the “gondola.” Waldon, fearful, perhaps, of
his captive's reproaches, and knowing the impossibility
of her escape, contented himself with occupying the
boat next preceding in the line. The stir and bustle
without, at length announced to Ellen the approach of
day, and the note of preparation for departure fell with

dismal forebodings upon her ear. She was immediately
in readiness, and although there were yet no signs
of light, she pulled aside the canvas door of her tent
and looked out. She knew that she was closely guarded,
but she was not prepared for the uncivil command
which at once forbade her egress. A second speaker,
in a voice still more gruff, approached the door, and uttering
some well dissembled words of reproof, contrived
to slip a paper into her hands and immediately
withdrew. By the faint light of a taper, Ellen perused
the following words: “Make every possible delay
in leaving your tent and embarking. Minutes are
worth millions. Be watchful and discreet.” Uttering
a hearty ejaculation of thanksgiving for the indefinite
hope thus held out to her, she instantly burned the paper,
and hastily divesting herself of part of her apparel,
retired to bed. By feigning a sleep sound and difficult
to dispel, when summoned to arise, by tardiness in
dress and many ingenious resources, she succeeded in
faithfully obeying the directions of her visitor.

The part to be performed by Dudley's party on obtaining
entrance into the camp was of the most difficult
nature. They were not only to man the boat which
was designed for Ellen in their assumed character, but
it was necessary in some way to get rid of three of its
former crew. Lastly, and almost equally important,
was the necessity of delaying its departure, so that it
might be in the rear of the whole line. Simultaneous
with the first movements in the camp, they proceeded
to take possession of the boat; and Rogers, having instructed
his disguised companions how to simulate as
nearly as possible the deportment of its former occupants,
stepped upon the shore to await their approach.
Many of the boats were already filled, but Waldon,

who had charge of that division of the flotilla, had not
yet arrived. As the two Indians who formed part of
the gondola's crew approached, Rogers hastened to
meet them, and said: “The light is breaking on the
hills and the deer are already abroad. There will be
gold for him who brings game for the pale faced maiden.
Go quickly, and meet us an hour hence by yonder
bluff.” The Indians were ready armed, either for
war or the chase, and needed no second bidding to so
agreeable a task. For his fellow soldier, who soon arrived,
the sergeant was prepared with an equally ingenious
device. “You complained yesterday,” he said,
“of illness and fatigue. Mr. Waldon has sent us another
oarsman, and you are to go in either of the large
batteaux.” The fellow, unsuspecting, gladly turned
away aud joined a crowd who were filling up one of
the largest sized boats. It was not until many of the
foremost boats had started, that Waldon arrived, accompanied
by the trembling Ellen. “I think I will
take a seat in your boat this morning, Mr. Rogers,” he
said. “Our fair ally here exhibits unusual alarm, and
may need my personal attention.” “The gondola draws
much water,” was the sergeant's reply, “and rows
heavily; but if you choose te take my oar, I can go in
one of the batteaux.” “By no means,” said Waldon,
laughing, “the day promises to be too warm for that;
but keep as near in position as possible, and if anything
goes wrong I shall be in easy hailing distance. Hasten
now, or we shall be the very last to embark.”

He handed Ellen to the boat and was about to depart,
but suddenly pointing to one of the Oneidas, he said—
“How's this, sir? Have you changed your crew, or
who is this broad shouldered savage? A light! quick,
bring a light—we have strange visitors here.” Rogers

stood with one foot in the boat and one upon the bank,
and Waldon, standing upon the shore in a stooping position,
was looking into the vessel. Dealing a staggering
blow upon the head of Waldon, the sergeant sprang
into the boat, and seizing an oar, whispered, “Pull now
for your lives.”