University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.

To construct a canoe of any considerable burthen or
capacity in so short a time, and under so many disadvantages,
was of course impossible. To make a frail
machine for the purpose of strategy yet capable of attaining
some temporary speed, although a far easier
undertaking, still required no small amount of labor.
The sun went down before the task was completed,
although all hands mere employed upon it, not excepting
those of the gentle Ellen. If falling tears could
have cemented the bark, the work would have been soon
done.

The project which engrossed such general attention
will be best described by the history of its progress.
When the boat was completed, even to its rude but
effective oars, the ingenuity of the Indians was yet to
be more fully displayed. Effigies of every individual
of the company, excepting the Lynx, were immediately
formed, and with a fidelity both astonishing and ludicrous.
The hats and upper garments of the men, and
the bonnet and shawl of Ellen were of course made use
of, while the absent bodies were supplied by sticks and
branches of trees, artfully arranged. The slight and
erect form of Dudley, the graceful bust of Ellen, the
short and robust sergeant, and the broad shouldered
Wongah, with his scant mantle, were all there, and
with a celerity of construction that seemed the work of
magic. In this boat, with these imaginary companions
the Lynx was to start for the southern shore, with a
view to entice the enemy to a distance from the island.
If he were successful in this artifice, the remainder of
the party were at once to embark in the gondola, and
hoped to obtain a sufficient start before the ruse was
discovered, to effect their escape. The Indian, when
he gained the shore, if he succeeded in doing so, would
make the best of his way through the wilderness to the
fort.

Where the general hazard was so imminent, it was
useless, perhaps, to calculate degrees of danger; yet
none could refrain from feeling as if an extraordinary
peril was devolved upon the generous savage. The
chance of his being overtaken before he could reach
the shore, was so great, that it seemed as if he was devoting
himself to immediate death for his associates.
He manifested, however, not the least fear, and made
all his preparations with a coolness that displayed the
utmost presence of mind.

“The Mohawks will chase shadows,” he said, with a
low laugh; “their braves will shoot at blankets.”

Rogers with well meant, but needless assiduity, cautioned
him as to his trail in the forest, if he was so fortunate
as to reach it, reminding him that a detachment
of the enemy might follow him there. The Indian
looked scornfully as he replied:

“Let them track the swallows; the Lynx leaves no
trail.”

The night proved, as had been anticipated, still and
starlight; and when the last ray of twilight had disappeared,
the boat with its phantom crew was silently
launched, ready for departure on the very first movement
of the foe. The gondola, in the mean time, had
been transported across the island to the northeastern
shore, and was also in readiness. They had not
long to wait. Recumbent on the beach, his eyes
brought nearly on a level with the horizon, the Lynx
himself was the first to detect the motionof the enemy.
Lingering for a few minutes, that he might make it
more certain of being discovered, he jumped into his
boat, and pulled quickly for the shore. The flight of
the prisoners being anticipated, he was, of course, almost
instantly perceived. A long, shrill yell announced
the discovery from one boat to the other, and the
race immediately commenced. But although trembling
and anxious for the fate of their companion, the remainder
of the party had but little time to watch the
chase. The moment that the changed position of the
enemy seemed to render it safe, they also embarked,
and at first taking a northerly direction until they had
obtained a considerable offing, they changed their
course and pulied rapidly down the Lake. The race
was for life, and the exertion was proportionate. Not

a word was spoken. All felt conscious that in a very
short time the ruse would be discovered. The distance
to the eastern extremity of the Lake was about eight
miles, and from that point to the fort, about fifteen. Although
this latter course could be chiefly accomplished
by means of the inlet, the navigation of that stream
was difficult, and would give a vast advantage to the
pursuers. A route through the forest was therefore
resolved upon, from some point near the head of the
Lake, if they should succeed in safely reaching that
point.

About ten minutes had elapsed in silence, when a
loud and prolonged yell of many voices was heard from
the direction of the enemy. The oarsmen paused to
listen, and a momentary shudder pervaded every breast,
as the probable fate of their companion was contemplated.

`'T is the scalp haloo of the Mohawks,” said Rogers,
solemnly; “our friend is dead.”

All turned to Wongah for his opinion; but the Indian,
with one finger raised to enjoin silence, still remained
listening. At that moment, the well-known war-cry
of the Oneidas rang in one long, shrill note across the
silent waters, waking the slumbering echoes with the
sound.

“The Lynx is safe!” said the old man, as he again
bent energetically to his task. A single shot was all
the additional noise that was heard, and they now knew
that the foe was in swift pursuit of themselves. The
succeeding hour, fleet-winged as it may have been to
some, was a long age of suspense to the fugitives.
Keeping close to the land, they held their course with
unabated speed, until at length the converging shores
announced that they were near their intended place of

debarkation. But hope seemed only to tantalize and
mock them; for at this moment, a fiendish shout from
the enemy announced that they were again discovered.
The stout heart of Dudley, the merry sergeant, and
even the stoical Wongah, seemed now to despair, while
the terrified and exhausted Ellen fell senseless in the
boat. They did, indeed, hasten toward the land, but it
was with no well-defined hope of either defense or escape.
Bloodhounds might possibly have been eluded,
but to elude the pursuit of a dozen Mohawks through
such a wilderness, was impossible. While Dudley and
Rogers lifted the lifeless form of Ellen from the vessel,
another wild yell reached their ears, and the enemy
were distinctly seen making for the shore at a point
about sixty rods below. Still bearing their beautiful
burden, the young men hastened up the bank and rushed
wildly and aimlessly through the woods. But an
unseen hand was guiding their steps. The rattling of
a bayonet and the quick sharp call of a sentinel announced,
what the next moment's glance confirmed, that they
were within the limits of a military encampment.
Stunned by the sudden reaction of his feelings, Dudley
scarcely found words to announce his name and rank;
having done which, he demanded to be conducted forth-with
to the commander's tent. He knew that he was
in an American camp, but was scarcely prepared for so
great a delight as finding himself in the immediate
presence of Col. Willett, who was on his return from
a pursuit of St. Leger. It was yet early in the night,
and the officers had not retired to rest. Having hastily
given information of the approach of his pursuers,
orders were instantly given for extinguishing the light
of the camp and calling in the sentinels. Three detachments
of fifty men each were detailed to take up positions,
with short intervals between, stretching transversely
from the shore. The utmost silence was preserved,
and Waldon and the Mohawks rushed heedlessly
into the trap. Their first notice of danger was the
command to fire, and simultaneous with the sound, eight
of the band, including their vindictive and treacherous
leader, lay stretched upon the ground. The remainder
with one or two exceptions, were taken prisoners.

On Dudley the more agreeable task had devolved of
restoring Ellen to animation, and of witnessing the
first overpowering sense of delight which the knowledge
of their strange fortunes created. How amply his
own perils and privations were repaid by the fruition of
that affection which only woman's heart can bestow,
need scarcely be said.

On the ensuing day, Col. Willett returned with his detachment
to the fort, where the Lynx had already safely
arrived. He related with much minuteness the cautious
approach of his pursuers to his deserted vessel upon the
shore, and their successful capture of its non-combatant
crew, concluding by asserting with grave irony that the
“Mohawks were great warriors.” Himself and the
aged Wongah, like most of the Oneidas, ever continued
faithful to the republican cause, and lived to receive many
proofs of the gratitude of Dudley and Ellen.

The tide of war during the remaining period of the
revolution, rolled chiefly in a direction remote from the
county of Tryon, but neither Dudley or Rogers were
sufficiently enamoured of martial glory to follow its retiring
banners. Yet in those minor, but sanguinary
struggles, which long convulsed the beautiful valley of
the Mohawk, they were its most valient defenders, and
received the rich mead of their country's approbation,
and the still richer reward of an approving conscience.