University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.

When the savages withdrew from the vicinity of Boones-borough,
it was observed by Paddy and Van Wiggens in
their rambles that one of their rude bark shelters had not
only been left standing, but several pieces of buffalo-meat
remained on the roof, and smoke seemed to be still ascending
from its centre. They drew near to gratify a very
natural curiosity. Watch, the little mongrel cur, with his
stump of a tail rigidly erect, preceded them; for dogs are
quite as curious as men and women.

“Vat's dat?” cried Van Wiggens, seeing the dog retreating
whining, and his tail down.

“Be my sowl, that's more than I can tell ye,” said
Paddy, “unless ye step forrud and see what it is.”

“Go see, den,” said Van Wiggens.

“Who? I? And are ye afraid to do it yerself?”

“Afraid?”

“Yes. Are ye not frightened now, because yer dog is
barking at a ground-hog, or polecat, or some other varmint,
under there? I'm laughing in my slave at ye! Afraid of
a skunk, when we kill 'em ivery week under the cabins!”

“Vat's dat you mean? Dunder! Me afraid? Der
teiffel! Noting but Mrs. Wan Viggens can scare me!”
and he strode forward toward the dark shelter, followed
with reluctance by Watch, while Paddy remained at a respectful
distance.

No sooner did the Dutchman enter the low habitation
than his ears were assailed by a tempest of words which he
was incapable of interpreting; and, before he could retreat,
his leg was seized by some one half-buried in the leaves.

“Dunder! lev go my leg!” he shouted.

The dog barked furiously.

Paddy ran away, and never paused until he plunged into
the area of the quadrangle, shouting “Indians! Indians!”

A crowd, of course, soon assembled, and Paddy was constrained,
with some difficulty, to pilot the men back to the
scene of the discovery.

Before they arrived in the vicinity, the bark of Watch
was heard, as if baying some huge monster which he durst
not approach. The next sound was the rattling voice of
an old woman, whom Boone pronounced a scold, and a
drunken one at that. Drawing near, they beheld poor Van
Wiggens retreating slowly from the bark hut, dragging
through the leaves by main force the body of Diving Duck,
who still clung to his leg and called him her husband. In
vain he strove to make Watch seize his tormentor. The
dog had once been rudely handled by her, and could not
be induced to venture within her reach.

“I was only jesting!” said Paddy. “I made ye belave
I was frightened for the sake of the joke. Scared at a
squaw!” Such were the replies he made to the sneers of
the men who had come forth eager for “a fight.”

“Tam it! von't nopody help me?” cried Van Wiggens,
who, from his corpulence, soon became exhausted, and
puffed and blowed prodigiously.

The old squaw, with dishevelled hair and bloated cheeks,
turned her keen eyes upon the men and laughed. Even a

dog can tell a man's humour by looking him in the eye; and
Diving Duck perceived at once that she afforded amusement
for the spectators, and was in no danger of being killed.

After the merriment had been sufficiently prolonged,
Boone commanded the old squaw to release her lord; and
the moment she did so Van Wiggens and his dog took
to their heels and fled to the fort. The old woman ran
about shaking hands with the men, fearless of injury, until
she fixed her eyes on Paddy, whom she called her “pappoose.”
She tore a switch from a pendent bough, and
seemed determined to administer chastisement for some
previous offence, or to vindicate her authority, when Paddy,
following the example of Van Wiggens, fled after him toward
the fort. The old hag pursued; and when she approached
the gate Van Wiggens would have fired upon
her had he not been prevented by Charles. He then hid
himself in one of the cabins, and the old squaw was permitted
to rove about the huts without molestation.

Several weeks after the evacuation of Kentucky by the
Indians, Boone, at the head of a party of twenty men, set
out for the Licks to make salt,—that indispensable article
having become exhausted in the settlements. In this expedition
he was accompanied by his brother, and by all the
men from the Jenny Jump settlement excepting Charles
and Paddy. Van Wiggens led the van, gladly leaving
Didapper behind.

During the absence of this detachment the fort was too
much weakened to be abandoned by Charles; and his eagerness
to return to the Delaware river had to be repressed.
And Julia, pleading her promise to her dying father that
she would not, during her minority, marry without the consent
of her guardian, resisted the importunity of her lover
to have their nuptials celebrated in the fort. She admired
Mr. Jones very much, and could not entertain a doubt of
his piety, or even question what seemed to be his divine
mission; but, inasmuch as she had been baptized in the
Church of England, by Dr. Odell, of Burlington, she had
an irresistible desire to take the marriage-vow with the
wedding-ring at St. Mary's holy altar; and in vain did Mr.
Jones attempt to combat her prejudices, as he termed them.
In vain did he propose to read the ceremony from her own
prayer-book, and to manufacture, himself, aided by Van

Wiggens, (who was a blacksmith,) a ring from one of
Charles's watch-seals. She begged him to desist, and announced
that her decision was irreversible.

About this time, during one of the dark nights of winter,
when the inmates of the garrison were assembled round
the cheerful blaze on the broad hearth of the principal
cabin,—the old women spinning flax and the young ones
knitting or sewing, listening to narratives of adventures in
the wild woods,—Charles was startled by hearing a pebble
fall upon the roof and roll down to the ground. Used
to such signals, he sprang to his feet and was approaching
the door, when the gentle hand of Julia arrested him. Pale,
and trembling very much, she begged him to desist.

“It is only the hail,” said Mrs. Calloway, silencing the
buzz of her wheel.

“The wind has been howling ever since dark,” said Sue,
“and it may be the large hail that sometimes falls at the
beginning of a storm.

“I don't think any Indians could have passed my father
at the Blue Licks,” said Mary.

“Not unless they captured him first,” said Julia, “which
may have been the case!”

“And that's not onlikely,” said Paddy, with staring
eyes and fallen chin.

“Could you not get into the potato-hole, under the floor,
and creep near the door?” asked Mrs. Calloway.

“Me?” said Paddy, in astonishment. “And sure I'd
be smothered in a minute! I niver could draw me breath!
—I mane, I niver could saa ony thing in the dark.”

“It is not an Indian,” said Mr. Jones.

“No,” said Charles; “if they had captured Boone and
his party they would have gone back to celebrate the event”
(which was really the case) “before venturing farther into
the country.”

“But give me light, Mrs. Calloway,” said Paddy, “and
I don't fear the divil!” and he had made two strides toward
the door when another pebble rattled down from the
roof. He paused abruptly. “Och, it's only the hail!”
said he, and resumed his seat. The next instant, however,
hearing some one whistle, he sprang up again, very pale
and trembling; but his trepidation was not observed. Both
Charles and Julia recognised the signal, and, uttering together

a joyous exclamation, the door was thrown open,
and the imperturbable Skippie stood in their midst.

The faithful messenger was overwhelmed with hearty
greetings, which he bore in silence, but with a proud expression
of countenance. He brought, besides the packet
of letters, (unsoiled, notwithstanding the inclemency of the
season, and the long journey,) another accession to Julia's
wardrobe. To the profusion of thanks showered upon him
he made no reply, and, merely uttering the word “Virginia,”
the meaning of which was not comprehended, and pointing
to the letters, as if to indicate that they would speak more
explicitly, he withdrew to the kitchen, or rather the cabin
where the savory viands were usually cooked.

Charles's letter was from his father, announcing his continued
good health and the determination of France to
make common cause with the Colonies. But this resolution
had not yet transpired, and was still one of the secrets of
the court of Versailles. The aspect of affairs, nevertheless,
at that moment, was sufficiently gloomy. Washington,
with a mere handful of men, was hard pressed, and retreating
before Cornwallis; and a large portion of the people
embraced the terms offered in the royal proclamations, returning
to their allegiance. The Indians, too, led by
Brandt and instigated by Johnston and the Butlers, were
desolating the country on the northern frontier. Murphy,
Charles's faithful sergeant, did all in his power to maintain
the organization of the little band of patriots; but many
difficulties were thrown in his way. In short, Charles was
advised to return the first opportunity. Such was the
purport of the letter he received from his father.

Julia, while reading her epistle from Kate, could not repress
her joy upon learning that her old playmate was then
residing with the Moravians, in the immediate vicinity of
her guardian's house, whither she had flown as to a secure
place of refuge during the perils of the invasion of the
western portion of the State, then in possession of the
enemy.

“He's well! He's well again!” cried Julia, holding
the letter triumphantly aloft.

“He!” said Charles, gravely. “What he do you
mean?”

“Solo! Kate says:—`When your monster of a friend,

from Newfoundland, first beheld me, I could with difficulty
elude his rather familiar attempts to place a hand (paw) on
each of my shoulders. Tears—whether of joy or grief, how
could I tell?—trickled down, and I could not prevent him
from placing his velvet tongue against my hand. How is
this, Julia? Has the sagacious animal heard you speak
of me, remembered your words, and recognised your friend?
Rely upon it, Solo has my love, and will have my watchful
care!' There, Mr. Eagle! Kate is in love with your
rival!”

“Read on! God bless Kate! I shall love her for
loving your dog.”

“I believe you were once inclined to love her for herself,
before she ever saw the dog. But I'll pardon that. Oh!
here is something very sad and horrible! Read it for me,
Charles.”

It was an account of the death of Mrs. Caldwell, the
wife of the Presbyterian minister. She had been shot by
a brutal British soldier, through the window of her chamber,
when in the act of prayer in the midst of her little
children.

“This act,” said Kate, “when known by the British
officers, was denounced, but they had no time to seek the
perpetrator. From the burning town they came to our
house. Father was absent. My mother, my sisters, and
myself, when we saw the British in the yard, retreated into
the back chamber. The front door was soon burst open.
Oh, it was a horrible night! A violent storm raging in
the sky as well as upon the earth. The lightning flashed
and the thunder rolled terrifically. But this was the voice
of God, and the providential means of our salvation. It
occurred to me that we might be less liable to outrage by
meeting our foes boldly face to face. They were already
striking their muskets rudely against the door. I stepped
forward, in my loose white wrapper, for we had retired at
an early hour, and threw open the door. At that instant the
hall was illuminated by a vivid flash of lightning, and no
doubt my face was as pale as the corpse they had seen.
The soldiers, horror-stricken, fled away, declaring they
had been confronted by the ghost of Mrs. Caldwell, murdered
by them in the morning. In a moment the house was deserted
by them. Julia, you know they used to say there

was a resemblance between Mrs. Caldwell and myself.
Who could have supposed it would produce such an
effect?”

This portion of Kate's letter caused a profound sensation,
and Mr. Jones no doubt would have gladly seized the opportunity
to “improve the occasion,” had his eye not fallen
on his own name, in a familiar hand, on one of the letters
brought by Skippie. It was from his friend Anthony
Wayne, demanding his presence in Jersey, or, as he expressed
it, “wherever the enemy may drive us, for we
shall never get out of our difficulties without your aid, and
I hope the cause is not past praying for.”

There was likewise a letter from Mrs. Van Wiggens to
her absent husband, but none present felt authorized to
open it. But Kate, in her diary, mentioned her several
times, and said she was succeeding very well with her
tavern.

There were also letters from Thomas and Richard
Schooley. The former intimated a purpose to have the
lands jointly held by himself and Julia's father surveyed
and divided, as he had no idea of any portion of his estate
being involved in the confiscation. Charles Cameron had
been excepted in the recent royal proclamation offering
mercy and protection.

Richard announced his intention to seek the hand of
Judith Carlisle, the daughter of Abraham, a staunch
royalist. And he concluded with a proposition which
startled Julia. “Thee must learn,” said he, “that this
farm, and all the improvements thereon, appeareth, upon
an accurate survey, and the specifications in the deeds, to
fall to thy lot. But, as the expenditures thereon were
made by us, we do not doubt that thou wilt deal justly.
The royal cause must triumph in the end, and it is greatly
feared all thy estates will be forfeited. Now, as I have
still a friendly regard for thee, I would gladly provide for
thy maintenance. I learn that, with the consent of thy
guardian, thou mayest execute a legal conveyance of thy
lands; and, indeed, if thy father's Bible, found in one of the
boxes, would be taken as evidence, it appeareth by certain
writings therein thou art older than we supposed, and of
an age to act without the concurrence of thy guardian.
Therefore, if thee will name a moderate sum in ready

money, as an apparent consideration for the lands, and
execute a deed conveying them to me, I will pledge myself,
after the bloody storm hath swept past, either to reconvey
them to thee, or else to pay thee such additional sum or
sums as three honest men may adjudge. And if thee will
not agree to do this thee will be a pauper upon the
county.”

Julia's eyes flashed indignantly. Throwing the letter in
the fire, she said, “Henceforth I am a rebel!”

“Amen!” cried Mr. Jones. “I'll tell Wayne, and he'll
tell Washington! If I'm not mistaken, these Schooleys have
more reason to apprehend a loss than yourself. But I must
retire. At dawn I shall set out alone for head-quarters.
Be not surprised, and do not attempt to interpose any
objections. I shall find my way thither in safety. You
cannot go till spring, and Skippie will remain till then.
Let us unite in an earnest petition to the great Captain-General
of the universe. If God be on our side, we shall
prevail. Let us appeal to him and be of good cheer. He
hurls the bolts of destruction, and the rolling thunders are
the reverberations of his voice. Remember who said, when
the tempest raged and the billows were lifted up, `Fear
not; it is I.' Yes, my brethren, if he be for us who shall
prevail against us? And was not his will clearly manifested
in the lightning's flash which struck terror to the murderers
of Mrs. Caldwell?”

He then knelt down in their midst and prayed fervently
and patriotically for about an hour.

The next morning, having provided himself with ammunition
for his pistols, and taking with him a supply of dried
buffalo-meat and a canteen of rum, the eccentric preacher
set out alone on his journey, never for a moment doubting
his ultimate arrival at the head-quarters of the American
army.

Diving Duck became a source of great annoyance to
Paddy, who regretted that he had not gone with the rest to
the Licks. She could not comprehend why her adopted son
should not yield obedience to her commands in the fort as
well as in the wigwam on the Scioto; and all her orders
aimed at the procurement of rum. She threatened, she
stormed, she begged, in vain. Charles had forbidden it.

After lingering about the fort a few weeks, she announced

her purpose of returning to her own country, and demanded
of Charles an order for Paddy to accompany her.

“Do you wish to go with your mother?” asked Charles,
turning to Paddy.

“Me mother, is it? Howly mother forbid! And would
ye be afther sariously calling sich a varmint as that me
mother, Misther Charles? Plase don't do ony sich thing!
Go wid 'er, did ye say? I'd rather go back and live wid
the owld sow I kilt in the wild woods!”

“Shall I interpret your speech to her?” asked Charles.

“No! plase don't, or she'll be afther me wid the frying-pan.
But I'll tell ye what I'll do, and if ye plase ye may
turn it into the Indian brogue. I'll pack her up some
jerked buffalo-bafe and start her off on Pater Shaver's
jackass, provided she'll swear on the Howly Evangely
niver to call Patrick Pence her son agin!”

“Oh, do!” said Julia. “The sound of that animal's
voice is a terror to me!”

“And no wonder, Misthress Julia, as it reminds ye of
blood. And besides, Misther Charles, only consider that
Pater is anoder o' her sons, and she has a lagal right to the
baste; and if Pater objicts to it afther the baste is gone,
I'll give him me note for the vally of the crather.”

“It shall be done,” said Charles, quite anxious to get
rid of the animal. And the old squaw was delighted with
the arrangement. The only stipulation she added was a
modeate dram, and when it was greedily swallowed she
set forth on the ass.

As the winter passed away, the joy of the wanderers at
the prospect of a speedy return to the Delaware was engloomed
by the reception of melancholy tidings. A son
of Mr. Calloway, about fifteen years of age, who had accompanied
his father to the Licks, came in one day, pale,
haggard, and half famished. He told his sister, who wept
upon his neck, that their father and the entire party at the
Licks had been surrounded and captured by an army of
more than a hundred warriors. They had, however, pledged
themselves to Boone that the lives of the prisoners should
be spared, and that they should not be subjected to the
humiliations and pains of the gauntlet.

The Indians, instead of assaulting the forts, which might
have been carried when weakened by the loss of their best

men, hurried away as usual to celebrate their success. And
it may be here remarked that the stipulations agreed to by
them were faithfully fulfilled.

The capture of the men at the Licks occurred late in
January, and February had been appointed by Charles as
the time of setting out. It was now feared some delay
would ensue, as he could not in honour abandon the post
assigned him when the opinion prevailed that the Indians
would return after depositing their prisoners in a place of
security; and the distribution of the emigrants recently
arrived among some half dozen forts might not suffice for
their defence if a single man were subtracted.

This apprehension was removed, however, by the unexpected
arrival of another body of emigrants. It appeared
that the glowing accounts of the salubrity of the climate
and fertility of the soil, which had reached the East, had
stimulated the people of whole neighbourhoods to emigrate;
and every man brought a gun with him.

His design being thus facilitated, and having the repeated
assurances of Julia that she would be able to perform
the journey, (for she had learned many lessons in
woodscraft during her sojourn in the wilderness,) Charles
made preparations for an immediate departure. Their
horses were selected and caparisoned. Buffalo-robes for
their warmth and shelter were provided. Food was packed,
and every needful arrangement for their comfort and
safety completed. Then, taking leave of their Western
friends, with many regrets for the loss of the comrades left
behind them, Charles, Julia, Skippie, and Paddy, commenced
the long and weary journey eastward.