CHAPTER IX. DISASTER

We loaded Daniel Hinchman with all he could lug through the thicket, and more than it would be possible for him to carry comfortably; but the need of those of us who lived through the day would be so great for weapons of defence that we did not hesitate to overburden him.

Giles March had no trouble in finding a canoe, for there were scores of them drawn up on the shore, and many would be unclaimed when night came.

I was in a fever of impatience for Daniel to be gone, lest some of those who were so eager to come against the overwhelming force under command of John Butler urge him to remain, and we bundled the weapons and ammunition into the boat hurriedly, pushing the light craft from the shore almost before he had entered it.

“Make all speed!” I cried, as he began to ply the paddle vigorously lest he be carried too far down-stream. “At the best possible pace, with such a load, you cannot hope to reach the cave before the unequal battle has begun, and within a very short time after that our people will be seeking refuge from the knives and hatchets of the savages. You and Master Bartlett should be able to save more than one life ’twixt now and sunset.”

He waved his hand in reply, as if not daring to trust himself to speak, and then we turned away, lest our standing there should attract the attention of those who might hail him.

Even now, when we were committed to the foolish venture, we continued to argue against the plan which had been decided upon, trying to prove to the ignorant hot-heads how impossible it would be to surprise a commander who had already begun his savage warfare; but only a few would listen to us, and even these turned away when we were done, as if believing they had spent their time on cowards.

Colonel Zebulon Butler, and the army officers who were with him, appeared to be the only ones who did not believe it possible for our three hundred cripples to overcome John Butler’s eleven hundred wolves; but these military men, like us from Fort Jenkins, would go with the undisciplined mob, preferring to meet death than have it said they refused to obey the call to arms at such a time.

From the moment when it was seen that there was no hope of convincing the foolish ones of their error until near to one o’clock, the officers worked industriously, trying to get the motley gathering into something like shape, and then the people were divided into six companies, each with a military man at its head.

We three, together with the six Minute Boys whom we had found at Forty Fort, were in that division led by Captain Durkee. Colonel Zebulon Butler was in command of the apology for an army, and Major Garratt stood second in rank.

We set out from the stockade at the time agreed upon, leaving behind the women and children unprotected, and it was much like absolutely abandoning them.

“Even though the battle does not go against us, the chances are that those poor creatures will fall victims to the savages before any of this mob can return,” Master Morley said, sorrowfully, as he looked back at the helpless ones, and then we tried to put from our minds all else save the determination to fight desperately so long as our people could be kept together.

Our straggling column had no more than gotten under way before it was joined by the justices of the courts and others holding office in the valley, as if we were going out to serve writs of ejectment rather than to offer ourselves as victims to John Butler’s murderers.

It was not until near to four o’clock that we arrived within sight of Wintermoot’s, and then my comrades and I were literally bewildered at seeing the stockade in flames, as if the enemy had applied the torch lest we should succeed in capturing it.

“Can it be that John Butler, half-savage, half-brute that he is, fears what this collection of cripples may be able to do?” Giles March asked, in astonishment, and Master Morley replied:

“He doubtless fears that we are coming in some large force. If his scouts brought in word that all the people of the valley were making ready to march against him, he, knowing they had had a good chance to learn of his strength, believed they were mustered in overwhelming numbers. The loss of Wintermoot’s won’t be serious to him, since he can soon have his pick of all the stockades in the valley.”

A few moments later we came in view of the enemy, drawn up in a line which extended from the river just above Wintermoot’s to the swamp at the foot of the hills, and then we were halted that some of our officers might advance to select a position for the battle.

We were within musket-shot of the enemy, yet they did not molest us while we were making preparations for a fight, and again Master Morley had an explanation ready:

“John Butler is well content to await our movements since it will thus be possible for him to see in what force we have come, and, later, he can make his arrangements accordingly.”

Ten minutes afterward we were brought up to where the officers who had selected the battleground were standing, and, when each company had wheeled into line, Colonel Zebulon said, gravely:

“Men, yonder is the enemy. We have come out here to fight, not only for liberty, but for life itself, and, what is dearer, to preserve our homes from conflagration, our women and children from the tomahawk. Stand firm at the first shock, and the Indians will give way. Every man to his duty!”

John Butler, stripped of his feathers and other trappings, with a handkerchief tied around his head, stood with his so-called Rangers near the river bank; the Indians and Tories were in line to his right as far as the swamp. Johnson’s Greens were just behind the Tories, as if to keep them from running away, while here and there along the entire front were Indians with rifles, who would probably have called themselves sharpshooters.

In a low tone our officers ordered us to advance a single pace each time we emptied our muskets, and to take careful aim instead of firing at random.

Then we awaited the word, which seemed to me a long time coming, for it was mighty hard on one’s nerves to stand there facing those who had come to ravage the valley, knowing that within a few seconds we would be engaged in what must necessarily be a life or death struggle.

“When the battle is over, unless by some queer chance we should have the best of it, if you lads are yet alive, retreat toward the north until you are half a mile or more up-stream, and then make the effort to cross,” Master Morley said, in a whisper. “If possible, I shall follow close at your heels; but, in case I cannot, and either of you live to see my dear ones, tell them that I could do no less than die when our neighbors demanded the sacrifice.”

It was well for me that we got the word to open fire just then, for my knees were beginning to tremble beneath me, and in another moment it might have been possible for my comrades to see that I was not holding myself any too bravely.

It was as if John Butler had instructed his men to take the word of command from Colonel Zebulon, for both armies fired at the same moment, and each advanced one pace.

Then, because of the gaps which had been cut in our lines and the wounded who writhed on the ground at our feet, we could not move forward when next our weapons were discharged, but stood as best we might, firing and loading with all possible speed.

How long we remained there exchanging shots, I am unable to say, although it seemed to me a very long while; but Master Morley maintains that it was not above twenty minutes, and then I could see dimly through the dense clouds of smoke that the Indians nearest the swamp were moving down toward the ruins of the fort.

I was on the point of speaking to Captain Durkee, who was not more than ten paces from me, to tell him what I had seen, when that officer pitched forward on his face dead, and a man in my rear came upon me in his dying struggles so violently that I was thrown to the ground, covered with blood, causing Giles March to utter a cry of horror, believing I had been killed.

By the time I regained my feet and cleared the blood from my eyes, the Johnson Greens had begun an advance, and we were forced to put forth every effort lest they should overrun us, therefore did the movement of the savages pass from my mind.

For a time the battle raged nearabout our company as hotly as I have ever known. More than once we grappled with those who had come within arm’s length, and, while our companions were cut down on either hand, neither Master Morley, Giles March, or I had received a scratch. Twice had one or the other saved my life when I was overmatched by some big Tory, who chose me for an antagonist because I was the smallest, and more than once I did the same service for them.

Then, while we were the same as drunken men from the fumes of burning powder and the excitement of the battle, that company to the left of us set up a shout of dismay, as the bullets began to come from the rear.

I understood then the meaning of that movement of the savages which I had seen. The red wolves had crept along the edge of the swamp until the yet smouldering ruins of Wintermoot’s Fort hid them from view, and then made a dash which brought them in the rear of the left of our line, where Colonel Dennison was in command.

Even above the din of the conflict I heard him give the word for his men to fall back, and understood that such manœuvre was for the purpose of changing position in order to meet the foe who had outflanked him; but his men, among whom were a goodly number of those who had cried the loudest to be led against the enemy, mistook—or afterward claimed that they did—the command, believing he had said “retreat.”

In an instant that terrible word rang out along the entire line which, up to this time, had inflicted even more injury than had been received, and in a twinkling three men out of every four were facing to the rear.

Not an officer belonging to our company was left alive, and Master Morley, believing he might stem the tide, leaped in front of those who had begun to run, as he shouted:

“Stand to your duty, you men of Wyoming! This battle was of your own seeking, and will you run away when we are more than holding our own?”

Giles March and I added our voices to his, but with no avail. The hot-heads, who would not listen to us when we begged that they remain in Forty Fort, were alike heedless of our entreaties as we urged them to stand firm, and all the while the enemy was pouring in a shower of lead that the panic might be increased.

Colonel Zebulon, who was the only mounted officer, rode up and down the line, regardless of the fact that he was exposing himself to the fire of all John Butler’s force, as he cried, imploringly:

“Don’t leave me, my children! Stand firm one half-hour longer, and the victory is ours!”

He might as well have appealed to the wind, expecting to still it; with each second of time the men grew more and more frantic with fear, until they were no longer thinking, reasoning creatures, but blind people, crazed by terror brought about through their own folly.

It seemed to me as if no more than three minutes passed from the time Colonel Dennison gave the order to fall back, before we of the Minute Boys who yet remained alive were in the midst of a panic-stricken throng which carried us, despite all our efforts, past the ruins of Wintermoot’s toward the settlement from which, in our folly, we had come to measure strength with John Butler’s wolves.

Behind us came a horde of yelling, exultant demons, striking with knives or tomahawks in vengeful glee, and killing more during the first five minutes of that unreasoning retreat than had been possible all the time the battle lasted.

“Work over toward the swamp!” Master Morley shouted in my ear, as we were borne along against our will. “It is certain death to remain with this mob; our only show is to get back in the rear of John Butler’s line!”

I did not then understand how this might be done, even though we succeeded in gaining the swamp; but I had every confidence in the man’s judgment, and, gripping Giles March’s arm because there was not time to explain to him the plan, I fought desperately against my own neighbors of the valley until we were on the western edge of the panic-stricken crowd.

Then Master Morley, brushing past me and at the same time striking down a savage who, having outstripped his fellows, had aimed a blow at my head, ran at his best pace in an oblique line toward the swamp.

It seemed to me as if we would never gain that fringe of deeper green which marked the edge of the morass, nor could we have done so but for the fact that the Indians were delayed in the chase by killing and scalping, and then, when it was as if my breath had gone entirely, we plunged knee-deep into the mud and water.

“A little farther, lad, and then you’ll have time to breathe,” Master Morley said, as he seized me by the hand, and I was literally dragged behind the sheltering foliage.

Because our people were so crazed that they fled in a body, as does a drove of sheep, we might have been pursued, but, where there were so many victims, the human wolves could not spend time to search for three when it might be possible to kill a dozen, therefore did we escape.

There are nights even now when, in my sleep, I see that plain covered with dead bodies, and hear again the horrible yells of fiendish glee and screams of pain, as one and another of those whom I had known and held converse with were cut down in the flight. Again I run desperately, panting for breath, and see behind me the uplifted knife dripping blood, or the tomahawk crimsoned with the life fluid of my friends.

Please God I may never again be called upon to take part in such a horror, beside which the bloodiest battle that was ever fought is commonplace.

It was Master Morley who took command immediately we were screened from view by the bushes, and neither Giles nor I had any mind to question his authority.

We had filled our stomachs and pockets with food while at Forty Fort, but, even though I had been on the verge of starvation, it would have been impossible to swallow a mouthful while all that horrible scene was before me,—while the shrieks of those who were being murdered still rang in my ears, and, when Master Morley asked if we would eat before continuing the flight, I was sickened.

We remained within earshot of all those dreadful cries not more than three minutes,—only long enough for me to get back my wind, and then Master Morley plunged yet farther into the swamp, we following as best we might until, as nearly as could be judged, we were a mile or more to the northward of Wintermoot’s.

Then we halted until night was come, and, while lying there in the water and mud, Master Morley told us what he would do in order to circle around John Butler’s fiends, who by this time must have been literally drunken with blood. He claimed to be able to lead us to the river as well in the darkness as when the sun was shining, and we were only too glad to do as he proposed.

When we were finally clear of the swamp, so far from the battle-field that no sound either of anguish or exultation could be heard, it struck me that the country looked familiar, and I began to fear it might have been possible, in our fear and horror, we had turned toward the south instead of the north, when suddenly we came upon what had once been Fort Jenkins, but was now only blackened ruins.

The enemy made no attempt to hold it when we Minute Boys were forced to retreat, but had applied the torch, and that which had cost the people of Wyoming so much of labor was but a marking of half-burned logs.

“We are now opposite the Pittstown stockades,” Giles March said, speaking for the first time since this second portion of our flight had been resumed. “Think you we would have any chance of safety by going there?”

“It is better that we make for the cave, as has been agreed upon,” Master Morley said, hoarsely, and I knew full well how he was hungering to see, once more, those whom he had never expected to greet again. “We shall then be where the enemy has little idea of finding victims, and there are not enough men now left in all the valley to hold the best stockade that was ever built against John Butler’s curs, who are well-nigh mad with the taste of blood.”

We made no further question as to what we would do, but continued on to the river; and there, when I would have plunged in to swim across without delay, Master Morley checked me as he said:

“The ammunition is too precious to be wasted. We must first build such a raft as will carry our muskets and powder-horns, and then push it before us as we swim.”

We worked feverishly, not knowing how soon the bloodthirsty brutes might come back to see if there had been any poor wretches left behind with sufficient of life in them to afford pleasure by their torture, and perhaps no more than five minutes were spent before, forcing the small raft in front of us, we waded out into the black waters.

“Now is the time when we must strain every muscle, lest we be carried down on Monocasy Island,” Master Morley said, as we struck out, and, surprised by the words, I asked:

“Why should we not rest ourselves on the island? It will be a long pull against this vicious current, and we shall need to regain our wind.”

“To my mind Monocasy Island is become no more than a trap to catch those who, outstripping the others, took to the river with much the same idea that we have, and it is there the savages will seek fresh victims.”

As he ceased speaking, Master Morley struck out vigorously, minded, as I believed, to aid us in the swimming.

I could not put much faith in the proposition that John Butler’s wolves would bethink themselves of the island, and, therefore, but for what our leader had said, should have sought refuge on that small spot of land; but because of having given my word to do as he directed, I strained every muscle to stem the current.

Work as we might, it was impossible to gain the eastern shore before coming near Monocasy, and, when we were within a hundred yards or more of it, good proof was had that Master Morley had not made any mistake.

From three or four points of the small island could be heard shrieks and cries, and we knew only too well that the savages, and most likely the Tories as well, were hunting down their human game.

Thanks to the darkness of the night and our distance from the island, we were not discovered while drifting past; but, before having gotten so far down-stream as to be beyond hearing of the dreadful work, our feet touched the bottom.

It can well be supposed that we made all haste to get under cover, and, once hidden by the foliage, it was possible to see, on the western shore of the river, flames mounting to the sky in twenty places at the same time, telling of the homes which were given over to the torch by the orders of that king who claimed us as his subjects.

“And this is the end of the wicked folly!” Master Morley said, with a long-drawn sigh. “We are told that we should not speak ill of the dead; and, while it stands to reason that the greater number of those who were so eager to be led against John Butler’s murdering followers are no longer in this world, yet I claim now, and always shall, that they alone are responsible for the crimes which have been committed since noon of the day just past.”

“The whole valley will now be overrun; we can no longer call any place our home!” Giles March exclaimed, passionately, and I, understanding that such converse was but tending to make us faint-hearted, proposed that we set off for the cave.

“No one can say how soon the Tories may come this way in search of sport, as when we fled from Fort Jenkins, and it is well that we seek some safer refuge while there is an opportunity,” I said, laying my hand on Giles’s shoulder to arouse him from the slough of despondency into which he had fallen.

“Our homes, until such as John Butler and his imps have been killed or driven out of the country, will be in the army, doing what we may against a king who would thus force love from his people,” Master Morley said, sternly, and then it was I realized there was no other refuge for us in case we succeeded in getting out of the valley alive.

It was not a simple matter to find our way through the forest in the darkness, for there was nothing save a knowledge of the general direction to guide us; but we stumbled on as best we might, well content, since each step took us just so much farther away from the scene of murder.

Never once did we come across any rock or tree which could be recognized, and when we had travelled as long as it seemed would have been necessary had our course been the true one, I said, coming to a full stop:

“We may be going in a circle, as when Master Bartlett was leading, and I am of the mind that we halt here until morning rather than take the chances of coming upon the river bank again.”

“This time Master Bartlett will lead you true, and there is no need of a halt until you are come to where can be had food and a bed,” a voice from the thicket said, in cautious tones, and I made no effort to repress a cry of joy, for I knew it was the old man who had spoken.

“I have been back and forth here since Daniel Hinchman arrived,” the old man said, as he made his way through the thicket to where we were standing. “Already have we picked up two of the Minute Boys who were among the missing since the retreat from Fort Jenkins, and there may be more than you hereabout who are searching for a hiding-place.”

“Was Elias Shendle one of the two?” I asked, eagerly, and Master Bartlett shook his head mournfully.

“It is to be feared we are the only ones remaining on this side,” Stephen Morley said, mournfully, and then, as a matter of course, Master Bartlett insisted on hearing of what had taken place.

Neither Giles March nor I had the heart to tell the dreadful story, and even Stephen Morley made it as brief as possible; but he told enough to give the old man an idea of the horrors we had seen, and said, in conclusion:

“No good can come of repeating such a tale in the hearing of the women, for they have already had enough to terrify them; therefore, when we reach the cave, let it be said we fought a pitched battle, and were beaten so sorely that it will no longer be possible to live in the valley until the Continental army has won for us our independence.”

To that we all agreed, and then it was I asked Master Bartlett for the names of the two Minute Boys whom he had found.

“One is that Miles Parker who lived down Hanover way, and the other is Oscar Stephenson, who is well crippled with a bullet-wound in the shoulder, received during our fight at the stockade.”

“How is it that they strayed in this direction?” I asked, curiously.

“They drifted down-stream, according to their story, a long bit past here, and landed on this side, when Stephenson grew so weak that it was necessary to halt. Parker nursed him as best he could, and the two had set out again, hoping to find a boat in which they could cross, for Oscar was too weak to swim, when the din of the battle could be heard. They made for the mountains, and I came across them just in time, for the wounded lad was nearly done up.”

Having made this explanation, the old man wheeled about to lead the way to the cave, and we followed, thanking God most fervently that our lives had been spared when so many were taken.

It was like a home-coming to meet those anxious ones who had been awaiting us, for here we were among friends, and shut out from the sickening horrors of the other shore.

There was no need to say that we had been beaten in battle, for our appearance told of flight, hurried and fearful. Mistress Morley flung her arms around her husband’s neck as tears of joy and relief streamed down her cheeks; and I, who had expected no womanly welcome, received one which raised, in some slight degree, the burden from my heart, when Esther Hinchman took both my hands in hers as she said:

“God has been good to let you come back to us.”