CHAPTER VII. MONOCASY ISLAND

Fate carried us to Monocasy Island, which is, as all know, about a mile below Wintermoot’s. The first intimation we had of having arrived at this place, which could hardly be called a refuge of safety, was when our feet struck the bottom, and then, because of the excitement and labor of the fight, and the exertion of swimming with such a burden as Master Bartlett made, we were so nearly exhausted that, after crawling up out of the water, neither Giles nor I could do other than lay flat upon the sands, panting as if from a long race, which indeed we had had.

Even then we were uncertain as to our whereabouts, and questioned if, unwittingly, we had not gained the opposite bank of the river. It was enough for the time being, however, that we had escaped from the merciless savages; but, when a prayer of thanksgiving welled up in our hearts, it was hushed because of the sorrow which followed with the possibility that we might be the only ones who had escaped from Fort Jenkins.

Master Bartlett was in no better bodily condition than either of us, and until the first gray light of morning appeared in the eastern sky, we lay there upon the bank of the island, with the waters of the river just touching our feet, silent and well-nigh heart-broken.

“It is time we were getting under cover, lads,” Master Bartlett said, when it became possible to distinguish surrounding objects. “If we alone of all our company have come out from Fort Jenkins, then is it our duty to take good care of our lives, for they will be needed before John Butler has finished his bloody work in the valley.”

“We shall live to say that we ran away!” Giles March cried, bitterly, and Master Bartlett turned upon him angrily.

“It is only a boy who would reproach himself with what has been done. Of what avail if we had remained until death came? Who could have been benefited thereby? Think you that those at Forty Fort are not in need of such as us? Everything within our power was done last night, before we turned our backs upon the enemy, and now must we put forth every effort that we may be able to join them.”

Well, Master Bartlett continued in that strain until he stung Giles and me into activity,—until he had literally made us ashamed because we reproached ourselves with flight.

Then it was, and before the day had really come, that we learned where we were, after which arose the question of what should be done.

Save for the knives in our belts, we were weaponless; of food we had not so much as would feed a sparrow, nor were we likely to find any on Monocasy Island.

“If the people at Forty Fort are depending on us for help, then do they lean upon a broken reed,” Giles March said, bitterly, when we were hidden among the bushes where those who passed up or down the river might not see us.

“Just now, I admit, we are not in very fine trim for fighting,” Master Bartlett said, cheerily, “but that isn’t saying we sha’n’t get into shape once more. It is a matter of staying here and sucking our thumbs till night shall come again, and then, if you lads cannot drag me through the water as before, we’ll put together a raft and drift down until we have arrived opposite Forty Fort, where I venture to say we shall be welcomed as those who did their duty, even when they turned their backs upon the enemy.”

Well, much as he said, so we did. Looking far up the river, we could see in the distance bands of savages on the western bank prowling around as if searching for those who had escaped their clutches, and but few of them were sufficient to keep us well within the shelter of the foliage, for however much a fellow may prate about standing in front of the foe until death comes, he does not in cold blood court that death very ardently.

We did not even dare to come out from our place of concealment to get water, and by noon it seemed as if my throat was parched, the thirst being all the greater because everywhere around were the means of quenching it, but just beyond our reach.

We were hungry; but that was of small moment as compared with the craving for something to drink, and, with the view of taking our minds from the suffering, Master Bartlett told stories of what he had done during his younger days, when the valley was nearly the same as a wilderness, or described how the first settlers fought in turn the many claimants for the lands.

So the time passed, wearily, slowly, but none the less surely, until the sun, which had seemed at times to stand still in the heavens, sank toward the west, bringing evening near at hand.

Then, for the first time, did we question as to how we would make our way down-stream. Master Bartlett was in favor of building a raft of such saplings as could be cut with our knives, binding them together with vines, but both Giles and I insisted that, having rested during twelve or fifteen hours, we were well able to swim with him between us, and finally persuaded the old man to agree to such method of travelling.

Night was not yet fully come when we three crept down to the edge of the river, and, plunging our heads beneath the surface, revelled in the supply of water, enjoying the sweetest draughts I have ever known.

With thirst quenched, it was as if my courage returned, and I felt confident that, however many of John Butler’s force might be between us and Forty Fort, we could succeed in entering that place of refuge, although how long it might remain such was an open question.

“We shall simply be continuing the fight which was begun at Fort Jenkins,” Master Bartlett said, as we stood on the shore waiting for the darkness to cover us more completely, “and I am counting on finding the remainder of your company there, Jonathan Ogden.”

God forgive me! it was the first time I had dwelt seriously upon the fate of our comrades. My own sufferings had occupied my mind to the exclusion of everything else, save when I listened listlessly to the stories of adventure which the old man told; but now I questioned, as a fever of fear crept over me, whether we three might not be the only survivors of the fight at that stockade, which we had hoped to hold until the valley could be saved from the horde which were bent on overrunning it.

“Don’t conjure up that which will disturb you,” Master Bartlett said, when I gave words to the thoughts which were in my mind. “It is enough if we make our way to the fort, and then will come the time when we can settle all doubts.”

Well, an hour after sunset perhaps, we waded down into the water, Giles March and I, with Master Bartlett between us, and struck out strong in the belief that the way was open before us. In fact, so secure did we feel that, while swimming leisurely, we talked among ourselves, regardless of the fact, which all three knew full well, that water is a rare conductor of sound, and thus like simples did we run our necks into danger when, by holding our peace we might, perchance, have accomplished what was so ardently desired.

It was hardly more than ten minutes after leaving Monocasy Island when, almost directly in front of us, there shot out from the western bank a boat in which were five men, and, at the same instant we saw it, the river in its vicinity was illumined by the flashes of guns, while the bullets actually splashed the water in our faces, so near to us did the missiles strike the surface.

Like a couple of loons, Giles March and I dove, carrying Master Bartlett down with us, swimming under water so long as we could hold our breath, and coming to the surface perhaps twenty yards down-stream.

Again the reports of muskets; again the zip-zip-zipping of bullets near by, and again we escaped unharmed, to dive once more.

Even as I went beneath the surface did I call myself doubly a fool for not having suspected that those bloodthirsty wolves, knowing some of us had escaped by the river, would have gone down-stream to lay in wait for our coming, on the chance that we failed to gain the shore beyond them.

Once more on the surface; but this time we were so far within the shadow of the eastern bank as not to be seen, yet it was possible to hear the splash of paddles, which told that the enemy were searching for us.

Now, when it was too late, I understood the danger of speaking aloud to my comrades, but motioned for Giles to swim across toward the nearest shore, for it was not within the bounds of reason that we could hope to pass the boat while remaining in the river.

Ten minutes later, for we were forced to move slowly, lest our whereabouts be made known, we climbed out on the bank once more, with no idea of where we might be, save that it seemed probable we were yet to the northward of Wilkesbarre, and no sooner had we emerged from the river than we heard from behind us a voice say in English:

“They haven’t got below here, that much is certain; but now to prevent them from landing.”

Then came a reply in the Indian tongue, which I failed to understand, and Master Bartlett whispered:

“It’s a case of making our way into the thicket, lads, else are we taken to a certainty.”

And so it was that we went forward blindly in the darkness, stumbling here over some fallen tree, or tripping there across a trailing vine, until it seemed as if we must give our pursuers good knowledge of where we were.

Then suddenly, believing there was before us only the thicket, we came full upon a stockade with such force that I was knocked backward two or three feet.

“Where are we?” Giles March whispered, and I replied, heeding not the fact that we had with us one more familiar with the country than ourselves:

“I know not, save it be we have wandered back to Pittstown,” whereupon he asked, irritably:

“How can that be, Jonathan Ogden? We have come with the current, and not against it.”

“This must be a fort which Jonathan should know full well, since it bears his own name,” Master Bartlett said, quietly.

“Fort Ogden!” I exclaimed, and there came to my mind the memory of how proud I had been when the stockade was built, and the people decided it should be named in honor of my father, who had given his life for the Cause at the battle of Long Island.

“Then we are with friends,” Giles cried, exultantly, feeling his way along the logs to come at the gate, “and from here to Wilkesbarre is but a short distance, if we are not minded to stay.”

Master Bartlett held his peace, and I thought it strange that he should not give way to joy, when for the second time were we come as if from out the very jaws of death.

Groping with our hands, because the darkness was so intense that we could not see even the trees in front of us, we made our way around the wall of logs until come to the entrance.

The gates were open; the enclosure vacant save for the small blockhouse which stood, as I knew, on the western side.

“Have they all been killed?” Giles asked, in a tone of horror, and Master Bartlett replied:

“Nay, lad, that isn’t probable. Fort Jenkins was the first stockade John Butler would desire to take, and this could well be left until that work was accomplished. I dare venture to say you will find those who garrisoned this place in Forty Fort, for, if you remember, Elias Shendle told us that that stockade had been decided upon as the rendezvous for all in the valley, and the people are wise to gather at one place rather than try to hold many.”

“Then, if you are right, are we like to find Wyoming Fort” (by which I meant the Wilkesbarre stockade) “in the same condition, and we would be no better off to go there.”

“Our course lies across the river,” Master Bartlett said, decidedly, “and there is no reason why we should linger here any longer than may be necessary for you to regain your strength.”

“Then let our stay be short, if it rests with me,” Giles March said, quickly. “I am as fit for a tramp or a swim now as I ever shall be; but first we must go farther down the river, in order to give the slip to those who were hunting us as if we were wild ducks.”

He had no more than spoken, when we were startled into silence by hearing in the distance a noise such as might have been made by a large animal forcing his way through the thicket, and straightway Master Bartlett whispered:

“Those who were hunting us like wild ducks have taken up the scent in right good shape. Unless we can bar these gates, it is a matter of skulking in the woods, with the chances against us.”

Even the old man made a mistake when he proposed that we take refuge there, nor were Giles and I any the wiser, for, springing into the enclosure, we set about swinging the heavy barricades of logs into place, and fastening them with the bars which yet remained near at hand.

Then it was, while we were waiting breathlessly to learn if those who were on our trail would discover the refuge, that I began to realize what had been done.

We were without weapons, already nearly starved, and had shut ourselves in this place like rats in a trap. If, peradventure, those who were coming got an inkling of our situation, and it stood to reason they would know we could have no firearms after taking to the river, our capture would be but the work of a few moments.

Even while such thoughts were in my mind, it was possible to hear footsteps, and now and then a smothered exclamation, as those who were advancing tripped or fell, and Master Bartlett gripped my arm in a manner which told that he had come to understand much the same as had I.

Then we heard from the outside the same voices which had come to our ears from the river:

“You were right, Sam; the rebels decided that they could hold this place, and mayhap there are more inside than the three whom we have followed.”

“It won’t take long to smoke them out,” another voice replied, and the first speaker said:

“There is no need of running our noses into danger when the work can be done safely. Go back for half a dozen more men,—tell them there is rare sport to be had here, and in the meanwhile we’ll see to it the cubs don’t give us the slip.”

“We have made fools of ourselves,” Master Bartlett whispered, “and I am the one who is to blame for our getting into this trap. An idiot should have had better sense than to have walked in here, knowing he was being followed.”

“But why do we stay?” Giles asked. “In a few minutes these fellows will have surrounded the stockade, and then there can be no choice in the matter. It shouldn’t be difficult to scale the wall at the other end, and take our chances in the woods, rather than stay here until they choose to drag us out.”

I could have cried aloud with vexation because I had been so simple as to settle it firmly in my mind that there was no further chance of escape for us. Giles had spoken wisely, and it would be folly to do other than as he suggested.

Master Bartlett, touching each of us in turn, for it was so dark that we could not distinguish the movements of the one nearest us, crept cautiously in the direction of which Giles had spoken, and soon the three of us were stealing swiftly along, able to do so silently because there was nothing to impede our progress over ground which had been beaten hard by the tramp of many feet.

Giles reached the northern wall before either Master Bartlett or myself came up, and, when we stood against the logs, he was already on top of the stockade, waiting to give us a hand up.

Because the old man could not move as nimbly as either of us lads, I did what I could toward lifting him, while Giles pulled from above, and in this fashion we got him over, after which it was a simple matter for me to climb up by aid of the platform, when I dropped to the ground on the opposite side.

We were in the thicket once more; but the night was so dark, as I have already said, that it was impossible to move swiftly and at the same time surely. I certainly was not woodsman enough to be able to keep on a straight course while travelling rapidly in the night.

Master Bartlett must have distrusted his own powers in this direction, for he whispered, after we had crept away from the stockade as we would from a place of deadliest danger:

“It’s a case of trusting to luck now, lads, and going blindly. So that we do not double back on our tracks, we may be able to give those fellows the slip and a fairly hard night’s work, for, believing we are yet inside, they will spend no little time and labor in gaining entrance without exposing themselves to what they believe may be danger.”

It must not be supposed that we had halted near by where John Butler’s Tories could overhear what was said. Before either of us spoke, we put at least twenty yards between ourselves and the walls of the fort, and even then conversed only in faintest whispers.

I tried to keep in mind a general idea of the country, so that we might have, when it came time to rest, some knowledge of our location. We left the stockade at the northern end; the river should be at our left, and the only safe course lay straight to the right. If we could travel in a fairly direct line half an hour or more, there was good reason for believing we would be near the mountains, and safe from pursuit. Then, when day came, it would go hard if we were unable to retrace our steps.

I had no idea of the passage of time, but staggered on as best I could until Master Bartlett gave the word to halt, by saying:

“I’m allowing, lads, that we need go no farther. If the Tories had followed us, we should have heard something from them by this time. Let’s sit down for the night, and Jonathan and I will thank the good God that Giles wasn’t as thick-headed as we, else all of us would be in the stockade awaiting certain capture.”

Under ordinary circumstances I would not have considered it a hardship to spend one night, or a dozen of them for that matter, in the woods, especially while the weather was so warm that one needed no covering; but now, weak from lack of food, and wearied with exertion and excitement, I felt as if our plight was indeed sad when we stretched ourselves out at the foot of a huge tree, with the idea of trying to gain some repose.

As when we were suffering with thirst, Master Bartlett tried to beguile the time by telling of his experiences while suffering even greater hardships than we were then striving to endure in silence, but I could give no heed to his words.

If the Tories had made plans to seek sport by hunting wretched fugitives who had been driven by their wolfish allies from Fort Jenkins, and could deliberately wait around on the river for them to come down, as does the hunter for the deer to visit the salt-lick, then might we with a certainty know that more than one of those who fled from the stockade had been taken, and, being taken by such a crew, would most likely have been turned over to the tender mercies of the Indians.

Although I had good reason to believe that Elias Shendle had been captured, if indeed he was not killed outright during the fight, I strove not to dwell upon such a possibility.

Taking one’s bodily condition, together with the grief in his heart because of the possible fate of others, it was difficult to bear up under what might at another time have been borne with something like fortitude, and the tears were near to overflowing my eyelids when Giles March said, hopefully:

“I’m counting that two hours’ work to-morrow will bring us to Forty Fort. After knowing what we do about Fort Ogden, let us agree that the stockade at Wilkesbarre has been abandoned, and say that we must gain the appointed rendezvous before finding ourselves among friends. Now think it over. A tramp of not more than two hours at the most, then a swim across the river, and perhaps another hour’s walk, after which we are where we can rest and eat,—at least until John Butler takes it into his head to make an attack.”

It was such talk as that which I needed to hearten me, for I am free to confess that then my courage was well-nigh gone, and, putting aside with an effort all the forebodings which had come over me since we halted, I discussed with Giles and Master Bartlett the course which we should pursue when day dawned.

Some one has said that “the darkest night always has an end,” but before the sun rose again it did verily seem to me as if that time of darkness would never pass, yet the day broke with not a cloud in the sky, and, looking out from where we had thrown ourselves down, it was difficult to believe that our peaceful valley was overrun by those who would murder and burn through fiendish love of cruelty.

When I would have hunted around among the leaves to find something with which to fill my mouth, for the day had so far come that we could see surrounding objects distinctly, Master Bartlett said, with more of authority in his tones than I had ever heard him use:

“Now then, lad, nothing of that kind. I have seen many a good man use himself up by chewing whatsoever he might find in the woods. Better suck your thumbs a few hours longer, and then we’ll sit down to corn bread and smoked meat with all the keener appetite.”

“The sooner we begin the quicker will we come to the end,” Giles cried, with a feeble attempt at a laugh. “Suppose you lead the way, Master Bartlett, while Jonathan and I watch out to see if you wander from a straight course.”

And thus we started, thinking it was only a question of endurance before we would come to our destination, and little heeding the possible dangers in our path.

We stumbled on like those who are drunken, because of the weakness which beset us. More than once did Giles call a halt that we might decide whether or no Master Bartlett was not making a détour to the right or left instead of keeping straight on toward where the river would be found. But never once did we say to each other that our ideas of the country, because of the darkness when we fled so hastily, might be wrong, until the moment came when we found ourselves climbing higher and higher.

Then there could no longer be any question but that, instead of going toward the river, we had turned our backs upon it, and were come to the mountains.