A FLIGHT IN SIGHT
"Venus Roe! Who's she?"
"D-don't you know? She's a little n-nigger girl about twelve years old, and belongs to Swithin. Some one in B-Boston gave her to him when she was a baby."
"Oh, yes! I remember now. I've heard father tell of meeting Swithin riding out from Boston, with a keg of rum in one saddle bag, and out of the other was sticking the head of a three-year-old nigger."
"Here comes a flight. Send up your long flyer, Amos."
Amos threw the flyer up. We watched the pigeons. They seemed to be coming toward us.
"Now send up the short flyers."
"They're coming to us. Pull the flyers down and keep hidden. Pull away at the string, Ben, and work the pole, so that the hoverer will keep his wings fluttering. Keep on, Ben. They see him."
The pigeons flew toward the flutterer, made a swirl in the air, and began to light on the pigeon pole. We took up our guns, and as they were hovering about the pole, tryingto get a foothold, we fired, and ran out and picked up twenty-nine pigeons.
"That isn't bad," said Davy. "I tell you, Pigeon Tuesday is the day. There will be more along soon."
The sky was all crimson and gold in the east. We looked toward Mt. Gilboa; the red face of the sun began to show itself. As it rose above the hill, we heard the stroke of the bell.
"Some one's d-dead.—Hark! Only one stroke. It's a child. One for a c-child, two for a woman, and three strokes for a man."
"I know who it is. Father was called up to Sam Hadley's last night. Little Benoni Mead was very poorly, and they didn't think he'd last through the night."
Poor little Benoni! His father, Cornelius Mead, had died of camp fever in the war; his mother and he had come on the town for support, and had been boarded with her brother, Sam Hadley, not far from Bull Meadow Hill. Benoni had always been ailing, and of late had failed rapidly.
ANOTHER FLIGHT OF PIGEONS
"Well, boys," said Davy, "let's get back to work. It won't do Benoni any good to be mooning round."
We watched for pigeons again, and another small flight came along. We worked our decoys and got twenty.
After that we waited a long time,—till nearly nine o'clock. Then Davy and I gave it up, and decided to go home. Davy had some work to do. But Amos said he would stay a little while longer. We made a division of our pigeons, and Davy and I started for home.
We had not gone more than half a mile when we saw a terrible big flight.
"I wonder if Amos will get a shot at them, Ben. Let's get back as quick as we can. We may be in time."
We threw down our pigeons, and made through the woods as fast as we could. As we were running up the hill, we heard a bang.
"Confound the luck," said Davy, "we're just too late! Let's hurry up and help Amos."
When we got to the top of the hill Amoswas running round, twisting the necks of the wounded pigeons. As soon as he saw us, he stood up and began:—
"H-H-He—" But he was too excited, and couldn't get the words out. He pointed to the pigeons, and kept on catching them and twisting their necks. We did the same. When we got through, Davy asked, "What was it that you were saying to us when we got here? I didn't quite catch it."
"No! It sort er st-stuck on the way; 'h-help me' is pretty hard to say sometimes. I t-t-tell you, b-boys, there was millions of 'em, an-and I guess I shot a barrel full. When I saw that b-big flight coming, I wished you were here, and then I was g-glad you were not. For I w-wanted to see h-how many I should get. They came just like a b-big cloud, and began to light on that p-pole, and the air was just f-full of them. You c-couldn't see anything but pigeons. I blazed away, and the ground was c-covered with them.
"I was t-tickled enough to see you fellows jump in and help me. I w-wonder how many there are. Let's count them."
AMOS MAKES A GREAT SHOT
We gathered them up, and there were fifty-two.
"Hurrah! One f-for every week in the year!"
Amos had a good many adventures in his life afterward, fighting with the French and Indians. But that shot was the one particular thing that made life a joy to him.
A PAUPER'S FUNERAL—BEN'S FRIEND THE MINISTER, AND BEN'S VICTORY IN WRESTLING
When I returned to the shop, Mr. Harrington said: "I'm glad you're back, Ben. The rest of the selectmen have left the care of Benoni Mead's funeral to me, and I've got a lot of things to do. We must have some gloves and scarves for the bearers, and you'll have to ride down to Charlestown to buy them."
I mounted a horse and rode through Menotomy and over the Plains. There was a sharp breeze blowing; and as I neared the Neck, I heard a creaking as if a rusty hinge was being turned.
Looking to the left, I saw a negro hanging in gibbets at the foot of a ledge. The wind made the body sway to and fro, and the grating of the chains caused the noise.The sight made cold shivers go up my back, and I hurried on till I reached Cheever's store near the Boston ferry and bought the gloves and scarves.
BENONI'S FUNERAL
On the next day little Benoni was buried. Days on which there were funerals were half-holidays, that every one might attend. When I arrived at the Hadley house, there were a number of men near the door, and others leaning on the fence. The town bier stood in front of the house, and the pall was over it.
I went into the house and looked at Benoni. His thin little face was peaceful and happy as if he had found rest and an end of pain. Old Seth Green slouched in after me. Winter pig we used to call him, he was so sleek and fat. He looked at Benoni with a woe-begone expression, and, turning away, helped himself to some liquor which stood on a table.
I followed him out and heard him say to Amos Muzzy: "Have you been in to see Benoni? Looks real sweet and pretty. Mighty good rum the town provided. Someof Buckman's best. Poor little fellow! I think I'll go in and take another look at him."
The minister, Mr. Clark, now came. He made a short prayer, and then the coffin was placed on the bier and covered with the pall. Some of the most prominent men in the town were the pall-bearers. They placed the bier on their shoulders, and the procession followed them. As we passed the meeting-house, the bell tolled. When we reached the burying-yard, the coffin was lowered into the grave. The minister made another short prayer. Earth was thrown on the coffin, the grave was filled in, and we departed.
I say the minister, Mr. Clark. For some time after the death of Mr. Hancock we had no settled pastor. Ministers came and preached awhile for us and then departed. We had become so accustomed to the old bishop that it seemed as if no one could satisfy us or fill his place. It was not till late in the previous year that we found the man who suited.
Mr. Jonas Clark, a young collegegraduate, preached to us, and we were mutually pleased. The town voted to request him to become our pastor. He accepted, and was ordained in November. The town voted one hundred pounds for the celebration. The Governor's Council came out from Boston. Deputations were sent from the surrounding towns, and we had a great time, hours of preaching and hours of feasting. People loved Mr. Hancock for his great common sense, his bluff, hearty, jovial manner, and the wit and humour that abounded in him at a time when most ministers thought it their duty to look as solemn as a gravestone.
THE NEW MINISTER
Mr. Clark became as much beloved and respected as Mr. Hancock, and yet he did not resemble him. His manners were elegant. He was learned, able, and very polite. Neat as wax, he made us feel ashamed of our slovenly ways. He was not the bluff, hale fellow the old bishop was, who compelled us to do what he knew was right.
Mr. Clark had a kind heart, a keen, clear mind. Though he guided us with a firmhand, it was done in such a gentle and polite manner, that we rarely felt how completely we were under his control.
And though he was a student and his tastes were delicate, still he did not frown upon our rude sports, provided they were not low or brutal. "They make the body erect and supple and give strength and elasticity to the muscles. The body should be cultivated as well as the mind. What we want is a sound mind in a sound body."
Wrestling was the great sport in those days, and I was always fond of it. I was very strong naturally, and my trade as blacksmith had toughened my muscles wonderfully.
Our strongest man and best wrestler was Jonas Parker. You would hardly have suspected it; for though he had rather a grim, determined look, he was a quiet, staid, religious man and a great lover of reading.
A few years before, he had bought some land of Dr. Fiske and built a house not far from Bishop Hancock's and constantly borrowed and read his books.
He was also a great lover of wrestling, knewall the tricks, and had the reputation of being the best man in our county at it.
BEN PRACTISES WRESTLING
He watched me wrestling with the other boys, and one day said to me: "Ben, you've got the making of a great wrestler in you. Come up to my house when you can, and I'll teach you what I know about it."
On holidays and whenever I got a chance, I went up to his place, and we would walk down to a grove back of his barn and wrestle. We kept this up all the spring and summer, and he taught me the different throws.
He said: "You're coming on at a great rate, Ben. When you get your full strength, I think you'll be as good or a better wrestler than I am, and there's not such a great difference even now. I don't think we had ever better wrestle in earnest, for it might make bad blood between us. We can wrestle together for practice and leave it undecided which is the better man."
After wrestling we would go into the house, and he would take out a book of plays by William Shakespeare and read from it to me. We were both religious men and did notbelieve in play acting. But plays like these could do no harm. Jonas loved this man's writings next to the Bible, and I saved up money and bought a copy of the book myself. Mr. Clark had the same love for Shakespeare, and often when we stopped wrestling, as it began to grow dark, Jonas would say that Mr. Clark had asked him to come down to his house with me, and he would read to us. The plays seemed much finer as he read them in his clear voice and explained them to us, for by ourselves we only saw a portion of their beauties.
Jonas and I were at his house one August evening of this year, 1757, and Mr. Clark had just begun to read, when Dr. Fiske rode up, and pulling up his horse, called out: "Mr. Clark! Mr. Clark! There's bad news—very bad news from the army. Colonel Brattle has received word from General Webb that the French army were advancing to attack Fort William Henry, and he was afraid it would be taken. Good-by!"
Mr. Clark shut up the book and said: "This is no night for Shakespeare. Let us pray for the safety of our army."
BAD NEWS FROM THE ARMY
Two days afterward, another messenger rode up to our shop.
"There has been a great disaster. Fort William Henry is taken, and the garrison has been massacred."
"Go on! How did it happen?"
"Colonel Munro was at the fort with a small force. Montcalm advanced with his army to attack it. Munro sent to Webb for reënforcements. He promised to send them and did send a few. Munro again asked for more men, but Webb didn't let a man go. Montcalm attacked the fort, battered it to pieces, and finally the garrison was compelled to surrender. They were to deliver up their arms and then were to be allowed to march off to the English army. They gave up their guns and started back to Webb, but before they got far they were set upon by the Indians and most of them massacred. Some few escaped to Webb's army."
"And what was Webb doing all this time?"
"Shaking in his shoes, I guess. He is now; for he has sent messengers everywhere for reënforcements."
"The miserable coward! We'll send him men, but he ought to be hanged."
The next day a number of men set out under Captain Blodgett.
I wished to go very much, but Mr. Harrington said: "It's too late in the season for them to do anything. They will just sit down and watch each other. Your time is up next spring, and if you want to go then, I'll let you off early."
So I stayed at home, and it was well I did, for the company only got as far as Springfield, where they were met by messengers from Webb, who had got over his fright, telling them to return. They came back to Lexington, having been out only twelve days.
When they returned, we had a great jollification. The company marched to the training-field, and went through the exercises. Crowds gathered round and ate gingerbread and drank beer.
A lot of worthless fellows used to wander round the country, and pick up a living by wrestling and betting on themselves. Such a man appeared on the training-field that day.
THE ESSEX COUNTY CHAMPION
"Here I am, boys, at your service,—Sam Sloan, the champion wrestler of Essex County. I've wrestled with the best men of every town in the county,—Newburyport, Ipswich, Gloucester, Marblehead, Salem,—and thrown them all. I've been from one end of the county to the other, and not a man can stand up against me. I hear you've got the best man in Middlesex in this town, and I've come to throw him. If you think I can't, make your bets. I've got ten pounds with me, and I want to bet every penny of it."
He found plenty of men who were ready to bet with him, for all had confidence in Jonas.
Some one ran after Jonas and brought him to the place where this man was boasting.
"So, you're Jonas Parker, the best man in Middlesex? Well, you look as if you could wrestle a bit, but you'll know more about it, after I get through with you."
Jonas said nothing, but took off his jacket and waistcoat, and looked at him quietly, with a grim smile.
Then they grappled each other, and I watched them anxiously. It did not seem tome that Jonas was exerting himself fully or doing his very best. But the man from Essex was laid on the ground in a short time.
He jumped up furious. "That was an accident. Just a piece of bad luck. My foot slipped on something in the grass. It wasn't a fair wrestle. Come on and try it again. I can throw you as easy as tumbling off a log."
"Wait a minute," said Jonas; "pay your bets, and then we'll talk."
The man pulled out his wallet, paid his bets, and said, "Now, come on, and I'll show you what wrestling is."
"Wait a bit," said Jonas; "don't hurry! You talk big. But you must first prove that you are a wrestler. There's a likely lad here, and if you wrestle him, and show that you can wrestle, you can take an hour's time to get fresh, and I'll try you again."
The man blustered; but Jonas turned away, and coming to me, said: "Now, Ben, I want you to show these people what there is in you. You can throw him if you only make up your mind to it. You are verystrong in the arms, and if I were you, I'd give him a grip at first just to show him your strength, and to put a little fear into him."
A LIKELY LAD
Father stepped up, and said: "Jonas, what are you up to? Ben can never wrestle that man."
"Neighbour Comee! You don't know what Ben can do at wrestling, and I do. And faith! I have a suspicion he's the best wrestler in the county."
Then Jonas led me to the man. "This is the lad."
"Lad! Why, he's as big as you be. How old are you?"
"Twenty, sir."
"Well, come on."
We caught hold of each other, and I gave him a grip that made him gasp. We broke away, and he looked at me, panting, and said:
"What be ye, anyhow? You've got a hug like a black bear."
"Oh, that's nothing. That's just a little love squeeze to show you how much I like you."
"Well, come on again; I'll show you what wrestling is."
He was not so strong as I, and I hustled him round in a lively way; but he knew a good deal about wrestling, and kept his feet well. We struggled for a while, and I squeezed him and shook him up, and then tried Jonas's pet throw. He went to the ground like a log, and lay there stunned.
I was scared at first, for I thought I had killed him, but Jonas said: "He's all right, Ben. Just stand back, boys, and give him a little air."
He came to in a short time, sat up, and after looking about him got up and said: "A likely lad! I should say so. A kind of mixture of bear, wildcat, and greased lightning. I must get out of this town quick, or you'll be setting some child at me, and I don't know what would happen."
He jammed his hat on his head, took his coat and waistcoat under his arm, and hurried away.
Of course, I got great credit and praise, for no one but Jonas knew that I was a first-class wrestler; and the men all felt proud to have another man in the town almost as good at it as Jonas.
BEN WARNED AGAINST FALSE PRIDE
Amos and Davy had been staring at me, open-mouthed. Both of them came up and shook hands with me in a most respectful manner. Father took me by the arm and walked home with me, giving me a lecture all the way on the vanity of foolish games and warning me to beware of a false pride in my strength.
But when I had taken the basin, and was washing my face and hands by the back door, I could hear him telling mother about it, as jubilant as one of those old Hebrews over the fall of his enemies.
Goodness! If I had displayed the vanity and false pride that he showed over me, I don't know what punishment he would not have given me.
When I came in, he bottled himself up, and looked at me in a sad, reproving manner. But I knew he was as happy as a man could be. Mother did not like it, and I had to assure her again and again that I was not hurt. She began to talk about giving me some herb tea, and I got out of the house as quickly as possible.
TALES FROM THE FRONTIER—MR. TYTHINGMAN AND HIS SERVICES
This long war was a terrible strain on our Province. Some man from almost every family in town was with the army at Lake George. The value of our currency had fallen, and nearly one-half of what we earned and produced went to pay the heavy taxes.
The Provinces did not work well together. There were rivalries and dissensions among them. The French were united, and their army was led by an able commander, the Marquis Montcalm.
Our generals were mostly incompetent men who owed their positions to influence at court.
We kept up the bitter struggle, hoping that at last we should have a general capable of coping with Montcalm.
EDMUND ENLISTS
It was a gloomy time, but we kept pegging away in a resolute manner, for it was a question whether we or the French should be masters of this country; whether we should keep our farms and have a roof over our heads or should be overrun by murderous Indians. And arrangements were made to have a larger army in the field than ever before.
About the middle of January, Edmund sent me word from Concord that Captain Robert Rogers was enlisting men for a new company in his corps of Rangers. He said: "I have joined the company and have been made sergeant. Rogers will return to Boston by the way of Lexington and will stay over night at Jonathan Raymond's tavern. Come up there sure and see me."
As father and I were working in the barn, I said to him: "Father, I think the time has come when I ought to go to the war. You promised that I might enlist in the spring. But I'd a good deal rather go with this man Rogers and do some fighting than sit round doing nothing and die of camp disease as the rest of the army have been doing."
He kept on for a while pitching the hay down in front of the cattle, and then leaned on his pitchfork.
"Well, Ben, I suppose you really ought to go. One man out of every four in the Province is in the army, and we should do our share. I am too old. John has just got married, and David is but a boy. You're the right age and the one to go. I think as you do, that it's better to do some fighting, and take one's chances of being killed by a bullet rather than by camp fever.
"Those French and Indians killed and scalped my brother John, and since this war began I have often wanted to have a hand in it myself, to get even with them, but I'm too old.
"You can go, Ben. There's lots of miserable wretches and immorality and profanity among the regulars. I want you to remain a good boy, as you always have been. I need not tell you to be brave. You will be that.
"Ben, I scolded you about that wrestling match, but I was awful proud of you and happy over it."
THE RAYMOND TAVERN
"I knew that, father. Do you suppose I didn't notice you chuckling to yourself when you thought no one saw you?"
"Well, I suppose you did, you young rascal; I couldn't help it, I was that surprised and delighted. To think of Jonas Parker telling me he didn't know but that you were a better wrestler than he. And to see you hustle that man about and throw him made me so proud that I felt ashamed and humbled. And when you thought I was scolding you, I was really reproving my own sinful vanity and pride."
After supper we went up to the Raymond Tavern. Quite a crowd of men were in the bar-room. They were seated in front of a great fire of logs and peat. Captain Rogers was in their midst.
Edmund came up, and made us acquainted with the captain. He shook hands with me, and turning to father, said:—
"This is a likely young fellow, Mr. Comee. I wish I could have him with me in my corps."
"It is possible," said father. "We havehad some slight talk about it. We will think it over."
Rogers was a big man, over six feet high, well proportioned, and apparently very strong. Later on I learned that his strength was wonderful. His features were prominent, strong, but not agreeable. His eyes were not good eyes. At times, a hard, cruel look came into his face.
He seemed to be a man of great hardihood, of great presence of mind, keen and unscrupulous,—a man I should not wish for a neighbour.
In answer to a remark that he must find his present life quite different from his former life, as a farmer, he said:—
"Not a bit! I never was a farmer. I was brought up in the woods on the frontier among wild animals and Indians. My father was a hunter and trapper. One day he went out hunting and toward night started to visit another hunter at his hut in the woods. His friend mistook him in the twilight and shot him. All my life has been spent in the woods, either hunting or trading withthe French and Indians, or else fighting them."
A BOWL OF FLIP
Hepzibah Raymond came in with a bowl of flip—the proper mixture of rum, malt beer, and brown sugar.
She set it down on the hearth, and her son John, a cripple, who was seated in the fireplace, drew one of the iron loggerheads out of the fire, where half a dozen of them were always being heated. He hit it against the andiron to knock the ashes off, and plunged it into the mixture. A pleasant smell arose from it; he waited till it foamed up, and then drew the loggerhead out. Hepzibah passed the bowl to Captain Rogers.
"Here's to good King George and confusion to his enemies!"
He took a long draught at it, and then the bowl was passed round.
A man of middle age came into the room, with a whip in his hand, and his hat jammed well on his head.
"Good evening, Ephraim."
"Sarvent, sirs!"
"Captain, this is Ephraim Winship. Heknows something about Indian fighting. Show him your head, Ephraim."
Ephraim took off his hat, and lifted his wig from his head. He had but one eye. There were two bare red spots on top of his head, and between them a fringe of hair ran back from his forehead. It gave him a weird appearance.
"Hello!" said Rogers. "You've been among the Indians, haven't you? How did you lose your scalp or scalps? For I see you have lost two."
The men made room for Ephraim. He put on his wig and sat down.
"I have to keep those spots pretty well covered up these winter nights, or I have all sorts of trouble with my head.
"I had been living down on the Eastern Frontier for some years at a place called New Marblehead. We had plenty of scares, but no real trouble with the Indians, till this war broke out. It was in May, two years ago. I went out with Ezra Brown, to do some work on his farm, which was a mile from the garrison house where we lived.We had a guard of four men and four lads. Ezra and I were ahead. As we were walking through some woods, the Indians—there were fifteen to twenty of them—fired at us. I felt a twinge in my shoulder and a terrible pain in my eye. Then came a thump on my head. When I came to, I was in bed at the garrison house, with my scalp, or rather scalps, gone, for I have two bumps on top of my head, and they took a scalp from each bump. My right eye was gone, and I had a bullet in the shoulder.
EPHRAIM'S ADVENTURE
"Poor Ezra was killed at the first volley and scalped. An Indian hit me on the head with his tomahawk; but I have a good thick skull, and the blow glanced, and only stunned me.
"Some of our men ran to the fort, but my boy Gershom rallied the rest, and they fought the Indians, who were double their number. Both parties got behind trees, and tried to pick each other off.
"Old Poland, their chief, fired, and in reloading exposed himself, and was shot. Then the Indians gave an infernal screech and ran over to him.
"As they did so, our men shot two more of them, and they picked up their dead and carried them off."
"You had a narrow squeak of it, that time," said Rogers. "I never was scalped, but I've been near it times enough."
Hepzibah brought in more bowls of flip, and we watched John plunge the red-hot loggerheads in, till the foam arose, and the bitter-sweet smell filled the room.
We were passing the bowls round, and drinking the flip, when Matthew Mead, the tythingman, came in. He sat down and watched us. Then he went over to John Perry, and said: "Don't drink any more, John. You have had enough."
John let the bowl go by, for if he had disobeyed the warning of the tythingman, he would have been punished by the magistrate, or would have been reprimanded publicly in meeting.
"Oh, come now, Mr. Tythingman," said Rogers. "Don't spoil the sport. A little flip does no one any harm. Sit down and join us."
THE TYTHINGMAN
"There's no doubt," said Matthew, as they passed him the bowl, and he took a long swig at it, "that flip is a good drink. I like it, and so does neighbour John Perry. But it must be allowed that it's a most insinuating drink, sweet and treacherous. And neighbour John has had enough. But the rest of the company can drink a little longer. We have heard great stories of your adventures, captain, and would like to have you tell us some of them."
Then Rogers told us tales of hair-breadth escapes, and of encounters with the enemy, that made our hearts beat quick, as we listened to him. Of scouts through the woods, in which they inspect the enemy's forts and make plans of them. How they crept up close to the fort and captured a vedette within two gun-shots of the gate. How they hauled whaleboats over a mountain, embarked at the lower end of Lake Champlain, rowed down the lake at night, and after hiding in the daytime, attacked the enemy's boats, and sunk them.
He told of an expedition he made theprevious January, with Captain Spikeman, Lieutenant John Stark and seventy-four men.
"We went down Lake George on skates, and then through the woods back of Fort Ticonderoga on snowshoes. When we got to Lake Champlain, we lay in wait for the enemy's sleds, which were coming up the lake loaded with provisions. We captured three sleds and seven prisoners, but some of the French escaped. We learned that the fort had been reënforced, and knew that they would have notice of our presence. Our guns were wet, for it had been raining, and we went back to our fires and dried them. Then we marched hastily toward Fort William Henry. About noon we were waylaid by a large party of the enemy. We fought all the afternoon, till nightfall, when we separated and escaped through the woods to Lake George. I received two wounds in the fight. I sent messengers to the fort for help, for many could go no further. Forty-eight of us out of seventy-four got back with our prisoners. You may think, friends, that this was a bad defeat, but we learned afterwardthat we fought against two hundred and fifty men, and killed one hundred and sixteen of them. Your old friend Captain Spikeman was killed in the fight."
A SUCCESSFUL DEFEAT
The bowls of flip had been going round while Rogers was talking, and finally Matthew Mead said:—
"Well, neighbours, I think we are getting toward the state where neighbour John was when I came, and we'd better all go home."
As we rose, Rogers said: "I want some of you fellows with me this coming campaign, and we'll make things lively for the French up around Fort Ti and have some fun. I count on you, Comee."
BEN AND AMOS JOIN ROGERS'S RANGERS AND MARCH TO THE WEST
A few days after this Amos and I went up to Concord and enlisted in the Rangers. We had no showy uniform. Our clothes were of strong homespun of a dull colour that would not attract attention in the woods. We brought our own guns, and they gave each of us a blanket, a greatcoat, a hatchet, and a wooden bottle in which to carry our drink. We were also given rackets and skates.
We waited till the end of January, when Rogers marched into town with five companies of men whom he had collected in New Hampshire. Most of them were rough, stern frontiersmen from the Amoskeag Falls, skilled in Indian fighting.
The recruits from Middlesex were distributed among these companies, and Edmund had usplaced in his squad. On my right in the ranks was McKinstry, a grizzled old trapper, and to the left was John Martin, a hardy fellow a few years older than myself. Both of them had served before with Rogers.
ROGERS INSTRUCTS THE RANGERS
Four of the companies set sail from Boston for Cape Breton, to take part in the siege of that place, and our company, under Rogers, started on the march for Fort Edward. The snow was deep, and we travelled on snowshoes. Rogers made us march in single file, with a man some distance ahead, and another behind. On either side were flankers to detect the enemy. As we shuffled along over the snow he taught us how to act in a hostile country.
"Don't crowd up together. Keep several paces apart. Then if the enemy fires at you, one shot will not hit two men. When you come to low, marshy ground, change the order of your march and go abreast, for if you went in single file, you would wear a path in the ground that the enemy could follow. If you are to reconnoitre a place, make a stand in a safe spot when you get near it, and send a couple of men ahead to look the groundover. If you have to retreat and come to a river, cross it anywhere but at the usual ford, for that is where the enemy would hide on the farther side ready to pick you off. If your march is by a lake or river, keep at some distance from it, that you may not be hemmed in on one side and caught in a trap. When you go out, always return by a different way, and avoid the usual travelled paths."
Thus, as we marched along, Rogers kept talking to us, instructing us in the methods of wood-fighting.
We went through Worcester, Brookfield, and Northampton to Pontoosuc Fort, where a party of Mohegan Indians from Stockbridge joined us, under their chief Jacob. Then to a Dutch settlement called Kinderhook, and to the Hudson River. The weather was very cold, and the river was frozen over. Rogers told us to put on our skates, and we skated up the river to Fort Edward.
This was a very strong fort, with much artillery. The fort was on the left shore, and a very strong blockhouse was on the right bank. The Rangers' camp was on an island in theHudson. Their barracks were made of logs, with bark roofs, and their camp was not in bad condition.
HATRED OF INDIANS
The Rangers were mostly frontiersmen from New Hampshire, who had lived in the woods all their lives, and had fought against wild beasts and Indians. The life they were now leading was simply their old life on a larger scale. Most of them were dressed in deerskin. They were rough, stern men, who had been so much exposed to danger, and were so used to it, that they seemed to have no fear. They looked upon the French and Indians as a dire plague, to be wiped off the earth by any means. They had heard the war-whoop at their own homes, and had seen their close relatives scalped by Indians. No wonder they classed the redskins with wolves and snakes, as a plague to be wiped off the earth. Living in the woods so much, they seemed to have acquired the keen senses that wild animals have. They were ever on the alert. Their eyes and ears noticed all the signs and sounds of nature. They had fought savages for years, and their ownways were savage. Many of them took scalps.
I do not believe that a bolder or more adventurous set of men than these Rangers ever existed.
As I looked them over and saw what a lot of keen, fearless, and self-reliant men I was among, I was very proud to think that I was one of this chosen corps.
McKinstry said: "They're a tough set, Ben. But when you get in your first fight, you'll be glad you're with a tough set. Not much school learning among them; but they know all about the woods and Injun fighting, and that's what we want here."
Every evening at roll-call we formed on parade, equipped with a firelock, sixty rounds of powder and ball, and a hatchet, and were inspected, that we might be ready at a minute's warning. The guards were arranged and the scouts for the next day appointed.
After we had been at the camp a couple of days Rogers came out of his hut and said to me:—
"Come, Comee, I'm going over to the fortand may want some one to bring back a few things."
THE BLACK WATCH
We crossed the ice to the shore and went up to the fort. It was a great sight for me to see the regulars in their bright scarlet coats, the Scotch Highlanders with their kilts and tartans, and our own provincial troops in blue, though there were not many of them, as they had mostly gone home for the winter.
Rogers walked up to the headquarters of Colonel Haviland, the commander.
"I shall be busy here some time. Come back in an hour and wait for me."
I went over to the Scotch regiment, the Black Watch it was called, and listened to them talking their curious language.
One of the men turned to me and asked if I was looking for any one.
"Well, I'm of Scotch descent, and I thought I'd see if there were any McComees or Munros among you."
He looked over to another group and shouted: "Hector! Hector Munro! Here's one of your kinsmen." A strong, activefellow of some twenty-eight or thirty years came over.
"How's that? I didn't know that any of our kin were over here."
"My grandmother was a Munro, and her father was taken prisoner while fighting for King Charles the First, and was sent to America."
"Hear that now! My brother Donald and myself were out with Charlie in forty-five, and we had a hard time of it afterward, hunted about till they made up their minds to form some Highland regiments and give pardon to those who enlisted, and here we are fighting for King George."
He led me to his brother and made me acquainted with him. We went to their quarters, and I learned more about the clan in a short time than I ever heard before or since. It seemed as if most of the great generals in almost every army were Munros, and they traced their ancestry back to the time of Noah.
At last I said that I must go to headquarters to meet Captain Rogers.