"Oh, please tell it to us now!" cried several young voices; and the captain kindly complied.
"There was a very strong feeling of sympathy for André, both in the army and among the people outside of it," he said, "and, along with that, anger and disgust toward Arnold—the arch-traitor—and a strong desire to punish him as his wickedness deserved. There were various plans made to capture him—some of them secret, some open. It was while the army was still at Tappan that the one I just spoke of was undertaken. There were only three persons—Washington, Major Henry Lee, and Sergeant Champe—who knew of it.
"The idea was Washington's. He had learned that Arnold's quarters in New York were next door to those of Sir Henry Clinton, and that the traitor seemed to feel so safe that he was not very cautious and watchful. Major Henry Lee was the commandant of a brave legion of cavalry, a man in whose prudence, patriotism, and judgment Washington knew he could confide; for he had already intrusted to him the delicate service of ascertaining the truth of flying rumors that other officers of high rank were likely to follow Arnold's wicked example.
"'I have sent for you, Major Lee,' Washington said to him, 'in the expectation that you have in your corps individuals capable and willing to undertake an indispensable, delicate, and hazardous project. Whoever comes forward on this occasion will lay me under great obligations personally, and in behalf of the United States I will reward him amply. No time is to be lost; he must proceed, if possible, to-night.'
"He then went on to explain what he wanted, and Lee promptly replied that he had no doubt his legion contained many men daring enough to undertake any enterprise, however perilous; but for the service required there was needed a combination of talent rarely found in the same individual. He then suggested a plan which was highly approved by Washington. He said that Champe, the sergeant-major of his cavalry, was one very well qualified for the service, but he feared that his sense of personal honor would not allow him to take the first step in the perilous expedition,—desertion,—for he was anxiously awaiting a vacancy in the corps to receive a promised commission.
"John Champe was a Virginian, a native of Loudon County; he was twenty-three or twenty-four years of age; he had enlisted in 1776; he was a grave, thoughtful man and as unlikely as anyone to consent to do anything ignominious. Lee sent for him at once, told him what Washington wanted, and used all the eloquence of which he was master to persuade him to undertake the perilous work. Champe listened with the closest attention and evident excitement, and, when Lee had concluded, said that he was charmed with the plan and the proposed results; then went on to say that he was ready to attempt anything for his country's good, no matter how dangerous, that did not involve his honor; but the idea of desertion to the enemy and hypocritically espousing the king's cause was an obstacle in his way too grave to be disregarded; so he must ask to be excused.
"Lee earnestly replied to these arguments; told him that desertion at the request of his beloved commander, and for such reasons, carried with it no dishonor; it was a laudable purpose; success would bring him personal honor, and the stain upon his character would last only till prudence would allow the publication of the facts.
"A great deal of persuasion was necessary, but at last Lee succeeded; Champe consented to undertake the perilous task, and they at once set about the necessary preparations.
"Washington had his instructions already drawn up. They were read to Champe, he taking note of them in such a way that no one else could understand their true meaning. He was to deliver letters to two persons in New York, unknown to each other, but who had both been long in Washington's confidence. He was to procure such aid in bringing Arnold away as he deemed best, but was strictly enjoined to forbear killing the traitor under any circumstances.
"All these matters having been settled, they next considered the difficulties that lay in Champe's way between the camp and the enemy's outposts at Paulus Hook. There were many pickets and patrols in the way, and often parties of American irregulars in search of booty or adventure. Major Lee could not offer Champe any aid against these dangers lest he should be charged with favoring his desertion; so the sergeant was left to manage his flight as well as he could without help, Lee only doing what he could to delay pursuit as long as possible after it should become known that the sergeant-major had deserted.
"It was eleven o'clock at night when Champe took his orderly book, his cloak, and valise, and, with three guineas in his pocket,—given him by Lee,—mounted his horse secretly and started on his perilous expedition. Lee went at once to his bed, but not to sleep. He was doubtless much too anxious and excited for that. Within an hour the officer of the day, Captain Carnes, came hurrying in to tell him that one of the patrols had fallen in with a dragoon, who, on being challenged, put spurs to his horse and escaped.
"Lee was slow in replying; pretended to be very weary and drowsy—only half awake. In this way he detained the captain for some little time before he seemed fairly to understand what was wanted. Then he ridiculed the idea that one of his dragoons had deserted; for such a thing had occurred only once during the whole war.
"But the captain would not be convinced by any such arguments, and by Lee's reluctant orders immediately mustered a squadron of horse, satisfied himself and Lee that one had deserted, and that it was no less a personage than Champe, the sergeant-major, who had decamped with his arms, baggage, and orderly book.
"Captain Carnes ordered an immediate pursuit. Lee delayed the preparations as much as possible, and, when all was ready, ordered a change in the command, giving it to Lieutenant Middleton, a young man of so tender a disposition that he would no doubt treat Champe leniently should he catch him.
"Champe, however, was not caught. These delays had given him an hour's start of his pursuers. It was a bright starry night and past twelve o'clock when Middleton and his men mounted their horses and spurred after him.
"Lossing tells us that the horses of Lee's regiment were all shod by a farrier attached to the corps, and every shoe, alike in form, had a private mark put upon it; so the footprints of Champe's horse were easily recognized; for a fall of rain at sunset had effaced other tracks, and often before it was light enough to see them readily, a trooper would dismount and examine them. Ascending a hill near the village of Bergen, they saw from its summit their deserting sergeant not more than half a mile away. Champe saw them at the same moment, and both he and they spurred on as rapidly as possible. They were all well acquainted with the roads in that part of the country. There was a short cut through the woods to the bridge below Bergen. Middleton divided his party, sending a detachment by the short road to secure the bridge, while he and the others pursued Champe to Bergen. As Paulus Hook could not be reached without crossing the bridge, he now felt sure of capturing the deserter.
"The two divisions met at the bridge and were much astonished to find that nothing was to be seen of Champe. He knew of the short cut, thought his pursuers would take it, and therefore decided to give up the plan of joining the British at the Hook and take refuge on board of one of two of the king's galleys that were lying in the bay about a mile from Bergen.
"Middleton hurried from the bridge to Bergen, and asked if a dragoon had been seen there that morning. He was told that there had been one there, but nobody could say which way he went from the bridge. They could no longer see the print of his horse's shoes, and for a moment were at a standstill. But presently a trail was discovered leading to Bergen; they hurried on, and in a few moments caught sight of Champe near the water's edge, making signals to the British galley. He had his valise containing his clothes and his orderly book lashed to his back. When Middleton was within a few hundred yards of him he leaped from his horse, threw away the scabbard of his sword, and, with the naked blade in his hand, sped across the marsh, plunged into the deep waters of the bay, and called to the galley for help. In response to that a boat with strong oarsmen was quickly sent to his help, and directly he was in the galley with all the evidences of his desertion.
"Before night he was safely quartered in New York, having arrived there with a letter from the captain of the galley to Sir Henry Clinton in which the scene of his escape from the American troopers was described.
"Middleton's men picked up Champe's cloak and the scabbard of his sword, then caught his horse and returned with it to Tappan. As Lee caught sight of the articles he took them to be evidence that Champe had been killed, and was grieved at the thought; but his grief was turned into great joy when he learned from Middleton that the sergeant had escaped safely on board one of the enemy's galleys.
"Four days later a letter in a disguised hand, and without signature, came to Lee. It told of the occurrences of Champe's escape, and Lee knew it was from him.
"The British were much pleased with the desertion of Champe, as they knew that Lee's legion was considered very faithful and that therefore this desertion was an evidence of increasing defection among the American troops. Champe did what he could to increase the idea by adroit answers to questions asked of him, giving the impression that he had a strong desire to serve the king. Clinton gave him a couple of guineas, and advised him to call upon Arnold, who was engaged in raising an American legion to be composed of loyalists and deserters. Arnold received him politely, gave him quarters among his recruiting sergeants, and invited him to join his legion. Champe begged to be excused from that, saying that if caught by the rebels he would surely be hanged; but added that if he changed his mind he would surely join his legion.
"Champe soon found means to deliver the letters Washington had entrusted to him, made arrangements with one of the correspondents to aid him in his designs upon Arnold; then communicated with Major Lee, telling him that he had made inquiries in regard to those who were suspected of beginning to favor the enemy, and learned that there was no foundation for the report. Soon he enlisted in the traitor's legion that he might have free intercourse with him and learn his night habits and pursuits. He soon discovered that it was Arnold's custom to return to his quarters about midnight and then to visit a garden at the back of his house which extended down to the edge of the river. Adjoining the garden was a dark alley leading to the street. All this seemed favorable to Champe's design. He arranged with two accomplices a plan which seemed feasible: a boat was to be in readiness on the river; they were to seize and gag Arnold, carry him through the alley, and from there through the most unfrequented streets to the river; and should anyone attempt to interfere with them on the way they were to represent him as a drunken soldier whom they were taking to the guardhouse. When once they had reached the boat there would be no further difficulty.
"Champe was to remove some of the palings in the garden fence and replace them so slightly that they could be easily, quietly, and quickly taken out when desired. When all was arranged he wrote to Lee and appointed the third subsequent night for the delivery of the traitor on the Jersey shore.
"No doubt Lee was well pleased, and on that evening he and a small party left the camp with three accoutred horses—one for Arnold, one for Champe, and one for the man who was assisting him—and concealed themselves at a place agreed upon in the woods at Hoboken. There they remained hour after hour until dawn, but no Champe and no prisoner appeared. They were much disappointed, but a few days later Lee received a letter from Champe telling how their plan had failed, and assuring him that nothing could be done in the matter at present.
"He said that on the very day when his plan was to have been carried out Arnold changed his quarters in order to superintend the embarkation of troops for an expedition southward to be commanded by himself. In this expedition the legion in which Champe had enlisted in order to carry out his plans was to take part, and the poor fellow was in a sad dilemma. Instead of crossing the Hudson that night with the traitor as his prisoner, he had been obliged to go on board a transport with that traitor as his commander; and that to fight against, instead of for, his country."
"Oh, papa, did he go and fight against his country?" asked Elsie, drawing a long breath of surprise and sympathy.
"He had to allow himself to be carried to Virginia along with the troops of the enemy, and, I suppose, to go into battle with them," replied the captain; "but I dare say he was careful not to shoot any of the Americans. He watched his opportunity to desert, and after a time succeeded in so doing. He went up into the mountains of North Carolina, and when Lee and his legion were pursuing Lord Rawdon, he joined them. His old comrades were greatly astonished to see him—a deserter, as they supposed—and that Major Lee gave him a most cordial reception. But the truth was soon told, and then his old corps showed the greatest love and admiration for him. They were very proud of him, but he was discharged from service because it was very certain that the British, if they could get hold of him, would hang him."
"Is he alive now, papa?" asked Ned.
"Oh, no, my son; he died in 1798—a hundred years ago. At that time we were threatened with a war with France, and Washington, appointed to the chief command of our armies, sent to Colonel Lee to inquire for Champe, intending to make him a captain of infantry. But it was too late; the brave and gallant soldier had gone to another world."
"Dear man! I hope he went to heaven!" exclaimed Little Elsie in quivering tones.
"I hope so," responded her father.
There was a moment of silence, presently broken by Ned. "Papa, you know you promised to tell about Nathan Hale; please won't you do it now?"
"I will," replied the captain. "He was a fine, brave, good young man; described as very handsome—six feet tall, perfectly proportioned, light-blue eyes beaming with intelligence, roseate complexion, and soft light-brown hair. He was overflowing with good humor, and always ready to help anyone in distress. He received a good education, his father wishing him to enter the ministry; but he was teaching school in New London when the news of the Battle of Lexington came. A town meeting was at once held, and Hale was one of the speakers. He urged prompt action, saying, 'Let us march immediately, and never lay down our arms until we have obtained our independence.'
"He took part in the siege of Boston, and was made a captain in January, 1776. He went to New York and did good service there. Early in the fall, in response to a call from General Washington, he volunteered to enter the British lines and procure intelligence. Disguised as a schoolmaster and loyalist, he visited all of the British camps on Long Island and in New York, openly making observations, drawings, and memoranda of fortifications. When he had about finished his work, he was seized by the British and taken before Sir William Howe. On the evidence of papers found in his shoes, he was condemned as a spy, and Sir William ordered him to be hanged. He asked for a Bible, but it was refused him, nor would they let him see a minister. He had written letters to his sisters and to his betrothed, but his cruel captors destroyed them before his eyes. That last was done by William Cunningham—one of the most notoriously cruel Tories of the war. He afterward gave as his reason for that act of cruelty that he meant the rebels should never know they had a man who could die with such firmness.
"As Hale mounted the scaffold he said,'You are shedding the blood of the innocent; if I had a thousand lives I would lay them down in the defence of my injured, bleeding country'; and his last words were, 'I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.'
"A country that may well remember him with love and pride," saidGrandma Elsie.
"Oh, what wicked, wicked things they do in war times!" sighed LittleElsie.
"Yes," said her grandma; "war is itself a wicked thing: wholesale murder—sometimes on both sides, always on one."
"When the folks on one side are fighting for freedom, that's right, isn't it?" asked Eric.
"Yes; everyone not a criminal has a right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."
"Is it right to hang a man just for being a spy?" asked Ned.
"Not always, I'm sure," exclaimed Eric. "It wasn't right to hang Nathan Hale, I'm sure, for he was a good man, and only doing what he could to save his country."
"Very true," said his father; "and he is now one whose memory is cherished and honored, while that of Cunningham—his cruel executioner—is abhorred."
"I'd rather be entirely forgotten than remembered as a cruel, wicked wretch!" exclaimed Eric.
"Yes; as any right-minded person would," said his father.
Shortly after breakfast the next morning the whole party were on the yacht, and it was speeding down the river. West Point was their first halting-place. Some hours were spent there; they were just in time for the battery drill; after that they climbed to the top of Mount Independence, enjoyed the view, and visited the ruins of "Old Fort Put"; came down, and then went back to their yacht, promising themselves another and longer visit to West Point some days later.
The captain pointed out the sites of forts Montgomery and Clinton as they passed, and told of their building by the Americans during the War of the Revolution and their destruction by the British in 1777.
"As Lossing tells us," said Captain Raymond, "'They fell beneath one heavy blow suddenly and artfully dealt by a British force from New York, and the smitten garrison were scattered like frightened sheep upon the mountains.'"
"Oh, papa, surely they didn't surrender without fighting at all?" exclaimed Lulu.
"No indeed, daughter; they fought long and desperately. General James Clinton and his brother George were their commanders. As I have told you before, I think, General Clinton established his headquarters at a place called Washington Square, about four miles west of the village of New Windsor, and there collected his dispersed troops preparatory to marching to the relief of Kingston, then threatened by the enemy."
"But they didn't get there in time to save it from being burned by theBritish," said Edward Leland. "What dreadful times those were!"
"Yes," said Grandma Elsie; "we may be very thankful that we live in these better days. And in the best and freest country in the world; which it wouldn't have been, if God had not been for us in those days of trial."
It was a pleasant morning, and all sat under an awning on the deck, preferring it as the breeziest spot and affording the best view of the beautiful country on either side with its many historical associations. Captain Raymond drew attention to Verplanck's and Stony points as they passed them.
"Yonder is Verplanck's Point," he said; "and there, overlooking the river, stood, in Revolutionary times, Fort Fayette; and yonder, on the other side, is Stony Point, where was another small fort. They were captured by Sir Henry Clinton on the 1st of June, 1779. The garrison of Stony Point consisted of only forty men, and that at Verplanck's of seventy, commanded by Captain Armstrong. The British flotilla was commanded by Admiral Collier. The troops landed in two divisions on the morning of May 31—the one, under Vaughan, on the east side eight miles below Verplanck's; the other, under Clinton, on the west side a little above Haverstraw. There was no fight at Stony Point, as the garrison retired to the Highlands, knowing that the forces of the enemy were too overwhelming to be successfully resisted. The British took possession; dragged up cannon and mortars during the night; pointed them and the guns found in the fortress toward Fort Fayette, and in the morning began a heavy cannonade upon it. At the same time the fort was attacked in the rear by Vaughan and his troops, and the little garrison surrendered themselves prisoners of war.
"The loss of these forts was a grief to Washington, and he determined to make an effort to recover them, for their loss endangered West Point. He soon ordered an attack upon them by the Americans under the command of Generals Wayne and Howe. Wayne had his quarters at Sandy Beach, fourteen miles from Stony Point, and on the morning of July 15 all the Massachusetts light infantry was marched to that place. It was an exceedingly sultry day, and the march—begun at noon, taking them through narrow defiles, over rough crags, and across deep morasses—must have been hard indeed; they moved in single file and at eight in the evening rendezvoused a mile and a half below Stony Point. They rested there while Wayne and several other officers reconnoitred the enemy's works. Then they formed into column, and moved silently forward under the guidance of a negro slave belonging to a Captain Lamb living in the neighborhood."
"New York was a slave State at that time?" exclaimed Sydney inquiringly.
"Yes," replied Captain Raymond; "England had forced slavery upon her Colonies here, and it was not yet abolished. Captain Lamb was a warm Whig, and Pompey seems to have been one also. Soon after the British took possession of the fort, he ventured to carry strawberries there for sale; the men of the garrison were glad to get them, and Pompey became quite a favorite with the officers, who had no suspicion that he was regularly reporting everything to his master.
"At length Pompey told them that his master would not allow him to come with his fruit in the daytime, because it was now hoeing-corn season. The officers, unwilling to lose their supply of luxuries, then gave him their countersign regularly so that he could pass the sentries in the evening. He had it on the night of the attack, and gave it to the Americans, who used it as their watchword when they scaled the ramparts. It was 'The fort's our own.'"
"And they could say it with truth," laughed Lucilla; "for the fort was really theirs—stolen from them by the British."
"The fortress seemed almost impregnable," resumed her father; "built upon a huge rocky bluff, an island at high water, and always inaccessible dryshod,—except across a narrow causeway in the rear,—it was strongly defended by outworks and a double row of abatis. There was a deep and dangerous morass on one side, and on the other three were the waters of the Hudson."
"And was the rock too high and steep to climb, papa?" asked Ned.
"Yes, indeed! But our men were brave and persevering fellows; Wayne, their leader, believed in the old saying 'Where there's a will there's a way.' He practiced upon that, and in consequence was very successful. He was so rapid and earnest in what he did that people took to calling him 'Mad Anthony Wayne.'
"Now, he resolved to storm this fort at all hazards, as Lossing says, and only waited for the ebbing of the tide and the deep first slumber of the garrison.
"At half-past eleven o'clock that night the Americans began a silent march toward the fort. Two strong men disguised as farmers, and the negro Pompey, went first. There was no barking of dogs to arouse the garrison, for they had all been killed—all in that neighborhood—the day before. Pompey gave the countersign to the first sentinel on the high ground west of the morass, then the two disguised men suddenly seized and gagged him. The same thing was done with the sentinel at the causeway. Then, as soon as the tide ebbed sufficiently, the greater part of Wayne's little army crossed the morass at the foot of the western declivity of the promontory, no one among the enemy observing them. Three hundred men under General Muhlenburg remained as a reserve in the rear. The troops were divided into two columns—all with unloaded muskets and fixed bayonets. At a little past midnight the advance parties moved silently to the charge, one on the northern and the other on the southern part of the height. The two main divisions followed them, one led by Wayne himself. The Americans were not discovered by the British until they were within pistol shot of the pickets on the heights, when a skirmish took place between the advance guards and the sentinels.
"The Americans used only their bayonets, as they had been ordered, but the pickets fired several shots; and those sounds of strife waked the garrison, and the silence of the night was broken by the loud cry 'To arms! to arms!' the roll of the drum, the rattle of musketry from the ramparts and the abatis, and the roar of the cannon, charged with deadly grapeshot, from the embrasures. It was a terrible storm, but our brave fellows forced their way through it—through every obstacle—until the vans of all the columns met in the centre of the works, where they arrived at the same time. Each of our men had a white paper in his hat which, as it could be seen in the dim light, enabled him to distinguish friend from foe."
"I think Wayne was wounded in the fight, wasn't he?" asked Mr. Leland.
"Yes," replied the captain; "at the inner abatis he was struck on the head by a musket ball, the blow causing him to fall to his knees. His aides, Fishbow and Archer, raised him to his feet and carried him gallantly through the works. He believed himself mortally wounded, and exclaimed as he arose, 'March on, carry me into the fort, for I will die at the head of my column!' But, fortunately, he was not so badly wounded as he supposed, and was able to join in the loud huzzas which arose when the two victorious columns met within the fort.
"The garrison surrendered as prisoners of war, and I am glad and proud to say were treated with clemency by the victors. Not a life was taken after the flag was struck and quarter asked for."
"Was anybody killed before that, papa?" asked Little Elsie in anxious tones.
"Yes, daughter," he replied; "15 Americans lost their lives and 83 were wounded; 63 of the British were killed and their commander and 543 officers and men taken prisoners. Down in the river below were some British vessels. They slipped their cables and moved down to a place of security.
"So prompt was Wayne that he did not wait for daylight to send in his report to Washington. 'Dear General: The fort and garrison with Colonel Johnson are ours. Our officers and men behaved like men who are determined to be free,' was what he wrote."
"Oh, I like that! It reminds me of Perry's despatch to Harrison after his victory on Lake Erie," exclaimed Lucilla.
"Did our people get back the other fort, uncle?" asked Eric.
"No; the guns of the Stony Point fort were turned upon it at dawn the next morning and a desultory firing kept up during the day, but delays and misunderstandings prevented an intended attack from being made in time to dislodge the garrison; Sir Henry Clinton getting news of their danger in time to send them help.
"Washington saw that we could not retain Stony Point, because he could not spare enough troops to hold it; so he ordered the stores and ordnance to be removed, the fortress to be evacuated, and the works destroyed; all of which was accordingly done on the night of the 18th."
"And did the British find out what was going on and attack our fellows?" asked Eric.
"Yes; the heavy ordnance was placed upon a galley to be conveyed to West Point; but as soon as it moved a cannonade began from Verplanck's and the British shipping near by. A heavy shot from theVulturestruck the galley below water mark, and she went down near Caldwell's Landing. The British again took possession of Stony Point, but little of value was left them there except the eligible site for a fortification."
"Wayne was very much praised for the taking of Stony Point, wasn't he, papa?" asked Grace.
"Yes; the storming and capture of Stony Point was esteemed one of the most brilliant exploits of the war,—an exhibition of skill and indomitable courage,—and General Wayne, the leader of the enterprise, was everywhere greeted with rapturous applause. Congress gave him a vote of thanks. It also resolved that a gold medal, emblematic of that action, be struck and presented to General Wayne. Also, rewards were given to the other officers and to the men."
"Papa, wasn't the home of Captain Molly somewhere in this neighborhood?" asked Grace.
"Yes; Lossing tells us that she lived, at the close of the war, between Fort Montgomery and Buttermilk Falls, and was generally dressed in a woman's petticoats with an artilleryman's coat over them—perhaps an old one of her husband's, for he was a cannonier. They were both in Fort Clinton when it was taken by the British. When the Americans retreated and the British scaled the ramparts, her husband dropped his match and fled. Molly picked it up, touched off the piece, then scampered after him and the others. As you probably remember, she was again with her husband in the Battle of Monmouth, and when he was shot down took his place at the cannon and worked it through the rest of the engagement. For that act of bravery Washington rewarded her with a sergeant's commission."
"I think she deserved it," said Grace. "I admire her bravery, but I don't know what would tempt me to go into a battle."
"I should be sorry indeed to have you go into one," returned her father, regarding her with a fond smile.
The yacht was now moving rapidly down the river, all on board greatly enjoying the beautiful scenery. They landed at Tarrytown and visited the historical spots in its vicinity, among them the scene of André's capture and the monument to his captors.
"Why did they name this place Tarrytown, uncle?" asked Eric.
"Probably from the fact that a great deal of wheat was raised in the vicinity. 'Tarwe Town'—meaning wheat town—was what the early Dutch settlers called it.
"Those living here in Revolutionary days saw stormy scenes. There were lawless hands of marauders called Cowboys and Skinners infesting the Neutral Ground, which extended for thirty miles along the river and was plundered by both bands of outlaws without much, if any, regard to their victims' loyalty or disloyalty to the country."
"Those were bad times to live in," remarked Little Elsie. "I'd a great deal rather live in these; though I should like to have seen Washington and Wayne and Lafayette and—oh, all the rest of the good, brave men who did so much to save our country!"
"Yes," said Grandma Elsie, "but though we cannot see them here, we may hope to meet at least some of them in another and a better world."
A pleasant surprise awaited our party on their return to Crag Cottage that evening, the bride and groom—Rosie and her husband—having arrived during their absence. Everybody was glad to see them; and, with the accommodations of the yacht to supplement those of the house, there was room and to spare.
Finding such to be the case, and that it was very pleasant to be together, all remained Evelyn's guests for another week, in which a great deal of time was passed upon the river taking repeated views of beautiful historic scenes.
But at length they separated for a time—some remaining where they were; some going to the seashore; while Grandma Elsie and the Raymonds, leaving the yacht at New York City, crossed the mountains into Pennsylvania, visited some historical scenes in that State, then traveled on through Ohio from south to north, spent a few weeks among the islands of Lake Erie; then, the yacht having come to them again by the northern route, returned home in it by way of the Welland Canal, the St. Lawrence River, and the Atlantic Ocean. On their route through Pennsylvania they spent a few days at Pocono, visiting the points of interest about there. Wilkesbarre was their next stopping place, for they all wanted to see the beautiful Valley of Wyoming.
"Is Wyoming an English name?" asked Elsie Raymond, as they drove through the valley.
"No," said her father; "it comes from the language of the Delawares, and means 'large plains.' It is probable that the Delawares were the first tribe which lived there."
"And is Wilkesbarre an Indian name too?" she asked.
"No; it is a compound of the names of two Englishmen who were good friends to America in the times of the Revolution—John Wilkes and Colonel Barre.
"The first European to visit the valley was Count Zinzendorf," continued the captain. "He was of an ancient Austrian family. He was a Christian man and very earnest in trying to do good. He travelled through Germany, Denmark, and England, and in 1741 came to America and preached at Bethlehem and Germantown. He was very desirous to do the poor Indians good, so travelled about among them, though he had no companions except an interpreter. In one of these excursions he crossed the Pocono, and came into this Valley of Wyoming. At this time he had with him a missionary named Mack and his wife. They pitched their tent upon the western bank of the Susquehanna, at the foot of a high hill and near a place in the river known as Toby's Eddy.
"Not very far away was a Shawnee village. The Indians held a council there to hear what these missionaries had to say, but could not believe that they had come all the way across the Atlantic just to teach religious truth to them. The conclusion they came to was that these strangers had come to spy out their country and rob them of their lands. Thinking thus, they made up their minds to murder the count. But they feared the English, therefore instructed those appointed to do the deed to be very secret about it.
"On a cool September night two stout Indians went stealthily from the town to the missionary's temporary dwelling—a tent with a blanket hung across the doorway. They drew the blanket stealthily aside and peeped in. They made no noise, and he was not aware of their presence, as he reclined on a bundle of weeds engaged in writing or in devout meditation.
"As Lossing says: 'The benignity of his countenance filled them with awe, but an incident (strikingly providential), more than his appearance, changed the current of their feelings. The tent cloth was suspended from the branches of a huge sycamore in such a manner that the hollow trunk of the tree was within its folds. At its foot the count had built a fire, the warmth of which had aroused a rattlesnake in its den; and at the moment when the savages looked into the tent the venomous reptile was gliding harmlessly across the legs of their intended victim, who did not see either the serpent or the lurking murderers. At that sight they at once entirely changed their opinion of him and regarded him as under the special protection of the Great Spirit.' They were filled with profound reverence for him, and went back to their tribe with such an account of his holiness that their enmity was changed to veneration."
"And I think history says a successful mission was established there," remarked Grandma Elsie, as the captain paused, as if at the end of his story.
"Yes," he replied, "and it was continued until a war between theShawnees and the Delawares destroyed the peace of the valley."
"What was that war about, papa?" asked Ned.
"Like many others it was about a very foolish thing," replied the captain. "The Shawnees were a not very powerful tribe, and lived by permission of the Delawares on the western bank of the Susquehanna. One day the warriors of both tribes were hunting upon the mountains when a party of women and children of the Shawnees crossed to the Delaware side to gather fruit, and were joined by some of the Delaware squaws and children. After a while two of the children—a Shawnee and a Delaware—got into a quarrel over a grasshopper. Then the mothers took part,—the Shawnees on one side, the Delawares on the other,—and the Delawares, who were the more numerous, drove the Shawnees home, killing several on the way. When the Shawnee hunters came home, saw their dead women, and heard the sad story, they were very angry, crossed the river, and attacked the Delawares. A bloody battle followed; the Shawnees were beaten, and retreated to the banks of the Ohio, where lived a larger portion of their tribe."
"There are not many more historic scenes in this State that we will care to visit at this time, are there, papa?" asked Grace.
"I think not," he said; "we are going west, and most of them are already east of us."
"But, father," said Lucilla, "we have hardly touched upon the history of Wyoming."
"True," he returned; "but it is so very sad that I fear its recital would rather detract from the enjoyment of this lovely scenery. However, I will give you a brief account of what took place here during the Revolutionary War.
"Early in the summer of 1778 the movements of Brant and his warriors, the Johnsons and Butlers and their Tory legions, upon the upper waters of the Susquehanna, and the actions of the Tories in the Wyoming Valley, greatly alarmed the people. Nearly all their able-bodied men were away in the Continental Army; none was left to defend the valley but old men, boys, and women. Afraid of the savages, they were building six forts, going through all the labor required in that work without payment except the hope of self-defence.
"Such was their condition when in June, 1778, an expedition of Tories and Indians was ready to come down upon them. All this was told to Congress. Wyoming men in the army besought protection for their wives and little ones, and General Schuyler wrote a touching letter in their behalf. But all Congress did was to pass resolutions to let the people take measures for self-defence by raising troops among themselves, and finding their own arms, accoutrements, and blankets.
"The people—poor creatures!—did their best; but, attacked by overwhelming numbers of the most savage foes, they went through terrible scenes and sufferings. I will not dwell further upon the horrors of that dreadful time. The Tories and Indians acted like fiends. Lossing, speaking of what occurred after the fight and surrender, says: 'The terms of capitulation were respected by the invaders, particularly the Indians, for a few hours only. Before night they spread through the valley, plundering and burning.'"
"Did the women and children run away, papa?" asked Ned.
"Yes; they fled to the mountains, and many of them perished in the Pocono Mountain swamp, known as the Shades of Death, and along the wilderness paths by the way of the Wind Gap and Water Gap. They were flying to the settlements on the Lehigh and Delaware. They were not travelling like ourselves—in an easy carriage, with abundance of food and clothing; and many died from hunger and exhaustion."
"Some of their clothes had been taken by the Indians," remarked Violet. "I remember reading that many squaws had on from four to six dresses of silk or chintz, one over the other; and some four or five bonnets, one over another."
"Papa, are we going to visit any more places in this State where they had fights?" asked Ned.
"Where there were battles fought, son? No, I think not at this time.We will probably go on into Ohio now without any more delays."
"There were some fights there—weren't there, papa?" asked Elsie.
"Yes; between the whites and the Indians, and between the Americans and the British and Indians, in the war of 1812-14."
"Yes, children," said Lucilla; "don't you remember papa's telling us about some of the fights near Lake Erie, and Perry's victory on the lake?"
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed both the little ones; "and his letter to General Harrison—'We have met the enemy and they are ours.' And you'll tell us about the land fights, won't you, papa?"
"Yes," he said; "one of these days; probably while we are in Ohio."
"Are we going right on now to the islands in Lake Erie, papa?" askedGrace.
"Unless some one or more of us should desire to stop by the way," returned the captain pleasantly.
"Perhaps it would be more restful to pass a night at Pittsburg or Cincinnati," suggested Grandma Elsie; and that was what was decided upon, after a little discussion of the question.
They rested in Cleveland for another night; then, on a bright morning, passed over to the islands in a steamer. A pleasant surprise awaited them on landing; their cousin Ronald Lilburn was there with his wife Annis and her grandnephew, Percy Landreth. The last-named was one whom Captain Raymond would have preferred not to have in the company,—but merely on Lucilla's account,—and he greeted him with cordial kindness.
"We have given you a surprise, haven't we?" asked Mrs. Lilburn of her cousin Elsie.
"Yes; a most pleasant one," replied Mrs. Travilla. "I can truly say I think your presence here will double our enjoyment. How long since you arrived?"
"Only about twenty-four hours. We came straight from home, where we left all your dear ones well."
"Ah, that is good news! It is a new thing for me to be so far away from my dear father; and he is growing old; so I have been feeling a little anxious about him."
"He evidently misses you, but is glad that you are enjoying yourself," said Annis.
"Yes! so unselfish as he is—my dear father! Ah, how lovely it is here!" glancing about as she spoke. "No doubt we can pass some days or weeks here very delightfully."
"I am quite sure of it, mother," said the captain, who had overheard the remark, made as they all were on their way from the landing to the hotel. "We will have the yacht here in a day or two, I think; and it will afford us some pleasant trips here and there on the lake."
"And carry us to some historical scenes, won't it, papa?" asked Grace in a tone of satisfaction.
"Yes," he replied; "and we will live on it, unless the majority of our company should prefer the hotel."
"No danger of that, I think," said Grandma Elsie; "we all feel so much at home and find ourselves so comfortable on the yacht."
"I don't wonder that you prefer it," said Annis; "but I was hoping you would all be at the hotel with us."
"Are you not willing to be on theDolphinwith us?" asked the captain, giving her a cordial look and smile.
"Indeed, sir, I should like nothing better—except for the fear of crowding you."
"I think that is beyond your ability," laughed the captain. "Even joined by all three of you, we should have more room than we have had in some of our trips which we found very enjoyable."
"Then we accept your kind invitation with the greatest pleasure," said Mr. Lilburn; and there the conversation ended, as they were already at the entrance to the hotel.
They spent a pleasant day in and about there, but early in the evening theDolphinmade her appearance, and they all went aboard of her—a blithe and happy company.
The morning found them all in good health and good spirits, and as they sat about the breakfast table the captain asked: "Where shall we go to-day? I think it would be well to take the little trips we contemplate while the weather is so favorable. Then when a storm comes we can shut ourselves in and enjoy books, work, and each other's company."
"I think that is a good suggestion, captain," said Grandma Elsie."Suppose you take us to-day to Fremont, to view the ground where FortStephenson stood."
Everyone present seemed pleased with the proposition, and it was decided to make the little excursion that morning. They could go nearly all the way in their yacht, by lake and river, and shortly after breakfast found themselves in motion—theDolphinhaving lain quietly at anchor during the night.
"I, for one, should like to refresh my memory in regard to Fort Stephenson: when it was built, by whom attacked, and how defended," remarked Annis, as they sat together on the deck while sailing toward Sandusky Bay. "Captain Raymond, you are usually the story teller, I believe."
"Ah, Cousin Annis, that is a fine character you give me," he returned with a smile. "But perhaps I deserve it. Do all the company feel the same desire that Mrs. Lilburn has just expressed?"
"I do," said Grandma Elsie; "and from the expression of the faces of the others present I am quite sure that they do also."
"Yes, indeed, papa; I am sure we do!" cried Lucilla and Grace in a breath, Percy Landreth, Elsie, and Ned joining eagerly in the request; and the captain at once began.
"Fort Stephenson was built in 1812; the garrison consisted of 160 men under the command of Major George Croghan, then but twenty-one years of age. It was on the 31st of July, 1813, that it was invested by a large force of British and Indians under the command of Proctor. The fort was not a strong one; its chief defences were three block houses, circumvallating pickets from fourteen to sixteen feet high, and a ditch about eight feet wide and as many feet deep; they had one iron six-pounder cannon. Of course, swords and rifles were not lacking, and the men were Kentucky sharpshooters.
"General Harrison heard that the British were moving against Fort Stephenson. He had visited the fort, and felt convinced that it could not be held against an attack with heavy artillery, so had said to Major Croghan: 'Should the British approach you in force with cannon, and you can discover them in time to effect a retreat, you will do so immediately, destroying all the public stores. You must be aware that to attempt a retreat in the face of an Indian force would be vain. Against such an enemy your garrison would be safe, however great the number.'
"On learning of the intended descent of the British upon Fort Stephenson, Harrison held a consultation with his officers—McArthur, Holmes, Graham, Paul, Hukill, Wood, and Ball. They were unanimously of the opinion that Fort Stephenson could not be successfully defended against an enemy approaching in such force, and that Major Croghan ought immediately to comply with his general's standing order to evacuate."
"Moving order, I should think, father," laughed Lucilla.
"Yes," returned the captain with a smile; "but knowing Croghan's innate bravery, Harrison feared he would not move promptly, so sent him another order to abandon the fort. It was carried by a white man named Connor and two Indians. They started at midnight and lost their way in the dark. So they did not reach the fort until the next day about eleven o'clock, and by that time the woods were swarming with Indians.
"Major Croghan called his officers together and consulted them in regard to a retreat. A majority were of his opinion—that such a step would be disastrous, now that the Indians swarmed in the woods, and that the post might be maintained.
"Croghan immediately sent a reply to Harrison's order, saying it had come too late to be carried into execution, that they had determined to maintain the place—that they could and would do so. It was a disobedience of orders, but not so intended. The gallant young major thought that the previous order, which spoke of the danger of a retreat in the face of an Indian force, justified him in remaining, as that force was already there when this second order reached him.
"But the general considered it disobedience, which could not be permitted. He at once sent Colonel Wells to Fort Stephenson to supersede Croghan, and ordered Croghan to headquarters at Seneca Town. Colonel Wells was escorted by Colonel Ball with his corps of dragoons. On the way they were attacked by about twenty Indians, and quite a severe skirmish ensued. Seventeen of the Indians were killed."
"Papa, did Major Croghan go to the general? and was he very cross to him?" asked Ned.
"He went promptly, made a full and satisfactory explanation to General Harrison, and was directed to go back to his command the next morning; which he did, feeling more than ever determined to maintain his post in spite of British and Indians. General Harrison kept scouts out in all directions to watch the movements of the enemy. On the evening of Saturday, the 31st of July, one of those parties, lingering on the shore of Sandusky Bay, about twenty miles from Fort Stephenson, saw that Proctor was approaching by water. They made haste to return to headquarters with their information, stopping on the way at Fort Stephenson and making it known there.
"Croghan was watchful, wide awake to the dangers that surrounded them. A good many Indians had been seen upon the high ground on the eastern side of the Sandusky River, but had scampered away on being fired at from the six-pounder in the fort.
"At four o'clock in the afternoon the British gunboats, bringing Proctor and his men, were seen at a turn in the river more than a mile distant. They were greeted by shots from the six-pounder, but they came on; and at a cove somewhat nearer the fort, opposite a small island in the stream, they landed with a five-and-a-half-inch howitzer.
"At the same time the Indians showed themselves in the woods on all sides. In this attacking force there were four hundred British and several hundred Indians. And Tecumseh was stationed upon the roads leading from Fort Meigs and Seneca Town with almost two thousand more. These were intended to intercept any re-enforcements that might be coming to Croghan's assistance. Having thus, as he thought, cut off Croghan's retreat, Proctor sent Colonel Elliott and Captain Chambers to demand the instant surrender of the fort. With them was Captain Dixon of the Royal Engineers, who was in command of the Indians.
"They came with a flag of truce, and Croghan sent outSecond-Lieutenant Shipp, as his representative, to meet the flag.
"The usual salutations were exchanged, then Colonel Elliott said, 'I am instructed to demand the instant surrender of the fort, to spare the effusion of blood, which we cannot do should we be under the necessity of reducing it by our powerful force of regulars, Indians, and artillery.'
"'My commandant and the garrison,' replied Shipp, 'are determined to defend the post to the last extremity, and bury themselves in its ruins rather than surrender it to any force whatever.'
"'Look at our immense body of Indians,' interposed Dixon. 'They cannot be restrained from massacring the whole garrison, in the event of our undoubted success.'
"'Our success is certain,' eagerly added Chambers.
"'It is a great pity,' said Dixon, in a beseeching tone, 'that so fine a young man as you and as your commander is represented to be, should fall into the hands of the savages. Sir, for God's sake surrender, and prevent the dreadful massacre that will be caused by your resistance!'
"'When the fort shall be taken there will be none to massacre,' Shipp coolly replied, for it was not long since, at Fort Meigs, he had had dealings with the same foe. 'It will not be given up while a man shall be able to resist.'
"He was just turning to go back to the fort, when an Indian sprang from a bushy ravine near at hand and tried to snatch his sword from him. The indignant Shipp was about to despatch the Indian, when Dixon interfered. Then Croghan, who was standing on the ramparts watching the conference, called out, 'Shipp, come in, and we'll blow them all to ——!' At that, Shipp hurried into the fort, the flag was returned, and the British immediately opened fire from their gunboat and the five-and-a-half-inch howitzer which they had landed, beginning the attack before proper arrangements could be made.
"It seems the Indians had had an alarm and let the British know of it. A Mr. Aaron North, knowing nothing of the proximity of British or Indians, was riding through the wood, drawing near the fort on the other side of the Sandusky, when he discovered a large body of Indians scattered along the river bank and half concealed by the bushes. He wheeled his horse and fled in the direction of Seneca. The startled Indians fired several shots after him, but without hitting him. The Indians doubtless told the British of all this, and Proctor thought the horseman a messenger to Harrison to inform him of the attack upon Fort Stephenson, and that the result would probably be that re-enforcements would be sent to Croghan, would beat back Tecumseh, and fall upon him at Sandusky.
"All night long the five six-pounders which had been landed from the British gunboats, and the howitzer, played upon the stockade without doing any serious damage. Occasionally the besieged answered with their one cannon, which they moved from one blockhouse to another, to give the impression that the garrison had several heavy guns. But their supply of ammunition was small, and Croghan was too wise to waste it. He determined not to use any more in firing at random in the dark; so ordered Captain Hunter, his second in command, to place it in the blockhouse at the middle of the north side of the fort, so as to rake the ditch in the direction of the northwest angle—the point where the enemy would be most likely to make the assault, because it was the weakest part.
"That was done before daylight, and the gun, loaded with a half-charge of powder and a double charge of slugs and grapeshot, was completely masked.
"During the night the British had dragged three of their six-pounders to a place in the woods where the ground was higher than the fort and about 250 yards from it. Early in the morning they began a brisk fire upon the blockade from those and the howitzer."
"Oh, papa, how dreadful!" exclaimed Elsie. "Did all of our men get shot?"
"No; the cannonade produced very little effect, and Proctor grew very impatient. The long hot day was nearly done, and the Indians were becoming restless. At four o'clock in the afternoon he ordered all his guns to fire upon that weak northwest angle.
"Then Croghan and his men set to work to strengthen it as much as possible. They piled bags of sand and sacks of flour against the pickets there, which materially broke the force of the cannonade. At five o'clock a dark thunder cloud was seen in the west and the thunder seemed like the echo of the enemy's cannon. Then the British came on in two close columns, led by Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel Short and Lieutenant Gordon. At the same time a party of grenadiers, about 200 strong, under Lieutenant-Colonel Warburton, took a wide circuit through the woods to make a feigned attack upon the southern front of the fort, where Captain Hunter and his party were stationed.
"There was in the fort at the time a man named Brown, a private of thePetersburgh volunteers, with a half-dozen of his corps and PittsburghBlues. To them was entrusted the management of the six-pounder in thefort, for Brown was skilled in gunnery.
"The British artillery played incessantly upon the northwestern angle of the fort, causing a dense smoke, and under cover of that a storming party under Lieutenant-Colonel Short advanced to within fifteen or twenty paces of the outworks before they were discovered by the garrison. But they were Kentucky sharpshooters, and every man of them was at his post. Instantly they poured upon the assailants a shower of rifle balls sent with such deadly aim that the British were thrown into confusion. But they quickly rallied. The axemen pushed bravely forward over the glacis, and leaped into the ditch to assail the pickets. Short was at their head, and when a sufficient number were in the ditch behind him, he shouted, 'Cut away the pickets, my brave boys, and show the d——d Yankees no quarter!'
"Now the time had come for the six-pounder to make itself heard. The masked port flew open instantly, and the gun spoke with terrible effect. Slug and grapeshot streamed along that ditch overflowing with human life, and spread awful havoc there. Few of those British soldiers escaped. The second column of the storming party made a similar attempt, but was met by another discharge from the six-pounder and another destructive volley of rifle-balls."
"Was anybody killed, papa?" asked Ned.
"Yes, a good many were," replied his father. "Colonel Short, Lieutenant Gordon, Laussaussie of the Indian Department, and 25 privates were left dead in the ditch, and 26 of the wounded were made prisoners. Three other officers were slightly wounded, but escaped. The rest of the attacking party retreated in haste and disorder.
"It was not until after that disaster that Warburton and his grenadiers reached the south front of the fort. When they did, Hunter's corps assailed them with a destructive volley, and they fled for shelter to the adjacent woods. It is said that Lieutenant-Colonel Short, when he fell, twisted a white handkerchief on the end of his sword, asking the mercy he had exhorted his men not to show to the Americans."
"Oh, I hope they did show it to him, papa," said Elsie.
"I think they would have done so had opportunity offered," said the captain; "but he was found dead in the ditch."
"And were any of our people killed?" she asked.
"One man was killed and 7 were slightly wounded; while, according to the most careful estimates, the loss of the British in killed and wounded was 120. They behaved most gallantly, getting no assistance from the cowardly Indians, who kept themselves out of harm's way in a ravine near by.
"The assault had lasted only about half an hour. Lossing tells us, 'The dark storm cloud in the west passed northward, the setting sun beamed out with peculiar splendor, a gentle freeze from the southwest bore the smoke of battle far away over the forest toward Lake Erie, and in the lovely twilight of that memorable Sabbath evening the brave young Croghan addressed his gallant little band with eloquent words of praise and grateful thanksgiving. As the night and the silence deepened, and the groans of the wounded in the ditch fell upon their ears, his generous heart beat with sympathy. Buckets filled with water were let down by ropes from the outside of the pickets; and as the gates of the fort could not be opened with safety during the night, he made a communication with the ditch by means of a trench, through which the wounded were borne into the fort and their necessities supplied.'"
"Oh, how good and kind he was!" exclaimed Grace. "I am proud of him as one of my countrymen. Is he still living, papa?"
"No, daughter; he died in New Orleans on January 8, 1849."
"The anniversary of the great victory there in the War of 1812! Was he not rewarded for his gallant defence of Fort Stephenson?"
"Yes; he was brevetted lieutenant-colonel for his gallantry, and some twenty years later Congress voted him a gold medal in acknowledgment of it. In 1846 he joined Taylor's army in Mexico and served with credit at the Battle of Monterey."
"You have given us an interesting tale, captain," remarked Cousin Ronald as the story seemed to have come to an end—"one that was really new to me; for I have read but little about that war—which I hope we can always refer to as the last between the mother country and this, my adopted one—the native land of my bonny young wife," he added with a loving and admiring look at Annis.
"Ah, my dear, how true it is that love is blind," said Annis softly, giving him a look of fond appreciation.
"Ha, ha! A pair of old lovers!" laughed a voice that seemed to come from somewhere in the rear of the little party.
"Yes, that's what we are," said Annis with mirthful look and tone.
"And who are you that dares to say such saucy things to our company?" asked Ned, looking sharply round toward the spot from which the voice had seemed to come.
"Somebody that has a tongue of his own and a right to use it," returned the voice, but the speaker was still invisible.
"Well, whoever you are you've no business here on my father's yacht without an invitation," cried Ned, hurrying toward the spot from which the strange voice seemed to come.
"You silly, impudent youngster! I'm not here without an invitation," said the voice, seeming to come from a greater distance than before.
"Not?" exclaimed Ned; "then who invited you?"
"The captain and owner of the vessel."
Ned turned to his father. "Did you invite him, papa, and who is he?" Then, perceiving a look of amusement on every face, "Oh, I know! Why didn't I think before? It's just Cousin Ronald playing he's somebody else."
"Yes, laddie, and he's rather an auld mon to be playing at anything," returned the old gentleman pleasantly. "Dinna ye think so?"
"No, sir; and it's good of you to make a little fun for us youngsters."
"As well as for us older folks," added his mother in a sprightly tone.
"I thought it was a fellow who had no business here," said Ned, "but you are as welcome as anything, Cousin Ronald."
"Aye, laddie, I dinna doubt it or I wadna be here," laughed the old gentleman; "but I know there are no more hospitable folk to be found anywhere then these American cousins o' mine."
"I should think not, sir," said Neddie with a smiling glance from one parent to the other; "and I believe there's nobody they like better to entertain than you."
"Is Fort Stephenson still standing, papa?" asked Grace.
"No," was the reply, "but we can see the site, which is in the bosom of the village of Fremont, and covers about two-thirds of a square. We will no doubt find someone who can and will point it out to us and show us the ravine where the Indians fled after the first discharge of the rifle-balls by the garrison; and the iron six-pounder cannon that did such great execution in defence of the fort; also the landing place of the British. By the way, the garrison named that cannon the 'Good Bess.'"
"Oh, I hope we will see it," said Ned. "I'd like to."
They reached their destination in time to see the cannon and all the interesting places and things made memorable by their connection with the struggle at Fort Stephenson, then returned to the yacht, sailed out into the bay again, and anchored for the night.