CHAPTER XXV
It is now high time that we go back for a little and see how matters were faring with James Morris and Henry at Fort Pitt.
Following the attack on the trading-post belonging to Mr. Morris, came a period of inactivity on the part of the Indians. But this did not last for long, and soon reports came to Fort Pitt of outrages at half a dozen points. Then some Indians came close to the fort with pack-horses, and demanded some provisions, and being refused they went away and fell upon some traders bound for the stronghold and murdered them in cold blood.
"This is certainly barbarous," said James Morris. "We ought to go after those redskins." But this was not permitted by Captain Ecuyer, for he felt that a general attack on the fort might come at any time. Two soldiers went out, to do a little spy work, and both were shot down when less than a mile from the stronghold. Then came in the report that the Indians had abandoned one of the villages up the Allegheny and were marching against the English.
"This is certainly growing warm," said Mr. Morris. "I should like to know how matters are going at home."
A few days later a trader came in more dead than alive, with news from the Tuscaroras.
"Chief Shingas warmed me to flee," said he. "He says the war-hatchet had been dug up everywhere, and that Detroit, Sandusky, Niagara, Presque Isle, and many other places have fallen, and that towns and settlements have been burned to the ground." This news was not altogether true, as we know, but it created great excitement, and the commandant at Fort Pitt renewed his efforts to make the place as strong as possible.
In a story of this nature, it is impossible to give even a tenth part of the many exciting events which occurred during that fateful summer of 1763, when the awful conspiracy of Pontiac reached its height. Families without number were slaughtered, children stolen and whole settlements given over to the flames. The Indians did not remain in one locality, but roamed from place to place, until the alarm of the whites became so great that it was thought by some that the entire "Western Countries" would have to be abandoned once more. Petitions were sent in to the governors and to the king, pleading for aid, and standing that the limit had been reached, and the settlers must be helped or they would surely lose their all. So keen was the excitement in some places that no Indians dared to show themselves, even though they were friendly, for the whites would no longer trust them.
The garrison at Fort Pitt consisted of three hundred and thirty soldiers and frontiersmen. Some of the frontiersmen had their wives and families at the fort, and the total number of people within the place was calculated at about six hundred and fifty. To make the houses both shot-proof and fire-proof they were covered with dirt and sods, and the ramparts were also strengthened, and an old fire engine, of the hand-pump variety, was brought out and fixed up for use.
Thus the days went by until the latter part of June, when a party of Indians appeared near the fort, drove away some of the soldiers' horses, and killed several cows. Then the red men began to fire at the fort.
"They are attacking us!" cried Henry, and ran to the post assigned to him, followed by his uncle. But as they could see no Indians they did not bring their rifles into use.
Captain Ecuyer allowed the enemy to fire on the fort for fifteen minutes and then ordered his gunners to discharge their howitzers. The shells from the latter burst directly over the heads of the Indians, and becoming panic-stricken they fled, and the brief attack came to a close.
"We'll hear from them again to-morrow," said James Morris, and he was right. At nine o'clock in the morning several Indians came up for a "talk." One was known as Turtle's Heart, who was the spokesman.
"What does the red man want?" demanded Captain Ecuyer, from the rampart.
"My brothers, we that stand here are your friends," answered Turtle's Heart. "But we have bad news for you. Six of the red men's great nations have dug up the war-hatchet, and cut off every English garrison but yours. Those who have conquered are now on the way to attack you."
"Is that all you have to say?" asked the commandant, knowing full well that more must be coming.
"No, my brothers, we are your best friends, and we wish to save you. Flee to the Eastern forts, where you will be safe. You have yet time, but it will not be for long, for the six big nations are on the way to overwhelm you. Go, for the sake of your wives and your children. Turtle's Heart has spoken."
"Turtle's Heart has been kind," answered Captain Ecuyer. "For that I must thank him. But the red men are mistaken about the other forts being captured. They can hold out, even as we can hold out, for we have a large store of ammunition and many provisions."
"But the provisions will not last forever," said one of the Indians.
"They will last long enough," answered the commandant of the fort. "And now let me tell you another thing, since you have been so considerate. An army of six thousand English will shortly arrive here to aid us. An army of three thousand has already gone up to the Great lakes, to punish the Ottawas and the Ojibwas. Another army is marching to the South to punish the Catawbas and Cherokees. Take heed, for our sakes, and go away, before our army arrives here and does you great harm. But do not tell the other Indians, for they deserve the fate that is in store for them."
"When is the great army to arrive?" asked Turtle's Heart.
"It will be here very soon, now."
This ended the talk, and the Indians withdrew much crestfallen. The majority believed what had been told to them, and becoming alarmed left the vicinity of Fort Pitt, to await the arrival of more warriors from the north.
"I wish an army of six thousand men was really coming this way," said Henry, when he heard of the story told to the Indians.
"That was made up, just to scare those fellows," answered his uncle.
"I know it. But some sort of an army may be coming."
"Well, it can't get here any too quick, Henry. To me matters look exceedingly black," returned the trader.
Day after day passed and still no attack was made upon the fort. The vigilance of the garrison was not lessened, however, and every man present had to do guard duty. This was not so bad in good weather, but Henry found it far from comfortable to stand guard during the wet and dreary nights. Yet he was used to the life of a soldier and did not complain.
"It puts me in mind of the time I spent on Lake Ontario and along the St. Lawrence," he said.
"Your experience as a soldier is now standing you in good stead," said James Morris. "If an attack should come, the captain will expect every man here to do a full soldier's duty."
One day Henry was on guard duty near the lower end of the fort when he saw two white men coming across the river in a canoe. Just as they reached the middle of the stream, the leading man in the craft threw up his arms and pitched headlong into the water, an arrow having pierced his side. The other man at once fell down into the canoe, and several arrows flew over his head.
Henry lost no time in sounding the alarm, and soon a dozen soldiers and backwoodsmen went to the rescue of the man in the canoe. A rifle bullet pierced the craft and it began to sink. Then the man set up a shout for help, in French.
"He says he can't swim," said one of the backwoodsmen.
"Let us go out and throw him a rope," cried Henry, and hurried forth, accompanied by James Morris and several others. Hiding behind some logs, they threw out the end of the rope and the drowning man clutched it. Just then another rifle rang out, and the bullet clipped a bit of log close to Henry's head.
"Keep down there, Henry!" warned James Morris.
It was hard work to bring in the Frenchman, for the fellow did not dare to climb upon the logs for fear of being shot at again. He was pulled into shallow water and then told to run for some brushwood. He started to do so, and then pitched headlong into the water, shot in the side.
"He'll drown, if he isn't dead!" cried Henry, and started to dash out. But James Morris was ahead of him, and in a trice had the wet and wounded man in his arms. Then the trader made a dash back into the fort, and the others who had gone out followed.
The Frenchman was seriously hurt and had to be carried to the hospital of the fort, where a surgeon worked over him for several hours.
"It's a sad complication," said the surgeon. "The wound is bad enough, and he was about half drowned in addition. But I think he will come around all right in the end." Yet in the morning the patient showed small signs of improvement, and by the next day fever had set in and he was out of his mind and began to rave.
"He may recover, but it will take time," said James Morris, after a visit to the bedside of the sick man. "He has had a narrow escape."
"Did you ever see the man before?" asked Henry.
"Never. By some papers he carries they have found out that his name is Benoit Vascal. He seems to be rich."
"Benoit Vascal," mused Henry. "I never heard that name before. I wonder what brought him here?"
"I don't know, Henry. He doesn't look like a trader."
It was true, the newcomer was Benoit Vascal, the very man Barringford and Dave had set out to find. Vascal was hunting for two French traders, who were to aid him in acquiring title to certain lands near Montreal. His hunt had led him from Detroit to Presque Isle and then to Fort Pitt. In the past he had had but little trouble with the Indians, who looked upon the French as their friends, but now the red men, mistaking him for an Englishman, had come close to depriving him of his life.
The excitement attending the rescue of Benoit Vascal was hardly at an end, when a soldier announced the coming of some Indians. A large body was approaching from the north, and at their head was Turtle's Head, and Chief Shingas of the Tuscaroras.
The Indian chiefs asked for a conference, which was granted to them. They said that they had received a great belt of wampum from the Ottawas, and that the latter were about to pass through the country and destroy the English. This being so, they again urged Captain Ecuyer to evacuate the fort.
"I shall not leave," said the commandant, firmly. And then he said he would fight to a finish, should the red men attack him.
Greatly enraged, the chiefs withdrew, and without delay the warriors came close to the fort that very night. Aided by the darkness, they dug burrows for themselves in the dirt of the river bank, and when daylight came, hid in the holes, so that the English could not see them. From the holes they sent a steady fire into the fort until not a person inside dared to expose himself.
"Now, we are going to catch it," said James Morris, knowing well what to expect. The battle waged with great fury, not only that day, but also the next and that following. Many soldiers and frontiersmen were wounded and Captain Ecuyer himself was struck in the leg by an arrow. Many fire arrows were hurled into the inclosure, and the defenders had to work hard to keep down the conflagration.
"We are doomed!" said some. "We cannot possibly hold out." And as day after day went by, and no relief showed itself, it certainly looked as if Fort Pitt must fall, and its gallant garrison be massacred.