A party of six men were seated around a fire in the forest which covered the slopes of the northern shore of Lake Champlain. The spot had been chosen because a great tree had fallen, bringing down several others in its course, and opening a vista through which a view could be obtained of the surface of the lake. The party consisted of Peter Lambton, Harold, Jake, Ephraim Potter, another old frontiersman, and two Indians.
The company under Captain Wilson had made its way safely to the St. Lawrence after undergoing considerable hardships in the forest. They had been obliged to depend entirely on what game they could shoot and such fish as they could catch in the rivers whose course they followed. They had, however, reached Montreal without loss, and there they found that General Carleton had in all about 500 regulars and about 200 volunteers who had recently been engaged.
It was clear that if the people of Canada were as hostile to the connection with England as were those of the other colonies, the little force at the disposal of the English general could do nothing to defend the colony against the strong force which the Americans were collecting for its invasion. Fortunately this was not the case. Although the Canadians were of French descent and the province had been wrested by arms from France, they for the most part preferred being under English rule to joining the insurgent colonies. They had been in no way oppressed by England, their property had been respected, and above all things no attempt had ever been made to interfere with their religion. In the New England provinces the hard Puritan spirit of the early fathers had never ceased to prevail. Those who had fled from England to obtain freedom of worship had been intolerant persecutors of all religion different from their own. The consequence was that the priests of Canada were wholly opposed to any idea of union with the insurgent colonists. Their influence over the people was great, and although these still objected to the English rule and would have readily taken up arms against it under other circumstances, they had too little sympathy with the New Englanders to join in their movement, which, if successful, would have placed Canada under the rule of the United States instead of that of England.
The upper classes of Canadians were almost to a man loyal to the English connection. They had been well treated and enjoyed a greater state of independence than had been the case under French rule. Moreover, they were for the most part descended from old French families, and their sympathies were entirely opposed to popular insurrection. Thus, when Captain Wilson and his party reached Montreal, they found that, in spite of the paucity of English troops under the command of General Carleton, the position was not so bad as had been feared by General Gage. It was possible, and indeed probable, that Upper Canada might fall into the hands of the Americans, and that even Quebec itself might be captured; but unless the people joined the Americans the success of the latter would be but temporary. With the spring the navigation of the river would be open and re-enforcements would arrive from England. The invaders would then be at a disadvantage. Separated from home by a wide tract of forest-covered country, they would have the greatest difficulty in transporting artillery, ammunition, and stores, and, fighting as an army in invasion, they would be placed in a very different position to that occupied by the colonists fighting on their own ground. It was probable that for a time the tide of invasion would succeed.
The Indians of the Five Nations, as those dwelling near the British frontier at this point were called, had volunteered their services to the general to cross the frontier to recapture Ticonderoga and Crown Point, which had been seized by the Americans, and to carry the war into the colonies. But General Carleton, an exceedingly humane and kind-hearted man, shrank from the horrors that such a warfare would entail upon the colonists. He accepted the services of the Indians as far as the absolute defense of Canada from invasion, but refused to allow them to cross the frontier.
On the arrival of Captain Wilson with his little force he was ordered to march at once to the fort of St. John's, which was held by a party of regular troops.
On arriving at that place the two scouts had been sent down toward Lake Champlain to watch the proceedings of the enemy. Harold had obtained leave from his father to accompany the scouts, and Jake had been permitted to form one of the party. Peter Lambton had grumbled a little at this last addition to the number. He knew Jake's affection for his young master, and the great strength of the negro would have rendered him useful in a hand-to-hand fight, but he was altogether unaccustomed to forest work, and his habit of bursting into fits of laughter on the smallest provocation, as is the manner of his race, enraged the scout to the last degree. Indeed, he had not left the fort above an hour when he turned savagely on the negro.
"Look-ee here," he said, "if that's the way ye're a-going on, the sooner ye turns yer face and tramps back to the fort the better. When you were at Concord it done no harm to make as much noise as a jackass braying whenever you opened that mouth of yours, but it won't do in the forests. It would cost us our har and your wool ef yer were to make that noise with the enemy anywhere within fifteen miles of yer. I aint a-going, if I knows it, to risk my sculp on such a venture as this; still less I aint a-going to see this young chap's life thrown away. His father hez put him in my charge, and I aint a-going to see him sacrificed in no such way. So ye've got to make up yer mind; yer have got to keep that mouth of yours shut tight or yer've got to tramp back to the fort."
Jake gave many promises of silence, and although at first he often raised his voice to a point far exceeding that considered by the hunters safe in the woods, he was each time checked by such a savage growl on the part of Peter, or by a punch in the ribs from Harold, that he quickly fell into the ways of the others and never spoke above a loud whisper.
At a short distance from the fort they were joined by the two Indians, who were also out on a scouting expedition on their own account. They had previously been well known both to Peter and Ephraim. They were warriors of the Seneca tribe, one of the Five Nations. They had now been for two days on the north shore of Lake Champlain. They were sitting round a fire eating a portion of a deer which had been shot by Harold that morning. So far they had seen nothing of the enemy. They knew that 3000 men, under Schuyler and Montgomery, had marched to the other end of the lake. The colonists had been sending proclamations across the frontier to the inhabitants, saying that they were coming as friends to free them from the yoke of England and calling upon them to arise and strike for freedom. They were also in negotiation with some of the chiefs of the Five Nations and with other Indian tribes to induce them to join with them.
"I propose," Peter said when the meal was finished and he had lighted his pipe, "to go down the lake and see what they're doing. Deer Tail here tells me that he knows where there's a canoe. He, Harold, and me will go and reconnoiter a bit; the other three had best wait here till we comes back with news. In course, chief," he continued to the other Indian, after explaining to him in his own language what he intended to do, "you'll be guided by circumstances—you can see a long way down the lake, and ef anything should lead you to think that we're in trouble, you can take such steps as may seem best to you. It's mighty little I should think of the crowd of colonists; but ef, as you say, a number of the warriors of the Five Nations, indignant at the rejection, of their offers by the English general, have gone down and joined the colonists, it'll be a different affair altogether."
The Elk, as the second Seneca chief was called, nodded his assent. In a few words Peter told Harold what had been arranged. Jake looked downcast when he heard that he was not to accompany his master, but as he saw the latter had, since leaving the fort, obeyed without questioning every suggestion of the scout, he offered no remonstrance.
A quarter of an hour later Peter rose, Deer Tail followed his example, and Harold at once took up his rifle and fell in in their steps. There was but little talk in the woods, and the matter having been settled, it did not enter the mind either of Peter or of the Indian to say a word of adieu to their comrades. Harold imitated their example, but gave a nod and a smile to Jake as he started.
Half an hour's tramp took them to the shore of the lake. Here they halted for a minute while the Indian closely examined the locality. With the wonderful power of making their way straight through the forest to the required spot, which seems to be almost an instinct among Indians, Deer Tail had struck the lake within two hundred yards of the point which he aimed at. He led the way along the shore until he came to a spot where a great maple had fallen into the lake; here he turned into the forest again, and in fifty yards came to a clump of bushes; these he pushed aside and pointed to a canoe which was lying hidden among them. Peter joined him, the two lifted the boat out, placed it on their shoulders, and carried it to the lake. There were three paddles in it. Peter motioned Harold to take his place in the stern and steer, while he and the Indian knelt forward and put their paddles in the water.
"Keep her along on the right shore of the lake, about fifty yards from the trees. There's no fear of anyone lurking about near this end."
The canoe was light and well made, and darted quickly over the water under the strokes of the two paddlers. It was late in the afternoon when they started, and before they had gone many miles darkness had fallen. The canoe was run in close to shore, where she lay in the shadow of the trees until morning. Just as the sun rose the redskin and Peter simultaneously dipped their paddles in the water and sent the canoe under the arches of the trees. They had at the same instant caught sight of four canoes making their way along the lake.
"Them's Injuns," Peter whispered. "They're scouting to see if the lake's free. If the general could have got a couple of gunboats up the Sorrel the enemy could never have crossed the lake, and it would have given them a month's work to take their guns round it. It's lucky we were well under the trees or we should have been seen. What had we best do, Deer Tail?"
For two or three minutes the scouts conversed together in the Indian tongue.
"The Seneca agrees with me," Peter said. "It's like enough there are Injuns scouting along both shores. We must lay up here till nightfall. Ef we're seen they'd signal by smoke, and we should have them canoes back again in no time. By their coming I expect the expedition is starting, but it won't do to go back without being sure of it."
The canoe was paddled to a spot where the bushes grew thickly by the bank. It was pushed among these, and the three, after eating some cooked deer's flesh which they had brought with them, prepared to pass the day.
"The Seneca and I'll keep watch by turns," the scout said. "We'll wake you if we want ye."
Harold was by this time sufficiently accustomed to the ways of the woods to obey orders at once without offering to take his turn at watching, as his inclination led him to do, and he was soon sound asleep. It was late in the afternoon when he was awoke by the scout touching him.
"There's some critters coming along the bank," he said in a whisper. "They aint likely to see us, but it's best to be ready."
Harold sat up in the canoe, rifle in hand, and, listening intently, heard a slight sound such as would be produced by the snapping of a twig. Presently he heard upon the other side of the bushes, a few yards distant, a few low words in the Indian tongue. He looked at his companions. They were sitting immovable, each with his rifle directed toward the sound, and Harold thought it would fare badly with any of the passers if they happened to take a fancy to peer through the bushes. The Indians had, however, no reason for supposing that there were any enemies upon the lake, and they consequently passed on without examining more closely the thicket by the shore. Not until it was perfectly dark did Peter give the sign for the continuance of the journey. This time, instead of skirting the lake, the canoe was steered out toward its center. For some time they paddled, and then several lights were seen from ahead.
"I thought so," the scout said. "They've crossed to the Isle La Motte and they're making as many fires as if they war having a sort of picnic at home. We must wait till they burns out, for we daren't go near the place with the water lit up for two or three hundred yards round. It won't be long, for I reckon it must be past eleven o'clock now."
The fires were soon seen to burn down. The paddles were dipped in the water and the canoe approached the island.
"I'd give something," Peter said, "to know whether there's any redskins there. Ef there are, our chance of landing without being seen aint worth talking of; ef there aint we might land a hull fleet; at any rate we must risk it. Now, Harold, the chief and me'll land and find out how many men there are here, and, ef we can, how long they're likely to stop. You keep the canoe about ten yards from shore, in the shadow of the trees, and be ready to move close the instant you hear my call. I'll jest give the croak of a frog. The instant we get in you paddle off without a word. Ef ye hears any shouts and judges as how we've been seen, ye must jest act upon the best of yer judgment."
The boat glided noiselessly up to the shore. All was still there, the encampment being at the other side of the island. The two scouts, red and white, stepped noiselessly on to the land. Harold backed the canoe a few paces with a quick stroke upon the paddle, and seeing close to him a spot where a long branch of a tree dipped into the water, he guided the canoe among the foliage and there sat without movement, listening almost breathlessly.
Ere many minutes had elapsed he heard footsteps coming along the shore. They stopped when near him. Three or four minutes passed without the slightest sound, and then a voice said, in tones which the speaker had evidently tried to lower, but which were distinctly audible in the canoe:
"I tell yer, redskin, it seems to me as how you've brought us here on a fool's errand. I don't see no signs of a canoe, and it aint likely that the British would be along the lake here, seeing as how there's a score of canoes with your people in them scouting ahead."
"I heard canoe," another voice said, "first at other end of the island and then coming along here."
"And ef yer did," the first speaker said, "likely enough it was one of the canoes of your people."
"No," the Indian answered. "If canoe come back with news, would have come straight to fires."
"Well, it aint here, anyway," the first speaker said, "and I don't believe yer ever heard a canoe at all. It's enough to make a man swear to be called up jest as we were making ourselves comfortable for the night on account of an Injun's fancies. I wonder at the general's listening to them. However, we've got our orders to go round the island and see ef there's any canoe on either shore; so we'd better be moving, else we shall not get to sleep before morning."
Harold held his breath as the group passed opposite to him. Fortunately the trunk of the tree grew from the very edge of the water, and there were several bushes growing round it, so that at this point the men had to make a slightdétourinland. Harold felt thankful indeed that he had taken the precaution of laying his canoe among the thick foliage, for although the night was dark it would have been instantly seen had it been lying on the surface of the lake. Even as it was, a close inspection might have detected it, but the eyes of the party were fixed on the shore, as it was there, if at all, that they expected to find an empty canoe lying.
Harold was uneasy at the discovery that there were still some redskins on the island. It was possible, of course, that the one he had heard might be alone as a scout, but it was more likely that others of the tribe were also there.
After landing, Peter and the Seneca made their way across the island to the side facing the American shore. Creeping cautiously along, they found a large number of flat-bottomed boats, in which the Americans had crossed from the mainland, and which were, Peter thought, capable of carrying 2000 men. They now made their way toward the spot where the forces were encamped. The fires had burned low, but round a few of them men were still sitting and talking. Motioning to the Seneca to remain quiet, Peter sauntered cautiously out on to the clearing where the camp was formed. He had little fear of detection, for he wore no uniform, and his hunter's dress afforded no index to the party to which he was attached.
A great portion of the Americans were still in their ordinary attire, it having been impossible to furnish uniforms for so great a number of men as had been suddenly called to arms throughout the colonies.
From the arbors of boughs which had been erected in all directions, he judged that the force had been already some days upon the island. But large numbers of men were sleeping in the open air, and picking his way cautiously among them, he threw himself down at a short distance from one of the fires by which three or four men were sitting.
For some time they talked of camp matters, the shortness of food, and want of provisions.
"It is bad here," one said presently; "it will be worse when we move forward. Schuyler will be here tomorrow with the rest of the army, and we are to move down to Isle-aux-Noix, at the end of the lake, and I suppose we shall land at once and march against St. John's. There are only a couple of hundred Britishers there, and we shall make short work of them."
"The sooner the better, I say," another speaker remarked. "I am ready enough to fight, but I hate all this waiting about. I want to get back to my farm again."
"You are in a hurry, you are," the other said. "You don't suppose we are going to take Canada in a week's time, do you. Even if the Canadians join us, and by what I hear that aint so sartin after all, we shall have to march down to Quebec, and that's no child's play. I know the country there. It is now September 4. Another month and the winter will be upon us, and a Canadian winter is no joke, I can tell you."
"The more reason for not wasting any more time," the other one grumbled. "If Montgomery had his way we should go at them quickly enough, but Schuyler is always delaying. He has kept us waiting now since the 17th of last month. We might have been halfway to Quebec by this time."
"Yes," the other said, "if the Britishers had run away as we came; but we have got St. John's and Fort Chamblée to deal with, and they may hold out some time. However, the sooner we begin the job the sooner it will be over, and I am heartily glad that we move tomorrow."
Peter had now obtained the information he required, and rising to his feet again, with a grumbling remark as to the hardness of the ground, he sauntered away toward the spot where he had left the Indian. Just as he did so a tall figure came out from an arbor close by. A fire was burning just in front, and Peter saw that he was a tall and handsome man of about forty years of age. He guessed at once that he was in the presence of the colonial leader.
"You are, like myself," the newcomer said, "unable to sleep, I suppose?"
"Yes, general," Peter answered. "I found I could not get off, and so I thought I'd stretch my legs in the wood a bit. They're lying so tarnal thick down there by the fires, one can't move without treading on 'em."
"Which regiment do you belong to?"
"The Connecticut," Peter replied, for he knew by report that a regiment from this province formed part of the expedition.
"As good men as any I have," the general said cordially. "Their only fault is that they are in too great a hurry to attack the enemy."
"I agree with the rest, general," Peter said. "It's dull work wasting our time here when we're wanted at home. I enlisted for six months, and the sooner the time's up the better, say I."
"You have heard nothing moving?" the general asked. "One of the Chippewas told me that he heard a canoe out in the lake. Ah! here he is."
At that moment five or six men, headed by an Indian, issued from the wood close by. It was too late for Peter to try to withdraw, but he stepped aside a pace or two as the party approached.
"Well, have you found anything?" the general asked.
"No find," the Chippewa said shortly.
"I don't believe as there ever was a canoe there," the man who followed him said. "It was jest a fancy of the Injun's."
"No fancy," the Indian asserted angrily. "Canoe there. No find."
"It might have been one of our own canoes," Montgomery said in a conciliatory tone. "The Indians are seldom mistaken. Still, if no one has landed it matters not either way."
"Only as we have had a tramp for nothing," the colonist said. "However, there's time for a sleep yet. Hullo!" he exclaimed as his eye fell on Peter Lambton. "What, Peter! Why, how did you get here? Why, I thought as how——General," he exclaimed, sharply turning to Montgomery, "this man lives close to me at Concord. He's a royalist, he is, and went into Boston and joined the corps they got up there!"
"Seize him!" Montgomery shouted, but it was too late.
As the man had turned to speak to the general, Peter darted into the wood. The Chippewa, without waiting to hear the statement of the colonist, at once divined the state of things, and uttering his war-whoop dashed after the fugitive. Two or three of the colonists instantly followed, and a moment later three or four Indians who had been lying on the ground leaped up and darted like phantoms into the wood.
The general no sooner grasped the facts than he shouted an order for pursuit, and a number of the men most accustomed to frontier work at once followed the first party of pursuers. Others would have done the same, but Montgomery shouted that no more should go, as they would only be in the others' way, and there could not be more than two or three spies on the island.
After the Chippewa's first war-cry there was silence for the space of a minute in the forest. Then came a wild scream, mingled with another Indian yell; a moment later the leading pursuers came upon the body of the Chippewa. His skull had been cleft with a tomahawk and the scalp was gone.
As they were clustered round the body two or three of the Indians ran up. They raised the Indian wail as they saw their comrade and with the rest took up the pursuit.
Peter and the Seneca were now far among the trees, and as their pursuers had nothing to guide them, they reached the spot where they had left the canoe unmolested.
On the signal being given, Harold instantly paddled to the shore. Not a word was spoken until the canoe was well out in the lake. Occasional shots were heard on shore as the pursuers fired at objects which they thought were men. Presently a loud Indian cry rose from the shore.
"They see us," Peter said. "We're out of shot and can take it easy." The redskin said a few words. "You're right, chief. The chief says," he explained to Harold, "that as there are redskins on the island they have probably some canoes. The moon's jest getting up beyond that hill, and it'll be light enough to see us half across the lake. It would not matter if the water was free; but what with Injuns prowling along the shores and out on the lake, we shall have to use our wits to save our har. Look!" he exclaimed two or three minutes later as two columns of bright flame at a short distance from them shot up at the end of the island. "They're Injun signals. As far as they can be seen Injuns will know that there are enemies on the lake. Now, paddle your hardest, Harold, and do you, chief, keep your eyes and your ears open for sights and sounds."
Under the steady strokes of the three paddles the bark canoe sped rapidly over the water. When the moon was fairly above the edge of the hill they halted for a moment and looked back. The two columns of fire still blazed brightly on the island, which was now three miles astern, and two dark spots could be seen on the water about halfway between them and it.
"You can paddle, my lads," Peter Lambton said to the distant foes, "but you'll never ketch us. I wouldn't heed you if it weren't for the other varmint ahead."
He stood up in the canoe and looked anxiously over the lake.
"It's all clear as far as I can see at present," he said.
"Can't we land, Peter, and make our way back on foot?"
"Bless you," Peter said, "there aint a native along the shore there but has got his eye on this canoe. We might as well take her straight back to the island as try to land. Better; for we should get a few hours before they tried and shot us there, while the Injuns would not give us a minute. No, we must just keep to the water; and now paddle on again, but take it quietly. It's no odds to let them varmints behind gain on us a little. You needn't think about them. When the danger comes we shall want every ounce of our strength."
For half an hour they paddled steadily on. The pursuing canoes were now less than a mile behind them.
"I'd give a good deal," muttered the scout, "for a few black clouds over the moon; we'd make for shore then and risk it. It will be getting daylight before long. Ah!" he exclaimed, pausing suddenly as the chief stopped rowing, "a canoe on each side is rowing out to cut us off."
Harold was now paddling forward, while the scout had the place at the stern. The former was surprised to feel the canoe shooting off from its former course at right angles toward the shore; then, curving still more round, they began to paddle back along the lake. The canoes which had been pursuing them were nearly abreast of each other. They had embarked from opposite sides of the island, but they had been gradually drawing together, although still some distance apart, when Peter turned his canoe. Seeing his maneuver, both turned to head him off, but by so doing they occupied an entirely different position in relation to each other, one canoe being nearly half a mile nearer to them than the other.
"Take it easy," Peter said. "These varmints will cut us off and we've got to fight, but we can cripple the one nearest to us before the other comes up."
The boats were now darting over the water in a line which promised to bring the leading canoe almost in collision with that of Peter. When within two hundred yards of each other Peter ceased rowing.
"Now," he said, "Harold, see if you can pick one of them fellows off. It's no easy matter, traveling at the pace they are. You fire first."
Harold took a steady aim and fired. A yell of derision told that he had missed. The Indians stopped paddling. There was a flash and a ball struck the canoe. At the same moment Peter fired.
"There's one down!" he exclaimed.
The Seneca fired, but without result; and the three unwounded Indians in the canoe—for it had contained four men—replied with a volley.
Harold felt a burning sensation, as if a hot iron passed across his arm.
"Hit, boy?" Peter asked anxiously as he gave a short exclamation.
"Nothing to speak of," Harold replied.
"The varmints are lying by, waiting for' the other canoe. Paddle straight at 'em."
The Indians at once turned the boat and paddled to meet their companions, who were fast approaching.
"Now," Peter exclaimed, "we've got 'em in a line—a steady aim this time."
The three rifles spoke out; one of the Indians fell into the boat and the paddle of another was struck from his grasp.
"Now," the scout shouted, "paddle away! We've got 'em all fairly behind us."
Day broke just as they were again abreast of the island. One canoe was following closely, two others were a mile and a half behind, while the one with which they had been engaged had made for the shore.
"What do you mean to do?" Harold asked Peter.
"I mean to run as close as I can round the end of the island, and then make for the place where they must have embarked on the mainland. They may have seen the signal fires there, but will not know what has been going on. So now row your best. We must leave the others as far behind as possible."
For the first time since they started the three paddlers exerted themselves to the utmost. They had little fear that there were any more canoes on the island, for, had there been, they would have joined in the chase. It was only necessary to keep so far from the end of the island as would take them out of reach of the fire. Several shots were discharged as they passed, but these fell short as the canoe shot along at its highest rate of speed, every stroke taking it further from its nearest pursuer.
At the end of an hour's paddling this canoe was a mile and a half behind. Its rowers had apparently somewhat abated their speed in order to allow the other two boats to draw up to them, for the result of the encounter between their comrades and the fugitives had not been of a nature to encourage them to undertake a single-handed contest with them.
"See, Peter!" Harold exclaimed; "there is a whole fleet of boats ahead."
"I sees 'em," Peter said, "and have seed 'em for the last quarter of an hour. It's Schuyler, with the rest of what they calls their army. Steer a little out of the course; we must pass close by 'em. They won't suspect nothing wrong and will suppose we are merely carrying a message."
In half an hour they were abreast of the flotilla, consisting of flatboats laden with troops. With them were two or three Indian canoes. Peter steered so as to pass at a distance of a hundred and fifty yards. They rowed less strongly now, but still vigorously. There was a shout from the boat.
"All well on the island?"
"All well," Peter shouted back, waving his hand, and without further word the canoe passed on. "There! do you hear that?" Peter exclaimed. "They're firing shots from the canoes to call their attention. The chances are they won't hear them, for the rattle of their oars and the talking and the row they're making are enough to drown the sound of a cannon. Now put it on again as hard as you can. Another hour will take us to the landing place."
They could see, when the flotilla came up to the pursuing boats, that the canoes which accompanied it turned their heads and joined in the pursuit, but they were now near three miles ahead and there was no chance whatever of their being overtaken. They slackened their speed slightly as they approached the land, and rowed up to the landing place without any signs of extraordinary haste. A few men were loitering about.
"What's the news from the island?" one asked as they landed.
"All well there," Peter said.
"Did you see anything of Schuyler?"
"Yes, we met him about halfway across."
"What have you come for?"
"General Montgomery says that no spare flints have been sent over for the firelocks."
"I'll swear that some went," one of the men exclaimed, "for I packed a sack of them myself in one of the boats."
"I s'pose they have been mislaid," Peter said. "Perhaps some of the stores have got heaped over 'em. Ef you are quite sartin, we have had our journey for nothing."
"As sartin as life," the man replied. "I'll swear to the sackful of flints; and tarnation heavy they was, too."
"Well, then, I need not trouble about it further," Peter said. "We'll take a rest and paddle back in an hour or two. Was there any marks on the sack, so as I may tell the general how to look for it?"
"Marks!" the man repeated. "Why, it had 'Flints' written on it in big black letters six inches long. It must turn up, anyhow. They'll find it when they come to shift the stores."
Then, accompanied by his two companions, Peter strolled quietly through the little village. Stopping at a small store, he purchased some flour and tea; then he followed the road inland and was soon out of sight of the village; he stopped for a moment and then shook his head.
"It's no use trying to hide our trail here," he said. "The road's an inch thick in dust, and do what we will they'll be able to see where we turn off. It's our legs as we have got to trust to for a bit. We've got a good half hour's start of the canoes; they were a long three miles behind when we struck the shore."
Leaving the road, he led the way with a long, swinging stride across the cultivated land. Twenty minutes' walk took them into the forest, which extended from the shore of the lake many miles inland.
"Take off your boots, Harold," he said as he entered the wood. "Them heels will leave marks that a redskin could pick up at a run. Now tread, as near as you can, in the exact spot where the Seneca has trodden before you. He'll follow in my track, and you may be sure that I'll choose the hardest bits of ground I can come across. There, the varmints are on shore!"
As he spoke an angry yell rose from the distant village. At a long, steady pace, which taxed to the utmost Harold's powers as a walker, they kept their way through the woods, not pursuing a straight course, but turning, winding, and zigzagging every few minutes. Harold could not but feel impatient at what seemed to him such a loss of time, especially when a yell from the edge of the wood told that the Indians had traced them thus far—showed, too, that they were far nearer than before. But, as Peter, afterward explained to him, all this turning and winding made it necessary for the Indians to follow every step, as they would an animal, to guess the direction they had taken. The weather had been dry and the ground was hard; therefore the most experienced trapper would be obliged to proceed very slowly on the trail and would frequently be for a time at fault; whereas, had they continued in a straight line, the Indians could have followed at a run, contenting themselves with seeing the trail here and there. They came across two or three little streams running down toward the lake. These they followed, in some cases up, in others down, for a considerable distance, leaving the bed where the bushes grew thick and hid the marks of their feet as they stepped out from the water. Harold would gladly have gone at a run, but Peter never quickened his pace. He knew that the Indians could not pick up the trail at a rate faster than that at which they were going, and that great delay would be caused at each of the little streams, as it would be uncertain whether they had passed up or down.
As the time passed the Indian yells, which had, when they first entered the wood, sounded so alarmingly near, died away, and a perfect stillness reigned in the forest. It was late in the afternoon before Peter halted.
"We can rest now," he said. "It'll be hours before the critters can be here. Now let us have some tea."
He began to look for some dried sticks. Harold offered to assist.
"You sit down," the scout said. "A nice sort of fire we should get with sticks of your picking up! Why, we should have a smoke that would bring all the Injuns in the woods on to us. No, the sticks as the Seneca and me'll pick up won't give as much smoke as you can put in a teacup; but I wouldn't risk even that if we was nigh the lake, for it might be seen by any redskins out in a canoe. But we are miles back from the lake, and there aint no other open space where they could get a view over the tree-tops."
Harold watched the Indian and the scout collecting dry leaves and sticks, and took particular notice, for future use, of the kinds which they selected. A light was struck with a flint and steel, and soon a bright blaze sprang up, without, so far as Harold could see, the slightest smoke being given off. Then the hunter produced some food from his wallet, and a tin pot. He had at the last spring they passed filled a skin which hung on his shoulder with water, and this was soon boiling over the fire. A handful of tea was thrown in and the pot removed. Some flour, mixed with water, was placed on a small iron plate, which was put on the red-hot ashes. A few cakes were baked, and with these, the cold venison, and the tea an ample meal was made.
After nearly an hour's halt they again proceeded on their way. A consultation had taken place between Peter and the Seneca as to the best course to be pursued. They could, without much difficulty or risk, have continued the way through the woods beyond the lake, but it was important that they should reach the other side by the evening of the following day, to give warning of the intended attack by the Americans. There were, they knew, other redskins in the woods besides those on their trail, and the nearer they approached the shore the greater the danger. They had determined that they would at all hazards endeavor to obtain another canoe and cross the lake. Until nightfall they continued their course, and then, knowing that their trail could no longer be followed, they made down to the lake. They were many miles distant from it, and Harold was completely worn out when at last he saw a gleam of water through the trees. He was not yet to rest. Entering the lake, they began wading through it at a few feet from the edge.
After an hour's walking thus they entered the bushes, which thickly covered the shore, and made their way through these until they came to a spot sufficiently open for them to lie down; and Harold, wrapping himself in the blanket which he carried over his shoulder, was sound asleep in less than a minute. When he woke the sun was shining brightly.
"Get up, youngster! We're in luck," the scout said. "Here's a canoe with two of the varmints making toward the shore. By the way they're going they'll land not far off."
The scout led the way, crawling on his hands and knees, to the water's edge, to where the Seneca was sitting watching the canoe through a cover of green leaves. The course that the boat was taking would lead it to a point some three hundred yards from where they were sitting.
"We shall have no difficulty in managing them," Harold said, and grasped his rifle eagerly.
"Not too fast," Peter said. "The chances are that the varmints have friends on shore. Like enough they have been out fishing."
The shore formed a slight sweep at this point, and the bushes in which they were hidden occupied the point at one extremity. In the center of the little bay there was a spot clear from bushes; to this the canoe was directed. As it approached the shore two other Indians appeared at the water's edge. One of them asked a question, and in reply a paddler held up a large bunch of fish.
"Just as I thought. Like enough there are a dozen of them there," said Peter.
On reaching the shore the men sprang out, taking their fish with them. The canoe was fastened by its head-rope to the bushes, and the Indians moved a short distance inland.
"There is their smoke," Peter said, indicating a point some thirty feet from the lake, but so slight was it that, even when it was pointed out to him, Harold could hardly make out the light mist rising from among the bushes. Presently he looked round for the Seneca, but the Indian had disappeared.
"He's gone scouting," Peter said in answer to Harold's question. "Ef there are only four of them it would be an easy job, but I expect there's more of the red varmints there."
In ten minutes the Seneca returned as noiselessly as he had gone. He opened his hand and all the fingers twice; the third time he showed only three fingers.
"Thirteen," Peter said. "Too many of them even for a sudden onslaught."
The Indian said a few words to Peter; the latter nodded, and Deer Tail again quietly stole away.
"He's going to steal the boat," Peter said. "It's a risky job, for where it lies it can be seen by 'em as they sit. Now, you and me must be ready with our shooting irons to cover him, if need be. Ef he's found out before he gets the boat he'll take to the woods and lead them away from us; but ef he's fairly in the boat, then we must do our best for him. Ef the wust comes to the wust, I reckon we can hold these bushes agin 'em for some time; but in the end I don't disguise from ye, youngster, they'll beat us."
Harold now sat intently watching the canoe. It seemed an age to him before he saw a hand emerge from the bushes and take hold of the head-rope. The motion given to the canoe was so slight as to be almost imperceptible; it seemed as if it was only drifting gently before the slight breeze which was creeping over the surface of the lake. Half its length had disappeared from the open space, when an Indian appeared by the edge of the water. He looked at the canoe, looked over the lake, and withdrew again. The hand had disappeared in the bushes on his approach. The movement of the canoe, slight as it was, had caught his eye, but, satisfied that it was caused only by the wind, he had returned to his fire again. The hand appeared again through the bushes, and the canoe was drawn along until hidden from the sight of those sitting by the fire. Again the watchful Indian appeared, but the boat was lying quietly by the bushes at the full length of its head-rope. He stooped down to see that this was securely fastened and again retired. Harold held his breath, expecting that every moment the presence of the Seneca would be discovered. Scarcely had the Indian disappeared than the Seneca crawled out from the bushes. With a sweep of his knife he cut the rope of the canoe and noiselessly entered it, and as he did so gave a shove with his foot, which sent it dancing along the shore toward the spot where Harold and his companion were hidden. Then he seized the paddle, and in half a dozen strokes brought it within reach of them. Harold and Peter stepped into it; as they did so there was a sudden shout. The Indian had again strolled down to look at the canoe, whose movements, slight as they had been, had appeared suspicious to him. He now, to his astonishment, saw it at the point with two white men and an Indian on board. He had left his gun behind him and, uttering his war-cry, bounded back for it.
"Round the p'int, quick!" Peter exclaimed. "They'll riddle us in the open."
Two strokes took the canoe round the projecting point of bushes, and she then darted along the shore, driven by the greatest efforts of which the three paddlers were capable. Had the shore been open the Indians would have gained upon them, but they were unable to force their way through the thick bushes at anything like the rate at which the canoe was flying over the water. The first start was upward of a hundred yards, and this was increased by fifty before the Indians, arriving at the point, opened fire. The distance was beyond anything like an accurate range with Indian guns. Several bullets struck the water round the canoe.
"Now steer out," Peter said as the firing suddenly ceased. "They're making adétouramong the bushes, and 'll come down ahead of us if we keep near the shore."
Two or three more shots were fired, but without effect, and the canoe soon left the shore far behind.
"Now," Peter said, "I think we're safe. It's not likely they've another canoe anywhere near on this side, as most of 'em would have gone with the expedition. Ef the firing has been heard it will not attract much attention, being on this side, and I see nothing in the way of a boat out in the lake. Still, these redskins' eyes can see 'most any distance. Now, chief," he went on to the Indian in his native language, "the young un and I'll lie down at the bottom of the boat; do you paddle quietly and easily, as ef you were fishing. The canoe with a single Indian in it will excite no suspicion, and even ef you see other canoes, you had better keep on in that way unless you see that any of 'em are intending to overhaul you."
The chief nodded assent. Peter and Harold stretched themselves at full length in the canoe, and the Indian paddled quietly and steadily on. For an hour not a word was spoken in the canoe. Harold several times dozed off to sleep. At last the Seneca spoke:
"Many boats out on water—American army."
Harold was about to raise his head to look out when Peter exclaimed: "Lie close, Harold! Ef a head were shown now it would be wuss than ef we had sat up all the time. We know there are Injun canoes with the flats, and they may be watching us now. We may be a long way off, but there's no saying how far a redskin's eyes can carry. Can you see where they are going to, chief?" he asked the Seneca. "Are they heading for Isle-aux-Noix, as we heard 'em say they were going to do?"
The Seneca nodded.
"Going to island."
"Then," Peter said, "the sooner we're across the lake the better."
The Seneca again spoke, and after a consultation with Peter laid in his paddle.
"What is he doing now?" Harold asked.
"Our course lies pretty near the same way as theirs," Peter said. "The island is but a short distance from the shore, near the mouth of the Sorrel, so where we're going would take us right across their line. We fooled them yesterday, but are not likely to do it again to-day. So the chief has stopped paddling and makes as if he were fishing. I doubt whether it will succeed, for he would hardly be fishing so far out. But we'll soon see. It's better so than to turn and paddle in any other direction, as that would be sure to excite their suspicions."
The fleet of boats had already passed the spot where the canoe would have crossed had she been going directly across the lake when she was first seen, and was therefore now ahead of it. The great flotilla kept on as if the canoe with its single occupant in its rear had not excited suspicion. The Seneca, however, knew that sharp eyes must be upon him. The manner in which the canoe had baffled pursuit the day before must have inflicted a severe blow upon the pride of the Indians, and although, having driven them off the lake, they could have no reason for suspecting that their foes could have obtained a fresh canoe, the Seneca knew that their vigilance would not sleep for a moment. Therefore, although bending over the side of the canoe as if watching his lines, his eyes were never off the boats.
"There are canoes making for the shore both ways," he said at last. "It is time that my white brother should take the paddle."
Peter and Harold at once sat up in the boat and looked round the lake, which at this point was about ten miles wide. The canoe was four miles from the eastern side; the flotilla was a mile further up the lake and the same distance nearer to the western shore. Four or five canoes were detaching themselves from the flotilla, apparently rowing direct for the shore. It would have been easy for the canoe to have regained the eastern side long before she could have been cut off, but here they might find the Chippewas. The Indians whose boat they had taken would assuredly follow along the shores of the lake in hopes that something might occur to drive them back. Besides, had they landed there, they would be unable to carry in time the news of the approaching attack upon St. John's. For the same reason it was important to land up the lake near the Canadian end.
Peter rapidly took in the situation. He saw that it was possible, and only just possible, to reach the shore at a point opposite to that at which they now were before the hostile canoes could cut them off from it. If they headed them there they would be obliged to run down to the other end of the lake before effecting a landing, while he could not calculate on being able to beat all the canoes, most of which carried four paddlers, who would strain every nerve to retrieve their failure of the previous day.
Not a word was spoken as the boat darted through the water. Harold, unaccustomed to judge distances, could form no idea whether the distant canoes would or would not intercept them. At present both seemed to him to be running toward the shore on nearly parallel courses, and the shorter distance that the Indians would have to row seemed to place them far ahead. The courses, however, were not parallel, as the Indians were gradually turning their canoes to intercept the course of that which they were pursuing. As the minutes went by and the boats converged more and more toward the same point, Harold saw how close the race would be. After twenty minutes' hard paddling the boats were within a quarter of a mile of each other, and the courses which they were respectively taking seemed likely to bring them together at about a quarter of a mile from the shore. There were three Indian canoes, and these kept well together. So close did the race appear that Harold expected every moment to see Peter sweep the head of the canoe round and make a stern chase of it by running down the lake. This Peter had no intention of doing. The canoes, he saw, traveled as fast as his own and could each spare a man to fire occasionally, while he and his companions would be obliged to continue paddling. Better accustomed to judge distances than Harold, he was sure, at the speed at which they were going, he would be able to pass somewhat ahead of his foes.
"Row all you know, Harold," he said. "Now, chief, send her along."
Harold had been rowing to the utmost of his strength, but he felt by the way the canoe quivered at every stroke that his companions were only now putting out their extreme strength. The boat seemed to fly through the water, and he began to think for the first time that the canoe would pass ahead of their pursuers. The latter were clearly also conscious of the fact, for they now turned their boats' heads more toward the shore, so that the spot where the lines would meet would be close to the shore itself. The canoes were now within two hundred yards of each other. The Indians were nearer to the shore, but the oblique line that they were following would give them about an equal distance to row to the point for which both were making. Harold could not see that there was the slightest difference in the rate at which they were traveling. It seemed to him that the four canoes would all arrive precisely at the same moment at the land, which was now some five or six hundred yards distant.
Another two minutes' paddling, and when the canoes were but seventy or eighty yards apart, Peter, with a sweep with his paddle, turned the boat's head nearly half round and made obliquely for the shore, so throwing his pursuers almost astern of him. The shore was but three hundred yards distant; they were but fifty ahead of their pursuers. The latter gave a loud yell at seeing the change in the position in the chase. They had, of course, foreseen the possibility of such a movement, but had been powerless to prevent it. But they were prepared, for on the instant one man in each canoe dropped his paddle and, standing up, fired. It is a difficult thing to take aim when standing in a canoe dancing under the vigorous strokes of three paddlers. It was the more difficult since the canoes were at the moment sweeping round to follow the movement of the chase. The three balls whistled closely round the canoe, but no one was hit.
The loss of three paddlers for even so short a time checked the pace of the canoes. The Indians saw that they could not hope to overtake their foes, whose canoe was now but a few lengths from shore. They dropped their paddles, and each man seized his rifle. Another moment, and the nine pieces would have poured their fire into the canoe about fifty yards ahead of them, when from the bushes on the shore three puffs of smoke shot out, and three of the Indians fell, one of them upsetting his boat in his fall. A yell of surprise and dismay broke from them, the guns were thrown down, the paddles grasped again, and the heads of the canoes turned from the shore. The Indians in the overturned boat did not wait to right it, but scrambled into the other canoes, and both were soon paddling at the top of their speed from the shore, not without further damage, for the guns in the bushes again spoke out, and Peter and the Seneca added their fire the instant they leaped from the boat to shore, and another of the Indians was seen to fall. Harold was too breathless when he reached the bank to be able to fire. He raised his gun, but his hands trembled with the exertion that he had undergone, and the beating of his heart and his short, panting breath rendered it impossible for him to take a steady aim. A minute later Jake burst his way through the bushes.
"Ah, Massa Harold!" he exclaimed. "Bress de Lord dat we was here! What a fright you hab giben me, to be sure! We hab been watching you for a long time. Ephraim and de redskin dey say dey saw little spot far out on lake, behind all dose boats; den dey say other boats set off in chase. For a long time Jake see nothing about dat, but at last he see dem. Den we hurry along de shore, so as to get near de place to where de boats row; ebery moment me tink dat dey catch you up. Ephraim say no, bery close thing, but he tink you come along first, but dat we must shoot when dey come close. We stand watch for some time, den Ephraim say dat you no able to get to dat point. You hab to turn along de shore, so we change our place and run along, and sure 'nough de boat's head turns, and you come along in front of us. Den we all shoot, and the redskins dey tumble over."
"Well, Jake, it is fortunate indeed that you were on the spot, for they could scarcely have missed all of us. Besides, even if we had got to shore safely, they would have followed us, and the odds against us would have been heavy."
"That ar war a close shave, Peter," Ephraim said; "an all-fired close shave I call it."
"It war, Ephraim, and no mistake."
"Why didn't yer head down along the lake?"
"Because I got news that the colonists air going to attack St. John's to-morrow, and I want to get to the fort in time to put 'em on their guard. Besides, both sides of the lake are sure to be full of hostile Injuns. Those canoes paddled as fast as we did, and in the long run might have worn us out."
"Did you have a fight on the lake two nights ago? Me and the redskin thought we heard firing."
"We had a skirmish with 'em," Peter said; "a pretty sharp shave it war, too, but we managed to slip away from them. Altogether we've had some mighty close work, I can tell yer, and I thought more than once as we were going to be wiped out."
While they were speaking the men had already started at a steady pace through the woods, away from the lake, having first drawn up the canoe and carefully concealed it.
It was late at night when they reached Fort St. John. A message was at once dispatched to a party of the Senecas who were at their village, about sixteen miles away. They arrived in the morning and, together with a portion of the garrison, moved out and took their place in the wooded and marshy ground between the fort and the river. Scouts were sent along the Sorrel, and these returned about one o'clock, saying that a large number of boats were coming down the lake from Isle-aux-Noix. It had been determined to allow the colonists to land without resistance, as the commander of the fort felt no doubt of his ability, with the assistance of his Indian allies, to repulse their attack. Some twelve hundred men were landed, and these at once began to advance toward the fort, lead by their two generals, Schuyler and Montgomery. Scarcely had they entered the swamp, when from every bush a fire was opened upon them. The invaders were staggered, but pushed forward, in a weak and undecided way, as far as a creek which intercepted their path. In vain General Montgomery endeavored to encourage them to advance. They wavered and soon began to fall back, and in an hour from the time of their landing they were again gathered on the bank of the river. Here they threw up a breastwork, and, as his numbers were greatly inferior, the British officer in command thought it unadvisable to attack them. After nightfall the colonists took to their boats and returned to Isle-aux-Noix, their loss in this their first attempt at the invasion of Canada being nine men.
A day or two later the Indians again attempted to induce General Carleton to permit them to cross the frontier and carry the war into the American settlements, and upon the general's renewed refusal they left the camp in anger and remained from that time altogether aloof from the contest.
St. John's was now left with only its own small garrison. Captain Wilson was ordered to fall back with his company to Montreal, it being considered that the garrison of St. John's was sufficient to defend that place for a considerable time. As soon as the Indians had marched away, having sent word to the colonists that they should take no further part in the fight, Montgomery—who was now in command, Schuyler having fallen sick—landed the whole of the force and invested the fort. An American officer, Ethan Allen, had been sent with a party to try to raise the colonists in rebellion in the neighborhood of Chamblée. He had with him 30 Americans and was joined by 80 Canadians. Dazzled by the success which had attended the surprise of Ticonderoga, he thought to repeat the stroke by the conquest of Montreal. He crossed the river in the night about three miles below the city. Peter and some other scouts, who had been watching his movements, crossed higher up and brought the news, and 36 men of the Twenty-sixth Regiment, Captain Wilson's company, and 200 or 300 loyal Canadians, the whole under the command of Major Campbell, attacked Ethan Allen. He was speedily routed and, with 38 of his men, taken prisoner. The siege of St. John's made but little progress. The place was well provisioned, and the Americans encamped in the low, swampy ground around it suffered much from ill health. The men were mutinous and insolent, the officers incapable and disobedient. So far the invasion of Canada, of which such great things had been hoped by the Americans, appeared likely to turn out a complete failure.
General Carleton, seeing that Montgomery's whole force was retained idle before St. John's, began to hope that the winter would come to his assistance before the invaders had made any serious progress. Unfortunately he had not reckoned on the utter incapacity of the officer in command of Fort Chamblée. Major Stopford of the Seventh Regiment had 160 men and a few artillerymen, and the fort was strong and well provided with provisions. American spies had found the inhabitants around the place favorable to the Americans. Major Brown was sent down by Montgomery with a small detachment, and, being joined by the inhabitants, sat down before the fort. They had only two six-pounders, and could have effected nothing had the fort been commanded by a man of bravery and resources. Such was not the character of its commander, who, after a siege of only a day and a half, surrendered the place with all its stores, which were of inestimable value to the invaders, who were upon the edge of giving up the siege of the fort; their ammunition being entirely exhausted; but the six tons of gunpowder, the seventeen cannon, mortars, and muskets which fell into their hands enabled them to carry on the siege of St. John's with renewed vigor. There was no excuse whatever for the conduct of Major Stopford in allowing these stores to fall into the hands of the Americans; as, even had he not possessed the courage to defend the fort, he might, before surrendering, have thrown the whole of the ammunition into the river, upon which there was a safe sally-port, where he could have carried on the operation entirely unmolested by the enemy. The colors of the Seventh Regiment were captured and sent to Congress as the first trophy of the war.
The siege of St. John's was now pushed on by Montgomery with vigor. Colonel Maclean, with 800 Indians and Canadians, attempted to relieve it, crossing the St. Lawrence in small boats. On nearing the other bank, they were received by so heavy a fire by the Americans posted there that they were obliged to retire without effecting a landing. Provisions and ammunition were now running short in St. John's, there was no hope whatever of relief from the outside, and the officer commanding was therefore obliged to surrender on November 14, after a gallant defense.
As there were only some fifty or sixty regulars in Montreal, General Carleton was unable to defend that town, and, upon the news of the fall of St. John's, he at once retired to Quebec, and Montreal was occupied by the Americans. In the meantime another expedition had been dispatched by the Americans under Arnold. This officer, with 1500 men, had started for Quebec from a point 130 miles north of Boston. Suffering enormous fatigue and hardship, the force made its way up the river; past rapids, cataracts, and through swamps they dragged and carried their boats and stores. They followed the bed of the river up to its source, and then, crossing the watershed, descended the Chaudière and Duloup rivers on to the St. Lawrence, within a few miles of Quebec.
This was a wonderful march—one scarcely equaled in the annals of military history. Crossing the St. Lawrence in canoes, Arnold encamped with his little force upon the heights of Abraham. Such a daring attempt could not have been undertaken had not the Americans been aware of the extreme weakness of the garrison at Quebec, which consisted only of 50 men of the Seventh Regiment, 240 of the Canadian militia, a battalion of seamen from the ships-of-war, under the command of Captain Hamilton of theLizard, 250 strong, and the colonial volunteers, under Colonel Maclean.
The fortifications were in a ruinous condition. It was fortunate that Colonel Maclean, who had come from the Sorrel, upon the surrender of St. John's, by forced marches, arrived on the very day on which Arnold appeared before the city. Directly he arrived Arnold attacked the city at the gate of St. Louis, but was sharply repulsed. He then desisted from active operations and awaited the arrival of Montgomery, who was marching down from Montreal. The flotilla in which Carleton was descending the river was attacked by the Americans, who came down the Sorrel, and was captured, with all the troops and military stores which it was bringing down. General Carleton himself escaped in a small boat under cover of night, and reached Quebec.
Captain Wilson's company had been attached to the command of Colonel Maclean, and with it arrived in Quebec in safety.
Upon the arrival of Montgomery with his army the city was summoned to surrender. A strong party in the town were favorable to the invaders, but General Carleton treated the summons with contempt, and turned all the inhabitants who refused to join in the defense of the city outside the town.
The winter had now set in in earnest, and the difficulties of the besiegers were great. Arnold's force had been much weakened by the hardships that they had undergone, Montgomery's by desertions; the batteries which they erected were overpowered by the fire of the defenders, and the siege made no progress whatever. The men became more and more disaffected and mutinous. Many of them had nearly served the time for which they had enlisted, and Montgomery feared that they would leave him when their engagement came to an end. He in vain tempted the besieged to make a sally. Carleton was so certain that success would come by waiting that he refused to allow himself to hazard it by a sortie.
The weather was fighting for him, and the besiegers had before them only the alternatives of taking the place by storm or abandoning the siege altogether. They resolved upon a storm. It was to take place at daybreak on December 31. Montgomery determined to make four attacks—two false and two real ones. Colonel James Livingstone, with 200 Canadians, was to appear before St. John's gate, and a party under Colonel Brown were to feign a movement against the upper town, and from high ground there were to send up rockets as the signal for the real attacks to commence—that led by Montgomery from the south and that under Arnold from the northwest—both against the lower town.
The false attacks were made too soon, the rockets being fired half an hour before the main columns reached their place of attack. The British were not deceived; but, judging these attacks to be feints, left but a small party to oppose them and marched the bulk of their forces down toward the lower town. Their assistance, however, came too late, for, before they arrived, the fate of the attack was already decided. The Americans advanced under circumstances of great difficulty. A furious wind, with cutting hail, blew in their faces; the ground was slippery and covered with snow.
Half an hour before the English supports arrived on the spot Montgomery, with his leading company, reached the first barricade, which was undefended; passing through this, they pressed on toward the next. The road leading to it was only wide enough for five or six persons abreast. On one side was the river, on the other a steep cliff; in front was a log hut with loop-holes for musketry, and a battery of two three-pounders. It was held by a party of 30 Canadians and 8 militiamen under John Coffin, with 9 sailors under Bairnsfeather, the captain of the transport, to work the guns. Montgomery, with 60 men, pushed on at a run to carry the battery; but, when within fifty yards Bairnsfeather discharged his pieces, which were loaded with grape-shot, with deadly aim. Montgomery, his aid-de-camp Macpherson, Lieutenant Cheeseman, and 10 others fell dead at the first discharge, and with them the soul of the expedition fled. The remaining officers endeavored to get the men to advance, but none would do so, and they fell back without losing another man. So completely cowed were they that they would not even carry off the bodies of their general and his companions. These were brought into Quebec next day and buried with the honors of war by the garrison.
The force under Arnold was far stronger than that under Montgomery. The Canadian guard appointed to defend the first barrier fled at the approach, but the small body of sailors fought bravely and were all killed or wounded. Arnold was shot through the leg and disabled. Morgan, who commanded the advanced companies, led his men on and carried the second barrier after an obstinate resistance. They were attacking the third when Maclean with his men from the upper town arrived. The British then took the offensive, and drove the enemy back, and a party, going round, fell upon their rear. Fifty were killed in Arnold's column, 400 taken prisoners, and the rest retreated in extreme disorder.
Thus ended the assault upon Quebec—an assault which was all but hopeless from the first, but in which Americans showed but little valor and determination. In fact, throughout the war, it may be said that the Americans, when fighting on the defensive behind trees and intrenchments, fought stubbornly; but that they were feeble in attack and wholly incapable of standing against British troops in the open.
It would now have been easy for Carleton to have sallied out and taken the offensive, but he preferred holding Quebec quietly. He might have easily driven the Americans from their position before the walls; but, with the handful of troops under his orders, he could have done nothing toward carrying on a serious campaign in the open.
Until spring came, and the rivers were opened, no re-enforcements could reach him from England, while the Americans could send any number of troops into Canada. Carleton, therefore, preferred to wait quietly within the walls of Quebec, allowing the winter, hardships, and disunion to work their natural effects upon the invaders.
Arnold sent to Washington to demand 10,000 more troops, with siege artillery. Several regiments were sent forward, but artillery could not be spared. Eight regiments entered Canada, but they found that, instead of meeting, as they had expected, an enthusiastic reception from the inhabitants, the population was now hostile to them. The exactions of the invading army had been great, and the feeling in favor of the English was now all but universal.
On May 5 two frigates and a sloop-of-war made their way up the river to Quebec. The Americans endeavored to embark their sick and artillery above the town. Re-enforced by the marines, the garrison sallied out and attacked the enemy, who fled with precipitation, leaving their provisions, cannon, five hundred muskets, and two hundred sick behind them. The British pursued them until they reached the mouth of the Sorrel.
The arrival of the fleet from England brought news of what had taken place since Captain Wilson's company had marched from Boston, a short time after the battle of Bunker's Hill. Immediately after the battle the colonists had sent two deputies, Penn and Lee, with a petition to Parliament for the restoration of peace. This petition was supported by a strong body in Parliament. The majority, however, argued that, from the conduct of the Americans, it was clear that they aimed at unconditional, unqualified, and total independence. In all their proceedings they had behaved as if entirely separated from Great Britain. Their professions and petition breathed peace and moderation; their actions and preparations denoted war and defiance; every attempt that could be made to soften their hostility had been in vain; their obstinacy was inflexible; and the more England had given in to their wishes, the more insolent and overbearing had their demands become. The stamp tax had been repealed, but their ill will had grown rather than abated. The taxations on imports had been entirely taken off save on one small item; but, rather than pay this, they had accumulated arms and ammunition, seized cannon belonging to the king, and everywhere prepared for armed resistance. Only two alternatives remained for the British nation to adopt—either to coerce the colonists to submission or to grant them their entire independence.
These arguments were well founded. The concessions which had been made had but encouraged the colonists to demand more. No good whatever would have come from entering into negotiation; there remained but the two alternatives. It would have been far better had Parliament, instead of deciding on coercion, withdrawn altogether from the colonies, for although hitherto the Americans had shown no great fighting qualities, it was clear that so small an army as England could spare could not permanently keep down so vast a country if the people were determined upon independence. They might win every battle,—might overpower every considerable force gathered against them,—but they could only enforce the king's authority over a mere fractional portion of so great an area. England, however, was unaccustomed to defeat; her spirit in those days was proud and high; and by a large majority Parliament voted for the continuance of the war. The next step taken was one unworthy of the country. It tended still further to embitter the war, and it added to the strength of the party in favor of the colonists at home. Attempts were made by the government to obtain the services of large numbers of foreign troops. Negotiations were entered into with Russia, Holland, Hesse, and other countries. Most of these proved ineffectual, but a considerable number of troops was obtained from Hesse.
The news of these proceedings excited the Americans to renewed efforts. The force under Washington was strengthened, and he took possession of Dorchester Heights, commanding the town of Boston. A heavy cannonade was opened on the city. The British guns answered it, but the American position gave them an immense advantage. General Howe, who was in command, at first thought of attempting to storm the heights, but the tremendous loss sustained at the battle of Bunker's Hill deterred him from the undertaking. His supineness during the past four months had virtually lost the American colonies to England. He had under his command 8000 troops, who could have routed, with ease, the undisciplined levies of Washington. Instead of leading his men out against the enemy, he had suffered them to be cooped up for months in the city, and had failed to take possession of the various heights commanding the town. Had he done this Boston might have resisted a force many times as strong as that which advanced against it, and there was now nothing left for the English but to storm the heights with enormous loss or to evacuate the city.