A Virginia Scout Part 40

"No fish," he agreed. "There!"

The splashing came from across the several hundred yards of the Ohio's deep and silent current. It was repeated until it became almost continuous, and it gradually grew louder.

"Rafts!" shrilly whispered Cousin.

"They are paddling fast."

"No! But there are many rafts," he corrected.

We retreated up-stream a short distance and concealed ourselves in a deep growth. To the sound of poles and paddles was added the murmuring of guttural voices. Then for a climax a raft struck against the bank and a low voice speaking Shawnee gave some sharp orders.

"One!" counted Cousin.

As he spoke another raft took the sh.o.r.e, and then they grounded so rapidly that it was impossible to count them. Orders were given, and the Indians worked back from the river and proceeded to make a night-camp. The landing had been made at the mouth of the creek, but the savages had spread out, and some of them were due east from us.

"There's a heap of 'em!" whispered Cousin. "Lucky for us they didn't fetch any dawgs along, or we'd be smelled out an' have to leg it."

"I hear squaws talking."

"Kiss the devil if you don't! There's boys' voices, too. They've fetched their squaws an' boys along to knock the wounded an' dyin' in the head."

"Then that means they feel sure of winning."

And my heart began thumping until I feared its beating would be audible at a distance. And before my inner gaze appeared a picture of Lewis' army defeated and many victims being given over to the stake.

"Keep shet!" cautioned Cousin. "There it is again! A Mingo talkin', a Seneca, I'd say--Hear that jabber! Delaware--Wyandot--Taway (Ottawa). With a blanket o' Shawnee pow-wow. By heavens, Morris! This is Cornstalk's whole force. They've learned that Dunmore is at the Hockhockin' an' will be j'inin' up with Lewis any day, an' old Cornstalk thinks to lick Lewis afore Dunmore's men can git along!"

It was now after midnight, and I knew we should be back at camp and warning Colonel Lewis of his peril. I knew from my last talk with him that he did not expect to meet the Indians in any numbers until we had crossed the Ohio. Our failure to find any Indians at the Point and our prospects for an immediate crossing conduced to this belief.

The day before all the scouts had been instructed as to our maneuvers once we crossed the river and were searching for ambushes. It was terrible to think of our army asleep only three miles away. I urged an immediate return, but Cousin coolly refused to go until he had reconnoitered further.

"You stay here till I've sneaked down to the mouth o' the creek," he whispered. "'Twon't do for both of us to git killed an' leave no one to take the word to Lewis."

"But why run any risk?" I anxiously demanded; for I feared he had some mad prank in mind which would betray our presence and perhaps stop our warning to the army.

"We must l'arn somethin' as to how many o' the red skunks there be," he replied.

"To venture near their camp will mean discovery. They're very wide-awake."

"I ain't goin' near their camp," he growled in irritation. "I want to look over them rafts. I can tell from them how many warriors come over, or pretty close to it."

He slipped away and left me to do the hardest of the work--the work of waiting. It seemed a very long time before I heard the bushes rustle. I drew my ax, but a voice whispering "Richmond," the parole for the night, composed me. Feeling his way to my side he gravely informed me:

"There's seventy-eight or nine rafts an' a few canoes. It's goin' to be a fine piece o' fightin'. At least there's a thousand warriors on this side an' a lot o' squaws an' boys."

I estimated our army at eleven hundred and I thanked G.o.d they were all frontiersmen.

Cousin now was as eager to go as I; and leaving our hiding-place, we worked north until we felt safe to make a detour to the east. Our progress was slow as there was no knowing how far the Indian scouts were ranging.

Once we were forced to remain flat on our stomachs while a group of warriors pa.s.sed within a dozen feet of us, driving to their camp some strayed beeves from the high rolling bottom-lands to the east. When the last of them had pa.s.sed I observed with great alarm a thinning out of the darkness along the eastern skyline.

"Good G.o.d! We'll be too late!" I groaned. "Let's fire our guns and give the alarm!"

"Not yet!" snarled my companion. "I must be in the thick o' that fight.

We're too far east to git to camp in a hustle. We must sneak atween the hills an' that small slash (Virginian for marsh). Foller me."

We changed our course so as to avoid the low hills drained by Crooked Creek, and made after the warriors. About an hour before sunrise we were at the head of the marsh, and in time to witness the first act of the day's great drama. Two men were working out of the fallen timber, and Cousin threw up his double-barrel rifle. I checked him, saying:

"Don't! They're white!"

"Renegades!"

"John Sevier's younger brother, Valentine. T'other is Jim Robertson."

"Then Lewis knows. He sent 'em to scout the camp."

"They're after game. James Shelby is sick with the fever. Yesterday morning he asked them to perch a turkey for him. Signal them. They know nothing about the Indians!"

Cousin risked discovery by standing clear of the bushes and waving his hat. "There comes two more of 'em!" he exclaimed.

This couple was some distance behind the Watauga boys, but I recognized them. One was James Mooney, my companion on the Coal River scout. The other was Joseph Hughey.

I jumped out and stood beside Cousin and waved my arms frantically. One of them caught the motion and said something. The four paused and stared at us. We made emphatic gestures for them to fall back. At first they were slow to understand, thinking, as Sevier told me afterward, that I was pointing out some game. Then they turned to run, Robertson and Sevier firing their rifles to the woods to the north of us.

These were the first guns fired in the battle of Point Pleasant. From the woods came the noise of a large body of men advancing. A ripple of shots was sent after the hunters. Hughey and Mooney halted and returned the fire. A streak of red some distance ahead of the Shawnees' position, and close to the river-bank, dropped Hughey dead. This shot was fired by Tavenor Ross, a white man, who was captured by the Indians when a boy and who had grown up among them.

Mooney, Robertson and young Sevier were now running for the camp, pa.s.sing between the Ohio bank and the marsh. We raced after them just as a man named Hickey ran from the bushes and joined them. The Indians kept up a scattering fire and they made much noise as they spread out through the woods in battle-line. They supposed we were the scouts of an advancing army.

It is the only instance I know of where insubordination saved any army from a surprise attack, and possibly from defeat. To escape detection while breaking the orders against foraging, the five men named had stolen from the camp at an early hour.

By the time Cousin and I pa.s.sed the lower end of the marsh small bodies of Indians were making for the hills along Crooked Creek; others were following down the Ohio inside the timber, while their scouts raced recklessly after us to locate our line of battle. The scouts soon discovered that our army was nowhere to be seen. Runners were instantly sent back to inform Cornstalk he was missing a golden opportunity by not attacking at once.

Mooney was the first to reach Colonel Lewis, who was seated on a log in his shirt-sleeves, smoking his pipe. Mooney shouted:

"More'n four acres covered with Injuns at Old Town Creek!"

Rising, but with no show of haste, Lewis called to Cousin and me: "What about this?"

"An attack in force, sir, I believe," I panted.

He glanced at Cousin, who nodded and then ducked away.

"I think you are mistaken," the colonel coldly remarked. "It must be a big scouting-party." I tried to tell him what Cousin and I had seen and heard.

But he ignored me and ordered the drums to beat To Arms. But already the border men were turning out and diving behind logs and rocks even while the sleep still blurred their eyes.

Colonel Lewis ordered two columns of one hundred and fifty men each to march forward and test the strength of the enemy. The colonel's brother Charles led the Augusta line to the right. Colonel William Fleming commanded the left--Botetourt men. The two columns were about two hundred yards apart, and their brisk and businesslike advance did the heart good to behold.

No one as yet except the hunters and Cousin and I realized the three hundred men were being sent against the full force of the Ohio Indians.

Colonel Lewis resumed his seat and continued smoking.