Ben Comee Part 23

I never saw any prisoner of war treated with so much kindness as I was by those St. Francis Indians. After I had been at the village five weeks, Mr. Wheelwright, of Boston, and Captain Stevens, of No. 4, came to Montreal, to redeem some Ma.s.sachusetts prisoners. But not finding them, they bought Eastman and me, and we returned with them by the way of Albany. I worked hard afterward, and paid off my debt to the Ma.s.sachusetts Province. If there is to be any fight with these Indians, I shall be glad if I am at work cutting out a road to Fort No. 4."

Early in September we heard that Captain Kennedy, who had been sent to these St. Francis Indians, to persuade them to abandon the French and make peace with us, had been made a prisoner by them with the men who accompanied him, and had been sent to Montreal.

[Sidenote: CAPTAIN KENNEDY MADE PRISONER]

General Amherst was very angry at their treachery. On the afternoon of September 13 we received orders to be in readiness to explore the country west of us. We were told that we should go a short distance in boats and then strike out to the west.

"This seems a silly trip, Ben," said Martin. "Fooling about in the woods where there is no enemy. Our army ought to be following the French, driving them down to the St. Lawrence. Then we could join our forces with Wolfe's, and finish up the war."

"Sergeant Munro tells me that Amherst thinks he should restore the fort and build some boats and ships first."

"Maybe, maybe; I'm not a general, but I believe that when you've got the enemy on the run, you ought to keep them on the run till they give in, and not sit down and give them a chance to get strong again."

That night we embarked in whaleboats. There were about two hundred men in our party. It was made up of a few of Gage's light infantry, under Captain Dunbar, and the rest were Rangers, among whom were fifty Mohegan Indians from Stockbridge. We rowed over to the east sh.o.r.e and went down the lake. Several canoes were sent ahead to warn us if any of the enemy were out. Cloth was wound round our oars where they rested in the rowlocks. We had orders not to utter a word, to make no noise.

The boats moved in single file close to the sh.o.r.e where it was darkest.

Before daybreak we landed and lifted the boats from the water and carried them into the woods. We lay hidden there during the day. We did not believe that we were going to the west, but could not guess the purpose of the expedition.

The next night we embarked again, and rowed slowly in perfect silence with an advanced guard of canoes.

Night after night we did this, always keeping in the shadow of the sh.o.r.e; and as we got toward the lower part of the lake, we did not start till late at night, and pulled our boats up into the bushes long before the day began to break. Several times our scouts came back and whispered that the enemy's boats were out. Then we went in close to the sh.o.r.e and waited till they were out of hearing distance.

[Sidenote: A MYSTERIOUS EXPEDITION]

We were not allowed to make fires, and as we approached the lower end of the lake and lay hidden in the woods, we could see sloops and boats of the enemy out on the lake in the daytime. We had to proceed slowly and with the utmost caution.

If we had not been on a perilous expedition into the enemy's country to some unknown point and for some mysterious purpose, about which we were worrying, this trip down the lake would have been delightful. The leaves were just changing colour. The days were perfect. The lake was beautiful, and we should have gazed with pleasure at the boats that we saw, had we not known that they were full of enemies who would have been well pleased to take our scalps and roast us at the stake.

On the fifth day out, by some accident there was an explosion of gunpowder, and several of the men were burned and had to be sent back.

Some were sick, and returned with them, so that by the time we reached Missisquoi Bay at the lower end of the lake our force was reduced to one hundred and forty-five men.

It was apparent that this was no expedition to the west, and we were astonished as we advanced night after night into the enemy's country and close to their camp.

Edmund knew where we were going, but he was as close-mouthed as an oyster.

"What in the w-world are we up to? Are we going to attack the French army with one hundred and fifty men? I don't like these expeditions of Major Rogers. I wish we had a good safe commander like that c-colonel who was sent out on the lake to stop a party of French and Indians, and landed on an island and formed his men in a circle round him, and p-p-prayed that the Lord would send us a long war and a b-b-bloodless war, and kept on praying till the enemy went by. A fellow has some chance to keep his hair on his head with a g-good c-careful commander like that; but this Rogers don't care where he g-goes or how many get k-killed, so long as he can do something startling. What in time are we up to?"

[Sidenote: AMOS PREFERS A CAREFUL COMMANDER]

I had been thinking over my talk with Captain Stark, and said:--

"I know what Rogers is about to do. We are going right up into Canada to the St. Lawrence River, to attack the St. Francis Indians who made Captain Kennedy and his men prisoners."

As I said this, Edmund laughed, and I knew that I had hit it.

"By the g-great Horn Spoon! That b-beats anything that Weaver David ever dreamed of. Is that it, Edmund?"

"I can't tell you where we are going, but don't say a word of what you suspect; for if any of our party were caught and knew where we were going, it would be sure death for the rest of us; so just hold your mouth and don't talk."

CHAPTER XVII

MARCH TO THE VILLAGE--THE RETREAT

We landed at Missisquoi Bay and pulled our boats up into the woods. Near them we hid the provisions for our return. We distributed the rest of the food among us, put it on our backs in sacks, and started off to the northeast.

We left behind us a couple of Stockbridge Indians to watch the boats and give us notice if they were discovered. We had only marched two days when these two Indians caught up with us.

"Frenchmen and Indians find boats. Heap big party follow us. Three hundred men."

Rogers said: "Boys, we are out to punish some Indians, and the only course for us is to outmarch the enemy, do our work, and get out of the way."

We plodded along day after day, from daybreak to dark, most of the time through spruce bogs where the water was sometimes ankle-deep, and at times up to our thighs. We were wet all the time, and our shoes began to rot and go to pieces.

[Sidenote: DAMP WALKING]

At night we cut down trees, laid boughs from one tree to another, and slept on them to keep out of the water. Nine days we marched and slept in this manner. It was a terrible strain even to hardy men such as we were, accustomed to forest life.

Amos said: "We're just like a procession of cold, miserable frogs, h-hopping along through the water. This is the biggest fool trip I ever heard of."

"Think of the glory, Amos, of going into the heart of the enemy's country and punishing these Indians."

"Glory be h-hanged! I wish I was with Davy, hunting foxes and listening to his big stories of what he did do, or would have done if something hadn't happened."

"But when you get back, Amos, you can crush him by telling of this trip."

"Yes, when I g-get back. When I get back! I should rather be b-back without the story. L-Looks to me as if Davy's chance of hearing it is rather slim."

On the tenth day after we left Missisquoi Bay we reached a river.

Rogers said: "Boys, this is the St. Francis River. You have of course guessed by this time that we are going to punish the St. Francis Indians for making Captain Kennedy and his companions prisoners when they went to them with a flag of truce. I did not tell you before, because it was not safe to do so. If any of you had been waylaid, it was better he should not know where the party was going, for the Indians would torture him to make him tell all he knew, and then the French and Indians would be warned. Now they can only guess where we are to strike. The village of St. Francis is on the St. Lawrence River, at the mouth of this river, and on the further side. It is some fifteen miles from here. We shall attack them in the night. You need have no feelings of pity for them or mercy. They are the tribe who have been hara.s.sing our frontier for the past ninety years. I know that they have killed four or five hundred good New England men, beside the women and children they have slain and carried off. This river has a swift current, and we must put our packs on our shoulders and join arms, with the tallest and strongest up the river, so as to help each other. Come, Martin, and you, Comee, let's see how you can keep your legs to-day."

[Sidenote: CROSSING THE RIVER]

Rogers put me near the head of the line, as I was considered a strong man. We went into the water with arms locked, and struggled against the current. Though the river was over four feet deep, we got across with few accidents.

Several men were swept off their feet, and some guns were lost, but we arrived safely at the further sh.o.r.e.

We made a small raft, put our powder-horns on it, and pulled it to and fro across the stream till all were carried over.

Scouts were sent ahead, and flanking parties were thrown out. We advanced cautiously in three files. I did not like this kind of an expedition, and said so to Martin, who was next to me.

"I can't bear this sneaking up on the Indians, and jumping on them in the dead of night when they are sound asleep. I like a good square fight of give and take."

"Don't be a fool, Ben. Those Indians have killed and scalped two of your family. If you had lived on the frontier all your life as I have, you would be glad to pay them back in their own coin, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, scalp for scalp. I have had so many friends killed by them, good quiet people, who never harmed any one. Almost every year, and sometimes several times a year, I have gone with others to help drive these devils away from some fort or town. And the sights that I have seen make me hate the redskins worse than poison. And, Ben, you know enough of them yourself. How many Rangers have been tormented by them and scalped?

Remember John McKeen! How he was stripped and tied to a tree; then the red devils danced around him, howled at him, taunted him, and threw their knives at him till he was full of holes from head to foot. Have you forgotten what they did then? Put a pine splinter in every wound he had, set them on fire and made a living torch of him."