With Sully into the Sioux Land Part 7

They heard the shuffle of feet on the sanded tar roof overhead, the creak of falls and tackles, and in a moment the boat, its long oars manned by six stalwart deck hands and carrying, besides, a steersman at the stern and a leadsman with a sounding pole at the bow, pulled around the side of the steamer and out into the shoal water ahead. Meanwhile, the long line of steamers behind them also came to a stop.

"How much water must there be for us to get through?" asked Al.

"We are drawing three and a half feet," answered Captain Feilner, "and we ought to have four feet to go on, but we can do it on three and a half by sparring or warping. Have you never seen those things done?

Well, you will probably have a chance in a few minutes,--and plenty more before we are through with this trip. Some of the other steamers do not draw quite as much as we do but none of them seem to be going to try to pa.s.s us."

The yawl gradually worked its way diagonally across and down the river, following the crest of the bar, until it had approached quite near to the north bank, the leadsman constantly thrusting his pole down to the river bottom. Then the boat suddenly turned around and came rapidly back to the _Island City_.

"There's three and a half, large, over there," said the pilot who had acted as leadsman as he came aboard, speaking to Captain Lamont. "We can go over but you'll likely have to set spars."

He ascended to the pilot-house and jerked the whistle rope. A warning bellow roared out over the river, re-echoing from the forest-clad bluffs on either side. One by one the steamboats behind them took up the refrain, until the noise resembled that of a manufacturing city at the noon hour.

"What on earth is all that whistling for?" asked Al. "Are they trying to scare the bar out of the river?"

"No," laughed Captain Feilner. "That is a signal that we are going to back up. There isn't room to turn in this channel and all the others must back up, too, so that we won't run into each other."

The fleet backed for a half mile, then the _Island City_ reversed her wheel and started up again, running this time, however, close in by the north sh.o.r.e. As she went ahead the strokes of her pistons became more and more rapid until, as she approached the crossing, she was going at a great speed for a steamboat.

"He's going to try to belt her through," exclaimed Lieutenant Dale, coming up at this moment. "We'll get a jolt. I hope nothing breaks."

Hardly had he finished speaking when there came a loud grating sound from the bow as the boat's flat bottom began to sc.r.a.pe over the sand.

Her timbers quivered and groaned, her speed diminished so quickly that those who were standing on her decks were nearly thrown down, and then, after sc.r.a.ping along for a few feet slowly and painfully she came to a full stop. For a moment the stern wheel continued to churn the water into white foam; then the pilot, with an impatient gesture, jerked the wire to the stopping-bell down in the engine room, and the ponderous wheel came to a halt.

"No use," he cried to Captain Lamont, leaning out of the pilot-house window. "She's nearly over but you'll have to set the spars!"

There was a great shouting and commotion on the lower deck as the spars, two long, heavy timbers like telegraph poles, one on each side of the bow, were swung out and erected in position, their lower extremities resting on the river bottom, the upper, fitted with tackle blocks, rising high above the level of the boat's top deck. Through the tackle blocks ran heavy cables fastened at one end to the boat's gunwale and at the other to the steam capstan. When the spars had been set, the capstan began to revolve, winding up the cable and thus hoisting the bow of the boat until it hung suspended on the spars. At the same time the wheel was slowly revolved, forcing the boat ahead until the spars had tilted forward so far as to let the bow down again into the sand. Then they were dragged forward and set upright once more, and the process was repeated. Before a great while the crest of the bar was pa.s.sed, and the _Island City_ floated on into deeper water and continued her journey.

But though it had not been what river men would consider a hard crossing, she had lost nearly six hours in sounding and sparring, and it was noon by the time she had left the Gasconade out of sight behind her.

The vessels following her each forced its way across the bar in the same manner as she had done, excepting the _Chippewa Falls_ and the _Alone_, boats of smaller dimensions and lighter draft, which were able to slip over without sparring. By the time the last one had pa.s.sed the Gasconade, it was evening again, and the fleet was strung out for miles up the river. The _Island City_ anch.o.r.ed out for the night to a bar just below Kate Howard Chute, so called for a beautiful packet of that name which had sunk there in 1859. The point was only thirty miles above the Gasconade, so that twenty-four hours had been consumed in covering that insignificant distance. The _Island City_ was towing a large barge, intended for use when they should reach the Indian country, but it was very much in the way and r.e.t.a.r.ded her progress considerably.

That evening Al asked Captain Lamont how far it was from St. Louis to the mouth of Cannonball River, Dakota, where it was expected that the actual campaign against the Indians would begin, and was told that it was about fourteen hundred miles. He did some figuring and found that if they continued to progress at the same rate as they had done that day it would be more than six weeks, or past the middle of June, before they would reach their destination. It seemed an astonishingly long time to him but, as the event proved, he had considerably overestimated the average speed which the fleet could maintain. For days they continued travelling through the State of Missouri, contending with sandbars and head winds. The interior of the State was in a deplorable condition as a result of the war. Guerillas were overrunning it everywhere, and the boats rarely landed at a town without hearing either that some of the marauders had just left on the approach of the fleet or that they had been raiding there a day or two before. General Sully's vessels were so numerous and well armed that the guerillas did not dare attack them. All Missouri River boats at that time were more or less fortified around the pilot-house with timber or boiler-iron bulwarks, to protect the pilots from the bullets of guerillas on the lower river and from those of Indians in the upper country, while the piles of cordwood on the main deck afforded some protection to the men there. Yet the fleet seldom pa.s.sed a downward-bound boat which had not been fired into or boarded, and fortunate was the vessel which had escaped without the loss of one or more people on board killed or wounded.

There were plenty of men in the expedition who would have been glad to encourage such attacks had they been made, for, as was always the case among the cla.s.s of men who worked as laborers on the steamboats, there were many hardened and even desperate characters in the crews of Sully's vessels. Not a few of them were deserters from the Confederate army, tired of fighting but still rebels at heart; and others were Southern sympathizers, fleeing from the draft in the Northern States. Most of these men hoped, when they should draw near to Montana, to find opportunities for slipping away from the expedition and making their way to the gold fields which were just being opened in the placer deposits around Bannack, Last Chance Gulch, Alder Gulch and other places, and which were attracting a wild rush of adventurers from all over the country. Such men were naturally hard to handle and it took steamboat officers of firmness and courage to keep them in control.

Since the beginning of the voyage Al had not had much occasion to mingle with the crew of the _Island City_. The cargo of the steamboat consisted chiefly of corn for the use of the cavalry horses in the Indian country and, once it was on board, required little attention. He therefore seldom had any reason for going to the lower deck except to while away the time, which, indeed, was the princ.i.p.al occupation of the army officers on board. As might naturally be supposed, he was usually with some of them. But one day he was standing on the main deck near the boilers when one of the deck hands, a young fellow a few years older than himself, came by carrying a couple of heavy sticks of cordwood to the furnaces. Al had once or twice in the past noticed this fellow staring at him in a disagreeable way and felt instinctively that it must be because the deck hand was envious of the apparently easy and pleasant time which he was having. Al's back was turned toward him and neither saw the other until one of the sticks collided heavily with Al's shoulder, almost throwing him down. Al turned and though bruised, was on the point of apologizing for being in the way, when the fellow, an ugly, red flush overspreading his face, shouted, with a plentiful sprinkling of oaths between his words,

"Get out of my road, you little Yankee snipe! What are you loafing around here for, anyhow?"

"I'm sorry I got in your way," replied Al, controlling his temper, "but I didn't see you."

"Well, you'd better stay upstairs with your blue-bellied Yankee officers. They oughtn't to let their little pet run around this way."

Hearing loud words, several other deck hands gathered round, grinning at the excitement, their sympathies evidently with their companion.

"As for my being down here," Al answered, feeling that it would not do to let such language pa.s.s unnoticed, especially before the other men, "I have as much business here as you have. As for being a Yankee, I suppose everybody on a United States ship is a Yankee. If they're not, they'd better go ash.o.r.e."

"It would take a mighty big lot of such spindle-legged doll babies as you to put me ash.o.r.e," shouted the young ruffian, flinging down his wood and advancing on Al with clenched fists. "Down South we don't use anything but boats we've kicked the Yankees off of."

Several of the other deck hands crowded closer, exclaiming,

"Aw, let the kid alone, Jimmy. He ain't done nothin' to you."

"Look out, Jimmy; you'll get in trouble, talkin' that way."

"So you're a rebel deserter, are you?" asked Al, his eyes flashing. "I thought so. If you're so much attached to them, why didn't you stay down there and take some more Yankee boats?"

The fellow, quite beside himself with rage, did not wait to reply but sprang at Al like a bull-dog. Al knew little about boxing, but he was quick. As his a.s.sailant rushed at him, he jumped forward and planted one fist with all his strength on the point of the fellow's chin. The rowdy's feet flew from under him and he fell to the deck with a heavy thud, completely dazed for a moment. Then he scrambled to his feet with a string of imprecations pouring from his lips, and jerking an ugly, broad-bladed knife from a sheath on his belt, again leaped at Al. Seeing his intention, his companions rushed forward to stop him, but Al had s.n.a.t.c.hed up a stoking iron from the floor beside him and swung it back over his shoulder. His face was pale, but not with fright, and as his a.s.sailant looked into his steady eyes something in them caused him suddenly to lower his knife and hesitate.

"Come one step nearer and I'll brain you," said Al, his voice very low and quiet. "You miserable, cowardly bully, attacking a fellow who is unarmed and who has done nothing to you. Now, if you want to stay on this boat you've got to quit that kind of talk about Yankees or I'll see that you are put off. It's very plain you are a rebel and you've no business getting your living under the protection of the Union as long as you feel that way. Next time you want to try anything with me I shall be ready for you, and I warn you, you won't get off so easily again."

He threw down the stoking iron and, turning his back on the crest-fallen rowdy, deliberately walked away, followed by e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns from the group of onlookers such as,

"Bully boy!" "Served him right." "You're all right, kid!"

Later in the day he mentioned the occurrence to Lieutenant Dale and Captain Feilner, who promptly wished to have the deck hand put ash.o.r.e.

"Not on my account, unless he does some more secesh talking," said Al.

"I can take care of myself with him. Besides, it may be a good lesson for him and teach him to be decent after this."

The fellow, as it turned out, had been pretty thoroughly beaten and he made no more trouble for Al during the voyage, though he always gave him an ugly look when they chanced to meet.

Lieutenant Dale decided from the incident that Al ought to learn the art of boxing, in which he himself was quite expert, having learned it in college. So thereafter they spent an hour or so every day in sparring.

By the time the voyage was over, Al had become as skilful as his instructor, and General Sully, Captain Feilner and the other officers often gathered to watch their bouts and to encourage them to greater efforts.

At Glasgow, his old home, Al had an opportunity to go ash.o.r.e for a short time and he was astonished and grieved to note the changes which three short years had wrought in the familiar old town. The levee was deserted save by a few indolent loafers who, without recognizing him, stared at him suspiciously as he went past; for in that terror-haunted country, fear and suspicion of everybody and everything had become the habit of the people. Climbing the hill to the main part of town, he found gra.s.s growing in the once bustling business streets and many buildings locked and vacant. His father's old store was among them, closed as he had left it. He saw no familiar faces; most of the men and boys he had known were off in one of the armies, Confederate or Union, and the women were not often venturing from their houses in such times. In the residence section the scene was still worse. House after house stood deserted and going to decay. With slow steps Al went on to the place which had been the home of his family in the dear old days when they were happy and prosperous. The gate was fallen from the hinges, weeds were growing thickly over the gravel walks, several panes of gla.s.s were broken out of the windows, and a loose shutter creaked dolefully in the wind. He rested his hand on a weather-beaten fence picket and gazed out into the garden he remembered so well, where he and Tommy and Annie had played; and beyond that into the orchard, where the summer apples used to grow so large and red and juicy. The cords of his throat tightened and a mist swam before his eyes. Weeds and gra.s.s and broken limbs strewed the ground; silence and desolation were everywhere. He turned away abruptly and hastened back to the levee, never stopping until he was once more on the boiler deck of the _Island City_, where General Sully and several other officers were smoking and playing cards. It seemed to him as if a ghost were following him, the ghost of dead days, so tenderly remembered that the thought of them was unendurable, and for the time being he wanted only to plunge into the present and forget.

CHAPTER VIII

PRAIRIE MARCHING

It would take a volume to recount all the interesting experiences which befell Al and his companions on the long trip to Fort Sully, Dakota, where the greater part of General Sully's troops had wintered; but, as they contributed nothing of moment to the narrative which we are following, they must be pa.s.sed by. The fleet reached Kansas City, then a small but rapidly growing frontier town, nearly three weeks after leaving St. Louis, a journey which is now accomplished by rail in seven or eight hours. At Omaha the _Island City_ left the barge which had been dragging at her stern all the way from St. Louis, as it was such an impediment that she could no longer handle it in the extremely low stage of the water. On May 30 the fleet reached Sioux City, where some troops were taken on board, as were still more at Fort Randall, twelve days later. About June 20 they arrived at Fort Sully and here the long steamboat journey came to an end so far as the General and his staff were concerned, as here they left the boat to march with the column of troops up the eastern side of the Missouri. Though he expected to see them frequently again during the Summer, Al regretted leaving the officers and pilots of the _Island City_, especially Captain Lamont, to whom he had become quite attached. After his encounter with the deck hand, Jim, the Captain had shown a liking for him and during many idle hours had done much toward initiating him into the fascinating mysteries of steamboating. The fleet itself was going on up the river with the cargoes, keeping as nearly as possible abreast of the column.

It was a great relief to be on sh.o.r.e again and able to ride a galloping horse and to move about freely, after the long confinement to the narrow limits of the boat. For two or three days after the arrival of the fleet, Fort Sully presented a very animated appearance. Here were a.s.sembled about half of the troops which were to make up the expedition into the hostile country: the Sixth Iowa Cavalry under Colonel Pollock; three companies of the Seventh Iowa Cavalry under Lieutenant-Colonel Pattee; Brackett's Battalion of Minnesota Cavalry under Major Brackett, which had marched overland from Fort Snelling to Sioux City and thence to Fort Sully; and two companies of Dakota Cavalry under Captain Miner.

All these soldiers, over one thousand in number, const.i.tuting the First Brigade of General Sully's army, were quartered in the barracks of the fort or encamped close around the stockade. The buildings of the fort, which were similar to most of those built on the Northwestern frontier, were of large, unhewn cottonwood logs; and the stockade, about two hundred and seventy feet square, was made of cedar pickets rising twelve feet above the ground, loop-holed for musketry and flanked by two bastions, one on the northeastern and one on the southwestern corner, containing cannon to sweep the faces of the stockade. It had been built by General Sully's troops, many of whom were still there, at the close of the campaign in 1863. A short distance out from the fort were several hundred lodges of Indians, recently hostile, but who, wearying of the struggle, had come in to tender their submission to General Sully. Al, through interpreters, made eager inquiry among them for news of Tommy, but could learn nothing. The Indians, who were of several different tribes of the Sioux Nation: Yanktonais, Brules, Two Kettles, Minneconjoux, Sans Arcs, Uncpapas, and also Blackfeet, reported that the hostiles were gathered in one immense camp of some eighteen hundred lodges, or about six thousand warriors, three days' march west of the Missouri on the headwaters of Heart River, and that they were eager for a fight.

After a few days spent at the fort in organizing and refitting the troops, shoeing the horses and mules, repairing harness, and loading supplies for immediate use into the train of nearly one hundred wagons which was to accompany the column, the latter moved out on its northward march on the twenty-third of June.

Now began days which were full of novel experiences for Al. Though he had to spend a good deal of time with the wagon train, aiding Lieutenant Bacon, the acting a.s.sistant quartermaster, in issuing and caring for the supplies, he found many hours each day to ride at the head of the column with the General and his staff, who usually marched there. The weather was generally warm, and the vast, seemingly boundless prairie was parched with drought. The new gra.s.s was spa.r.s.e and dry and hidden under the dead, brown bunches of last year's blue joint and buffalo gra.s.s, so that the troops and wagon train usually marched in a cloud of dust which, rising from the feet of the hundreds of trampling animals, was visible for many miles through the clear air of that high plateau country. They knew that Indian scouts were all about them, closely observing their progress, but the red men seldom showed themselves, and one unfamiliar with their ways might easily have believed that there were no enemies near. Game, such as buffalo and antelope, could often be seen in the distance and it was a sore temptation to many of the men to see them and not give pursuit. Indeed, sometimes a party would sally out after a buffalo; but unless the party was strong, it was always against the advice of the old campaigners, especially the officers and men of the Dakota Cavalry, who had been hunting and fighting Indians all over the southern part of their vast territory ever since the Summer of 1862.

These men, recruited among the fearless and adventurous pioneers who had first settled in Dakota a few years before, had been dubbed "the Coyotes" by their companions in arms because of the speed and skill with which they could march and manoeuvre against their wily foes; and it was from them that South Dakota in later years derived its familiar nickname, "the Coyote State."

General Sully had such confidence in the Coyotes that he treated them in some degree as his headquarters escort. Their place on the march was usually near him, and if any piece of work was to be done of an especially important or daring character, he generally called upon the Coyotes to perform it. Lieutenant Bacon, whom General Sully had appointed acting a.s.sistant quartermaster, was an officer of the Dakota Cavalry; and as his a.s.sistant Al soon found himself on terms of easy familiarity with the entire gallant command. This was especially true after he had one day dashed out with a party of them after a small herd of buffalo which came in view as they topped a rise, a little more than a mile in advance. A dozen of the Dakota cavalrymen put spurs to their horses and galloped after the enticing game, and Al and Captain Feilner joined them.

Al's horse was a st.u.r.dy animal, smaller than Captain Feilner's but long-winded. When they had ridden two or three miles, gradually gaining on their game, the herd suddenly divided at a dry slough bed in the prairie, part keeping on north and part turning east. Most of the cavalrymen turned to follow the buffalo which had swung east, but two or three, with Captain Feilner and Al, galloped on after the others. One of the troopers, a tall, slim young fellow wearing the chevrons of a corporal, who rode his long-legged black horse like an Indian, gradually drew ahead of the rest as they came nearer and nearer to the game, until finally he brought himself abreast of the herd. Handling his horse with the greatest skill, he worked in alongside of the largest buffalo bull.

Then, drawing his short Sharp's carbine, he leaned over, brought the muzzle near to the animal's fore shoulder and fired. The buffalo ran on for thirty or forty feet, then stumbled, fell, rose again and, after staggering a short distance, fell once more and for the last time. The corporal, calmly slipping his carbine back into its boot, rode up to the dead buffalo and began cutting away the choicest portions of it to carry back to the command.