 CHAPTER 17 The Scouts' Story Luckily enough there was a canoe lying close at our feet. Shove it out, Jack, says I, and then keep along the bank. We gave it a shove with all our strength and sent it dancing out into the river. Then we dived in and swum down close under the bank. There was bushes growing all along, and we came up each time under them. The redskins was some little distance behind us as we reached the river, and in course thought we had thrown ourselves flat in the canoe. In a minute or two they got another and paddled off to it. And we soon heard the shout, they raised, when they found it was empty. By this time we was a hundred yards below the spot, where we had taken to the water, and knowing as they would be off along the bank, and would find us in no time. We scrambled straight up and made for the trees. We was within fifty yards of the edge of the forest, and none of the redskins was near us, as the whole body had clustered down at the spot where we had jumped in. We hadn't fairly set foot on the bank of four they saw us, and with a whoop which sometimes wakes me even now in my sleep, and makes me sit up with a sweat on my forehead. They started. I could run faster than I can now, and you may guess I went my best. We plunged into the trees and went as hard as we could foot it, the redskins being fifty or sixty yards behind. Our hope was to find a place with the thickest underwood. It was darker a deal under the trees than in the clearing, still it was not dark enough to hide us from red-skinned eyes. We run straight, for we knew they could see us. And utter about four hundred yards, we come upon a place where the undergrowth grew thick, where we began to dodge them. Turning now, one way and now another, keeping always low in the bushes. They had lost us by sight now, but there were so many of them that we pretty nay despaired of getting through. Some of them had tried to follow us, but the best part had run straight on for a bit, and then went sure they had headed us, scattered right and left, so that they were ahead of us now as well as on our traces. And we could hear them shouting all around us, so we did the only thing there was to be done, and made the best of our way, back to the clearing, keeping low and taking good care not to cross any patch where the moonlight through the trees fell on the ground. It were lucky for us that it was a camp of braves. Had it been an ordinary red-skinned encampment there would have been squaws and boys and what still dogs who would have seen us the moment we got back. But being all braves on the warpath, the whole gang had started arder us, and not a soul had remained in the clearing. We did not rest there long. You may be sure, but made straight down the water. There we picked out a canoe, crossed the river, and got into the shade of the trees the other side. Then we kept along, down it till we got close to the fort of Detroit. We could see a good many smoldering fires out for it, and guess that a strong body of red-skins pretending to be friends had a camp there. We made round them and reached the gate of the fort safe. The sentries wouldn't let us in, but when a surgeon was fetched it turned out, as he knew us, seeing that we had been scouting out from thar in the summer. Pretty thankful he was when the gate closed arder us. Our news would keep, so we waited till morning, before we saw the major, and then told him the whole history of the matter, and how Pontiac had raised all the tribes east of the Mississippi against us. We found that Pontiac has been into the camp with fifty of his warriors three days of war, professing great friendship, and had said that in two or three days he would call again and pay a formal visit. Detroit then was but a trading post, defended by a stockade twenty feet high and twelve hundred yards in circumference, about fifty houses of traders and storekeepers stood within it. The garrison was composed of one hundred twenty men of the eighteenth regiment and eight officers. They had three guns, two six-pounders, and three powder, and three mortars, but their carriages was so old and rotten that they was of no real service. Two vessels mounting some small guns lay in the river off the fort. The governor was a good soldier, but he was naturally started at hearing that there was something like a thousand redskins in the woods round, but he said that now he had warning he was not afraid of them. A messenger was set off in a canoe to carry the tidings east and to ask for reinforcements, and the traders was all told to get their arms ready. At eight o'clock in the morning Pontiac was seen a coming with three hundred warriors. There had been no declaration of war, and the redskins was supposed to be friendly. So the major didn't like to be the first to commence hostilities, as folks who knew nothing of it might likely enough have raised an outcry about massacring the poor engines. How soon ever he called all the troops under arms and disposed them behind the houses. The traders, too, with their rifles, were drawn up ready. The gates was opened when Pontiac arrived, and he and his warriors entered. They had left their rifles behind them, as they pretended that their mission was a peaceful one, but they had all got their tomahawks and knives under the blankets. They advanced in a body toward where Major Gladwin and his officers were standing in front of his quarters. Jack and me and two or three scouts who happened to be in the fort stood just behind, careless like with our rifles, so that in any case, of any sudden attack, we could keep them back for a moment or two. I noticed that Pontiac carried in his hand a wampum belt. I noticed it because it was green on one side and white on the other, and it turned out afterward that when he twisted that belt with two hands it was to be the signal for an attack. Pontiac spoke soft for a time. He was a fine red skin that can't be denied. He was a kataba by birth, but had been adopted into the tribe of Ottawa's, and had risen to be their chief. He were a great brave and one of the best speakers I ever heard. He was a wise chief, as you may guess, by the way, he got all the tribes to lay aside their private quarrels and make common cause against us. I watched him close. He kept his eyes on the major and spoke as cool and as calm as if he had nothing on his mind, but I could see the warrior glancing about, wondering no doubt what had become of the soldiers. Presently the chief changed his tone and began to pretend as he was in a rage at some grievance or another. The major jest put his whistle to his lips, and in a moment from behind the houses the soldiers and traitors marched out rifle in hand. You never saw a more disgusted crew than the redskins. I'll do Pontiac justice to say that he never so much as moved, but just went on talking as if he hadn't noticed the troops at all. The major answered him in the same way, and after half an hour's talk the redskins went out again, without so much as a knife having been shown. Major Gladwin gave Jack and me papers testifying as how we had saved Detroit from destruction, and sent an account of it to Governor Amherst, and to this day Jack and me draw special pensions for that air business, besides what we earned as British scouts. That was an adventure, Peter, Harold said. They did not take Detroit after all, did they? No, we beat them, off-handsome, when they tried it. Then they laid siege to Fort Pitt, and tried very hard there, too, but the place held out till some troops who had come up marched out from here, and raised the siege. At some of the little places they succeeded, lots of settlers was massacred. At Fort Sandiskey, Edson Pauley, and the Garrison was massacred by a party of Hurons and Ottawa's, who come in as friends. This was on the same day as they had intended to do for us at Detroit. At St. Joseph's, an English ensign with fourteen soldiers was killed by the Pottawomenes, but nowhere did Pontiac obtain any real successes. The French in Illinois were preparing to leave, and he couldn't get no assistance from them. After the siege of Fort Pitt was razed peace was patched up again. Pontiac's Confederacy, finding as they hadn't got none of the successes he promised them, was beginning to break up, and the English saw no chance of doing any good by hunting the Red Skins among the forests, so both parties was willing for peace. Pontiac never gave any more trouble, and some years are to word coming into one of the towns he was killed by an Injun, who had a private grudge hanging in him. And now I'm longing for a quiet pipe, and you'd better turn in, there's no saying whether we'll have a quiet night of it. A fortnight passed without further incident. Then the sky became overcast, and Peter and the Indians agreed that snow would soon fall. All hands were at once, set to work, to make up their stores into packages. The deer skins and blankets were tied in bundles, besides these. There were only two kegs of powder, and about two hundred pounds of frozen fish. Harold was in high glee, at the thought that their imprisonment was to come to an end. Although there was no doubt that the attempt would be a hazardous one, as the backwardsmen were sure that the instant the snow began to fall, the Indians would be out in great numbers round the island, to prevent the defenders taking advantage of the storm. Several times Harold observed the two backwardsmen talking to the Seneca chief, and looking at the sky, as he thought that their continences expressed some anxiety. What is it, Peter? He asked at length. Don't you think we shall have a snowstorm? We may have now, Peter said, but I think it's more than a snowstorm that's coming. The clouds are flying past, very fast, and it seems to me, as if we're in for a big gale of wind. But thou wilt drift to snow, and cover our footsteps almost as well as a snowstorm, Harold said. Yes, they'll do all that, the scow answered. What's the object into it, Peter? In the first place, lad, if it don't snow, we may stop, where we are, for there'd be no chance of getting through the Injuns unless it snowed so thick you couldn't see five feet away. It'll be difficult enough, anyhow. There'll be four or five hundred of the varmints out, for they'll bring even their boys with them, so as to form a pretty close line round the island, our only chance will be for the Seneca's to go first, and to silence a four they can give the alarm, any they might meet in our line. That might be done in a heavy snowstorm. But without snow, it would be impossible. In the nice place, even if we got through them, we'd have to carry our canoe. Why, Harold asked, surprised, what good could the canoe be to us, with the lake frozen hard? You see, the wind is on the shore here, lad, and when it does blow on these lakes, it blows fit to take the har off your head. It's as much as a man, due to make way aging it. And I doubt whether the gals should face it, even with our help. As to carrying a canoe in its teeth, it couldn't be done. But why carry the canoe at all, Peter? That's what I cannot understand. While you see, lad, the force of the wind, acting on such a big sheet of ice, will move it. And like enough, you'd see it piled up in a bank, 40 feet high, on this side of the lake. And there will be a strip of clear water, half a mile, wide on the other. That's why we must take the canoe. Harold was silent. In the face of such a probability, it was clear that they must encumber themselves with the canoe. The provision of the scout proved well founded. Before evening, the wind was blowing with tremendous force, small flicks snow were driven before it, inflicting stringing blows on the face and eyes of those who ventured out of the shelter. As it became dark, the lookout announced that he could see large numbers of Indians starting from the shore at some distance to the right and left of them, showing that the Redskins were fully alive to the possibility of garrison of the island taking advantage of the storm. Which would hide their trail to affect their escape. Every hour the fury of the gale increased, and it was unanimously agreed that until it diminished it would be impossible for the girls, and for men carrying a canoe to face it. Two men were placed on watch at the mouth of the cove, where minds similar to the first had been sunk in the ice in a semi-circle some little distance outside that before exploded. This precaution had been taken on the day succeeding the great repulse of the enemy, although the scouts felt assured that the attempt would not be repeated, but it was thought possible that the Indians might award mourning. If they found the whites did not attempt to pass them, take advantage of the storm to attempt a surprise. After it became dark, Cameron and Harold, as was their custom, went into the girls' hut to chat until it was time to turn in. The deerskin and blanket said again that Ben unrolled, and the covering of snow kept the inferior warm in spite of the storm without. What is that noise? Nellie asked in a pause of the conversation. I don't know, Harold answered. I have heard it for some time. All were silent, intent upon listening. Even above the fury of the gale, a dull grinding sound, with occasional crashes, could be heard. I think it must be ice, Harold said. I will go out and see. On issuing from the hut he was, for a time, blinded by the force of the wind and the flying particles of snow. The din was tremendous. He made his way with difficulty in the teeth of the storm to the edge of the rocks. Then he started in surprise. A great bank of cakes and fragments of ice was heaped up against the wall of the rock, crashing and grinding against each other as they were pressed onward by fresh additions from beyond. Already the bank was nearly level with the top of the rock, and some of the vast blocks, two feet in thickness, had been thrust onto it. The surface of the lake beyond was no longer a brilliant white. Every particle of snow had been swept away, and the dull gray of the rough ice lay unbroken. He made his way at once to the hut of the men, and just as he reached the entrance, Peter, who had also been out to the Reconyter, came up. And before Harold had turned to speak, he put his head into the hut. Turn out, he said, I tell you we're in fix. This ain't no common gale. I don't know as ever as I've been in a worse one. What's the use of turning out, pierced, and asked? We can't do nothing, and it's warmer here a site than it is outside. I tell you, you've got to go. The ice is breaking up fast, and it's level with the top of the island already, unless, if I'm mistaken, there'll be a forty foot of ice piled under this island for an hour. This was indeed alarming news, and in a minute the occupants of the hut were all in the open air. You can call in your scouts, Seneca. There ain't no fear of an attack tonight. No mortal soul, not even an engine, could stand in the force of the wind out on the lake. A very short examination's sufficient to show the truth of Peter's anticipations. Already, the upper part of the bank was sliding over the rock, and it was clear that in a very short time the whole world would be covered. What is to be done, Peter? Harold shouted. We must take to the canoe. There's clear water on the other side. Harold crossed the island and saw that what Peter said was correct. A broad strip of black water stretched away in the darkness toward the shore. The whole ice sheet was moving bodily before the wind, and as the island stood up in its course the ice was to windward of it was forced up over it. While under its lee the lake was clear, not a moment was lost. The canoe was got out, carried over the rocks, and carefully lowered into the water under shelter of the island. All the stores and provisions were lowered into it. A deerskin was spread on the bottom, and the girls, having been helped down into the boat, were told to lie down, and were then covered with blankets. The men wrapped themselves up in skins and blankets, and took their places with the canoe. The four Indians taken paddles. Quickly as the preparations had been made, there were but a few feet of the island uncovered by the ice, as the last man descended into the boat and they pushed off, and, after a couple of strokes, lay with the boat's head facing toward the island at a distance of fifty yards from it. Although somewhat sheltered from the wind, the Indians were obliged to paddle hard to maintain their position. Harold wondered at first that they had not kept closer to the island, but he soon understood their reason for keeping at a distance. The massive block of ice pressed forward by the irresistible force behind, began to shoot from the top of the island into the water, gliding far on beneath the surface with the impetus of the fall, and then shooting up again with a force which would have destroyed the canoe at once had they touched it. Soon a perfect cataract of ice was falling. Peter and Pearson took their places on each side of the canoe, with poles to push off the pieces as they drifted before the gale toward the shore. The work required the utmost strength and care. One touch from the sharp edge blocks would have ripped open the side of the bar canoe like a knife, and in the icy cold water, encumbered by floating fragments of ice, even the best swimmer could not have gained the solid ice. The peril was great, and it needed all the strength and activity of the white men and the skill of the paddlers to avoid the danger which momentarily threatened them. So quickly did the blocks float down upon them that Pearson thought it might be impossible to avoid them all. The skins, therefore, were hung round the boat, dropping some inches into the water, and these, although they could not have prevented the boat from being stovened by the larger fragments, yet protected its side from the contact of the smaller ones. For upward of an hour the struggle continued, and Harold felt something like despair, and at the thought of a long night past in such a struggle presently sounds like the booming of cannon were heard above the gale. What is that, he shouted to Seneca chief, next to whom he was sitting. Ice break up, the chief replied, break up altogether. This proved to be the case. As the ice was driven away from the further side of the lake, the full force of the wind played upon the water there, and as the streak widened, a heavy sea soon got up, the force of the swell extended under the ice, aiding the effect of the wind above, and the vast sheet began to break up. The reports redoubled in strength, and frequently the ice was seen to heave and swell. Then with the sound like thunder it broke, and great cakes were forced one on top of the other, and soon instead of a level plane of ice, a chaos of blocks were tossing about on the waves. Harold watched the charge with anxiety. No longer was the channel on either side marked by regular defined lines, but floating pieces encroached upon it, and looking toward the shore the channel appeared to be altogether lost. The danger was overwhelming, but the Indians, paddling with increased strength, urged the boat forward, until within a few yards of the island. A few minutes before such an approach would have assured the immediate destruction of the boat, but Harold saw with surprise that almost simultaneously with the breaking up of the ice sheet, the fall of blocks from the island had seized. A moment of reflection showed him the reason of his phenomenon. With the break up of ice, held the pressure from behind had suddenly seized. No longer were the blocks piled on the island pushed forward by the tremendous pressure of the ice field, the torrent was staid, and they could approach the island with safety. As soon as they were assured that this was so the canoe was brought close to the rocks, Pearson leaped ashore, climbed the rocks, and the ice piled twenty feet above them, and with this pole convinced himself that at this point there were no loose blocks like late a fall. Having satisfied himself on this head, he descended again and took his place in the boat. This was moored by a rope a few feet long to a bush. Growing from a fissure in the rock close to the water's edge, he and Peter remained on watch with their poles to fend off any pieces of ice which might be brought round by the waves, while the rest of the crew, wrapping themselves up in their blankets, laid down at the bottom of the boat. The next morning the storm still raged, and the lake presented the appearance of an angry sea, sheltered under the lee of the island. The party were protected from its effects. Although the light canoe rose and fell on the heavy swell, the ice had wholly disappeared from the lake, and the pieces having been ground to atoms against each other in the storm. Along the line of shore there was a great bank of ice as high as the tree-chops. The ways of the Lord are wonderful, Duncan Kymard said. The storm which threatened to be our destruction has proved our salvation, when it abates we shall be able to paddle down the lake without fear of interruption. Yes, Peter said, the varmints are not likely to follow us in the first place, unless they thought of taking their canoes into the forest when the storm first began, which ain't likely as they was a thinking only of cutting off our escape. They'd been smashed into tinder. In the second place they couldn't catch us if they had canoes, for as we've ate paddles, counting them, we made out of the seats. Then we was on shore. We'd be able to laugh at them. And lastly they've had such a taste of the equality of our rifles that, even if they had a dozen canoes on hand, I doubt if they'd care to attack us. No, sir, when the storm's over we have nothing to do but paddle down to the settlements at the other end of the lake. Toward the afternoon the storm abated, and next morning the sun was shining brilliantly, and the waves had gone down sufficiently to enable the canoe to start on our voyage. Now, boys, Pearson said cheerfully, if you don't want to get froze up again you best be sharp, for I can tell you about thirty-six hours of this weather, and the lake will be solid again. Five minutes later the canoe with its eight sturdy paddlers started on its way, speeding like an arrow from an ice-covered island, which had done them such good service in their greatest need. Now, Jake, Peter said, the more strength you put into that paddle of you, sooner you'll have a piece of meat between your jaws. The nigh girl grinned, don't talk of him, Massa Peter. Don't say a word about him until I see him. Fishberry good, when there's nothing else to eat, but Jake never want to see him again, he have eaten quite enough for the rest of his life. Cameron, who was not accustomed to the use of the paddle, sat in the stem with the two girls, but the others were all accused to the exercise, and the boat literally bounded along at each stroke from the sinnery arms, and by nightfall they had reached the opposite shore after some hours' work together two of them had rested, and from that time they took it by turns six paddles being kept constantly going. Without any adventure they arrived, safely at the end of the lake, the clearing where Nellie had lived so long, and where her father and mother had been killed, was passed in the night, much to Harold's satisfaction, as he was afraid that he would have been terribly upset at the many sad memories which the sight of the place could not but call up. On their way down they had seen many gaps in the forest, caused by the gale, but it was not until they reached their landing-place that the full effect of its destructive force was visible. Several scows and other boats lay wrecks upon the shore. Every house in the little village was level to the ground, the orchards were ruined, palings and fences torn down, and the whole place strewn with fragments. A few people were moving among the ruins, they gazed with a dull apathy among the newcomers, apparently dazed by the misfortune that had befallen them. Harold learned, on questioning them, that twenty-seven persons had been killed, and the majority of the survivors more or less seriously injured, with the exception of the few who they saw, about all the survivors had been taken off to the town in boats down the river, or in wagons lent by neighbors whose villages sheltered in the woods had escaped the ravages of the gale. After a few hours' halt, having obtained meat and other they proceeded on their way to Detroit. Here Nellie had several friends, who had long believed her to have fallen at the massacre at the farm. By them she was gladly received, and she took up her abode in a family with some daughters of her own age. Harold found that there was a considerable sum of money in the bank, in her father's name, and from this, after a consultation with her, a sum of money sufficient to provide the Seneca and his followers with blankets, powder, and Indian finery for years was drawn and bestowed upon them. A day or two afterward the Indians left for their own country, highly gratified with the success of the expedition, and proud of the numerous scalps which hung from each of their girdles. Harold learned that there was but little fighting going on along the Canadian frontier. The winter had set in again with extreme severity. The St. Lawrence would be frozen, and he would have no means of leaving Canada. He was therefore well content to settle down until the spring at Detroit, where he received numerous and hardy invitations to stay, for any time from the various friends of his cousins. Jake, of course, remained with him. Peter went up to Montreal, where he had some relatives residing. Harold promising to call for him on his way, east in the spring, Pearson after a few days, stay in Detroit, started again with a comrade on a hunting expedition. Cameron and his daughter also spent the winter at Detroit. The months passed very pleasantly to Harold. Since the war began, he had had no period of rest or quiet, and he now entered with zest into the various amusements, slaying and dancing which helped a while will weigh the long winter in America. He also joined in many hunting parties, for in those days came bounded up to the very edge of the clearings. Moose were bonded, and the hunt of these grand deer was full of excitement, except when the snow was on the ground, these animals can defy their pursuers, but the latter with their snowshoes go lightly over the frozen snow, in which those moose sink heavily. There were many discussions as to the future of Nellie. Several of her friends would gladly have adopted her as a member of their family, but Harold warmly urged that she would go to England and take up her abode with his mother, who was her nearest relative, and Nellie, somewhat to the surprise of her friends, finally agreed to this proposal. A purchaser was readily found for the farm, which was an excellent one, and the proceeds of the sale, with the amount of savings in the bank, gave her a little fortune of some twenty-five hundred pounds. When the spring came and the navigation of the lake was open, Harold, Nellie, the Camerons, and Jake started in a ship from Montreal. There they joined by Peter and sailed down to Quebec, where Nellie and the Camerons took passage for England. Very deep was the gratitude which Duncan expressed to the friends who had restored his daughter to him. He had had enough of the colonies and attended to spend the rest of his life among his own people in Scotland. Harold, Peter, and Jake sailed to join the English Army in the south. CHAPTER XVIII. THE SEAGE OF SAVANA After the surrender of General Burgoyne at Saratoga, the English Parliament made another effort to obtain peace and passed an act renouncing all rights to tax the colonists and yielding every point as to which they had been in dispute. Commissioners were sent over with full authority to treat and had the colonists been ready, nominally to submit to England, a virtual independence, similar to that possessed by Canada and the Australian colonies at the present time, would have been granted. As a very large body of the Americans had from the first bin desirous of coming to terms, and as the paralysed state of trade caused great and general distress, it is probable that these terms might have been accepted had it not been for the intervention of France. That power had all along encouraged the rebellion. She had smarted under the loss of Canada, and although her rule in her own colonies was far more arbitrary than that of England and America, she was glad to assist in any movement which could operate to the disadvantage of this country. Neither to, nominally she had remained neutral, but now, fearing that the offers of the English would induce the colonists to make peace, she came forward, recognized their independence and engaged herself to furnish a large fleet for their assistance. The colonists joyfully accepted the offer, seeing that the intervention of France in the struggle would completely alter its conditions. Here, before the British had been enabled to send over men and stores at will, but were they blockaded by a French fleet, their difficulties would be immensely increased. As there had been no cause of quarrel between England and France, this agreement was an act of want and hostility on the part of the latter. On obtaining information of the signature of the treaty between France and the colonies, the English ambassador was recalled from Paris and both countries prepared vigorously for war. The first result was that the English deemed it prudent to evacuate Philadelphia and retreat to New York. Washington endeavored to cut off their retreat, and a battle took place at Freehold Courthouse, in which the Americans were worsted. Washington drew off his army, and the British army continued its march to New York without further opposition. Early in May, the French sent off a fleet of 12 ships of the line and six frigates, carrying a large number of troops commanded by Count de Ston. An English fleet under Admiral Byron was lying at Portsmouth, and this sailed on June 9th in pursuit, for it was not until that time that information was received of the intended destination of the French fleet. De Ston reached the American coast upon the very day on which the English army re-entered New York, and after making a demonstration before that town the French fleet sailed for Rhode Island to expel the British troops under Sir Robert Pickett, who held it. Lord Howe sailed with the fleet from New York to give battle to that of De Ston. For two days the fleets maneuvered inside of each other. Howe, being inferior in force, wished to gain the weather gauge before fighting. Failing to do this, on the third day he offered battle, but a tremendous storm prevented the engagement and dispersed both fleets. The French vessels retired to Boston and the English to New York. Taking advantage of the departure of the French fleet, Sir Robert attacked the American force, which had crossed to Rhode Island to act with the French, and drove them from it. While crossing the Atlantic the fleet under Admiral Byron had met with a tremendous storm, which had entirely dispersed it, and the vessels arrived singly at New York. When their repairs were completed, the whole set out to give battle to the French, but De Ston, finding that by the junction of the two English fleets he was now menaced by a superior force, sailed away to the West Indies. After his departure an expedition was sent down along the coast to Georgia and east Florida. This met with great success. Savannah was captured, and the greater part of South Carolina was occupied, and the majority of the inhabitants joyfully welcomed the troops, and many companies of volunteers were raised. Harold had arrived in New York early in the spring. He had been offered a commission, but he preferred remaining with his two comrades in the position of scout. In this way he had far greater independence, and while enjoying pay and ration sufficient for his maintenance, he was, to a great extent, master of his own movements. At an earlier period of the war he was offered by General Howe a commission in the army, and his father would have been glad had he accepted it. Harold, however, although determined to fight until the struggle between the colonists and the mother country came to an end one way or the other, had no great liking for the life of an officer in the regular army, but had resolved at the conclusion of the war to settle down, upon a farm on the lakes, a life for which he felt far more fitted than for the strict discipline and regularity of that of an officer in the army. As with the exception of the attack by the French fleet and American army upon Rhode Island, both parties remained quiet all through the summer of 1778. The year passed uneventfully to him, and the duties of the scouts were little more than nominal. During the winter fighting went on in the Carolinas and Georgia with varied success. In the spring of 1779, Harold and his comrades were, with a party of scouts, sat down to Georgia, where constant skirmishes were going on, and the services of a body of men accustomed to outpost duty were required. They were landed in May and joined General Prevost Force on the island of St. John, situated close to the mainland and connected with it by a bridge of boats, at the end of which on the mainland a post had been erected. Shortly afterwards General Prevost left for Savannah, taking with him most of the troops, which were carried away in the sloops which had formed the bridge of boats. On the American side General Lincoln commanded a considerable army, which had been dispatched by Congress to drive the English from that state and the Carolinas. Lieutenant Colonel Maitland, who commanded the post on the mainland, was left with only a flatboat to keep up his communication with the island. He had under his command the first battalion of the 71st Highlanders, now much weakened in numbers, part of a Hessian regiment, some provincial volunteers and a detachment of auxiliary, the whole not exceeding 500 effective men. Hearing that General Lincoln was advancing against him, Colonel Maitland said all his sick, baggage, and forces across to the island, and placed the post as far as possible in a defensive position. Most of the scouts who had come down from New York had accompanied General Prevost to Savannah, but Harold, with Peter Lampton, Jake, and three or four others, had been ordered to remain with Colonel Maitland and were sent out to reconnoiter when the enemy were known to be approaching. This is something like our old work, Peter, upon Lake Champlain, Harold said, as with his two comrades he took his way in the direction from which the enemy were advancing. I led, but they've none of the Redskins with them, and there'll be no great difficulty in finding out all about them. Besides, we've got Jake with us, and just about here Jake can do better nor weaken. Niggers swarm all over the country and are as ready to work for one side as the other, just as their masters go. All Jake has got to do is dress himself up as a plantation nigger and stroll into their camp. No question will be asked him, as he will naturally be taken for a slave on some neighboring estate. What do you say, Jake? Jake at once assented, and when they approached the enemy he left his comrades and carried their plan into execution. He was away six hours, and returned saying that the enemy were five thousand strong with eight pieces of artillery. We must hurry back, Peter said. We must hurry back, Peter said. Them are big odds again us. If all our troops were regulars I don't say as they might not hold the place, but I don't put much count on the Germans and the colonists ain't seen no fighting. However Colonel Maitland seems a first-rate officer. They've been real sharp in putting the place into a state of defense, and I reckon if the Yankees thinks as they're going to eat us up without trouble they'll be mistaken. Jake reported that the enemy were on the point of marching forward, and the scouts hurried back to give Colonel Maitland news of their coming. It was late in the afternoon when they reached the post. At what time do you think they will arrive here? the Colonel asked, when Jake made his report. They'd be pretty close by dark for sure, Jake replied. But I don't think, sir, Peter added, they'll attack before morning. They wouldn't be likely to try it in the dark, not knowing the nature of the place. The commander was of the same opinion, but to prevent the possibility of surprise he placed pickets at some distance round the fort, the scouts being, of course, of the party. The night passed quietly, but at seven in the morning, Peter, Harold, and Jake, who were at some distance in advance of the others, saw the enemy approaching. They fired their pieces and fell back upon the outpost. Their position was rather to the right of the line of defense. The pickets were about to fall back when seventy men, being two companies of the seventy-first under Captain Campbell, were sent out to feel the enemy. We're going to have a skirmish, Peter said. I know these Highlanders. Instead of just firing a bit and them falling back, they'll be sticking here and fighting, as if they thought they could lick the whole army of the Yankees. It was, as Peter predicted. The Highlanders took post behind a hedge and maintained a desperate resistance to the advance of the enemy. Harold and his comrades for some time fought with them. It's time for us to be out of this, Peter said presently. Let's just fall back to the fort. We cannot fall back till they do, Peter. I don't see that, Peter said. We're scouts, and I don't see no advantage in our chunking away our lives because these hot-headed Highlanders choose to do so. Peter Lampton's ready to do a fair share of fighting, but when he's sure that fighting ain't no good, then he goes. And suiting the action to the word, Peter rose from his recumbent position and began to make his way back to camp, taking advantage of every bit of cover. Harold could not help laughing. For an instant he remained irresolute, and then, seeing the overwhelming forces with which the enemy were approaching, he called to Jake and followed Peter's example. So obstinately did the Highlanders fight that they did not retreat until all their officers were killed or wounded, and only 11 men out of the two companies succeeded in regaining the camp. The whole force of the enemy now advanced against the works, and halting at a distance of 300 yards opened a tremendous fire from their cannon on the entrenchments. The defenders replied, but so overwhelming was the force of the assailants that the Hessians abandoned the portion of the works committed to them and fell back. The enemy pressed forward and had already gained the foot of the Abitists when Colonel Maitland brought up a portion of the 71st upon the right, and these gallant troops drove the Americans back with slaughter. Colonel Maitland and his officers then threw themselves among the Hessians and succeeded in rallying them and bringing them back to the front. The provincial volunteers had also fought with great bravery. They had for a time been pressed backwards, but finally maintained their position. The Americans, finding that all their efforts to carry the post were unavailing, fell back to the forest. On the English side, the loss amounted to 129. The Americans fought in the open and suffered much more heavily. The position of matters was suddenly changed by the arrival of Count de Stam with a fleet of 41 ships of war off the coast. The American general, Lincoln, at once proposed to him to undertake a combined movement to force the English to quit Georgia. The arrival of the French fleet was wholly unexpected, and the experiment, a frigate of 50 guns commanded by Sir James Wallace, having two or three ships under his convoy, fell in with them off the mouth of the Savannah River. Although the experiment had been much crippled by a gale through which he had recently passed, Sir James Wallace would not haul down his flag and opposed a desperate resistance to the whole of the French fleet, and did not surrender until the experiment was completely dismasted and riddled with shot. Upon the news that the French fleet was off the mouth of the river, Captain Henry, who commanded the little squadron of four small English ships, fell back to Savannah after removing all the buoys from the river. He landed his guns from the ships and mounted them on the batteries, and the marines and blue jackets were also put on shore to assist in the defense. Two of the Briggs of War were sunk across the channel below the town to prevent the French frigates coming up. A boom was laid across above the town to prevent fire rafts from being sent down. Dostan landed the French troops at the mouth of the river and, marching to the town, summoned General Prevost to surrender. The English commander, who had sent off a messenger to Colonel Maitland, ordering him to march instantly to his assistance with the force under him, which now amounted to 800 men, asked for twenty-four hours before giving an answer. Dostan, who knew that General Lincoln was close at hand, made sure that Prevost would surrender without resistance, and so granted the time asked for. Before its expiration, Colonel Maitland, after a tremendous march, arrived at the town. As the French commanded the mouth of the river, he had been obliged to transport his troops and boats through the marshes by a little creek, which for two miles was so shallow that the troops were forced away, waist-deep, dragging the boats by main force through the mud. Upon the arrival of this reinforcement, General Prevost returned an answer to Count Dostan that the town would be defended to the last. Some time was spent by the enemy in landing and bringing up heavy artillery from the ships, and the French and Americans did not begin their works against the town until September 23. The garrison had utilized the time thus afforded to them to erect new defenses. The allied force of the assailants consisted of more than 10,000 Americans and 5,000 French troops, while the garrison, including regulars, provincial corps, sailors, militia, and volunteers, did not exceed 2,500. Nevertheless, they did not allow the enemy to carry on their work without interruption. Several sorties were made. The first of these, under Major Graham of the 16th Regiment, reached the lines of the enemy and threw them into confusion. Large reinforcements came up to their assistance, and as Graham's detachment fell back upon the town, the enemy unconsciously pursued it, so close up to the British lines, that both artillery and musketry were brought to bear upon them, and they lost a large number of men before they could regain their works. On the morning of October 4, the batteries of the besiegers opened fire with fifty-three pieces of heavy artillery and fourteen mortars. General Privo sent a request to Count Dostan that the women and children might be permitted to leave the town and embark on board vessels lying in the river. There to await the issue of the fight. But the French commander refused the request, and the letter couched in insulting terms. The position of Savannah was naturally strong, the river protected one of its sides, and a deep swamp, partially flooded by it, covered another. The two other were open to the country, which in front of them was, for several miles, level and clear of wood. The works which had been thrown up on these sides were extremely strong. When the French first landed there were about ten piece of cannon upon the fortifications, but so incessantly did the garrison work that before the conclusion of the siege nearly one hundred pieces of artillery were mounted on the redoubts, and batteries erected round the town. Upon the side of the swamp there was not much fear of attack, but three redoubts were erected to prevent a surprise from this direction. The defense on the right face of the town was conducted by Colonel Maitland. The defense on the left, consisting of two strong redoubts and several batteries, was commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Kruger. In the center were several strong works, of which General Prievos himself took the special supervision. The whole British line, except where the swamp rendered no such defense necessary, was surrounded by a thick abetus. The French fire made no sensible impression upon the English defenses, but finding that the British artillery equaled his own, the town determined to discontinue the attack by regular approaches and to carry the place by storm. His position was a perilous one. He had already spent a long time before the place, and at any moment the English fleet might arrive from the West Indies and attack his fleet, which was weakened by the men and guns which had been landed to carry on the siege. He therefore determined to risk an assault rather than remain longer before the town. To facilitate the attack, an officer with five men on October 8 advanced the abetus and set fire to it. The wood, however, was still green, and the flames were easily extinguished. The attack was fixed for the following morning. Bodies of the American militia were to feign attacks upon the center and left, while a strong force of the combined armies was to make a real attack in two columns upon the right. The troops composing the two columns consisted of 3,500 French soldiers and 950 Americans. The principal force commanded by Count Estan in person, assisted by General Lincoln, was to attack the Springfield Redu, which was situated at the extreme right of the British central line of defense and close to the edge of the swamp. The other column, under the command of Colonel Dylan, was to move silently along the margin of the swamp, pass the three redos, and get into the rear of the British lines. The troops were in motion long before daylight. The attempt to burn the abetus had excited the suspicion of the English that an assault might be intended, and accordingly pickets were thrown out in front of the entrenchments, and the Scots were ordered to keep a sharp watch among the trees which grew in and near the swamp. Harold, with his friends, had accompanied Colonel Maitland's column in its march to Savannah and had labored vigorously at the defenses, being especially occupied in felling trees and chopping wood for the abetus. Before daybreak they heard the noise made by the advance of the enemy's columns through the wood and hurried back to the Springfield Redu, where the garrison at once stood to arms. In this Redu were a corps of provincial dismounted dragoons supported by the South Carolina regiment. Just as daylight appeared, the column led by Count Estan advanced toward the Springfield Redu, but the darkness was still so intense that it was not discovered until within a very short distance of the works. Then a blaze of musketry opened upon it while a destructive crossfire was poured in from the adjoining batteries. So heavy was the fire that the head of the column was almost swept away. The assailants kept on with great bravery until they reached the Redu. Here a desperate hand-to-hand contest took place. Captain Tauzy fell, with many of his men, and for a moment a French and an American standard were planted upon the parapet. Nevertheless the defenders continued to cling to the place and every foot was desperately contested. At this moment Colonel Maitland, with the grenadiers of the sixtieth regiment and the marines, advanced and fell upon the enemy's column, already shaken by the obstinate resistance it had encountered and by its losses by the fire from the batteries. The movement was decisive. The assailants were driven headlong from the Redu and retreated, leaving behind them 637 of the French troops killed and wounded and 264 of the Americans. In the meantime the column commanded by Count Dylan mistook its way in the darkness and was entangled in the swamp from which it was unable to extricate itself until it was broad daylight and it was fully exposed to the view of the garrison and to the fire from the British batteries. This was so hot and so well directed that the column was never able even to form, far less to penetrate, into the rear of the British lines. When the main attack was repulsed, Count Dylan drew off his column also. No pursuit was ordered as, although the besiegers had suffered greatly, they were still three times more numerous than the garrison. A few days afterward the French withdrew their artillery and re-embarked on board ship. The siege of Savannah cost the allies 1,500 men, while the loss to the garrison was only 120. The pleasure of the garrison at their successful defense was marred by the death of Colonel Maitland, who died from the effects of an unhealthy climate and the exertions he had made. A few days after the raising of the siege, the French fleet was dispersed by a tempest and Count de Sten, with the majority of the ships under his command, returned to France. During the course of this year there were many skirmishes round New York, but nothing of any great importance took place. Sir Henry Clinton, who was in supreme command, was unable to undertake any offensive operations on a large scale, for he had not received the reinforcements from home which he had expected. England indeed had her hands full, for in June Spain joined France and America in the coalition against her and declared war. Spain was at that time a formidable marine power, and it needed all the efforts that could be made by the English government to make head against the powerful fleets, which the combined nations were able to send to sea against them. It was not only in Europe that the Spaniards were able to give effective aid to the allies. They were still a power on the American continent, and created a diversion, invading West Florida, and reducing and capturing the town in Fort Milleville. In the spring of 1870 Sir Henry Clinton sent down an expedition under the command of Lord Cornwallis to capture Charleston, and reduce the state of South Carolina. This town was extremely strongly fortified. It could only be approached by land on one side, while the water, which elsewhere defended it, was covered by the fire of numerous batteries of artillery. The water of the bay was too shallow to admit to the large men of war passing, and the passage was defended by Fort Moultrie, a very formidable work. Admiral Arbuthnott, with the renowned, Romulus, Roebuck, Richmond, Blonde, Raleigh, and Virginia frigates, with a favorable wind and tide, ran the gauntlet of Fort Moultrie, succeeded in passing up without great loss, and cooperated on the sea phase with the attack of the army on the land side. A force was landed on Sullivan's Island, on which Fort Moultrie stood, and the fort unprepared for an attack in this direction was obliged to surrender. The American Calvary Force, which had been collected for the relief of the town, was defeated by the English under General Tarleton. The trenches were pushed forward with great vigor, and the batteries of the third parallel opened at short range on the town with great execution. The advances were pushed forward at the ditch, when the garrison, seeing that further resistance was impossible, surrendered. 5,000 prisoners were taken, 1,000 American and French seamen, and 10 French and American ships of war. With the fall of Charleston, all resistance ceased in South Carolina. The vast majority of the inhabitants made their submission to the British government, and several loyalist regiments were raised. Colonel Tarleton, with 170 calvary and 100 mounted infantry, was dispatched against an American force under Colonel Burford, consisting of 350 infantry, a detachment of calvary, and two guns, which had taken post on the border of North Carolina. Tarleton came up with him, and after sharp action the Americans were entirely defeated. 113 were killed on the spot, and 207 made prisoners, of whom 103 were badly wounded. For some months the irregular operations were continued, the Americans making frequent incursions into the Carolinas. The British troops suffered greatly from the extreme heat and the unhealthiness of the climate. In August the American General Gates advanced toward Camden, and Lord Cornwallis also moved out to that town, which was held by a British garrison. The position there was not hopeful. Near the 800 were sick, and the total number of effectives was under 2,000, of whom 500 were provincials. The force under General Gates amounted to 6,000 men, exclusive of the corps of Colonel Sumter, 1,000 strong, which were maneuvering to cut off the English retreat. Cornwallis could not fall back on Charleston without abandoning the sick and leaving all his magazines and stores in the hands of the enemy, besides which a retreat would have involved the abandonment of the whole state, with the exception of Charleston. He therefore decided upon giving battle to the enemy, who were posted at Ruegles Mills, a few miles distant, leaving the defense of Camden to Major MaArthur, with some provincials and convalescent soldiers, and a detachment of the 63rd Regiment, which was expected to arrive during the night. The army marched in the following order. The 1st Division, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Webster, consisting of four companies of Light Infantry and the 23rd and 33rd Regiments, preceded by an advance guard of 40 Calvary. The 2nd Division, consisting of provincial troops and two battalions of the 71st Regiment, followed as a reserve. The dragoons of the Legion formed the rear guard. The force marched at 10 o'clock on the night of August 16th, intending to attack at daybreak the next morning. But it happened that at the very same hour in which the British set out, General Gates, with his force, was starting from Ruegles Mills, with the intention of attacking Camden in the morning. At 2 o'clock in the night the advanced guards of the two armies met and fired into each other. In the confusion some prisoners were taken on both sides, and the generals, finding that the two armies were face to face, halted and waited till morning. Lord Cornwallis placed Webster's division on the right, the 2nd Division, which was under the command of Lord Rodin, on the left. The battalion known as the Volunteers of Ireland were on the right of Lord Rodin's division, and communicated with the 33rd Regiment on the left of Webster. In the front line were two 6-pounders and two 3-pounders under the command of Lieutenant MacLeod, R.A. The 71st, with two 6-pounders, was in reserve, one battalion being placed behind each wing. The dragoons were held in reserve to charge in the event of a favorable opportunity. The flanks of the English position were covered by swamps, which somewhat narrowed the ground and prevented the Americans from utilizing fully their great superiority of numbers. The Americans were also formed in two lines. Soon after daybreak Lord Cornwallis ordered Colonel Webster to advance and charge the enemy. So fiercely did the English regiments attack that the Virginia and North Carolina troops, who opposed them, quickly gave way, threw down their arms and fled. General Gates and General Caswell in vain attempt to rally them. They ran like a torrent and spread through the woods in every direction. Lord Rodin began the action on the left with no less vigor and spirit than Lord Cornwallis on the right, but here and in the center the contest was more obstinately maintained by the Americans. Their reserves were brought up and the artillery did considerable execution. Their left flank was, however, exposed by the flight of the troops of Carolina and Virginia, and the Light Infantry and 23rd Regiment were halted in the pursuit and, wheeling around, came upon the flank of the enemy who, after brave resistance of nearly three-quarters of an hour, were driven into total confusion and forced to give way on both sides. Their route was continued by the Calvary, who continued their pursuit 22 miles from the field of action. Between eight and nine hundred of the enemy were killed and about one thousand, many of whom were wounded, were taken prisoners. Among these were Major General Barron de Calpe and Brigadier General Rutherford. All the baggage, stores, and camp packages, a number of colors, and several pieces of cannon were taken. General Gates, finding himself unable to rally the militia, fled first to Charlotte, ninety miles from the seat of action, and then to Hillsborough, one hundred and eighty from Camden. General Gist, alone of all the American commanders, was able to keep together about one hundred men who, flying across the swamp on their right, through which they could not be pursued by the Calvary, made their escape in a body. The loss of the British troops amounted to sixty-nine killed, two hundred and forty-five wounded, and eleven missing. The loss of the Americans in killed, wounded, and prisoners exceeded the number of British regular troops engaged by at least three hundred. It was one of the most decisive victories ever won. CHAPTER 19 Upon the morning after the victory of Camden, Lord Cornwallis dispatched Colonel Tarleton with the light infantry and the German legion, three hundred fifty men in all, to attack Colonel Sumter, who, with eight hundred men and two pieces of cannon, had, upon hearing late at night of General Gates's defeat, marched away at all speed. Thinking himself out of danger, he halted at midday to rest his men. The British came upon them by surprise. One hundred and fifty were killed or wounded, and three hundred made prisoners. The rest scattered as fugitives. Two guns, one thousand stand of arms, and all the stores and baggage were taken, and two hundred fifty prisoners, some of them British soldiers, and the rest loyal militia men, whom Sumter had captured near Camden, were released. Lord Cornwallis, after obtaining supplies for his troops and taking steps for the pacification of the state, was about to move forward into North Carolina when he received news of the destruction of a column under Major Ferguson. This officer, with a detachment of one hundred fifty British regulars and eight hundred provincials, was attacked by five thousand mounted partisans, most of them bordermen accustomed to forest fighting. Ferguson took up a position on a hill called King's Mountain. This from its height would have been a good position for defense, but being covered with wood it offered great opportunities for the assailants, who dismounted and fought behind trees in accordance with the tactics taught them in Indian warfare. Again and again the English charged with the bayonet, each time driving their assailants back, but these instantly recommended their destructive fire from their shelter behind the trees. In little over an hour from the commencement of the fight one hundred fifty of the defenders were killed and many more wounded. Until they repulsed every attack until their commander fell dead, then the second in command, judging further resistance in vain, surrendered. On the news of this misfortune Lord Cornwallis fell back, as the western frontiers of South Carolina were now exposed to the incursions of the band which had defeated Ferguson. In the retreat the army suffered terribly. It rained for several days without intermission. The soldiers had no tents, and the water was everywhere over their shoes. The continued rains filled the rivers and creeks prodigiously and rendered the roads almost impassable. The climate was most unhealthy, and for many days the troops were without rum. Sometimes the army had beef and no bread, sometimes bread and no beef. For five days it was supported on Indian corn, which was collected in the fields, five years being served out as a daily allowance to each two soldiers. They had to cook it as they could, and this was generally done by parching it over the fire. One of the officers of the quarter masters department found some of the loyal militia grating their corn. This was done by breaking up a canteen and punching holes in the bottom with their bayonets, thus making a kind of rasp. The idea was communicated to the adjutant general and afterward adopted for the army. The soldiers supported their hardships and privations cheerfully, as their officers were no better provided than themselves, and the fare of lords Cornwallis and Rodin was the same as their own. The toilsome march came to an end at last, and the army had rest after its labours. The only other incident of importance which occurred was an action between a force under Colonel Tarleton and one of considerably superior strength under General Sumter, strongly posted on a commanding position. The British attack was repulsed, but General Sumter, being badly wounded, was carried off the field during the night and the force under his command at once dispersed. No other event occurred, and the army passed its time in winter quarters till the spring of 1781. During this winter the enemies of Great Britain were reinforced by the accession of the Dutch. At this time the efforts which England was called upon to make were indeed great. In Europe, France, Spain, and Holland were banded against her. In India our troops were waging a desperate war with Haider Ali, while they were struggling to retain their hold on their American colonies. Here indeed the operations had for the last two years languished. The reinforcements which could be spared were extremely small, and although the British had almost uniformly defeated the Americans in every action in which there was any approach to equality between the forces engaged, they were unable to do more than hold the ground on which they stood. Victorious as they might be, the country beyond the reach of their rifles swarmed with their enemies, and it became increasingly clear to all impartial observers that it was impossible for an army which in all did not amount to more than twenty thousand men to conquer a continent in arms against them. Harold was not present at the latter events of the campaign of 1780. He and Jake had been with the column of Major Ferguson. Peter Lampton had not accompanied them, having received a bullet wound in the leg in a previous skirmish, which although not serious, had compelled him to lay up for a time. Me no like to look of disaffair, Massa Harold. Jake said, as the Americans opened fire upon the troops gathered at the top of King's Mountain. These chaps no fools. They all back woodsmen. They know how to fight to Redskins. Great hunters all of them. Yes, Harold agreed. They are formidable opponents, Jake. I do not like the look of things. These men are all accustomed to fighting in the woods, while our men have no idea of it. Their rifles are infinitely superior to these army muskets, and every man of them can hit a deer behind the shoulder at a distance of 150 yards, while at that distance most of our men would miss a haystack. The scouts and a few of the provincials who had been accustomed to forest warfare took up their position behind trees and fought the advancing army in their own way. The mass of the defenders, however, were altogether puzzled by the stealthy approach of their foes, who advanced from tree to tree, seldom showing as much as a limb to the fire of the defenders, and keeping up a deadly fire upon the crowd of soldiers. Had there been time for Major Ferguson, before being attacked, to have felled a circle of trees and made a breastwork round the top of the hill, the result might have been different. Again and again the British gallantly charged down with the bayonet, but the assailants, as they did so, glided away among the trees after firing a shot or two into the advancing troops and retreated a hundred yards or so, only to recommend their advance as soon as the defenders retired again to their position. The loss of the assailants was very slight, the few who fell being for the most part killed by the rifles of the scouts. It am no use, Massa Harreld, Jake said. Just look how damn poor fellows are being shot down. It's all up with us this time." When upon the fall of Major Ferguson, his successoring command surrendered the post, the defenders were disarmed. The Kentucky men, accustomed only to warfare against Indians, had no idea of the usages of war and treated the prisoners with great brutality. Ten of the loyalist volunteers of Carolina, they hung at once upon trees. There was some discussion as to the disposal of the rest. The border men, having accomplished their object, were anxious to disperse at once to their homes. Some of them proposed that they should rid themselves of all further trouble by shooting them all. This was overruled by the majority. Presently the prisoners were all bound, their hands being tied behind them, and a hundred of the border men surrounded them and ordered them to march across the country. Jake and several other Negroes who were among the captives were separated from the rest, and being put up at auction, were sold as slaves. Jake fell to the bit of a tall Kentuckian who, without a word, fastened a rope around his neck, mounted his horse, and started for his home. The guards conducted the white prisoners to Woodville, 80 miles from the scene of the fight. This distance was accomplished in two days' march. Many of the unfortunate men, unable to support the fatigue, fell and were shot by their guards. The rest struggled on, utterly exhausted, until they arrived at Woodville, where they were handed over to a strong force of militia gathered there. They were now kindly treated, and by more easy marches were taken to Richmond, in Virginia, where they were shut up in prison. There were many English troops, for the Americans, in spite of the terms of surrender, had still retained as prisoners the troops of General Burgoyne. Several weeks passed without incident. The prisoners were strongly guarded and were placed in a building originally built for a jail, and surrounded by a very high wall. Harold often discussed with some of his fellow captives the possibility of escape. The windows were all strongly barred, and even should the prisoners break through these, they would only find themselves in the courtyard. There would then be a wall thirty feet high to surmount, and at the corners of this wall the Americans had built sentry boxes, in each of which two men were stationed night and day. Escape, therefore, seemed next to impossible. The sentries guarding the prison and at the gates were furnished by an American regiment stationed at Richmond. The wardens in the prison were, for the most part, negroes. The prisoners were confined at night in separate cells. In the daytime they were allowed, in parties of fifty, to walk for two hours in the courtyard. There were several large rooms in which they sat and took their meals, two sentries with loaded muskets being stationed in each room. Thus, although monotonous, there was little to complain of. Their food, if course, was plentiful, and the prisoners passed the time and talk, playing cards, and in such games as their ingenuity could invent. One day, when two of the negro wardens entered with the dinners of the room to which Harold belonged, the latter was astounded at recognizing in one of them his faithful companion, Jake. It was with difficulty that he suppressed an exclamation of gladness and surprise. Jake paid no attention to him, but placed the great tin dish heaped up with yams which he was carrying upon the table, and with an unmoved face left the room. A fortnight passed without a word being exchanged between them. Several times each day Harold saw the negro, but the guards were always present, and although, when he had his back to the latter, Jake sometimes indulged in a momentary grin or a pretentious wink, no further communication passed between them. One night at the end of that time Harold, when on the point of going to sleep, thought he heard a noise as of his door gently opening. It was perfectly dark, and after listening for a moment he laid his head down again, thinking that he had been mistaken, when he heard close to the bed the words in a low voice. Am you asleep, Massa Harold? No, Jake, he exclaimed directly, ah, my good fellow, how have you got here? That were a very easy affair, Jake said. Me tell you all about it. Have you shut the door again, Jake? There is a sentry coming along the passage every five minutes. Me shut him, Massa, but there ain't no fastening on this side, so Jake will sit down with him back against him. Harold got up and partly dressed himself and sat down again by the side of his follower. No need to whisper, Jake said. D'Walls and D'Doors bury thick, no one here, but a sentry's on D'Walls here if we talk too loud. The windows were without glass, which was in those days an expensive article in America, and the mildness of the climate of Virginia rendered glass a luxury rather than a necessity. Confident that even the murmur of their voices would not be overheard if they spoke in their usual way, Jake and Harold were enabled to converse comfortably. Well, Massa, Jake said, my story am not a long one. That man that bought me, he wrote in two days something like one hundred miles. It were a lucky ting that Jake had tramp on his feet till last four years, else soon enough he tumbled down, and then to rope round him neck, hang him. Jake awful, footsore, and tired when he get to the end of that journey. The Kentucky man, he live in a clearing not far from a village. He had two other slaves. They hold a ground and work for him. He got grown up son, who look after them while him fodder away fighting. They not afraid of the niggers running away, because there are plenty red skin not far away, and niggers scalp just as good as white man's. The other way there were plenty of villages, and they tink nigger get caught for sure if he tried to run away. Jake make up his mind, he not stopped there very long. The Kentuckian was a very big strong man, but not so strong as he was ten years ago, and Jake tink he more than a match for him. Jake pretty strong himself, Massa? I should think you were Jake, Harold said. There are not many men, white or black, who can lift as great a weight as you can. Over a week Jake worked very hard. That Kentuckian have a way of always carrying his rifle about on his arm, and as long as he do that, there are no chance of a fair fight. The son he always have a stick, and he mighty free with it. He hit Jake several times, and me say to him once, young man you better mind what you do. Me suppose that he not like to look did I give him. He speak to his fodder, and he cursing swear awful, and stand with the rifle close by, and tell that son of his to layer up Jake. That he do Massa for some time. Jake not say nothing, but he make note of the affair in his mind. To bury next day the son go away to the village to buy some tings he want. The fodder he come out and watch me at work. He cursing swear as usual. He call me lazy hound, and swear he cut deflesh from my back. Finally he come quite close, and shake him fist in Jake's face. That was a foolish thing to do. So long as he keep both him hands on the gun, he could say what he like quite safe. But when he got one hand up level with Jake's nose, that different ting altogether. Jake throw up his hand and close with him. The gun tumble down, and we wrestle and fight. He strong man for sure, but Jake just a little stronger. We roll over and over on the ground for some minutes. At last Jake get the upper hand and seized a white man by the throat, and he pretty quick choke him life out. Then he pick up the gun and wait for the son. When he come back he put a bullet through him. Then he go to the hut and get food and powder and ball, and start into the woods. The other niggers they take no part in the affair. They look on while the skirmish lasts, but not interfere one way or other. When it over, me ask them if they like to go with me, but they too afraid of their redskins. So Jake start by himself. Me had plenty of practice in the woods, and no fear of meeting redskins, except when they on the warpath. The woods stretch a very long way all over the country, and Jake travel in them for nine tree weeks. He shoot deer and manage very well, see no redskin from the first day to the last. Then he come out into the open country again hundreds of miles from the place where he killed at Kentuckian. He leave his gun behind now and travel for Richmond, where he hear that the white prisoners was kept. He walk all night and at day sleep in the woods or the plantations, and eat ears of corn. At last he get to Richmond. Then he give out that him Massa wanted him to fight on the side of the English, and that he run away. He go to the prison and offered to work there. They tink him story true, and as he had no Massa to claim him, they say he stayed property, and work without wages like the other niggers here. They all forfeited slaves, whose Massas had joined the English. These people so poor, they can't afford to pay white man, so they take Jake as warden, and by good luck they put him in to carry the dinner to the very room where Massa Harold was. And have you the keys to lock us up? No Massa, the niggers only cook the dinners and sweep the prison and the yard, and do that kind of job. The white wardens, there's six of them, they have the keys. Then how did you manage to get here, Jake? That not very easy matter, Massa Harold. Most of the wardens drink like fish, but the headman, him to keep the keys, he not drink. For some time Jake not see him way, but one night when he lock up the prisoners, he take Jake round with him, and Jake carry the big bunch of keys, one key to each passage. When he lock up the doors here and hand the key to Jake to put on the bunch again, Jake pull out a hair of him head and twist it round the ward of the key so as to know him again. That night, me get a piece of bread and work him up with some oil until he quite like putty. Then me steal to the chief warden's room, and dare the keys hang up close to him bed. Jake got no shoes on, and he stole up very silent. He take down a bunch of keys and carry them off. He get to quiet place and strike a light, and search true to keys until he find a one with the hair round it. Then he take a deep impression of him with the bread. Then he carry back the keys and hang them up. Jake not allowed to leave the prison. We just as much prisoners as the white men, so he not able to go out and get a key made. But in the storeroom there's all sorts of tools, and he get hold of a fine file. Then he look about among the keys in the doors of all the storerooms and places which were not kept locked up. At last he find a key just the right size, and though the wards were a little different, they was of the right shape. Jake set to work and filed off the knobs and pints which didn't agree with the shape and the bread. This morning when he was all out in the yard, he come up quietly and tried the key, and found that it turned to lock quite easy. With a feather and some oil, he oiled the lock and the key till it turned without making the least noise. Then tonight me waited till the century came along the corridor, and then Jake slip along and here he is. File Jake, Harold said, and now what is the next thing to do? Will it be possible to escape through the prison? No, Massa Harold, dare him tree doors from the prison into the yard, and there's a sentry outside a beach, and the main guard of twenty men are down there too. No possible to get out of doors without the alarm being given. With the file Jake we might cut through the bars. We might cut through the bars and get down into the courtyard. Dat easy enough, Massa. Jake could get plenty of rope from the storeroom, but we have the utter wall to climb. You must make a rope ladder for that, Jake. What sort of a ladder dat, Massa? Harold explained to him how it should be made. When you have finished it, Jake, you should twist strips of any sort of stuff, cotton or woolen, round and round each of the wooden steps, so that it will make no noise touching the wall as we climb it. Then we want a grapnel. Me no able to make dat, Massa. Not a regular grapnel, Jake, but you might manage something which would do. What sort of ting, Jake asked? Harold sat for some time and thought. If the wall were not so high it would be easy enough, Jake, for we could do it by fastening the rope within about three inches of the end of a pole six feet long and three inches thick. Dat would never pull over the wall, but it is too high to throw the pole over. Jake could throw such a stick as dat over easy enough, Massa, no difficulty about dat. But me no see how a stick like dat balance Massa's weight. It would not balance it, Jake, but the pole would be a side pole and would not bring the stick over the wall. If it were only bamboo it would be heavy enough. Very well, Massa, Harold, if you say so, dat's all right. Jake can get to wood easy enough. There's plenty of pieces among the firewood dat would do for us. Roll it with strips of stuff the same way as the ladder steps, so as to prevent it making a noise when it strikes the wall. In addition to the ladder, we shall want a length of rope long enough to go from this window to the ground, and another length of thin rope more than twice the height of the wall. Very well, Massa, Harold, me understand exactly what I'm wanted, but it will take two or three days to make the ladder, and me can only work up a night. There is no hurry, Jake. Do not run any risk of being caught. We must choose a dark and windy night. Bring two files with you so that we can work together and some oil. All right, Massa, now me go. Shut the door quietly, Jake, and do not forget to lock it behind you, Harold said, as Jake stole noiselessly from the cell. A week passed without Jake's again visiting Harold's cell. On the seventh night the wind had got up and whistled round the jail, and Harold, expecting that Jake would take advantage of the opportunity, sat down on his bed without undressing and awaited his coming. It was but half an hour after the door had been locked for the night that it quietly opened again. Here me amsar with everything that's wanted, two files and some oil, de-rope ladder, the short rope for us to slide down, and de-long thin rope and a piece of wood six feet long and thick as de-rest. They had once set to work with the files, and in an hour had sawn through two bars, making a hole sufficiently wide for them to pass. The rope was then fastened to a bar, Harold took off his shoes and put them in his pocket, and then slid down the rope into the courtyard. With the other rope Jake lowered the ladder and pulled to him, and then slid down himself. Harold had already tied to the pole at four inches from one end, a piece of rope some four feet long, so as to form a loop about half that length. The thin rope was put through the loop and drawn until the two ends came together. Noiselessly they stole across the yard until they reached the opposite wall. The night was a very dark one, and although they could make out the outline of the wall above them against the skyline, the sentry boxes at the corners were invisible. Harold now took hold of the two ends of the rope, and Jake, stepping back a few yards from the wall, threw the pole over it. Then Harold drew upon the rope until there was a check, and he knew that the pole was hard up against the edge of the wall. He tied one end of the rope ladder to an end of the double cord, and then hauled steadily upon the other. The rope running through the loop drew the ladder to the top of the wall. All this was done quickly and without noise. Now Jake, do you go first? Harold said. I will hold the rope tight below, and do you put part of your weight on it as you go up. When you get to the top, knot it to the loop and sit on the wall until I come up. In three minutes they were both on the wall. The ladder was hauled up and dropped on the outside while the pole was shifted to the inside of the wall. Then they descended the ladder and made across the country. Which way we go, Massa? Jake asked. I have been thinking it over, Harold replied, and have decided upon making for the James River. We shall be there before morning and can no doubt find a boat. We can guide ourselves by the stars, and when we get into the woods the direction of the wind will be sufficient. The distance was about twenty miles, but although accustomed to scouting at night they would have had difficulty in making their way through the woods by morning had they not struck upon a road leading in the direction in which they wanted to go. Thus it was still some hours before daylight when they reached the James River. They had followed the road all the way, and at the point where it reached the bank there was a village of considerable size, and several fisherman's boats were moored alongside. Stepping into one of these they unloosened the head rope and pushed out into the stream. The boat was provided with a sail. The mast was soon stepped and the sail hoisted. Neither Harold nor Jake had had much experience in boat sailing, but the wind was with them and the boat ran rapidly down the river, and before daylight they were many miles from their point of starting. The banks of the James River were low and swampy, and few signs of human habitation were seen from the stream. It widened rapidly as they descended and became rougher and rougher. They therefore steered into a sheltered spot behind a sharp bend of the river and anchored. In the locker they found plenty of lines and bait, and setting to work had soon half a dozen fine fish at the bottom of the boat. They pulled up the cage and rode to shore and soon made a fire, finding flint and steel in the boat. The fish were broiled over the fire upon sticks. The boat was hauled in under some overhanging bushes, and stretching themselves in the bottom Harold and Jake were soon fast asleep. The sun was setting when they woke. What you going to do, Sar, Jake asked, are you thinking of traveling by land or of sailing to New York? Neither, Jake, Harold answered, I am thinking of sailing down the coast inside the line of keys to Charleston. The water there is comparatively smooth, and as we shall be taken for fishermen it is not likely that we shall be overhauled. We can land occasionally and pick a few ears of corn to eat with our fish, and as there is generally a breeze night and morning, however still and hot the day, we shall be able to do it comfortably. I see that there is an iron plate here which has been used for making a fire and cooking on board, so we will lay in a stock of dry wood before we start. The journey was made without any adventure. While the breeze lasted, they sailed. When it fell calm, they fished, and when they had obtained a sufficient supply for their wands, they lay down and slept under the shade of their sail stretched as an awning. Frequently, they passed within hail of other fishing boats, generally manned by negroes, but beyond a few words as to their success, no questions were asked. They generally kept near the shore, and when they saw any larger craft, they either hauled the boat up or ran into one of the creeks in which the coast abounds. It was with intense pleasure that at last they saw in the distance the masts of the shipping in Charleston Harbor. Two hours later they landed. They fastened the boat to the wharf and made their way into the town unquestioned. As they were walking along the principal street, they saw a well-known figure sauntering leisurely toward them. His head was bent down, and he did not notice them until Harold hailed him with a shout of, Hello, Peter, old fellow, how goes it? Peter, although not easily moved or excited, gave a yell of delight which astonished the passersby. Ah, my boy, he exclaimed, this is a good sight for my old eyes. Here have I been affreading and worrying myself for the last three months, and cussing my hard luck that I was not with you in that affair on King's Mountain. At first when I heard of it, I says to myself, the young man got out of it somehow. He ain't going to be caught asleep. Well, I kept on hoping and hoping you'd turn up, till at last I couldn't deceive myself no longer, and was forced to conclude that you'd either been rubbed out or taken prisoner. About a month ago we got from the Yankees a list of the names of them they'd captured, and glad I was to see yours among them, as I thought is how you weren't likely to be out as long as the war lasted, I was a thinking of giving it up and going to Montreal and settling down there. It was lonesome like without you, and I missed Jake's laugh, and altogether things didn't seem natural like. Jake, I'm glad to see ye. Your name was not on the list, but I thought it likely enough they might have taken you and set you to work and made no account of ye. That is just what they did, but he got away after settling his score with his new master, and then made for Richmond, where I was in prison. Then he got me loose, and here we are. But it is a long story, and I must tell it you at leisure. End of Chapter 19, Recording by Tricia G.