Munroe Kirk
At War with Pontiac; Or, The Totem of the Bear: A Tale of Redcoat and Redskin
CHAPTER XXXIII
FORT DETROIT IS REINFORCED
From the very first the two tribes of Wyandots and Pottawattamies had been but lukewarm allies of the Ottawas in the prosecution of this war. Their chiefs were jealous of Pontiac and yielded obedience to his orders rather through fear than from any real loyalty to his cause. Still, so long as his plans were successful, his arms victorious, and his appeared to be the winning side, they were content to follow his leadership. No sooner, however, did the tide of fortune turn against him with the failure of his attempt to capture the schooner, than these tribes sent a deputation of chiefs to Gladwyn with proposals for peace. This was granted them and the treaty was consummated by a general exchange of prisoners.
It was owing to Pontiac's distrust of these allies, to whom had been intrusted the attack on Cuyler's expedition, that he had secretly sent Ah-mo and Atoka to provide for the safety of Edith Hester, rightly thinking that they could act more effectively than a larger party and at the same time attract less notice. How they succeeded in conveying their charge to an island on which was maintained a picket of Ottawa warriors, has already been told.
This picket post was a source of grievance to the Wyandots, who, dwelling nearest the mouth of the river, claimed that they alone were entitled to occupy that territory and guard its approaches. After their victory over Cuyler, they protested so loudly against the continuation of the Ottawa outpost on their island, that Pontiac reluctantly ordered it to be withdrawn, and the captives who were held there to be brought to his own village.
Thus it happened that to these Indians was left the entire guarding of the southern approaches to Detroit; and when, at the end of July, a strong detachment of troops in twenty-two bateaux, under command of Captain Dalzell, appeared at the mouth of the river, they having just concluded their treaty of peace, allowed it to pass up unmolested. The flotilla came up at night; and at sunrise, as the sea of fog covering the vicinity of Detroit began to roll away in fleecy masses, its foremost boats were discovered by a sentinel, who at once announced the joyful intelligence. As before, the beleaguered garrison hastened to the water front in anxious expectancy. Were the approaching boats indeed filled with friends come to their relief, or, as in the former case, with victorious savages and dejected captives? Not until the questioning salute of their guns was answered by the glad roar of a swivel from the foremost boat was the query answered, and the apprehensions of the war-worn garrison changed to a joyous certainty.
All at once their rejoicings were silenced by a double sheet of fire that leaped from both banks of the river at once. A hail of bullets was poured into the crowded boats from among the buildings and orchards of the French farmers, and many a red-coated soldier fell beneath the fire of a foe whom he could neither see nor reach.
Pontiac had been warned at last of this new danger, and had sent his trusty Ottawas, leaping like deer, down the river banks with a faint hope that the approaching convoy might still be cut off. But they were too late, and though their fire was very destructive while it lasted, the boats pressed steadily on and in a few minutes more had gained the shelter of the fort.
The newly arrived detachment—three hundred strong—was composed of troops from the 50th and 80th regiments of the line, and twenty of Rogers' hardy rangers. As boat after boat swept up to the strand and landed its men they were received with wild cheers, frantic embraces, and every manifestation of overwhelming joy. The new-comers, sturdy, well-fed, and perfectly equipped, presented a striking contrast to the gaunt, hollow-cheeked troops clad in tatters, who had held the fort so long and so bravely. As the former moved steadily up the narrow street in a long line of glittering scarlet, while drum and fife waked cheery echoes from the silent houses, the latter felt that the day of their deliverance had indeed come, and well repaid for all their toil.
Dalzell's boats brought many things besides men, guns, and ammunition. It brought provisions, letters, and news from the great far-away world. It brought a confirmation of the treaty, recently signed between England and France, which set at rest all fears that Pontiac might receive French aid in his present struggle. It also brought a number of dainties for the officers' mess, such as had been unknown to its table for many months. So Gladwyn gave a dinner that night to which every officer in the fort was bidden.
When the appointed time arrived and Majors Gladwyn and Rogers; Captains Dalzell, Grant, and Gray; Lieutenants Cuyler, Hay, and Brown, and half a dozen more, all in speckless uniforms, were assembled about the homely but well-laden mess-table, there entered still another at whom the newcomers gazed in surprise but without recognition. He was a little man dressed in the costume of the backwoods, a belted buckskin shirt, leggings, and moccasins, and a coonskin cap. He hesitated, as though from shyness, as he glanced irresolutely about him. Then Gladwyn, stepping quickly forward, took him by the hand, exclaiming:—
"You are just in time, my dear fellow, though I had begun to fear that you were not going to join us. Here are a lot of old friends waiting to greet and congratulate you."
"Are they?" asked the stranger, dubiously.
"By Jove!" laughed Gladwyn, "I don't believe one of them recognizes you. Gentlemen, permit me the honor of introducing one of the heroes of this present war, Paymaster Leonidas Bullen."
Whereupon there arose such a shout from that mess-room as startled the distant sentries on the outer walls. "Bullen, old man, forgive me." "It can't be!" "Incredible!" "Bullen, the Beau Brummel of the service, in leather!" "Why, Diogenes, what are you doing here?" "Is it a masquerade?" "Is it a joke?" "What means this unique headgear?" "And Diogenes, I say, where is the tub?"
"Gentlemen," replied the paymaster, "it is no joke, but a stern reality. As my only choice of a dinner dress lay between a suit of paint and this costume, out of consideration for your prejudices I chose this. My head-gear may be unique, but it is at least warm and it is also the only covering I can at present bestow upon my baldness. It is true I might have worn feathers, but unfortunately feathers suggest to me only very recent and unpleasant associations. As for my tub, I shall consider it a personal favor, gentlemen, if you will never again mention that unfortunate article in my presence."
"He came very near being boiled alive in it," whispered Gladwyn to Captain Dalzell.
"What?"
"Yes, like a prawn or a crayfish."
"By Jove! How?"
Then Gladwyn related the history of the paymaster's recent experiences and bravery so effectively that the poor little man became rosy with confusion, and when at the conclusion of the narrative his health was pledged with a round of cheers, he could only stammer in reply:—
"I thank you, gentlemen, from the bottom of my heart. I also thank the major for his kindly effort to convert me into a hero. I fear, though, that he is only trying to make amends for threatening to shoot me when I first made application for his hospitality."
"Shoot you, old man! You don't mean it. What for? Had you challenged him? Tell us about it."
"It is only too true," confessed Major Gladwyn, "and but for the timely interference of Madam Rothsay I fear I should have succeeded to my everlasting sorrow."
When this had been explained, and Madam Rothsay's health had been pledged, Captain Dalzell inquired what had become of Miss Hester, who, he understood, had accompanied the elder lady on her western trip.
"I am sorry to say," replied Gladwyn, "that she is held prisoner by Pontiac in company with her father the major, and Ensign Hester her brother. He was with Bullen, you know, and sacrificed himself to warn the schooner Gladwyn of her danger the other night. It was a fine thing to do, and I would gladly give up the schooner, valuable as she is to me, if by so doing he could be restored to us. Madam Rothsay was also held prisoner by the redskins until it fortunately occurred to them to offer her in exchange for a villanous Ojibwa chief, whom we happened to have on hand. Of course I was only too glad to make the exchange, and wish I had a dozen more like him to offer for the Hesters."
"By Jove!" cried Captain Dalzell, "it is horrible to think of the grand old major and his lovely daughter, and that fine son of his, all in the power of those devils. Can't we do something toward their rescue, Gladwyn? Surely we are strong enough now to take the offensive. I should be only too happy to lead a night attack on Pontiac's camp. We could make it a complete surprise, and my fellows are simply spoiling for a fight. It does seem as though the time to strike a decisive blow had come, and every day that we postpone it only increases the peril of the Hesters. What do you say, major? Won't you consider the proposition seriously?"
So the dinner party was turned into a council of war, and, before it broke up, an attack on Pontiac's camp had been arranged for the following night.
CHAPTER XXXIV
AH-MO, THE DAUGHTER OF PONTIAC
The day just concluded had been one of unhappiness and anxiety for the great Ottawa chieftain. The rumored defection of his Wyandot allies was proved true. The safe arrival at the fort of Dalzell's expedition was the most deadly blow yet struck at his cherished project. To crown all, he was not on the best of terms with his sole remaining allies, the fierce and warlike Ojibwas. These had no more desire than the Wyandots to fight on a losing side; and, moreover, they had a private grievance of long standing against Pontiac. It arose from the capture of one of their chiefs by the English, and the refusal of Pontiac to offer Major Hester in exchange for him.
Firm in his belief that Detroit must eventually fall into his hands, and that every soul within its walls would be killed, the Ottawa chief, intent on saving the life of the white man who had once saved his, refused to restore him to a place of such peril. In vain did the Ojibwa captive—who was no other than our old acquaintance, Mahng—send messages by the French settlers, who carried occasional communications between the fort and the Ottawa village, threatening that, if Major Hester were not exchanged for him, he would influence his tribe to make peace with the English. Pontiac only sent answer that the major was not his prisoner, but his guest, and therefore not subject to exchange, but that the first captive of sufficient consequence who should be brought in should be offered in his place.
When, therefore, Edith Hester and Madam Rothsay reached the village, Pontiac conceived the project of presenting the latter before the gates of Detroit, and demanding the release of the Ojibwa chief in her stead. To the grief of Madam Rothsay herself, and of the beautiful charge from whom she was thus separated, this plan was at once carried out, with the result that Mahng was restored to his followers. He was, however, more imbittered than ever against Pontiac, not only on account of his long imprisonment, but because of a woman having been offered and accepted in exchange for him.
This was not only a severe blow to his own pride, but to that of his people; and they became clamorous to have the insult avenged, for which purpose Mahng demanded that Major Hester be delivered to them, to do with as they pleased. This demand was refused with such indignant scorn that Mahng's evil face became black with fury; and, though he strode from Pontiac's presence in silence, his heart was filled with rage. This was intensified a few days later when the Ottawa chief upbraided him, and charged him with superstitious cowardice for aiding the escape of a white prisoner who had been condemned to death. In this case, Mahng had felt certain that Paymaster Bullen, carefully disguised as an Indian, would be fired upon and killed by the garrison of the fort, as he approached it, and was as disgusted as any one could be by the unexpected result of that experiment.
Distressed as Edith Hester was at being separated from Madam Rothsay, she rejoiced at the latter's restoration to the protection of British troops, and became reconciled to her own prolonged captivity when she found that she was to be allowed to spend it in the company of her beloved father.
Although the brave old major chafed like a caged lion at his enforced detention in Pontiac's camp, he bore it without a murmur, and strove to aid the cause of his countrymen by endeavoring to impress upon the Ottawa leader the folly of resistance to the English. He knew nothing of his daughter's captivity, nor even of her departure from New York, until one evening, as he sat alone in the room assigned to his use, the door was gently opened, and she stood before him in all the radiancy of her youth and beauty. For a moment he stared as though at a vision, but as she stepped forward he opened wide his arms, and father and daughter were reunited in a fond embrace. There were so many questions to be asked and answered, so much news to be told, and so many conjectures to be made concerning their ultimate fate, that, for more than an hour, they talked oblivious of everything, save the joy of being together. Then Edith exclaimed in dismay:—
"If I haven't forgotten poor Ah-mo, and left her waiting outside all this time, when I said I'd be back in a few minutes! May I fetch her, father? She is one of my dearest friends, and I want you to know her."
"Certainly, my dear," answered the major, with a smile. "Bring her in, by all means; for any friend of yours must needs be a friend of mine as well."
A moment later, when the Indian girl, who had waited patiently all this time, was led into the bare little room, it was Edith's turn to be surprised. Instead of receiving her as a stranger, Major Hester greeted her as a friend whose absence had been a source of genuine regret.
"It is good to see you once more, Ah-mo," he said. "Though, had I known the nature of the errand that caused your absence, my anxiety for your return had been doubled many times. Now I have to bless you and thank you for your brave care of my dear girl, who has, all unknown to me, passed through so many recent perils."
"Then you knew Ah-mo before, papa!" exclaimed Edith; "and all this time she never told me."
"Nor did she tell me that she was going in search of you, for which I am now grateful, since it saved me a painful anxiety," replied the major. "Yes; Ah-mo and I are old friends, and, of late, many an hour, that would otherwise have hung heavily on my hands, has been lightened by her visits. Forest maiden as she is, I find her to be well versed in polite literature, and possessed of a shrewd knowledge of affairs, though, above all, has she learned the value of a silent tongue."
"Yes, indeed!" cried impulsive Edith. "Even during our short acquaintance I have discovered that, in many things which I ought to know, her knowledge is superior to mine; that for keeping a secret she has no equal; and that with it all she is one of the dearest and sweetest and most lovable girls I ever met."
Then, seeing that her friend was covered with confusion by all this praise, she hastened to change the subject by saying, "And now, if Donald were only here, what a happy party we would form, and how readily might we forget our captivity!"
"Not captivity!" interrupted Ah-mo, eagerly. "Pontiac's guests can never be his captives."
"While your father's opinions and mine are not agreed on that point, my dear girl, he certainly has done everything suggested by a courteous hospitality to make my stay here comfortable," said Major Hester. "But, as any form of detention against one's will must be regarded as a captivity, I cannot echo your wish, Edith, that Donald were here. He is so young, so fearless, and so impatient of inaction, that, were he taken prisoner, he would do and dare anything to effect an escape, with possible results that I cannot bear to contemplate. Therefore I am glad that he is far away, and is happily free from a knowledge of our position."
"Why, father, is he not in Detroit?" queried Edith.
"No; he left before the outbreak, with despatches for New York, and, had you not come by the north shore of the lake, he would surely have met you."
"Well," sighed Edith, "I wish we might have met. Had I known of his coming, I should certainly have waited for him in New York; though, as things have turned out, I wouldn't have missed this coming to you, father dear, for the world. Now I only hope he won't try to return before peace is declared. Oh, Ah-mo! why will your father persist in this horrid war? He surely cannot hope to succeed against the forces of the king."
"His warriors have not yet been defeated," replied the Indian girl quickly, with a bright flush heightening the dark beauty of her face. "And he is too brave a man not to make war against those who would steal the lands of his people, and kill them like so many wild beasts. Why do the English drive my father to war?"
"Do not become involved in fruitless discussion, my dears," chided the old soldier. "This question is one to be settled by older and wiser heads than yours."
So the conversation was changed, and ran in other channels far into the night.
By Pontiac's order, suitable accommodations had been provided for Edith in the farmhouse adjoining that occupied by her father, and, at her request, Ah-mo shared them with her at night. During the day the latter was much with her own father, acting as his secretary and adviser, for which position no one of Indian blood was so well fitted as she.
Pontiac was too able a man not to realize the value of an education beyond that afforded by the forest, and had long ago selected Ah-mo, the cleverest of all his children, as the one who should receive its benefits. So she had spent six years in Montreal, studying diligently, learning easily, and in all ways preparing herself for the very place she now occupied. She had been courted, petted, and made much of by the gay society of the Canadian capital; but never did she forget her loyalty to her own people. Thus, when, on the eve of his great undertaking, her father sent for her, she unhesitatingly relinquished the allurements of civilization for a place in his wilderness lodge and by his side.
From him she was now learning the greatest of all arts, that of knowing when to keep silence and when to speak. Thus, fond as she had become of Edith Hester, she wisely kept many things from her; among others, by Pontiac's desire, the fact that her brother Donald and Paymaster Bullen had been captured, an event that occurred some two weeks after Edith herself was brought from the island. Nor were the major and his daughter allowed to know what took place in the Ottawa village, which had been removed a full mile from the carefully guarded quarters assigned to them, and to which, for their own safety, they were closely confined.
Ah-mo's influence over her father was regarded unfavorably by some of the chiefs, and especially by Mahng, the Ojibwa, who, having sought her in marriage for his son Suggema, and being met with a prompt refusal, had conceived an intense dislike for her. This was inflamed by her friendship for the daughter of Major Hester, whom Mahng regarded as the chief of his enemies. Therefore, in all his plans for revenge upon those who he was determined should feel the weight of his wrath, Ah-mo was included; and he impatiently awaited a fitting time for the carrying out of his evil designs. When, therefore, near the close of a certain day, Pontiac bade the Ojibwas hold themselves in readiness to repel an attack, which he had secret information the English were to make that night, Mahng smiled grimly; for he believed his long-desired opportunity had arrived.
