Munroe Kirk
At War with Pontiac; Or, The Totem of the Bear: A Tale of Redcoat and Redskin
CHAPTER X
PONTIAC DECLARES WAR
Although Gladwyn caused half of his force to be kept under arms that night, and doubled his sentries, nothing occurred to disturb the settlement. In the morning, as the rising sun dispelled the fleecy mist-clouds from above the river, a fleet of canoes was seen crossing from the eastern shore. These effected a landing at some distance above the fort, and soon afterwards the wide, open common behind it was animated by the presence of hundreds of Indians. There were stately warriors in paint and blankets, young braves stripped to the waist-cloth for a game of ball, maidens whose cheeks were ruddy with vermilion, robed in embroidered and beaded garments of fawn skin, and naked children, frolicking like so many puppies. Save in the occasional scowling face and preoccupied air of some dark-browed warrior, and a slow but noticeable gathering of these near the principal gate of the fort, there was nothing to arouse suspicion or indicate that these visitors had any save the most friendly feelings toward the whites.
Pontiac having sent word to Major Gladwyn that he desired to meet the white chief in council, about ten o'clock the Indian leader and some sixty of his principal men were seen approaching in single file from the direction of the bridge across Parent's creek, a mile and a half north of the fort. As they drew near the great gateway, it was noticed that in spite of the heat of the day every warrior was wrapped to the chin in his gayly colored blanket. The faces of all were streaked with ochre, vermilion, white, and black paint, while from their scalp-locks depended plumes of eagle, hawk, or turkey feathers, indicative of their rank or prowess in battle.
As the great gate was swung open to admit this barbaric procession, they entered the fort with stately tread and in grave silence, led by the mighty chief, who, with proudly lifted head and flashing eyes, looked every inch a forest king. Suddenly he started, uttered a deep ejaculation, and half turned as though to retreat. On either side of the street down which he must pass to the council-house was drawn up a motionless line of red-coated soldiers. Above them their fixed bayonets glinted ominously in the bright sunlight. Behind them every house was closed, and at the street corners stood groups of stalwart fur traders, surrounded by their half-savage employees, all armed to the teeth. In all these rigid figures there was a grim air of determination, though no sound was to be heard save the measured throbbing of an unseen drum.
It is no wonder that Pontiac started. In a single glance he saw that he had been betrayed and that his plan was known. Still, his hesitation was but momentary and hardly noticed ere with immobile face he resumed his march toward the great council-house that stood near the water's edge, on the further side of the town. As the procession of fierce warriors, decked in the fullest glory of savage habiliment, moved slowly down the street, frightened faces gazed furtively at them from behind half-closed blinds, while the regular tap of the unseen drum seemed to assume an angrier tone, as though impatient to break forth in the furious rattle of a "charge."
In the council-house the Indians found Gladwyn and his officers seated in a semicircle at the upper end, waiting to receive them. They also noted that each of these, besides being in full uniform, wore his sword and a brace of pistols. At this additional evidence of the discovery of their design, and that they had placed themselves completely within the enemy's power, the warriors exchanged uneasy glances, and seemed inclined to make a rush for the door rather than seat themselves on the mats prepared for them.
"Why," demanded Pontiac, "do I see so many of my white brother's young men standing outside with guns in their hands?"
Gladwyn replied that it was customary for his soldiers to go through with an armed drill every day.
When the Indians were finally seated, one of them filled, lighted, and handed to Pontiac the great chief's own superb calumet. Its red stone bowl, which held a quarter of a pound of tobacco, was carved with rare skill, and its long stem was curiously inlaid with shell-work, besides being ornamented with quills and feathers. After each member of the council, white as well as red, beginning with Gladwyn, had slowly drawn a whiff from this mighty calumet, and it came again to Pontiac, he rose and said:—
"In token of the peace which I desire shall always exist between the red man and his white brother I now present this pipe to these friends, that they may keep it forever. That its message may be heard with open ears, I deliver it to the care of the oldest among you, to him whose hair is white with the wisdom of many years."
Thus saying, the chief stepped forward and laid the gorgeous calumet across the knees of Major Hester, while a grunt of approbation came from the throats of those behind him. Gladwyn, who alone of the assembled whites knew the meaning of this act, cast a startled and suspicious glance at the veteran soldier thus singled out for some other fate than death, while the recipient himself was noticeably embarrassed by the incident.
But the attention of all was immediately occupied by other things. Holding a splendid belt of wampum in his hands, Pontiac was now addressing Gladwyn with the eloquence for which he was so justly famed. He recounted the many outrages suffered by his people at the hands of the English, and especially their fur traders. Against these he demanded protection. He spoke for nearly an hour, during which time his every gesture was keenly watched by the English officers, who feared that in spite of their precautions he might still attempt some desperate move.
Pontiac was in a dilemma. It was customary at the close of a speech to present the belt of wampum, which the speaker always held, to him who was expected to reply. To omit this formality would be equivalent to a declaration of war. It had been understood that his followers were to fall upon the English officers the moment he should make this presentation, and there had been no opportunity to alter this prearranged programme. So the great chief hesitated, held out the fatal belt, and then made a motion as though to withdraw it. Gladwyn extended his hand. As he did so, there came a rattling clash of arms from a passageway at the lower end of the hall and a deafening din of drums.
Pontiac started, dropped the belt of wampum, thrust a hand within his blanket, as though to draw a weapon, reconsidered, folded his arms, and stood motionless. In an instant all was again silent, and Gladwyn rose to address the council as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
He told the Indians that he would consider their grievances, and would do all that lay in his power to afford them protection, so long as they deserved it. At the same time he threatened them with a terrible punishment should they undertake to remedy their wrongs by any act of aggression against the whites. Then he dismissed the council, and the crestfallen warriors were allowed to leave the fort. Before departing, Pontiac notified the English commander that he should come again in a few days for another talk; but Gladwyn only turned contemptuously away, without deigning a reply.
Two days later the common behind the fort was again thronged with Indians, representing four tribes, and from out the throng Pontiac again approached the gate. It was barred against him, and when he demanded admittance, Gladwyn himself replied, ordering him to begone, as neither he nor his rabble would again be received.
Furious with rage, the chief strode away, and ordered his warriors to withdraw beyond gunshot, but to see that no Englishman was allowed to leave the fort. Then launching a canoe he crossed the river to his own village, which he ordered to be removed to the western bank.
While he was thus occupied, his infuriated followers were engaged in the murder and scalping of two English families who dwelt beyond reach of the fort. That night the inmates of Detroit, armed and sleepless, listened with heavy hearts to the doleful sounds of the scalp dance, mingled with the exulting yells of the war dance, and while prepared to sell their lives as dearly as possible, wondered how long their frail defences would withstand the fierce onset which they momentarily expected would be made against them.
Daylight found many of them, exhausted by the night's vigil, dozing at their posts. Suddenly the blood-curdling war-whoop arose from all sides at once, a rattling volley of rifle-shots pattered against the palisades, and a swarm of yelling, naked figures leaped from the surrounding obscurity. It seemed as though the impetuous assault must succeed from mere force of numbers, for the Indians were counted by hundreds, while the whites were but a handful.
CHAPTER XI
MAJOR HESTER IS TAKEN PRISONER
In spite of the apparent fury of the attack, and the expectation of the garrison that a fierce assault was about to be made on their slender defences, nothing of the kind was contemplated by the Indians. They were not trained to that form of warfare, and when they found that Gladwyn was not frightened into a surrender by noise and an exhibition of force, they contented themselves with maintaining a vigorous fire from behind barns, fences, bushes, slight ridges of earth, or any object of sufficient size to shelter them from the steady return fire of the soldiers. One cluster of buildings, within half-gunshot of the fort, sheltered a large body of Indians, who from this point of vantage directed a particularly galling fire at the loop-holes in the palisades. By it several of the defenders were wounded, until finally a cannon was brought to bear upon the hornet's nest, and a quantity of red-hot spikes were thrust into its muzzle. A minute after its discharge flames burst from the buildings, and the savages who had occupied them were in precipitate flight, followed by jeering shouts and a parting volley from the soldiers.
For six hours was this travesty of battle maintained. Then the Indian fire slackened, and finally ceased altogether. Believing the affair to be merely a temporary outbreak of a few hot-headed savages, that must quickly blow over, Gladwyn took advantage of this lull in the storm to send out two Canadians under a flag of truce to investigate the cause of dissatisfaction. At the same time he proposed, while negotiations were in progress, to secure a supply of provisions with which to stand a siege.
A gate being opened for the departure of the ambassadors, most of the Canadian inhabitants of the fort seized the opportunity to leave it, saying that they could not bear to remain and witness the approaching slaughter of their English friends.
In a short time Gladwyn's messengers returned, saying that Pontiac was willing to arrange terms, but would only do so with Major Hester, and had expressed a strong desire for a visit from that officer.
"Go back and tell him I will see him and his whole cowardly crew hanged, before I will intrust the life of a single Englishman to his treachery!" exclaimed the commander, angrily.
"Hold, Gladwyn!" protested Major Hester. "It is better that one life should be risked than that all should be endangered. Nor do I think I should be in any serious peril. I have always got along with the redskins, and have thus far found Pontiac reasonable."
"I forgot. He did present the calumet to you," replied the other, with a meaning intonation.
"Do you dare insinuate—?" began Major Hester, with a dangerous glitter in his eye.
"No, Hester. No, I do not. I am ashamed of myself and humbly apologize!" cried Gladwyn. "If you insist upon placing yourself within the power of yonder savages, I shall know that you do so from the loftiest sense of duty, with a full knowledge that you jeopardize your life, and with a courage that I fear I for one could not exhibit."
"Thank you, Gladwyn. That was said manfully and like a true soldier. I shall accept this mission because it is plainly in the line of my duty to do so. If I never return from it, I charge you to carry a father's blessing to my children."
The fine old soldier, in full uniform, was accompanied to the gateway by all the officers of the post. There every one shook hands with him, bidding him at once God-speed and farewell, while the soldiers lined the ramparts, and as he emerged from the gates saluted him with a rousing British cheer.
The major was escorted by the two aged Canadians who had been sent out in the first place, and the little party had not covered more than half the ground between the fort and Parent's creek, beyond which lay the Ottawa village, ere they were met by another Canadian running and breathless. He implored them to turn back, saying that he had just been through the Indian village and was convinced by what he saw and heard that no Englishman could set foot within its limits and live. But Major Hester steadfastly refused to retreat, and insisted on fulfilling his mission.
At length they crossed the creek, mounted the ridge beyond, and saw outspread on its further slope the most extensive Indian village ever known to that region. The moment the hated English uniform was seen by the inmates of the many lodges, they swarmed about the ambassadors by hundreds, the men with scowling brows, the squaws and children snatching up sticks, stones, and clubs as they ran. For a moment the stout heart of the old soldier quailed, for he imagined he was to be subjected to the terrible ordeal of the gantlet.
At the same time not a trace of emotion appeared on his face, as calmly folding his arms he stepped a pace or two in front of his shrinking companions and boldly confronted the throng of yelling savages. In another moment they would have overwhelmed him. Suddenly the stately form of Pontiac appeared among the rabble, and at the sound of his imperious voice they slunk aside like whipped curs. Instantly the tumult was allayed. In the silence that followed, the great chief greeted the British officer with a grave courtesy, shook his hand, and conducted him into the village.
The Ottawa encampment was a confused assemblage of tall, cone-shaped lodges, built of slender poles supporting great sheets of bark or overlapping folds of fine matting so closely woven from rushes as to be thoroughly rain-proof. Scores of graceful birch canoes, such as the northern tribes excel in making, were drawn up on the river bank; paddles and spears leaned against the lodges, smoke-blackened kettles and other rude cooking-utensils were scattered about the smouldering fires, and a throng of wolfish-looking dogs added their discordant baying to the clamor of children.
At the council lodge, which was conspicuous from its size, Major Hester was offered a seat on one of a circle of mats. As he took it, the other mats, as well as every inch of standing-room, were immediately occupied by a throng of warriors, while the entrance was crowded by many others, all eager to catch a glimpse of the Englishman.
After the tedious ceremony of smoking the peace pipe was concluded, Pontiac delivered a short address of welcome, to which the major responded. He demanded to know the cause of the morning's outbreak, and assured the Indians that their just grievances should be remedied, provided they gave up for punishment all who had been implicated in the murders of the previous day.
The major resumed his seat upon the conclusion of his remarks, amid a profound silence that lasted for many minutes. Finally, determined to learn the worst without further delay, he again rose and said, that having no answer to his questions, he would now return to the fort and report to the white chief that his red brothers desired not peace, but war.
Upon this Pontiac signed to him to resume his seat, and turning to the two Canadians, said:—
"Go to the fort and tell Major Gladwyn that the white-haired chief will sleep among the lodges of his red brothers. Tell him that the hatchet dug up this day will not be buried so long as an Englishman remains in the land of the Algonquins. Tell him that every fort from the Thunder of Waters to the Great River has this day been cut off, so that no aid may come to him. Tell him that the soldiers of the French king are already hastening to fight beside their red brothers. Tell him that he may go now and go in peace; but if he tarries beyond the setting of another sun, the wolves of the forest shall feast on the bodies of his red-coated soldiers, while their scalps shall dry in Ottawa lodges. Go, for Pontiac has spoken."
With trembling alacrity the Canadians obeyed the mandate, and with their departure Major Hester realized that he was indeed a prisoner in the hands of a relentless foe. While wondering as to his ultimate fate, he was conducted by Pontiac to a comfortable French frame-house standing just beyond the Indian village, and informed that this was to be his lodging.
"Here," said Pontiac, "shall my brother dwell in safety; but let him not set foot outside. My young men are angry, and their guns are quick to shoot. Even in the dark their eyes are opened wide by the sight of an English scalp."
"I suppose that as your prisoner I must submit to your orders," replied Major Hester, "though why you don't put an end to this farce and kill me at once I fail to comprehend."
"Did the white-haired chief kill me when I slept in the house of the two trees?" demanded Pontiac.
"When did you ever sleep in Tawtry House? Certainly you never did with my knowledge and consent."
"Many years have passed, and there has been much fighting since that time; but surely my brother has not forgotten Songa the Ottawa?"
"No. I remember him well; but what has he to do with this present affair?"
"I," replied the chief, drawing himself proudly up to his full height, "am Pontiac; but I was Songa; and as Major Hester saved the life of Songa, so Pontiac saves the life of Major Hester, by detaining him in this place while the English fort is wiped from the face of the earth and all within it are put to death."
CHAPTER XII
DONALD AT JOHNSON CASTLE
Some two weeks after the events just narrated, a youth, tanned to the swarthiness of an Indian, whose hair was long and unkempt, and whose well-worn suit of buckskin evidenced hard and prolonged travel, paced impatiently to and fro in the anteroom of Sir William's private office at Johnson Castle. Although his moccasined feet made no sound on the uncarpeted floor, his movements seemed to annoy the elder of two officers who, in handsome uniforms, occupied a window-seat at one side of the room, and were evidently waiting for somebody or something as patiently as their natures would permit.
"Confound the fellow!" he exclaimed. "Why can't he sit still and possess his soul in patience, like the rest of us, instead of tramping up and down like the wild beast he looks?"
"He doesn't make much noise about it," laughed the other.
"No, hang him! I wish he did. That cat-like tread of his is unendurable."
"He looks anxious, and doubtless has urgent business with Sir William that suffers from delay."
"Nonsense, Christie! you are too good natured. His business probably concerns payment for some game he has brought in for sale; for I take it he is one of these American hunters we have heard so much of lately. Whatever it is, it certainly can't compare in urgency with ours, and yet we have sat here like lambs for nearly an hour, while he has waited barely half that time. By the great horn spoon! If his serene highness does not admit us to his presence in a few minutes more, I shall beard him in his den, and demand audience in the name of the king. It is simply maddening to think of Cuyler carrying the Rothsay party farther and farther away with each minute, and having the beauty all to himself. Of course you don't care, since it was decided that they travel by the north shore of the lake, while, as I understand it, your beastly post lies somewhere on the south shore. With me, though, it is different. My destination being the same as hers, I naturally expected to be her travelling companion and enjoy a fair share of her charming society. Now what, with dancing attendance for a week on Sir Jeffry, and this abominable delay, I fear my chances of overtaking the expedition are very slim. By the way, I heard somewhere that the little Rothsay's name is not Rothsay, after all. Do you know if that is true, and if so, what her name really is?"
"I believe it is Hester,—Edith Hester," answered the young officer, who was addressed as Christie.
"I wonder how you always manage to find out such things?" remarked the other, reflectively. "By Jove!" he added, "Hester is the name of that major duffer whose message to Sir Jeffry caused my delay; I wonder if they can be relations?"
"Cave. Rustico aliquid subolet," warned Christie, with a significant glance toward the third occupant of the room, who had paused in his restless walk and was regarding them intently.
Before the elder man could reply, he stepped, to where they were sitting and said quietly to the young officer who had just spoken:—
"Pardon my presumption in thus addressing a stranger, sir, but I feel it my duty to remind you that the word rusticus may receive several interpretations. In one sense, it cannot be exchanged between gentlemen without creating ill feelings. Its use by Terence—"
Ere the sentence could be completed, and while the bewildered officers were gazing at this backwoods expounder of the classics much as they might have regarded an apparition, a door was flung open, and Sir William Johnson appeared with an anxious expression on his ruddy and usually jolly face.
"Ah, general," exclaimed the officer who had just declared his intention of bearding the general in his den, "we had begun to think—"
"Glad you had, sir! Glad you had! Pray keep it up for a few minutes longer while I confer with this gentleman. His business is of such a nature as to take precedence of all other. Hester, my dear fellow, step this way."
"Rather a go! eh, Bullen?" remarked Ensign Christie, as the two men stared blankly at the door just closed in their faces.
"Well! By Jove!" gasped the other. "If His Majesty's officers were never snubbed before, two of them have been given a jolly big dose of it this time. All on account of that leather-jerkined young savage, too. I swear I'll have my man insult him and give him a thrashing at the first opportunity."
"You seem to forget," suggested Christie, gravely, "that your 'young savage' was discoursing most learnedly upon the idiosyncrasies of the Latin tongue when Sir William interrupted and called him 'my dear fellow.'"
"By Jove! you are right!" cried Bullen. "Possibly he is a gentleman in disguise,—best disguise I ever saw,—and in that case I can call him out. You'll act for me, old man, of course?"
"Certainly," laughed Christie; "but you lose sight of the fact that, as the challenged party, he will have the choice of weapons. Suppose he should select hunting-rifles at one hundred paces?"
"Horrible!" exclaimed Bullen. "I say, though, he couldn't do that and be a gentleman at the same time. Oh dear, no! Unless he names swords or pistols,—the only gentlemanly weapons,—I shall be compelled to withdraw in favor of Tummas."
"There is another point to be considered," continued Christie, who, tall, handsome, and easy-going, delighted in chaffing his pompous and peppery companion, whose abbreviated stature had only gained admittance to the service through high heels and a powerful influence. "Did you notice that Sir William addressed your 'young savage' as Hester?"
"Oh, by Jove! Yes; now that you mention it," cried the other, with an accent of despair. "And you said her name was Hester, too. The adorable little Rothsay to whom I had even proposed to propose. If this is a sample of her family though! But, of course, it can't be. It would be too incredible. She is an angel; while he—well, he isn't, and therefore cannot be even a remote connection."
Just here the door was again opened, and Sir William, followed by the subject of their conversation, re-entered the room.
"Well, general!" began the ever-impatient Bullen. "I trust you are not going to detain us here much longer. It is of the utmost importance that I should reach Detroit as speedily as possible."
"Ah, yes," replied the general, who knew that Paymaster Bullen had obtained his present detail solely for the sake of furthering certain schemes of his own. "I understand that you are going to investigate the unaccountable disappearance of a red blanket and a plug of tobacco from the quartermaster's stores at Detroit."
"Not only that, Sir William, but I am to make a very thorough inquiry into the unaccounted-for disappearance of a great many red blankets, and a great many plugs of tobacco, and a great many other things as well," answered the little paymaster, warmly.
"Very well, sir," replied the general. "If that is the sole object of your journey, you need not go beyond this room to acquire all necessary information. I can tell you what became of the goods in question, and who is responsible for their disappearance. I am indirectly; though my very dear friend, Major Graham Hester, recently in command at Detroit, acting by my advice, was the agent through whom they were distributed in the shape of presents to the warlike western tribes. By this means, and through his most excellent judgment in Indian affairs, Major Hester has succeeded in averting, until now, a bloody war, which has been imminent at any time during the last three years. Now, owing to a parsimony that withholds those few paltry dollars' worth of presents and the criminal stupidity of some of our newly arrived officers, we are on the eve of the most serious native outbreak this country has ever witnessed. As it is under the leadership of Pontiac, a man who I honestly believe would be unexcelled among the commanders of the world had he the advantages of education and environment, it is certain to prove a very formidable affair."
"Do I understand you, sir, that this outbreak has already taken place?" demanded Ensign Christie, who had just been assigned to his first independent command,—that of Presque Isle.
"My private despatches from Major Hester give me every reason for that belief," was the answer; "though Gladwyn does not mention it. Ensign Hester, who brings these despatches, confirms his father's warning. He, moreover, informs me that the Senecas have joined the conspiracy, he and his companion having had a narrow escape from a west-bound party of that tribe. As it was, the Indians stole their canoe, leaving them to make their way on foot for over two hundred miles through the forest to this place. Thus, too, they missed meeting with Cuyler's command, which they were charged to warn of the threatened danger."
"May I ask if this is Ensign Hester?" inquired Christie, turning with an engaging smile toward the leather-clad young stranger.
"Bless my soul! Yes. Haven't you met him? Ensign Christie and Paymaster Bullen, permit me to present Ensign Donald Hester of the 60th, son of my dear friend the major, and brother of the very prettiest girl I know. By the way, lad, I believe I haven't told you the worst bit of news yet. It is that your giddy sister has persuaded Madam Rothsay to take her to Detroit as a delightful surprise for your father. They accompany Cuyler's expedition by especial permission of the general, who of course never doubted that in a time of profound peace the journey might be made in safety. And Cuyler, who did not expect to leave before this time, has already been gone a week, his movements having been greatly hastened, I fancy, by impetuous Miss Edith."
"I had already heard something of this," answered Donald, with a meaning glance at the two officers, "and had made up my mind to start at once on Cuyler's trail, with a view to overtaking and—please God—warning him in time."
"So be it, lad. Much as I hate to have you go without first taking a spell of rest, it is so clearly the thing to do that I cannot but bid you God-speed," exclaimed Sir William.
"Mr. Hester," said Christie, "I beg you will forgive and forget the rudeness of which I was guilty a few minutes since. I ought to have recognized a gentleman at sight under any conditions, and am ashamed to confess that for the moment I failed to do so."
"It is not at all to be wondered at, Mr. Christie," answered Donald, grasping the other's extended hand, "and as I have already forgotten the incident, I can find nothing to forgive."
"And will you allow me, as a great favor, to accompany you on this return trip so far as our ways lie together?"
"Gladly, though I warn you that I shall travel fast and hard."
"I will risk it," laughed Christie, "and to a novice in woodcraft like myself I know that such companionship as yours will prove invaluable."
"Well, hang it all, Christie! If you are going, I don't see why I shouldn't go too," sputtered Bullen, and while Donald would gladly have dispensed with the paymaster's company, he could not well frame an excuse for so doing.
