"Givens," I said planting myself before him, and holding out my hand, "you have just saved my life, doubtless. Won't you let me thank you?"
The beardless lips of the lad, about all I could see of his face under his wide brimmed cap, curved into a half smile, and he said, in muffled voice, his head still on his chest:
"The savage had just poised his tomahawk for a blow when I saw him."
"You acted most promptly," I answered; "he might have brought a whole tribe down upon us, so that you have perhaps saved the entire band, as well as Donald McElroy." I continued to talk, to praise his coolness, readiness, and marksmanship, and to repeat my thanks, but I got no more out of the lad and it was so evident that I embarrassed and annoyed him that presently I walked on and left him to follow. He seemed affected with a painful shyness, and apparently preferred solitude to the most flattering society.
No immediate opportunity was given me to tell Givens of his boy's kindly deed, for, just as I joined him and Colonel Clark, talking earnestly together, Saunders, still attended by his guards, came running toward us, waving his arms, and shouting joyously. He had found a landmark, and knew our locality! We were but a day's march from Kaskaskia, and the way was safe and open!
CHAPTER XVII
"Comrades," said Clark the next morning, just as we were falling into line of march, "have you remembered the day? It is the fourth of July, my men – the anniversary of our Declaration of Independence, the birthday of our liberties – day propitious in the history of the United States of America! Our guide tells me that we are but six leagues from Kaskaskia, and I have already planned our attack. Bloodless victory awaits us – for I can rely on each man of you to do only and all that is expected of him. We will march within half a mile of the fort this morning, conceal ourselves in the woods until dark, and, then, dividing into two companies, we will rush into the town from opposite ends, shouting and brandishing our knives.
"I am told that the minds of the French in this region have been filled with terror of the bordermen by horrid tales of our ruthless cruelty; we may as well take advantage of this impression to overawe them. Perhaps we may prevent bloodshed by producing astonishment and terror in the breasts of the garrison and citizens. We have no quarrel with the French, but are concerned rather with winning them peaceably to our side. After a night of fear – but you must remember, men, that we wish to arouse apprehension alone, and that a single deed of violence or rapine may ruin all – the reaction will be the greater, and our liberal terms of amnesty the more gratefully accepted. As we lie in ambush this afternoon, you will preserve the strictest silence, and not a man must venture out of hiding till the command to advance be given. Carry out this plan successfully, and Kaskaskia is ours to-morrow, and Virginia's forever!"
Cheers rent the air, and the more enthusiastic waved their caps over their heads, and shook each other's hands, as if victory were already ours.
The town lay dark and silent under the stars, as our two bands circled it, and simultaneously marched down the principal street from opposite directions, yelling, and brandishing our unsheathed hunting knives, as demon-wise as the worst of savages.
"The Long-Knives! The Long-Knives!" shouted the people upon the streets, running from house to house to spread the alarm, while women and children screamed, doors were slammed and barred within, and lights extinguished everywhere. Gradually the pandemonium of shrieks, shouts, and screams subsided into a hush of fearful expectation, during which Givens and Saunders, each of whom could speak a little French, marched captured citizens from door to door, before which they required them to announce in loud tones that the general in command of the Long-Knives had decreed that all citizens of Kaskaskia who should remain quietly within their houses would be unmolested, but that all who ventured out would be summarily dealt with.
M. Rocheblave, the commandant, was surprised in his bed-chamber, and taken prisoner. His wife, a pretty, voluble Frenchwoman, went into hysterics, and begged piteously for their lives in broken English, much mixed with French words, and interpreted with expressive gestures. Colonel Clark assured her, as best he could, that no harm would be done them, and then bade me search the apartment for papers while he stood guard in the doorway. Meantime the Commandant and Madame looked on, the latter regaining her composure, and seating herself on a small trunk, from which she watched my proceedings with smiling scorn. I searched everywhere, upsetting furniture, and even ripping open the feather beds, but few papers were found, and they of slight importance. The trunk which Madame seemed to be guarding was, evidently, the receptacle for the more important documents.
"Madame," I said, approaching her, and taking her gently by the arm, "I must search this trunk also."
But she held her place firmly, and, in better English than she had yet spoken, heaped reproaches upon me, saying that "no man worthy of the name would invade the privacy of a woman's personal belongings." Then she began to weep and to wail, and to entreat Clark piteously.
"Let her alone, McElroy," said Clark, at last; "we cannot use violence to a woman," so we marched off with our prisoner, the Commandant, and left the little Frenchwoman to destroy his papers at her leisure.
"I tell you, McElroy," said Clark, "I'd rather face a battalion, or storm a battery, than to encounter another hysterical Frenchwoman."
During the night we took possession of the ungarrisoned fort – a disused warehouse, which had served as fort since the burning of the old one – and Colonel Clark issued strict commands that only the officers and such soldiers as he should detail to guard the town from time to time, must leave the fort until further orders. By this ruse the citizens were deceived for weeks as to our real strength, their imagination readily using such adroit hints as Colonel Clark threw out to magnify our force into a strong army of invasion, and the squad left at Corn Island, into large reinforcements, expected in a few days.
All night guards patrolled the streets. The inhabitants, however, obeyed orders strictly, and did not venture forth next morning until permission was given them, with the information that the fort and the town were in our possession, and M. Rocheblave a prisoner.
Their distressed faces presented a strong contrast to the cheerful scene which greeted our eyes with the beaming sunlight of the morning. Kaskaskia, situated on the right bank of the Kaskaskia or the Okan River, six miles above its confluence with the Mississippi, was then a village of two hundred and fifty houses, situated on a beautiful and rolling peninsula. The velvet verdure of the plain, dotted with little groves of pecan, maple, ash, and button-wood, the glassy surface of the idle river, the lofty hill opposite, with its stately forest, the air scented with the fragrance of its wild flowers, the little springs gushing from its sides in sparkling beauty, all reposing in the lap of nature, with their virgin freshness yet upon them – there was a landscape to charm her most capricious lover. We gazed enchanted on the fair picture and felt that we had reached a Canaan, rich reward for all we had dared and endured.
Presently came the priest to Colonel Clark, asking that the people be allowed to assemble once more in the church to say to each other a last farewell before leaving their homes, and separating forever. "Theirs," he said, "was the fortune of war, and they made no murmur – since an all wise God had willed it so. Nor could they complain of their conquerors, who so far had treated them with unexampled consideration. They had but one other favor to ask – that the men might not be separated from their wives and their little ones."
Doubtless all the night through the woeful fate of the hapless Acadians had been present to the anxious minds of the people, who were expecting for themselves, as the best to be hoped, a similar fate.
When the priest's words had been translated to Colonel Clark by Saunders, he answered with a winning smile, and a convincing air of friendliness:
"Monsieur Gibault, we have nothing whatever against your religion, nor against the citizens of Kaskaskia. Assemble your people in church when and for what purpose you will; worship God freely, as your consciences dictate. It is to win freedom of belief and personal liberty for all the inhabitants of this broad continent we have taken up our arms. But we came not to fight against the French; our quarrel is against King George of England. And why should the citizens of Kaskaskia, for the sake of being loyal to a power which has but lately subdued them, desert their comfortable homes, and wander forth again into the wilderness? Why should they not make peace, and live in harmony with the allies of their father land? Have they not heard the great news – that France and America have formed a close alliance – that a French fleet and a French army are on their way to help us fight the armies who have invaded us because we would not submit to tyranny and injustice? Does not this alliance absolve the citizens of Kaskaskia from all allegiance to England? Is not blood thicker than treaties forced upon a people at the point of the sword?
"No! M. Gibault, there is no necessity for your flock to bid each other farewell, and scatter into the wilderness to fall prey to wild beast and cruel savage! Remain peacefully in your homes! swear allegiance to Virginia! conclude with us the same alliance that France has lately entered into with the United States of America, and not a drop of blood need be shed, not a man, woman, or child need leave his home, nor resign either his religion, nor a franc's worth of his lawful property! We will pledge ourselves to secure your safety, and to maintain you in the enjoyment of all the rights and privileges of American citizens!"
The gentle face of the priest passed from distressful entreaty, through all the varying expressions of surprise, doubt, conviction, relief, and rapture, as Colonel Clark's speech, phrase by phrase, was interpreted to him. He poured out fervid and voluble thanks, called down Heaven's blessing upon such merciful conquerors, and repaired quickly to the church to spread the glad news among his flock.
Never have I witnessed a more affecting scene than the one which followed. The child-like Kaskaskians passed in an instant from despair to joy, from fear and horror of us, to enthusiastic admiration and affection. We were their allies, their brothers, not only would they share all they had with us, but they would assist us against our common enemy.
An hour later, when the first outburst of joy had somewhat subsided, Father Gibault called his flock to assemble again in the church, that they might offer to God a solemn thanksgiving for this great deliverance. Colonel Clark and I, with two others of the officers, attended this service and gave respectful attention. In a far corner of the dim little chapel I recognized the slim form of young Givens bowed in worship. Again I fell to puzzling over the lad – some mystery attended, evidently, his presence among us. Could he be a Catholic? yet Catholics were as rare as Jews in our part of the State; Ellen had been the single one in our county as far as I knew. There was no solving the mystery, unless Givens chose to disclose what he knew, and that he was little likely to do, without good reason. Well, mysteries were not rare in the New World, and we were little accustomed to concern ourselves about them beyond idle speculation.
When the religious ceremonies were over, Father Gibault announced that the rest of the day would be celebrated as a fête day, and asked that the panins, or slaves, should be given holiday. Festoons of flowers were quickly woven, and hung from house to house; maidens and youths danced upon the green; flutes, violins, fife, and drum filled the air with music; and later a supper of pan cakes and maple syrup was served to all by soft-voiced, bright-eyed Frenchwomen. Dancing, feasting and rejoicing were kept up in many of the houses until midnight. Intoxicating drinks had flowed so freely, meantime, that there was much disorder on the streets, and several fights among the panins, who mingled with their masters in a familiar manner, strange to us. To their brawls, however, we paid no attention, since only friendly demonstrations were made us, and no one ventured near the fort, in which the men were kept with some difficulty.
To Colonel Bowman's company fell the lot of marching up the river to take possession of the town and fort of Cahokia. Several of the citizens of Kaskaskia had volunteered to go with us, and, entering the town before us, easily persuaded the inhabitants to transfer their allegiance from Great Britain to Virginia. As in Kaskaskia, the news of the French alliance was all that was needed to incline to a bloodless surrender.
Chosen by Captain Bowman to carry the news of our easy success to Colonel Clark, and ask for further instructions, I was again in Kaskaskia within the week. My interview over with Colonel Clark – who took my news with rather disappointing calmness – I found Givens waiting for me, his anxious face and air of mystery giving me a sharp surprise. He led me aside, and asked abruptly,
"You hed er cousin by ther name uv Ellen O'Niel?"
"Yes," I answered, still more surprised.
"She's yander in the fort, en lyin' low. What'll we do erbout et?"
"Here, in Kaskaskia? It is not to be believed."
"All ther same, Capt'n, et's so. John Givens es Ellen O'Niel, dressed en boy's clothes. Howsomever she's down with ther swamp fever now, en must hev woman's nussin' en' priest's docterin' es soon es it's ter be got fur 'er. It's yer es must tell Colonel Clark, en' have 'er moved frum ther fort at onct."
"How came she with you, Givens? And why did you let her come all this way from her friends – and dressed, too, in men's clothes?" I questioned angrily.
"'Tain't no time fur explanations now, Capt'n. Ther gal needs tendin' ter, right away," and he stalked on in front of me with imperturbable manner, but anxious countenance.
It took few words to explain so much as was necessary to Colonel Clark, and not many more to enlist the sympathies of Madame Rocheblave. We soon had the poor child, – yet in her rifleman's garb, but too far gone in the stupor of her disease to know anything – removed to the Commandant's house, and left her in the care of Madame, and a fresh faced girl whom Madame called Angélique, and recommended as an excellent nurse. Then we went to see Dr. Lafonte, the village doctor, and Father Gibault, who was reputed to be skilled in herbs and roots, and especially successful in treating fevers.
When both had come, while we waited for their verdict, Givens sat down beside me on the steps of the house and told me the following story:
"Twuz one bitter cold en' snowy evenin', las' winter, as I wuz out on ther mountin', huntin'. I seed a dark heap 'long side er ther parth, en' thort 'twuz er wild beast uv sum descripshun. When I got closter I heerd er human moan, en' seed it wuz er woman, hurt, en' harf froze. I toted 'er home on my shoulder, laid 'er on my bed, en' rubbed sum life inter 'er. Fur days she did'n' know nothin'; then, when she did 'pear ter notice sum, she lay ther', too weak ter speak, en' lookin' more like er ghost than like er woman. When she could talk she 'peared not ter wan' ter, en' specully not ter keer ter talk erbout herself. I didn't ask 'er no questions, en' one day I tole 'er I'd call 'er Mary ef she'd es lieve – thet having been ther name of my own leetle gal, es ther redskin devils killed, en' her eyes somehow remindin' me uv ther chile's. She 'greed ter thet, en' got more friendly.
"One day she axed me if I could give her some paper en' er quill. I guv 'em ter 'er, made 'er sum poke-berry ink, en' she writ' er letter; thin I tramped ter Charlottsville ter post et fur er. She waited en' waited, en' twiset I went ter town ter git ther answer, afore it cum. When et did cum, et sot her ter cryin', en' took all ther red out'n her cheeks ergin – fur by this time she wuz well en' strong, doin' all my cookin' en' mendin', and makin' cheerful company fur me evenin's. She said 'twuz her own letter cum back frum ther postman, who had writ on et thet ther people et wuz sont ter didn't live in Baltimore no longer. She didn't hev no whar, now, ter go, she said, crying pitiful. She could stay with me es long es she'd er mind ter, I tole her, en' I'd be glad to hev her fur my own chile – sence the red-skinned devils hedn't left me none. Thet seemed ter cumfort her some, but you cum er few days arter thet, en' she heerd me tell yer I'd like ter go with Clark. You wuz no sooner gone then she declared she wuz goin' off so es not to be er hinderunce ter me, nur my plans. Ter thet I wouldn't ergree nohow, spechully arter she hed tole me er leetle 'bout how she happened ter be on ther mountin thet evenin' – though she never did tell me her name, nur ther name uv her kin folks.
"We talked mos' all thet night; she argified, en' I argified; et las we cum ter this ergreement: – she wuz ter go with me ter Kaintucky es my foster-son, en' we'd settle out ther, when she'd put on her gal clothes ergin, en' be my daughter fur good en' all.
"I went ter Charlottesville, got er rifleman's uniform fur 'er, en' she put it right on ter practice wearin' it, en' lookin' natural en it. Every day she went huntin' with me ter practice shootin', en' I tuk ter callin' her John. By ther time we started, 'twas all es nat'ral as if 'twere so, en' everything went smooth tel you en' Mr. Mitchell come. She wuz skeered fur fear you'd fine 'er out, en' staid most er the time at the settlement. 'Twuz my intention to leave er ther, even ef I went on with Clark, but she wuz mad fur adventure by thet time, en' would cum' on. The reason I let 'er wuz becus' uv yer two bein' her kin, in case 'twuz needful ter mek known she wuz er woman. Her being in 'tother company kept you frum seein' 'er much, en' nights I allus slept nigh 'er es you know. She's been awful sick now fur twenty-four hours, en' both uv yer gone. Et's been er terrable responserbility frum fust ter last – es fatherly as I feel ter ther poor gal," and Givens mopped the sweat from his brow, and drew a long, deep sigh of intense relief.
"Will she recover?" I asked eagerly of Dr. Lafonte, who just then opened the front door softly. To translate my question was beyond Givens' strictly limited French, but somehow Dr. Lafonte understood, and replied in his own tongue.
I gazed at him hopelessly, for then I could not understand a single word of the French language. Father Gibault, gliding behind the little doctor, smiled at my bewilderment and translated for me with many shrugs and gestures.
"He would say, Monsieur, that Mademoiselle ees very seek – boot she ees young and strong, eef le bon Dieu ees weeling she weel make recovery. I, Monsieur, have plenty Peruvian bark, et ees la grande médicine; Mademoiselle weel make recovery, I theenk, Monsieur," and he gave me a benign and reassuring smile.
CHAPTER XVIII
As soon as Colonel Clark's commands were delivered to Captain Bowman at Cahokia, I obtained permission for Thomas and myself to return to Kaskaskia, that we might await there the issue of Ellen's illness. We took turns of watching upon the porch of the commandant's house to be in readiness for any instant service it was in our power to render. Meantime Madame Rocheblave and Angélique nursed Ellen assiduously and tenderly, and her physicians gave her faithful attention. This was my first acquaintance with people of French blood, and their unfailing cheerfulness and sympathy were a revelation to me. In truth the French Americans of the Northwest were the most simple natured and warm hearted race I have ever known – they had not, however, the hardier qualities of my own people.
For seven days we had always the same answer to our questions given by the little doctor, with cheery air, and sympathetic expression – "C'est impossible à dire, Monsieur, il faut avoir la patience."
Late on the eighth night, Father Gibault came to me, his gentle face beaming with pleasure, to announce that the crisis had been favorably passed, and that with no relapse, Ellen would soon be as strong or stronger than before.
The most hazardous part of our enterprise lay yet before us – the taking of Vincennes, the real key to the Northwest, without which we could not long hold our position at Kaskaskia and Cahokia. And every day the English commandant, Abbott, might return from Detroit with reënforcements for the fort, which was far stronger and better equipped than the almost abandoned one at Kaskaskia. Moreover we could not hope so easily to overawe and win the larger and more mixed population of the town of Vincennes, which had fallen more directly under British influence.
Colonel Clark had conceived that his best hope was to make the Kaskaskians believe his riflemen the most formidable of warriors, and to lead them to think that he could summon from our recently established forts on the Ohio any number of reënforcements he might need. So we drilled and mustered the men and made pretense of sending couriers to our forts, till the Kaskaskians imagined us to be but the vanguard of an army. Their fears were aroused for friends and relatives at Vincennes, and Father Gibault himself offered to proceed to that town under an escort of Colonel Clark's troops, to counsel submission and alliance. Clark accepted his offer with apparent indifference, but secret joy, put me in command of Father Gibault's escort, and bade me gather all the information possible, in regard to the condition of the fort, the feeling of the people toward the English, and everything I thought might be useful in case we should have to storm or besiege the place.
Still our amazing good luck attended us. The logic of Father Gibault, and the natural preference of the people for peace – which made a change of masters a matter of secondary importance – proved irresistible. The citizens assembled willingly in the church, swore allegiance to Virginia, elected a town officer favorable to our interests, and allowed us to garrison the fort, and raise our standards over it. Father Gibault carried the news of our third bloodless victory back to Clark, and a week later Captain Helm arrived to take command of the garrison of five Americans, and about a score of French recruits. Colonel Clark had given him the large sounding title of "Governor-General of Indian affairs on the Wabash," and had charged him with a characteristic answer to Tabac – the head chief of the Piankeshaws, who had visited us at Vincennes, and arrogantly commanded us to convey a defiant message to the chief of the Long-Knives.
"Take your choice," was Clark's answer – by the mouth of the interpreter Givens – "between the British and the Big-Knives. Choose peace or war with the Long Knives and you will – but whichever you select, remember it is final and prepare to stand firmly by your choice. We are fighters by trade, we object not to war, yet we have no present quarrel with the red men, and seek none. We prefer to save our strength to make war upon the British king" – and then the ground of our quarrel with Great Britain was explained as well as Givens was able to do it by the use of such figures of speech as the Indians could understand.
The negotiations lasted several days, nor could we gather from the stolid faces of Tabac and his warriors what their decision would be. At last Tabac announced that he had made up his mind, – then sat in Sphinx-like silence for half an hour, smoking solemnly and looking straight before him into the dense smoke made by the pine knots, burning in the midst of our circle. His warriors did likewise. Instructed by Givens, we showed neither curiosity nor impatience, but remained as impassive as they.
Meantime, partially to rest my eyes from the smoke and flame of the pine logs, I gazed long and curiously at Tabac. How crafty and subtle the expression about the thin close-lipped mouth, and long half-shut eyes! How savage the narrow sloping forehead, and the high fleshless cheek bones, smeared with fantastic daubs of paint, and surmounted with suggestive scalp lock, conspicuously adorned with gay feathers and stiff quills. The noble red man indeed! I have no patience with this absurd sentiment of admiration and pity for the Indian – which seems now to be coming into fashion. The generation of pioneers, and frontiersmen not long past, realize as others never can the inherent savagery of the Indians. Either we should never have come to America, or we must exterminate the savages. Indians and civilization repel each other like the opposite poles of a magnet.
When Tabac arose deliberately to his feet at last, his eyes roved around the circle, and were fixed upon me with an expression of defiance, rather than upon Captain Helm, at whose left I sat, showing that he had felt, and resented my scrutiny.
"Warriors of the Big-Knife," he began in slow, measured tones, that made an impression of rude eloquence, though we understood not a word he said until Givens had translated his speech; "I have reflected long – have taken counsel of my warriors, and of the Great Spirit himself. I have made my choice. I have reached a last decision. And when Tabac, chief of the brave and noble tribe of the Piankeshaws decides, it is the end – there is no more hesitation with him, nor with his people. We are friends to the Big-Knife, and his warriors. We make alliance with the tribes of Virginia. We, too, are Big-Knives, we stand or fall with our pale face brethren from the rising sun."
Captain Helm made gracious answer to this language, interspersed with much flattery of Tabac and his tribe, for their alliance was, really, of the greatest importance to us, and our apparent indifference but a part of the big game of bluff Clark was playing. Then the peace pipe was passed around, presents interchanged, and after bidding our new allies an elaborate farewell, we returned to the fort.
Just before he had sent me to Vincennes, Colonel Clark, as I neglected to mention at the proper time, had raised me to my old rank of Captain, and given me a place on his staff, as special attaché to himself – as the moving executive, so to speak, of the central authority. Clark remained at Kaskaskia, where one Indian deputation after another flocked to him to make treaties of peace or alliance, while I moved up the river to Cahokia, or across the prairies and marshes to Vincennes, carrying his orders, making reports, and gathering information.
Upon my return to Kaskaskia after my first trip to Vincennes, I found Ellen more than convalescent. Her vigorous youth had quickly vanquished the disease after the first crisis was safely passed, and she had made such rapid recovery as caused Madame Rocheblave to lift her hands, elevate her eyebrows, and exclaim over the marvelous physical powers of "zeze so veery strong Ameerikans."
I found Ellen not only bright-eyed, but plump and rosy, as she had never been before, and even gay among her new friends. They had already taken her to their hearts, partly, I suppose, because she was so devout a Catholic, partly because they had been called upon to befriend and care for her, and partly too, as any one must recognize, for her own charming personality. No wonder Thomas had been so infatuated! The thin, awkward, shy girl, I remembered, with the beautiful blue eyes, set in a slim, pale face, was become an indescribable compound of girlish roundness, bloom, and sparkle, of maidenly softness and brightness. Her new woman's clothes, constructed by Angelique's deft fingers of the delicate hued soft stuffs of the place, which were woven of home grown flax, or of buffalo wool, and dyed with native roots, hung about her in long, graceful folds, that made her figure look statuesque in its poses of natural grace. But even more than her beauty, her manner astonished me – its graciousness, piquancy, gayety, and ease. Not Nelly Buford herself, nor Miss Shippen, reigned with more charming assurance over her circle of admirers, than did Ellen over the court of adorers which soon gathered about her.
She had been enrolled as "John Givens" in Captain Dillard's company, and they laid now special claim to her; every one of the officers making himself the slave of her caprices, and vying one with another to flatter and to spoil her. Dr. Lafonte and young Legère, a distant kinsman of the commandant, promptly surrendered, and, presently, Colonel Clark enrolled himself among her devoted admirers. There were a dozen fresh faced, sweet voiced French girls of the peasant class in the village, but Ellen alone had qualities to attract men like Dillard, Clark, Thomas and me, who demanded more than rounded outlines, bright eyes, and soft skin.
If once I had patronized Ellen, it was her turn now, and she queened it over me ruthlessly. At our very first interview she proved her power. I had sought to see her alone, that I might give her in plain words my opinion of her late rashness, and insist that in future she take no step without consulting Thomas, or me, in lieu of closer kinsman, with better right to advise her. It seemed my duty to do this, since Thomas' infatuation made him dumb in her presence, and would allow him to recognize no fault in her.
After keeping me waiting a good fifteen minutes, she came, trailing a pale yellow robe behind her, and bearing herself like a princess.
"Is this really Ellen O'Niel?" I asked, involuntarily, meeting her half way down the long room, and taking both her hands in cousinly greeting.