CHAPTER XIX
DEFEAT OF THE ENGLISH
The explosion of the musket had been so unexpected that for the moment Dave and Henry hardly knew what had happened. Dave felt something hit him on the bottom of his left cheek and putting up his hand withdrew it covered with blood. Henry, too, was hit by a flying fragment of the gun barrel which clipped off a lock of his hair. Poor Barringford lay like one dead.
Before Dave could recover the Indians were on them, whooping as if their very lives depended upon it. One threw a tomahawk at Dave, but the aim was poor and the weapon buried itself in the log which had sheltered our friends.
But just at this moment, when all seemed lost, the battleground shifted and instantly thirty or forty English red-coats burst from the woods directly behind the Indians. A volley rang out and four of the red-men pitched forward, shot through the back. Other bullets hit the log behind which our friends lay, but Dave, Henry, and Barringford were not touched.
Attacked so unexpectedly from a new quarter, the Indians appeared dazed. They attempted to turn upon the English soldiers, but when two more were laid low, they fled to one side, where there was a dense growth of walnuts. The soldiers at once made after them, and another skirmish took place in the forest.
"Are you hurt much, Sam?" asked Henry, when he had recovered sufficiently to speak.
"I—I reckon not," was the gasped-out answer, after a long silence. Barringford opened his eyes and gazed ruefully at the gun stock which lay at his feet. "Busted! Well, by gum! Didn't think Old Trusty would do it nohow. Ain't ye ashamed?" And he shook his head dolefully. He had carried the firearm for many years, as our old readers know, and to have it "go back on him" like this hurt him more than had the explosion.
"It singed your beard pretty well," said Dave. "You can be thankful it didn't blow your face to pieces."
"We must get out of here!" cried Henry. "See, the French are coming!"
Henry was right, the French column had suddenly appeared on the brow of a neighboring hill. Those of the English who were in view received a galling fire and then the enemy came forward with a rush. Our friends were glad enough to retreat, and join the main body of rangers once more.
Unfortunately for the English, Major Grant had divided his force and now as the French commander came on he ordered that the smaller of the English commands be surrounded. This was done, and though Major Grant did his best to bring his command together again, it was impossible to do so. The English became hopelessly separated, and by the time the fighting came to an end the major and a large number of his officers and men were made prisoners.
"We are catching it and no mistake," panted Dave, after another stand had been made, during which Barringford had provided himself with another gun—one taken from the hands of a dead grenadier. "The French mean business."
"Here they come again!" exclaimed Henry. "Look! look! they seem to have re-enforcements!"
Henry was right, and it must be admitted that the attack of the French, with the Indians on the left flank, was a superb one. The shock of the two armies coming together was terrific, and soon hand-to-hand encounters were taking place in hundreds of places at once. Guns and pistols rattled constantly and the keen frosty air of late fall was filled with smoke. The grass being wet with dew many slipped and fell and not a few soldiers were trampled to death by frightened horses. It was a scene not easily forgotten and reminded Dave strongly of that other battle when General Braddock had suffered bitter defeat and death.
And bitter defeat was again to be the portion of the English. Major Grant's force was not strong enough to resist the combined onslaught of French and Indians, and at last word came to retreat, and in the gathering darkness the English fell back, taking with them a number of their wounded. How many of the wounded were left on that cold battlefield to die from exposure will never be known. Snow was now falling and a wind came up that chilled every soldier to the bone.
"It's another Braddock victory," said Barringford, sarcastically, as he limped painfully along, a horse having stepped on the toes of his left foot. "Them reg'lars don't understand fightin' in the woods nohow. Ye hev got to fight Injuns Injun fashion, an' French likewise. 'Twon't do no good to set yerself up like a target to be shot at."
"We have lost about three hundred men, killed, wounded and captured," said Dave. "I wonder what General Forbes will say to that?"
"I fancy he's too sick to say much," said Henry. He spoke thus for General Forbes had been on a sick bed for several weeks and had had to be carried forward on a litter whenever his command moved.
The news that Major Grant's command had been whipped and driven back, and the major and many of his officers taken prisoners, was quickly sent to General Forbes, and at once a council of war was held. It was decided that the entire army should be sent forward without delay, and the soldiers moved onward as rapidly as the state of the road permitted. By the time the re-enforcements arrived the French and Indians had retreated to Fort Duquesne, for additional ammunition and general supplies, and to take care of their wounded and prisoners.
Once again Washington urged that a swift march be made on the fort. "It is our only chance of success," he said. "In a few weeks winter will be on us and then the campaign in this wilderness must come to an end."
There was no disputing his words, for the snow continued to fall and when it did not snow it rained and the wind kept growing colder and colder every day until even the most hardy of the soldiers began to grumble over the discomforts of camp life. Forward went the whole army, toiling painfully through the forest, where only an imperfect Indian trail led the way. General Forbes was now weaker than ever and others urged him to go back. But, full of determination, he refused, and continued to direct the movements of his army from his sick bed. His devotion to duty was wonderful and something well worthy of being remembered.
Dave and Henry suffered with the other soldiers. Frequently when night came they had to rest in clothing that was soaked through and through, and the one grain of comfort they extracted from their situation was the thought that each day's march brought them so much nearer to the spot where they supposed little Nell was being kept a prisoner.
"I won't complain if only we get her back," said Henry. And Dave agreed heartily.
It was now the middle of November, and winter had begun to set in in earnest. Ice was forming on every pool and slow-running brook and snow storms were frequent, although none of them amounted to much. The nights were the worst and many a large camp-fire did the soldiers build to keep themselves warm. An advance guard was out constantly, to guard against a surprise, but no French or hostile Indians appeared.
Late one afternoon there were a number of shots fired in the distance and half an hour later a small van-guard came in bringing with them a number of French and Indian prisoners. These prisoners were closely questioned and from them it was learned that the French and Indians at the fort were suffering greatly from sickness and from a lack of supplies,—the latter having failed to reach Fort Duquesne on account of the English victories in the north.
"If you hurry you may take the fort with ease," said one of the prisoners, who wished to curry favor with his captors.
This news was most encouraging and it was ordered that the main body of soldiers should push on again, leaving the artillery and supply wagons to come up later. The news placed Dave and Henry in the best of spirits, and they pushed on as quickly as anybody, with Barringford beside them.
But progress was slow, for there were many hills to cross, and on retreating the French had left many fallen trees in the pathway, and in one spot was a dangerous pitfall, into which the enemy had thrown several wolves. A couple of grenadiers fell into this pitfall and were sadly bitten by the half-starved beasts before being rescued.
At last those in advance reckoned that they were now but one day's journey from Fort Duquesne. The ground looked familiar to Dave and presently Barringford pointed out the spot where the young soldier and his father had been re-united after the battle under Braddock.
Soon from a distance came a hurrahing, which every instant increased in volume. "The fort is deserted! The French and Indians are retreating!"
"Can that be possible?" burst from Henry's lips. "Come, let us find out!"
He rushed forward, and Dave and Barringford quickly followed. Soon they were in the vanguard, which was scrambling over fallen trees and brushwood and climbing the last hill which separated the English soldiers from the fort. There was a thick smoke ahead and presently they saw a column of flame shoot up, followed by a dull explosion.
"They have fired the fort," said Barringford. "Reckon as how they'll burn everything they can't carry."
By the time the soldiers reached the vicinity of the stronghold the fire was burning low. Only a small portion of the stockade was gone, with one or two small buildings and what had been left of the stores. An Indian was found nearby, suffering from a broken leg, and he gave the intelligence that the French command had retreated down the Ohio. Some had gone only a few hours before and others had left three days previous.
"And what of the prisoners they had?" asked Henry, as soon as he could get the chance.
"The prisoners were taken away three days ago."
"Were there any little girls among them?"
"Yes, four little maidens. One from the south and three from the east, with two women and forty-one men," was the reply.
"Three girls!" murmured Henry. "One of them must have been Nell! And they took them off three days ago? Oh, Dave, I'm afraid we have lost her forever!"