THE FIGHT AT FORT ANNE, AND THE ESCAPE OF AMOS

When night came on, we retreated with the wounded we had saved. The next morning the whole army reËmbarked and rowed up Lake George to the ruins of Fort William Henry and landed. This time we were not admiring the beauty of the scene. We were filled with sorrow and dismay at the failure of the expedition and our terrible disaster. We lost nearly two thousand men. The French lost only about three hundred.

The whole army, regulars and provincials, were indignant with our cowardly and incompetent general, Abercrombie, or Mrs. Nabby Crombie, as the soldiers nicknamed him. We knew that the battle had been badly conducted. We wished to have the cannon brought to the front to batter down the breastworks, and were willing and eager to fight again. But Abercrombie began to entrench, and sent most of his artillery to Albany, lest it should fall into the hands of the enemy.

The Rangers heard little of this grumbling and dissatisfaction; for as soon as we returned from Ticonderoga we were sent out scouting near the south end of Lake Champlain, and very nearly fell into the hands of a large force of French and Indians. Fortunately we saw them in time to escape.

A few days later, a wagon-train was attacked and one hundred and seventy-six men were killed, of whom sixteen were Rangers. The news of this disaster came in the night, and at two in the morning Rogers started out with a large party of regulars, provincials, and Rangers to head off the enemy. We rowed down Lake George at the top of our speed, and then marched over the mountain to the narrow waters of Lake Champlain. But though we made all possible haste, so did the enemy, and we missed them by a couple of hours.

We rested for a time; for we were much exhausted by our efforts, and were about to march back, when a messenger arrived, who gave us orders to go to Fort Anne at Wood Creek, and cut off a party of French and Indians who were near Fort Edward.

We had about five hundred men, eighty of whom were Rangers. The rest was made up of some of Gage's light infantry and Connecticut troops, under Major Israel Putnam.

On the 7th of August we reached the spot where old Fort Anne had stood, and camped there.

The forest for a mile around the old fort had been cut down and burned years before. But the fort had rotted away, and the clearings had become overgrown with bushes, with here and there an open space.

Early the next morning we began our march. Putnam and his men were in front, the light infantry in the centre, and the Rangers in the rear.

Rogers had been shooting at a mark that morning with Lieutenant Irwin of the regulars. The enemy had overheard the firing and ambuscaded us.

Putnam was leading his men. As he left the clearing, and entered the forest, the yelling and firing began. Several Indians rushed at him. His gun missed fire, and he with three or four men was captured by the Indians.

The redskins forced the Connecticut men back, the light infantry held their ground, and we of the Rangers struggled through the bushes as best we could, to get to the front.

Every one fought for himself. I had fired my gun just as I reached an open space, and seeing a number of men on the other side, I started to run across to them.

Of course I should have reloaded before I attempted this; but one does not always do the right thing, especially in a hot fight. I had gone but a short distance when an Indian fired at me from the bushes, and then ran at me with a tomahawk.

I turned, parried the blow with my gun, and the tomahawk was struck from his hand.

We grappled each other. He was a fine, large man, decked out with feathers and warpaint, and was the strongest and most active man I ever got hold of. He seemed to be made of steel springs. As I struggled with him, I couldn't help thinking, "What a splendid wrestler you would make if you only knew the tricks!" I gave him Jonas Parker's best throw, and we came down together, and I on top.

The fall knocked the wind out of him and partly stunned him. I got hold of my hatchet and brained him. I had not noticed or thought of anything but him. But now I heard a crack! crack! zip! zip!

As I started to run I felt a pain in my left arm, and also in my left leg. But I got off to our men among the bushes, and they bound my arm up, and put a bandage round my leg.

I saw an Indian leap in among the regulars, and kill two men with his hatchet. Then he jumped on a log and taunted our men. A soldier struck at him with his gun and made him bleed. The Indian was returning the blow with his tomahawk, when Rogers shot him.

I was still able to load and shoot. We fought some two hours before they gave way. At last they broke up into little parties and ran off. We remained and buried our dead.

We lost about fifty men. The French and Indians left over one hundred dead on the field; and their loss was much heavier, for they carried off most of their dead.

My wounds now made me so lame and stiff that I could not walk, and was carried on a litter of branches.

Rogers came alongside, and said: "That was a mighty pretty wrestle, Comee. Big stakes up too; glad you won. But I believe if that Indian had been taught the tricks like a Christian, you would have met your match."

"That's just what I was thinking myself, major, all the time I was wrestling with him. It's an awful pity to have to kill a man like that."

"Oh, pshaw, nothing but a cussed redskin. That makes one less of the vermin. All of us on both sides round that clearing watched you and him, and did not pay much attention to each other till it was over. When you killed him, and got up, they fired at you, and we began to fire at them again. But for a short time all of us watched you. He must have been a big Injun among them.""Major, where is Amos Locke?"

"I don't know. I don't think he was among the killed or wounded; and if he isn't with our party here, he's probably a prisoner, perhaps roasted and scalped by this time."

Edmund came up later. "I'm afraid, Ben, we shan't see Amos again. He and I were together for a while. But in running through the bushes we got separated, and I can't find him among our men. If he were with our party, he would have come to us by this time."

"Poor fellow! I can't bear to think of him in the woods, dead; or worse still, being tortured by the Indians. He may turn up again, after all."

When we arrived at camp at Lake George, we found that it had been strongly intrenched.

The camp was dirty and filthy, particularly the portion occupied by the provincials, for our officers were ignorant in such matters.

On the way to and from Ticonderoga the men had drunk a good deal of lake water, and this with the grief over our defeat and the filthy state of our camp had caused much sickness.

Having been out in the woods on scouts, I was in good condition, and my wounds began to heal quickly. Edmund took me over to see the man we had rescued at Ticonderoga. We found him doing well, cursing the French, and aching to get at them again. We looked up our kinsmen Hector and Donald and struck up a great friendship with the men of the Black Watch. Hector and Donald were both God-fearing men, and went with us several times to hear Parson Cleveland of Bagley's regiment preach. He gave us sermons full of meat, and we enjoyed them.

The regulars and provincials did not get on well together. The Englishmen looked down on the provincial officers and men, and this caused much hard feeling. One day in August, the regulars and provincials practised firing with great guns at a target in the lake, and our men beat the regulars thoroughly. That pleased us and made the old country men feel pretty glum. Although the regulars scorned the provincials, yet they held the Rangers in high esteem.

"Why is it, Donald," I asked, "that the regulars think so well of us, and laugh at the rest of the provincials?"

"Well, man, one reason is, because you're no province soldiers at all, being in the direct pay and service of the King, like ourselves. And then you're a braw set of men, and ken this fighting in the woods a deal better than we do, and we know it. But the provincials are gawks from country towns, without discipline, and with no more knowledge of the woods than we have."

"But Edmund and I are from a town like them."

"You've keppit gude company, since you've been with the Rangers, and have been long enough with them to look and act like the rest of them. One would take you for hunters and woodsmen."

"But the provincials were the last to leave the field at Ticonderoga."

"I'm no denying it. They fought well."

"And for country greenhorns, they did pretty well with the cannon the other day."

"Aye, man, I'm no saying they didn't. I'm a truthful man, and I maun say I was sair disappointed when they beat us shooting." And he changed the subject.

Though our camp was foul, yet the lake was the fairest spot I have ever seen—dotted with islands and hemmed in by mountains. Even Hector and Donald said it was "a bonny place, just for all the world like old Scotland."

We used to row on the lake, among the pretty islands, or lie in the boat and gaze at the mountains and the clouds floating over them. It seemed absurd that two great bodies of men should come to such a serene, peaceful place, and occupy their time killing each other.

About two weeks after the Fort Anne fight, Edmund and I had a chance to get away from camp for several hours, and started off with 'Bijah Thompson of Woburn, whom we found in Colonel Nichols's regiment.

We pulled out on the lake, went in swimming, and then rowed slowly along with our fish-lines trailing behind. But the fish didn't bite. We cut across the upper part of the lake, and as we approached the further side, Edmund said: "What's that over on the shore, Ben? There's some one there who seems to be making motions to us."

We rowed in that direction, and saw a man waving his arms, and heard a "hello!"

"That's no Frenchman. That's one of our men who has got lost in the woods, or who has escaped from the French."

As we came nearer, we saw that he was almost naked. We pulled toward the shore, and beheld a pitiful, haggard fellow, with nothing on him but a pair of ragged breeches and a tattered shirt. We were about to ask him some questions, when he exclaimed:—

"B-B-Ben and Edmund, and 'B-Bijah Thompson too, by gum! An-An-And ain't I glad to see you?"

"Amos Locke! And we're glad to see you, too. Where have you been?"

"B-Been? I've been in h-hell. Say, have you got anything to eat? I'm starved."

We had a lot of rye and Injun bread, cheese, and boiled beef with us. We brought it out, and Amos gulped away at it like a hungry dog. We also had a wooden bottle into which we had poured our rations of rum, and then filled it up with water. We passed it to Amos, and he took a long swig at it. As he took it away from his mouth, a happy grin came over his face.

"B-Boys, that goes to the spot. I'm not a rum-drinker, but when a fellow's been frozen, and starved, and water-logged, he does sort of hanker after something that has a t-tang to it."

He put down the bottle, and went to work at the food again. In a short time our dinner had disappeared—and we had put up what we considered was an ample supply for three hearty men.

I picked up my jacket and handed it to him to put on; for though it was a warm day, he looked cold and peaked. His feet were badly cut, and were done up in bandages of cloth. Then I filled my pipe, and taking out my flint and steel, lit it and gave it to him.

"This isn't b-bad. Now row to the place where the victuals are."

Edmund and 'Bijah rowed, while I questioned Amos."Well, I was running through the b-bushes, just a little behind you, Edmund, when my foot caught in a root or vine, and over I went ker-flummux. My gun flew out of my hands, and as I was g-getting up, two Frenchmen grabbed me and p-pulled me off through the woods. When they had gone quite a distance, they t-tied me to a tree, and went back to fight. I heard the firing and tried to get loose, but couldn't.

"A young Injun came along and had some f-fun throwing his tomahawk at the tree, just over my head, seeing how near he could come to it without hitting me.

"After he had done this half a dozen times, he stood in front of me, and said, 'Ugh! Me big Injun.' I said, 'Yes, you big Injun. Big Injun better go fight.' He went away, and in about an hour my two Frenchmen came running back with more men. They untied me, and fastening a line around my neck, one led and the other drove me, hitting me with his loaded gun, punching the muzzle into my b-back. When they got to the place where they had left their packs, they p-pulled off my jacket and waistcoat, t-tied a heavy pack on my back, and drove me along again.

"Every now and then I sank down, and thought I c-couldn't go any further; but the man behind put his gun to my head, r-r-ripped out a lot of oaths at me, and told me he would blow my head off if I didn't get up and hustle.

"Oh, no, I don't know their lingo; but I could understand just what he said, and what's m-more, I know he m-meant it. I didn't want to be a c-cold corpse out there in the woods, so I got up and struggled on again.

"At last they camped for the night. They laid me on my back and t-tied my hands and feet to stakes d-driven into the ground.

"I saw Major P-Putnam, who had been captured by some Injuns. They took his pack off, and he looked as if he would drop. They r-rushed at him, stripped him, t-tied him to a tree, piled dry branches and brush about him, and set them on fire. Then they formed a ring around him, and taunted and insulted him. A shower came up and put the fire out. They g-got more branches and lighted the fire again. The fire was burning well, and P-Putnam was squirming away from the heat, when a French officer ran up, k-kicked the branches aside, cut the cords, told the Injuns to stand back, and led P-Putnam away. I heard afterward that this man's name was Morin, and that he was the leader of the expedition.

"The next morning at daybreak we got into the b-batteaux and canoes, and rowed down Wood Creek. I was in a b-batteau. They gave me an oar, and made me work for all I was worth. If I let up for a minute, they hit me and threatened to k-kill me. That ugly fellow who swore at me the day before was in the boat, and I c-could understand him. He made things very clear, as he jabbed the m-muzzle of his gun into my ribs, and h-held his finger on the trigger.

"They were in a hurry to get out of the way of any f-force of our men that might be sent to cut them off. We reached T-Ticonderoga that night. They turned us prisoners out into a pasture with some scrubby trees in it, and p-put a guard around us. And there they k-kept us, giving us hardly anything to eat, t-till at last we grew so hungry that we p-pulled the bark off the b-black birches, and ate it to stay our stomachs. I thought considerable of home while I was b-browsing round in that p-pasture, and of what I used to do. Not so m-much of pigeon-shooting and fox-hunting as of things I disliked, p-ploughing in the spring, hilling corn till my back ached, cutting logs into lengths for firewood till my arms were t-tired out and my hands b-blistered.

"These were all unpleasant, but I remembered the comfortable home and the supper that came after the work, and how I used to eat my fill in safety. And here I was, likely to be scalped or burned to death, and my innards just a griping and a yearning for a b-bit of solid food.

"There were some four thousand Frenchmen in the fort, Canadians, Indians, and the regulars in their white coats.

"I was bound to get away if I could, and watched for a chance. We were not f-far from the breastwork."Sentinels walked up and down on the inner side, and I knew that I could not c-crawl over it, without being seen. They did not pay so much attention to the swampy ground at either end. I made up my mind to g-get to the low land, and pass by the end of the breastwork.

"After we had been there six days, a storm began in the afternoon. The rain came down in torrents, and the wind b-blew hard.

"We were out in the wet, soaking. When the French had gone to sleep, I walked to the f-fence which was round our pasture, and waited for the sentinel to pass. Then I crept under the fence, and crawled along till I got to the swamp, and went into the edge of it and walked toward the end of the breastwork. The f-fall of rain had made the swamp worse than usual.

"As I walked along in the mire, I felt that I was sinking, and caught hold of a t-tree and pulled myself out, but left my shoes behind. Then I kept close to the edge of the swamp, and went along carefully, t-till I got near the breastwork.

"I heard the sentinel c-coming my way, and lay down till he t-turned and walked away from me.

"I passed by the end of the breastwork, and kept along the edge of the forest, t-till I felt there was an opening, which I knew must be the path we travelled over on our way from Lake George. It was blind going, p-pitch dark. Every now and then I found myself wandering from the path, b-but luckily the passage of our large army had t-trodden it down into a road, so that I k-kept my way, though it was with great d-difficulty.

"As it began to grow light, I reached a point where a ledge came down to the road; and I thought this would be a good place to leave the path, because if the Indians searched for me, they would lose my trail on the r-rocks.

"I walked on the rocks for over an hour, t-till the sun rose, and the rain ceased. I came across a blueberry patch, and ate my fill. It was good to be free and to have something to eat.

"I found a hollow where I would not be seen, and where the sun would shine on me, and I lay down and slept. When I w-woke up, and was thinking what to do, a rabbit came hopping along, feeding. I kept quiet until he had passed me, and rose up and c-cried out, Hooh! He sat up on his hind legs, pricked up his ears, and I knocked him over with a stone and ate him. Then I came to the brook where we had our f-first fight, but it was so full from the rain that I had to wait a day before I could cross it. It ran like a m-mill-race. My feet were all cut up, and I tore off the arms of my shirt and bound the cloth round my feet. I didn't d-dare to follow the paths, but kept through the woods t-till I struck the lake. I only travelled in the morning and afternoon, for when the sun was overhead I c-couldn't tell where I was going; so I ate berries and slept at midday. I reached the lake above the Narrows and went back to the path. I didn't care m-much if I were caught or not. I don't want to eat another b-berry in my life. Several times I saw boats on the lake and tried to get their attention, but c-couldn't. D-Didn't I feel happy when I saw you coming toward me! And when I knew who it was, I felt as if I were at home again m-milking the cows or up on old B-Bull Meadow shooting fifty-two pigeons at a clip. Have you heard anything from Davy Fiske?"

"Well, yes; 'Bijah here came out late, and he says Davy has been telling him some story about killing a bear in Grimes's cornfield up on the Billerica road."

"That must have b-been before we left and we didn't hear anything about it. How was it, 'Bijah?"

"I met Davy early this spring over in the woods by Listening Hill, and he told me about hunting a bear in Bill Grimes's young corn, which was about three feet high. He and Bill chased the bear; the bear ran off, climbed over a stone wall, and got stuck in a snowdrift, and they came up and killed him."

"That's D-Davy all over. He's m-mighty careless about those hunting yarns of his. Pretty soon the bears will be wearing rackets in the summer to k-keep out of his way. And now, boys, if you don't mind, I'll stretch out in the bottom of the boat and get a little nap. I haven't had a good sleep I don't know when, and the f-food and the warm sun make me terrible sleepy."

Amos lay down, and we rowed till we reached the shore.