CHAPTER IX
MY FIRST TASTE OF WARFARE
Whatever defects Dinwiddie may have had, indecision was certainly not one of them, and the very next day the machinery was set in motion for the advance against the French. Colonel Joshua Fry was selected to head the expedition, and Colonel Washington made second in command. Colonel Fry at one time taught mathematics at William and Mary, but found the routine of the class-room too humdrum, and so sought a more exciting life. He had found it along the borders of the frontier, and in 1750 was made colonel of militia and member of the governor's council. Two years later, he was sent to Logstown to treat with the Indians, and made a map of the colony. He knew the frontier as well as any white man, and because of this was chosen our commander.
Not a moment was to be lost, for Colonel Washington, while at Fort le Boeuf, had observed the great preparations made by the French to descend the Allegheny in the spring and take possession of the Ohio valley, but we hoped to forestall them. The triangle between the forks of the Ohio was admirably adapted for fortification, and it was proposed to throw up a fort there so that the French would get a warm reception when their canoes came floating down the river, and be forced to retreat to the Lakes. Dinwiddie's energy was wide-felt, and the whole colony was soon astir.
He convened the House of Burgesses, laid Colonel Washington's report before it, and secured a grant of £10,000 for purposes of defense; he urged the governors of the other colonies, from the Carolinas north to Jersey, to send reinforcements at once to Will's Creek, whence the start was to be made; he sent messengers with presents to the Ohio Indians, pressing them to take up the hatchet against the French, and authorized the enlistment of three hundred men. William Trent, an Indian trader, and brother-in-law of Colonel George Croghan, was commissioned to raise a company of a hundred men from among the backwoodsmen along the frontier, and started at once for the Ohio country to get his men together and begin work on the fort, the main body to follow so soon as it could be properly equipped.
Long before this I had secured my uniform and accoutrements,—which my three shillings a day were far from paying for,—and was kept busy superintending the storage of wagons or drilling under Captain Adam Stephen, in whose company I was, at Alexandria. The men were for the most part poor whites, who had enlisted because they could earn their bread no other way, and promised to make but indifferent soldiers. We were provided with ten cannon, all four-pounders, which had been presented by the king to Virginia, and eighty barrels of powder, together with small-arms, thirty tents, and six months' provision of flour, pork, and beef. These were forwarded to Will's Creek as rapidly as possible, but at the best it was slow work, and April was in sight before the expedition was ready to move. During near all of this time, Colonel Washington was virtually in command, for Colonel Fry was taken with a fever, which kept him for the most part to his bed. There seemed no prospect of his improvement, so he ordered the expedition to advance without him, he to follow so soon as he could sit a horse. That time was never to come, for he died at Will's Creek on the last day of May.
So at last the advance commenced, and from daylight to sunset we fought our way through the forest. It rained almost incessantly, and I admit the work was more severe than I had ever done, for the bridle-paths were too narrow to permit the passage of the guns and wagons, and a way had to be cut for them; yet all the men were in good spirits, animated by the example of Colonel Washington and the other officers. Those I came to know best were of Captain Stephen's company, and a braver, merrier set of men it has never been my privilege to meet. We were drawn from all the quarters of the globe. There was Lieutenant William Poison, a Scot, who had been concerned in the rebellion of '45, and so found it imperative to come to Virginia to spend the remainder of his days, though at the first scent of battle he was in arms again. There was Ensign William, Chevalier de Peyronie, a French Protestant, driven from his home much as the Fontaine family, and who had settled in Virginia. There was Lieutenant Thomas Waggoner, whom I was to know so well a year later. And above all, there was Ensign Carolus Gustavus de Spiltdorph, a quiet, unassuming fellow, but brave as a lion, who lies to-day in an unmarked grave on the bank of the Monongahela. I can see him yet, with his blue eyes and blond beard, sitting behind a cloud of smoke in one corner of the tent, listening to our wild talk with a queer gleam in his eyes, and putting in a word of dry sarcasm now and then. For when the day's march was done, those of us who were not on duty gathered in our tent and talked of the time when we should meet the French. And Peyronie, because, though a Frenchman, he had suffered most at their hands, was the most bloodthirsty of us all.
Then the first blow fell. It was the night of the twentieth of April, and our force had halted near Colonel Cresap's house, sixteen miles from Will's Creek. I was in charge of the sentries to the west of the camp. The weather had been cold and threatening, with a dash of rain now and then, and we had made only five miles that day, the guns and wagons miring in the muddy road, which for the most part was through a marsh. As evening came, the rain had set in steadily, and the sentries protected themselves as best they could behind the trees or under hastily constructed shelters. I had just made my first round and found all well, when I heard a sentry near by challenge sharply.
"What is it?" I cried, hastening to him, and then I saw that he had stopped a horseman. The horse was breathing in short, uncertain gasps, as though near winded.
"A courier from the Ohio, so he says, sir," answered the sentry.
"With an urgent message for Colonel Washington," added the man on horseback.
"Very well," I said, "come with me," and catching the horse by the bridle, I started toward the commander's tent, in which a light was still burning. A word to the sentry before it brought Colonel Washington himself to the door, and he signed for us to enter. The courier slipped from his horse, and would have fallen, had I not caught him and placed him on his feet.
"'T is the first time I have left the saddle for two days," he gasped, and I helped him into the tent, where he dropped upon a stool. Washington poured out a glass of brandy and handed it to him. He swallowed it at a gulp, and it gave him back a little of his strength.
"I bring bad news, Colonel Washington," he said. "Lieutenant Ward and his whole command were captured by the French on the seventeenth, and the fort at the forks of the Ohio is in their hands."
I turned cold under the blow, but Washington did not move a muscle, only his mouth seemed to tighten at the corners.
"How did it happen?" he asked.
"Captain Trent and his men arrived at the Ohio on the tenth of April," said the courier, "and we set to work at once to throw up the fort. We made good progress, but on the morning of the seventeenth, while Captain Trent and thirty of the men were absent, leaving Lieutenant Ward in command, the river was suddenly covered with canoes crowded with French and Indians. There were at least eight hundred of them, and they had a dozen pieces of artillery. We had no choice but to surrender."
"On what terms?" questioned Washington quickly.
"That we march out with the honors of war and return to Virginia."
"And this was done?"
"Yes, this was done. Lieutenant Ward and his men will join you in a day or two."
"You have done well," said Washington warmly. "I am sure Lieutenant Ward could have done naught else under the circumstances. Forty men are not expected to resist eight hundred, and I shall see that the occurrence is properly represented to the governor. Lieutenant Stewart, will you see that a meal and a good bed be provided? Good night, gentlemen."
We saluted and left the tent, and I led him over to our company quarters, where the best we had was placed before him. Other officers, who had got wind of his arrival, dropped in, and he told again the story of the meeting with the enemy. It was certain that there were from six to eight hundred French and a great number of Indians before us, while we were barely three hundred, and as I returned to my post, I wondered if Colonel Washington would dare press on to face such odds. The answer came in the morning, when the order was given to march as usual. Two days later, we had reached Will's Creek, where we found Lieutenant Ward and his men awaiting us. He stated that there were not less than a thousand French at the forks of the Ohio. It was sheer folly to advance with our petty force in face of odds so overwhelming, and a council of the officers was called by Colonel Washington to determine what course to follow. It was decided that we advance as far as Red Stone Creek, on the Monongahela, thirty-seven miles this side the Forks, and there erect a fortification and await fresh orders. Stores had already been built at Red Stone for our munitions, and from there our great guns could be sent by water so soon as we were ready to attack the French. In conclusion, it was judged that it were better to occupy our men in cutting a road through the wilderness than that they should be allowed to waste their time in idleness and dissipation.
Captain Trent and the thirty men who were with him, hearing from the Indians of the disaster which had overtaken their companions, marched back to meet us, and joined us the next day. Trent himself met cold welcome, for his absence from the fort at the time of the attack was held to be most culpable. Dinwiddie was so enraged, when he learned of it, that he ordered Trent court-martialed forthwith, but this was never done. His backwoodsmen were wild and reckless fellows, incapable of discipline, and soon took themselves off to the settlements, while we toiled on westward through the now unbroken forest. Our advance to Will's Creek had been difficult enough, but it was nothing to the task which now confronted us, for the country grew more rough and broken, and there was not the semblance of a road. We were a week in making twenty miles, and accomplished that only by labor well-nigh superhuman.
The story of one day was the story of all the others. Obstacles confronted us at every step, but we struggled forward, dragging the wagons ourselves when the horses gave out, as they soon did, and finally, toward the end of May, we won through to a pleasant valley named Great Meadows, dominated by a mountain called Laurel Hill. Here there was abundant forage, and as the horses could go no further, Colonel Washington ordered a halt, and determined to await the promised reinforcements. A few days later, a company of regulars under Captain Mackay joined us, together with near a hundred men of the regiment who had remained behind with Colonel Fry, raising our numbers to four hundred men, though many were wasted with fever and dysentery.
Those of us who were able set to work throwing up a breastwork of logs, under the direction of Captain Robert Stobo, and at the end of three days had completed an inclosure a hundred feet square, with a rude cabin in the centre to hold our munitions and supplies.
There had been many alarms that the French were marching against us, but all of them had proved untrue, so when, some days after, the report spread through the camp again that the enemy were near, I paid little heed to it, and went to sleep as usual. How long I slept, I do not know, but I was awakened by some one shaking me by the shoulder.
"Get up at once, lieutenant, and report at headquarters," said a voice I recognized as Waggoner's, and as I sat upright with a jerk, he passed on to awake another sleeper. I was out of bed in an instant, and threw on my clothing with nervous haste. I could hear a storm raging, and when I stepped outside the tent, I was almost blinded by the rain, driven in great sheets before the wind. I fought my way against it to Washington's tent, where I found Captain Stephen and some thirty men, and others coming up every moment.
"What is it?" I asked of Waggoner, who had got back to headquarters before me, but he shook his head to show that he knew no more than I.
A moment later, the flap of the tent was raised, and Colonel Washington appeared, wrapped in his cloak as though for a journey, and followed by an Indian, who, I learned afterwards, was none other than the Half King. He spoke a few words to Captain Stephen, and the order was given to form in double rank and march, Colonel Washington himself leading the expedition, which numbered all told some forty men.
I shall never forget that midnight march through the forest, with the rain falling in a deluge through the dripping trees, the lightning flashing and the thunder rolling. We stumbled along upon each other's heels, falling over logs or underbrush, the wet branches switching our faces raw and soaking us through and through. It seemed to me that we must have covered fifteen or twenty miles, at least, when the first gray of the morning brightened the horizon and a halt was called, but really we had come little more than five. Here it was found that seven men had been lost upon the way, and that our powder was so wet that most of it was useless, to many of us the charge in our firelocks being all that remained serviceable. After an hour's halt, the order came again to march, with caution to move warily. Scouts were thrown out ahead, and soon came back with tidings that the enemy was hard by.
My hands were trembling with excitement as we crept forward to the edge of a rocky hollow, and as we looked down the slope, we could see the French below. There were thirty of them or more, and they were getting breakfast, their arms stacked beside them. Almost at the same instant their sentries saw us and gave the alarm.
"Follow me, men!" cried Washington, and he started down the slope, we after him. As we went, the French sprang to arms and gave us a volley, but it was badly aimed in their excitement and so did little damage. As we closed in on them we returned their fire, and some eight or nine fell, while the others, thinking doubtless that they had been surprised by a large force, threw down their guns and held up their hands in token of surrender. Captain Stephen had been slightly wounded, but charged on down the slope ahead of us, and took prisoner a young officer, who refused to surrender, but kept on fighting until his sword was knocked from his hand. Then he began to tear his hair and curse in French, pointing now and again to another officer who lay among the dead. He grew so violent that he attracted Colonel Washington's attention.
"Come here a moment, Lieutenant Peyronie," he called. "You understand
French. What is this fellow saying?"
Peyronie exchanged a few words with the prisoner, who stooped, drew a paper from the inner pocket of the dead officer's coat, and held it toward us. Peyronie took it, glanced over it with grave countenance, and turned to Colonel Washington.
"This man is Ensign Marie Drouillon, sir," he said. "The party was in command of Ensign Coulon de Jumonville, whom you see lying dead there. M. Drouillon claims that the party did not come against us as spies, or for the purpose of fighting, but simply to bring a message to you from M. de Contrecoeur, who is in command of the fort at the forks of the Ohio, which, it seems, has been named Fort Duquesne. This is the message," and he held out the paper to Washington.
"'Tis in French," said the latter, glancing over it. "What does it say?"
"It warns you to return to the settlements," answered Peyronie, "on the pretext that all the land this side the mountains belongs to France."
Here the prisoner, who was evidently laboring under great excitement, broke in, and said something rapidly in a loud voice, which made Peyronie flush, and drew nods and cries of approbation from the other prisoners.
"What does he say?" asked Washington, seeing that Peyronie hesitated.
"He says, sir," answered Peyronie, with evident reluctance, "that M. de Jumonville came in the character of an ambassador and has been assassinated."
Washington flushed hotly and his eyes grew dark.
"Ask M. Drouillon," he said, "why an ambassador thought it necessary to bring with him a guard of thirty men?"
Peyronie put the question, but Drouillon did not reply.
"Ask him also," continued Washington, "why he remained concealed near my troops for three days, instead of coming directly to me as an ambassador should have done?"
Again Peyronie put the question, and again there was no answer.
"Tell him," said Washington sternly, "that I see through his trick,—that I comprehend it thoroughly. M. Jumonville counted on using his pretext of ambassador to spy upon my camp, and to avert an attack in case he was discovered. Well, he produced his message too late. He has behaved as an enemy, and has been treated as such. That he is dead is wholly his own fault. Had he chosen the part of an ambassador instead of that of a spy, this would not have happened."
He turned away, and apparently dismissed the matter from his mind, but that it troubled him long afterward I am quite certain, though in the whole affair no particle of blame attached to him. The French made a great outcry about it, but I have never heard that any of them ever answered the questions which were put to M. Drouillon. The truth of the matter is, that they were only too eager for some pretext upon which to base the assertion that it was the English who began hostilities, and this flimsy excuse was the best they could invent. But that little brush under the trees on that windy May morning was to have momentous consequences, for it was the beginning of the struggle which drenched the continent in blood.