* Burgoyne's State of the Expedition, &c., p. 81.
** Here I will correct a serious geographical error which I find in Peabody's Life of Putnam. He says. "Abercrombie ordered Major Putnam to proceed with fifty men to South Bay, in Lake George." Again. "The detachment marched to Wood Creek, near the point where it flows into South Bay." South Bay is in Lake Champlain, and Wood Creek does not flow into it at all. See note respecting Wood Creek, ante, page 137.
*** The view is taken front the Vermont shore, where rafts of timber and piles of lumber (as seen on the left) betoken the chief article of commerce here. The ledge of rocks, which rises about fourteen feet in height, is on the New York side. From the perpendicular point, rugged and broken, there is a gentle slope thickly covered with timber and shrubbery, and affording an excellent place for an ambuscade. The small trees in the distance mark the point at the Elbow, and the hill beyond is a portion of Skene's Mountain which overlooks the harbor at Whitehall.
Putnam and Rogers on Lake Champlain.—Attack of the former on the French and Indians.—The Saratoga and Confiance
near Fort Anne, where Putnam was taken prisoner. Major Rogers, who was also sent by Abercrombie to watch the movements of the enemy, had taken a station twelve miles distant, and Putnam and his fifty rangers composed the whole force at this point. Near the front of the ledge he constructed a parapet of stone, and placed young pine trees before it in such a natural manner that they seemed to have grown there, and completely hid the defense from observers on the water below. Fifteen of his men, disabled by sickness, were sent back to the camp at Fort Edward, and with his thirty-five he resolved to attack what ever force might appear upon the lake. Four days he anxiously awaited the appearance of the enemy, when early one evening he was gratified by the intelligence that a large fleet of canoes, filled with warriors, was leisurely approaching from South Bay. It was the time of full moon, the sky was unclouded, and from his hiding-place every movement of the In dians could be distinctly seen. Putnam called in all his sentinels, and in silence every man was stationed where his fire might be most effective. Not a musket was to be moved until orders were given by the commander. The advanced canoes had passed the parapet, when one of the soldiers hit his firelock against a stone. The sound was caught by the watchful ears of Molang and his followers. The canoes in the van halted, and the whole fleet was crowded in confusion and alarm directly beneath the ledge. A brief consultation ensued, and then they turned their prows back toward South Bay. As they wheeled the voice of Putnam shouted "Fire," and with sure aim each bullet reached a victim. The enemy returned the fire, but without effect, and for a time the carnage produced by the Rangers was dreadful in that dense mass upon the waters. Molang soon perceived by the firing that his assailants were few, and detached a portion of his men to land below and attack the provincials in the rear. Putnam had perceived this movement, and sent a party of twelve men, under Lieutenant Durkee, who easily repulsed them when they attempted to land. About daybreak he learned that the enemy had actually debarked at a point below, and was marching to surround him. This fact, and the failure of his ammunition, warned him to retreat. Nearly half the number of the enemy perished on that fatal night, while Putnam lost but two men, who were wounded. * While retreating through the thick forest, an unexpected enemy fired upon them, but wounded only one man. Putnam instantly ordered his men to charge, when his voice was recognized by the other leader, who cried out, "Hold, we are friends!" "Friends or foes," shouted Putnam, "you deserve to perish for doing so little execution with so fair a shot." The party proved to be a detachment sent to cover their retreat.
It was late in the evening twilight before I finished my sketch, but our obliging waterman would not consent to row us back until we should go to his house near by and see his "pullet and chickens"—his wife and children. His dwelling was at the foot of the steep Vermont shore, completely hemmed in by rocks and water, but embowered in shrubbery. His children brought us fruit, and we were refreshed by draughts of water from a mountain spring close by, of icy coldness. The moon was shining brightly when we passed the Elbow on our return, and by its pale light we could see the ribs and other decaying timber of the British ship of war Confiance and the American ship Saratoga. The former was sunk there in 1814, and the latter, which was afterward used as a store-ship, was scuttled by some miscreants while her officers and crew were at the village participating in a Fourth of July celebration. It was about nine in the evening when we reached the hotel. There I met that distinguished and venerable divine, Rev. Mr. Pierce, of Brookline, Massachusetts, and was charmed and edified by his conversation for more than an hour. ** His memory was
* These men, one a provincial, the other an Indian, were placed under an escort of two others, and sent toward the camp. They were pursued and overtaken by the Indians. The wounded men told the escort to leave them to their fate, which they did. When the savages came up, the provincial, knowing that he would be put to death, fired and killed three. He was instantly tomahawked. The Indian was kept a prisoner, and from him Putnam learned the above facts when they met some time afterward in Canada.
** Mr. Pierce was seventy-five years old. He distinctly remembered Washington's visit to Boston in 1789. The cavalcade halted near the entrance to the city, and Washington was obliged to sit on horseback two hours, while the state authorities and the selectmen decided a point of etiquette—whose province it was to receive him. The selectmen carried the day. He explained to me the nature of the apparent error in the registration of the birth and christening of Dr. Franklin. The entries of both events are upon the same day, Sunday, 17th of January, 1706. An old man, who remembered the circumstance well, for it caused some gossip at the time, told him that Dr. Franklin's mother went to church and received the communion in the morning, gave birth to her son at noon, and in the afternoon the child was christened.
Departure from Whitehall. Sholes's Landing. Ride to the Battle-ground of Hubbardton. Picturesque Scenery.
richly stored with historic learning, and our intercourse was to me a pleasant and profitable appendix to the events and studies of the day.