“They want us to give up all our arms and stores,” said another officer.
“I will not give up our arms and stores,” said Washington. “I would rather risk another battle, weak as we are.” And his officers agreed with him.
When the French commander heard what Washington had said he was much disappointed, for he had counted on a complete victory. But he had no desire for another encounter with these English, whose shots were so deadly, so he said if Washington wanted his stores and his small arms he could have them. It was mutually agreed that the artillery should be destroyed. The English troops were to march from the fort with flags flying and drums beating and were not to be molested on their way back to Will’s Creek.
Early in the morning preparations were made to leave the fort. The killed, numbering twelve to fifteen, were buried. The wounded, to be taken along, numbered sixty, many of whom were still able to march. The loss to the French and their Indian allies had been nearly twice as great, hence the desire of the French commander to avoid another battle.
The wounded were carried in wagons and on litters, and among them was Henry. The rough journey ahead would do the young soldier no good, but there seemed no help for it, since he did not wish to be left with the French, and indeed, they did not want him.
“Those Indians mean treachery,” said one old soldier to Dave, as they marched from the fort, and he was right. Washington’s command had not covered a mile when the Indians who had aided the French fell on his pack train and began to plunder it. Seeing this, the young commander ordered all the unnecessary stuff burned, and this was done, causing the Indians to gnash their teeth in rage. They wanted to fight, but did not dare to fire a shot.
A long and weary march now lay before Washington’s command and many, especially the wounded, were much downcast. They had fought bravely but the number of the enemy had been too great for them, and a deserved victory had passed them by.
Many weary days were spent upon the road and a constant guard had to be kept lest the treacherous Indians might fall upon them. Several of the wounded died and had to be buried by the wayside. Poor Henry developed something of a fever and at times was out of his mind.
At last Will’s Creek was reached. News had been sent out ahead, and the settlers from far and wide came to welcome the returning soldiers, who were greeted with enthusiasm regardless of their defeat.
“Henry!” cried Joseph Morris, as he ran up to where his son rested on a litter. “My poor boy! Is he seriously wounded?”