Daily stories of Pennsylvania

by Frederic Antes Godcharles

The convoy was halted, the troops formed into line, and a general charge ordered. Bearing down through the forest with fixed bayonets, they drove the yelping savages before them, and swept the ground clear.

At this very moment of success, a fresh burst of whoops and firing was heard from either flank, while noise from the rear showed that the convoy was attacked. The column fell back for its support, drove off the assailants, and formed in a circle around the terrified horses. No man lost his composure, but each displayed implicit confidence in their commander.

Now ensued a combat most discouraging. Again and again, now one side and now on the other, a crowd of Indians rushed up, pouring in a heavy fire, in their effort to break into the circle. A well directed volley met them, followed by a charge of the bayonet. The Indians fled behind trees, few of them were hurt, while the English suffered severely.

Thus the fight went on without intermission for seven hours, until approaching night, when the Indian fire slackened, and the exhausted soldiers found time to rest.

It was impossible to change their ground in the enemy’s presence, and the troops were obliged to encamp where the combat had taken place, though not a drop of water was to be found there.

Bouquet, doubtful of surviving the battle of the morrow, wrote to Sir Jeffrey Amherst, in a few, clear, concise words, an account of the day’s events.

The condition of the troops was deplorable. About sixty soldiers, besides several officers, had been killed or disabled. A space in the center of the camp was prepared for the care of the wounded, and surrounded by a wall built of bags of flour. Here they lay upon the ground, enduring agonies of thirst, as well as of pain.

The situation of those who hitherto escaped was not an enviable one. In event of defeat, a fate inexpressibly horrible waited them, while even victory did not assure their safety, since so many wounded comrades made it difficult to transport them. On the other side the enemy were exulting in the fullest confidence of success.

With the earliest dawn of day there broke out a general burst of those horrid yells which form the prelude of an Indian battle. Instantly from every side the fire poured in with deadly aim.

At each furious rush the savages were repulsed. The English, maddened more by the torments of thirst than the fire of the enemy, fought furiously. But the enemy saw their distress and pressed them closer and more desperately.