“Monsieur le colonel, to you and your brave comrades, I beg leave to offer, in the name of my flock, our deep gratitude for the indulgence we have received. Whether we live or die, we shall always remember and bless you for this kindness. And now, monsieur, at the prayer of my children, I beg leave to address you, our conqueror, on a subject dearer to us than any other. Monsieur, may I speak, before all?”
A pin might have been heard to drop as Clark said, briefly:
“Speak on, father.”
“Monsieur,” said the good old priest, clasping his hands, and with the tears streaming down his cheeks, as he spoke with impassioned earnestness, “we are sensible that our present situation is the fate of war, cruel merciless war. Monsieur, we are all ready to submit, to the loss of our property. But oh, monsieur, we beg only one thing. I beg for my poor children that they may not be separated from their wives and tender little ones. Our property and lives are yours, but, for the love of the good God, dear monsieur, spare us the sight of those little ones torn from us to starve, and if you must take us away for slaves, do not separate our families. If you have the further mercy to allow us some clothes and provisions for our support during the terrible journey before us, monsieur, God will bless you for it, and we shall never forget the indulgence.”
The old man paused a moment amid a breathless silence to look into the face of Clark. It was set into a stern frown, and the leader had his teeth dug into his under lip. But, not a sign of pity made its appearance on his pale countenance, and his eyes were glaring at the priest, as if the Kentuckian were in a perfect fury.
“Monsieur,” continued father Gibault, in a trembling tone, “I assure you that the conduct of our people during this war has been influenced by our commandants, whom we were always taught to obey. I am not sure, monsieur, that any of us, at this moment, clearly understand the cause of dispute between your own honorable country and his majesty of England. All that we know we have been told by our Governors, and as you are aware, dear good monsieur, there are but few opportunities, in these remote regions, of acquiring accurate information. Indeed, monsieur, with all our commandant’s stories to mislead and deceive us, there are very many among us, who have expressed themselves friendly to the gallant Americans, as much as they durst under the eyes of the Governor’s spies. Oh, monsieur, dear good monsieur, you must have a kind heart hidden beneath that rough frock. In the name of God whom I serve, spare my flock the cruelty of separation, have pity on their wives and little tender babes, and do not turn them out to starve.”
As the priest spoke he fell on his knees, and with him the whole deputation, while a wailing sob went up from the church-door, whence every word was distinctly audible.
The sob was echoed all along the rigid line of Americans, and you could see the muskets shake, while a hoarse murmur of sympathy rolled along the line.
Clark turned abruptly away, stamped his foot violently, and dashed the point of his sword into the earth, as if in a terrible passion.
“Silence in the ranks, you soft-headed fools!” he shouted. “Do you think George Rogers Clark does not know his own business?”