“How came you to know all this?” I asked, thinking that the man was perchance delirious.
Then he told. First, how, when he had seemingly been left for dead before the French fort, he had only been stunned by a spent ball. How he had escaped the death meted out to the other wounded he did not know, but it probably was due to the shot fired by Hopkins. Burroughs went on:
“When you had gone in the sloops the Indians discovered me and I was taken prisoner. Kept within the fort I overheard the plan of the French to march against Pemaquid and surprise the garrison. Then I resolved to make my escape, and carry you a warning. Many days I waited for the chance before it came, but at last, one night I managed to elude the guard, and found myself without the palisade.”
Here Burroughs became faint, and we had to give some spirits to revive him.
“I struck for the woods,” he continued after a pause, “keeping as near to the coast as I dared. Oh, but it was a wearisome journey. After many days of hardship and starvation I fell in with a band of friendly Indians. They guided me as near as they went to this place. A day’s journey back I fell over a cliff in the darkness, and cut my leg so badly on the sharp rocks that I feared I could not go on. I well nigh gave up in despair, but I managed to rig up a crutch made from the limb of a tree, and pressed forward, hoping to be in time. The distance which should have taken a day was three times that to me, for I could only hobble along. When I caught sight of the fort through the woods I was not able to go farther, for I had eaten nothing for three days save berries. But thank God, I have come in time.”
The man ceased speaking, and fell back on the rude bed so deathly pale that I thought it was all over with him, brave fellow that he was. After some time we brought him back to his senses, though he was so weak that I knew he could not last long. Then I left him, bidding the men to see to his needs. Away from the room, with its smoky candles, and its suggestion of death in poor Burroughs’ face, out under the stars, I paused to think over what I had heard.
If we were to be stormed from land and sea at once, there was little time to prepare for it. We must act promptly, and, with that end in view, I called the garrison together by beat of drum and told the men what I had heard from Burroughs. I said that it must be a considerable force that could successfully attack the fort, and, although our position was not of the best from a soldier’s standpoint, it would not do for us to give up without a fierce fight. And a fierce battle it was likely to be, for Burroughs had said that at least two hundred Indians, led by Baron de St. Castine from Penobscot, would be accompanied by the French force under Iberville. The latter would attack us from the sea, while the Indians would assault the land side.
It showed the spirit of my men, when, after I had told them all this they gave three hearty English cheers and dispersed. It made my heart feel much lighter. For a little while longer I walked up and down in the open. The scent of the woods came to me, and with it the varied noises of the beasts and birds therein. I looked up to the stars and whispered the name of Lucille. When would I see her again. Perchance never if the French and Indians overwhelmed us. Then I was likely with my comrades to find a grave in these same woods, and be forgotten by all. But I did not let these gloomy thoughts hang over me long. I had my sword by my side, the battle was yet to be fought, and I was too old a soldier to give up the fight before a blow had been struck. So with this change in my ideas I sought my bed.
In the morning I was told that poor Burroughs had died during the night. He had not been in his senses, and ever murmured of the terrible journey he had taken to warn us. He died, the men said, shouting:
“Here they come, boys, the Frenchers and the Indians. Now strike for Salem and the King!”