“Then did he get away from the Indians?” asked Elsie.
“He was taken to Montreal and soon afterward exchanged,” replied her grandma. “Afterward he was promoted to a lieutenant-colonelcy and given command of a regiment.
“The next year he was with General Amherst in his march from Oswego to Montreal. When going down the St. Lawrence River they found it desirable to dislodge the French from Fort Oswegatchie; but the approach to it was guarded by two schooners, the larger one having twelve guns, which could have done serious damage to the English boats. Thinking of that danger, General Amherst said: ‘I wish there were some way of taking that schooner.’ ‘All right,’ said Putnam; ‘just give me some wedges and a mallet, and half a dozen men of my own choosing, and I’ll soon take her for you.’
“The British general smiled incredulously, evidently not believing the thing could be done; but he consented to Putnam’s making the proposed attempt, and in the night Putnam and his little party got into a light boat and, with muffled oars, rode under the schooner’s stern and drove the wedges between the rudder and the stern-post so firmly as to render the helm unmanageable. They then went around under the bow, cut the vessel’s cable, then rowed quietly away. All that, of course, made the vessel unmanageable. She drifted ashore before morning and struck her colors; then the other French vessels surrendered and the English captured the fort.
“But I shall not attempt to tell the story of the services of Putnam’s whole life,” continued Grandma Elsie. “I suppose what you all care particularly to hear is of what he did and suffered in and after the Revolution.”
“Yes, grandma—yes, indeed!” replied several voices, and she continued her story.
“In August, 1774, before General Gage had quite shut up the approaches to Boston, Putnam rode over the Neck with one hundred sheep as a gift from the parish of Brooklyn. While there he was the guest of Dr. Warren. On the twentieth of the next April came the news of the fight at Concord.”
“Ah! news didn’t fly so fast then as it does now,” remarked Eric.
“No, not by any means,” assented his grandma. “Putnam was in the field ploughing when it reached him. So great was his excitement on hearing it that he left his plough in the furrow, and without waiting to put on his uniform, mounted a horse and rode toward Cambridge, reaching there at sunrise of the next morning. Later in the same day he was at Concord; but he was soon summoned to Hartford to consult with the Connecticut Legislature. He returned from there with the chief command of the forces of that colony, and the rank of brigadier.”