This was the tremendous peril from which Washington was comparatively safe after his twentieth year. "If," says a very eminent writer, "to refer this to an overruling Providence be a superstition, I desire to be accounted superstitious."
The Journey to Venango, 1753
The next imminent danger to which Washington was exposed, and from which his escape was well-nigh miraculous, was on the occasion of his historic expedition to the headquarters of the French Governor at Venango, in 1753. The journey itself, in the winter season, of five or six hundred miles through an unsettled country, most of it constantly traveled by natives at enmity with the English, was one continued story of danger and escape. It was but two years after this trip of Washington's to Venango that English soldiers—surrendered prisoners of war—were tortured to death by the savage natives within sight of Fort Duquesne. On his return from the fulfillment of his mission, Washington traversed the forest with a single companion and an Indian guide. Just at nightfall, on one of the days of their perilous journey, their savage attendant suddenly turned, and at a distance of but fifteen paces fired on Washington, happily without evil result.
After this alarming experience the two companions pursued their way alone, footsore and weary, through the woods, with the sure knowledge that the savages were on their trail. Reaching the Alleghany River on a night of December, they found it encumbered with drifting ice, and only to be crossed by means of a raft which, with only "one poor hatchet," cost them an entire day's labor to construct. When crossing the river, Washington, while using the setting pole, was thrown violently into the water at a depth of ten feet, and saved his life by grasping a log. They spent the night, in their frozen clothing, on a little island on which, had they been forced to stay till sunrise, they would, beyond question, have fallen into the hands of the Indians; but the intense cold which froze the feet of Washington's companion, also sealed the river and enabled them to escape on the ice.
Another Mission
The year following the mission to Venango (1754) Colonel Washington was sent in command of a small force in the same direction; but by reason of the greatly superior strength of the enemy, the expedition resulted in a calamitous retreat. By a singular coincidence, the compulsory evacuation of the English stronghold—"Fort Necessity," as it was called—occurred on the Fourth of July, 1754—a date afterward made forever glorious in great measure by the inestimable services of the young commander of this earlier and ill-fated military expedition. But such were the ability, energy, and power evinced by its youthful commander, that the disaster resulted in his own greatly enhanced reputation as a born leader of men.
Braddock and Washington
In the following year (1755) a gigantic effort was made by England to recover lost ground, and to repair the military misadventures of 1754. The history of Braddock's disastrous expedition is familiar to every schoolboy in the land. At this period, Colonel Washington had retired from the army in disgust at the unjust regulations which gave undue preference to officers holding commissions from the Crown over abler men—some of them their seniors of the same rank—in the service of the provinces. He was, however, at length induced—in great measure from motives of the purest patriotism, and partly, no doubt, from his strong leaning toward a military career—to accept a position on the staff of the commanding General, Braddock, a soldier of courage and large experience, but, as events afterward proved, a haughty, self-willed, and passionate man.
During the passage of Braddock's forces through the Alleghany Mountains, Washington was attacked by so violent and alarming a sickness that its result was for a time extremely uncertain; on his partial recovery the General caused him to move with the heavy artillery and baggage. In this position Washington remained two weeks, returning to the General's headquarters on the eighth of July, the day preceding the fatal battle of the Monongahela.
On the morning of this day—forever and sadly memorable in American annals—Washington mounted his horse, weak and worn by sickness, but strong in hope and courage. These are his own words uttered in other and better days: