CHAPTER XX
THE TRUMPET'S PEAL
Major George Augustus Braithwaite, scholar of William and Mary College,man of refinement and experience, commissioned officer who had been inthe assault at Ticonderoga, and who had stood victoriously with Wolfe onthe Plains of Abraham, leaned upon a bastion at Fort Prescott andwatched one of the wildest nights that he had ever seen. He wore histhree-cornered military hat, but the rain flowed steadily in a littlestream from every corner. He was wrapped in an old military coat, badgeof distinguished service, but the rain, too, ran steadily from everyfringe of its hem and gathered in puddles about the military boots thatenclosed his feet.
He thought nothing of rain, or hat, or cloak, or boots. The puddles grewwithout his notice. The numerous flashes of lightning disclosed hisface, worn and anxious, and with lines that had deepened perceptibly inthe last few days. Beside him stood the second in command at FortPrescott, Gregory Wilmot, a middle-aged man, and the brave scout, SethCole. They, too, seemed unconscious of the rain, and looked only at theriver that flowed beneath them, a dark and troubled stream.
The storm had gone on long and it showed no signs of abating. It was thefiercest that any of them had ever seen in the Ohio Valley, and thelightning was often so brilliant and so near that they were compelled toshrink back in fear.
"How long has it been since the boy Henry Ware left us?" asked MajorBraithwaite.
"A week to-day," replied the scout.
"And the fleet has not yet come," said the Major, as much to himself asto the others. "I've always believed until to-night that it would come.That boy inspired confidence. I had to believe in him. I had no choice."
"Nor I, either," said Gregory Wilmot. "I believed in him, and I do now."
"It's the lack of news that troubles me so much," said the Major sadly."The leaguer of the fort has grown closer and tighter, and it seems thatnothing can get through now."
"I tried to get out last night," said the scout, "but a snake would havehad to grease himself to slip by. It's their great chief, Timmendiquas,who is doing it all, and he doesn't mean that we shall know a singlething about what is going on outside."
"He is certainly carrying out his intentions. I give him all credit forhis generalship," said Major Braithwaite.
The three relapsed again into silence and stared at the river, now adark, flowing current, and then molten metal in the dazzling glare ofthe lightning. The time, the place, and his troubles stirred MajorBraithwaite deeply. To-night the wilderness oppressed him with itsimmensity and its unknown, but none the less deadly, dangers. Thingsthat he had read, scraps of old learning at college, floated through hishead.
"_Magna pars fui_," he murmured, looking at the river and the blackforest beyond.
"What did you say, sir?" asked the scout.
"I merely meant," replied the Major, "that we, too, have our part ingreat events. This, with distance's long view, may seem obscure andsmall to the great world elsewhere, but it is not obscure and small tous. Could any spectacle be more tremendous than the one we beholdto-night?"
"If the fleet does not come it is not likely that we shall behold anymore spectacles of any kind," said Gregory Wilmot. "The red men holdtheir cordon, and in time our food must become exhausted."
"That is so," said the Major. "Some of the women have given up already,and look upon themselves as dead."
"We are not lost," said the scout. "He'll come, that boy, Henry Ware,will. He's only a boy, Major, but he's got a soul like that of the greatchief, Timmendiquas. He'll come with the fleet."
Major Braithwaite wished to believe, but it was hard to do it. How couldanything come out of that darkness and storm and through the Indianhost? A soldier, he recognized the mental grasp and energy ofTimmendiquas and the thoroughness of the leaguer of both fort and river.He left the bastion presently and went into one of the log cabins wheresome of the wounded men lay. He made it a point to visit them and cheerthem whenever he could, and he would not neglect it to-night. He spent ahalf hour with them and then he returned to the bastion.
"What have you seen?" he asked.
"Nothing but the river and the woods and much lightning," repliedGregory Wilmot.
"Nor heard anything?"
"Only the thunder and the wind."
"I am weary of both. Surely they cannot last much longer."
Neither Gregory Wilmot nor the scout replied. Both were soaked withwater, but they had forgotten it, and none of the three spoke again forat least ten minutes. Then Major Braithwaite, whose eyes had roved fromthe river, saw the scout lean forward and press himself against thewooden crest of the bastion. It was as if a sudden quiver had runthrough him, but his ear was toward the river and he leaned stillfurther forward as if he would get yet nearer to hear. It was only by aflash of lightning that the Major saw this, but it was enough to arousehis interest.
"What is it? Do you hear anything?" he asked.
The lightning flashed again, and the scout raised his hand.
"I don't know yet whether I've heard anything but the thunder an' thewind," he replied, "but I seemed to hear somethin'. It wuz fur away, an'it growled low and threatenin' like thunder. An' it wuzn't eggzacklylike thunder, either. I don't quite seem to make it out. Hark! thar shegoes ag'in!"
Major Braithwaite and Gregory Wilmot also leaned forward eagerly, butthey could hear only the fiendish shrieking of the wind and the sullenmutter of certain thunder.
"You believe you heard a sound that was neither the thunder nor thewind?" said the Major.
"Yes," replied the scout, "an' I've heard it twice. Ef it wuzn't fur thesecond time I wouldn't be so shore. Listen, thar she goes ag'in, likethunder, but not thunder eggzackly."
"Can you make out what it is?"
"I wuz in the big French an' Injun War, too, when I wuz jest a mite uv aboy," replied the scout, "and when I wuz layin' in the woods one day an'one uv them battles wuz goin' on I heard a sound that's like the oneI've been hearin' now."
"What was it?" exclaimed the Major eagerly.
"It wuz the fust time I ever heard it. I wuz layin' close in thethicket, a' it wuz at least five miles away. But I've never forgot thatsound. It wuz a cur'us thing. It wuz like a voice talkin'. It kep'a-sayin' somethin' like this, 'Look out fur me! Look out fur me!' It wuza cannon shot, Major, an' it's a cannon shot that I've been hearin' now,once, twice, an' now three times, an' it's sayin' jest ez it did yearsan' years ago, 'Look out fur me! Look out fur me! Look out! Look out!'an' it's a-sayin' to me at the same time that the fleet's a-comin'."
"Do you really think so?" exclaimed the Major joyfully.
"I shorely do, an' I do more than think, I know. The cannon that themInjuns an' renegades had hez been sunk. Thar ain't any others in all thewest except them on the fleet, an' it's them that's been talkin'. Ezshore ez we live, Major, the fleet's buttin' its way through thedarkness and the wind an' the thunder an' the lightnin' and the rain an'the Injuns an' the renegades, an' is comin' straight to Fort Prescott."
The scout stood up, and Major Braithwaite saw by the lightning that hisface was transfigured. Hope and certainty had replaced fear anduncertainty.
"Thar!" he exclaimed. "The fourth time. Don't you hear it, louder thanbefore?"
A low, deep note which certainly differed from that of the thunder nowcame to the ears of Major Braithwaite, and his own experience of battlefields told him its nature.
"It is cannon! it is surely cannon!" he exclaimed joyously. "And you areright! It is the fleet coming to our relief! The boy got through!"
Major Braithwaite's face glowed, and so did that of Gregory Wilmot, whowas also now sure that they had heard the sound of the white man's greatguns. But they kept it to themselves for the present. There must be nofalse hope, no raising of the garrison into joy merely to let it fallback deeper into gloom. So they waited, and the far note of the cannondid not come again, although they pressed themselves against the woodenbastion and strained ears to hear.
The heart of Major Braithwaite gr
adually sank again. It might have beenan illusion. A heart so eager to hear might have deceived the ear intohearing. The darkness seemed to have closed in thicker and heavier thanever. The flashes of lightning, although as vivid as before, were not sofrequent, but the wind rose, and its shrieking got upon the ears of thethree.
"I wish it would stop!" said the Major angrily. "I want to hearsomething else! Was it imagination about the cannon? Could we havedeceived ourselves into hearing what we wanted to hear? Is such a thingpossible?"
The scout shook his head.
"It wuzn't no deception," he said. "I shorely heard cannon. Mebbethey've quit firin' 'em, an' are comin' on now with the rifles an' thepistols. It must be that. I'm like you, Major, I believe in that boy,Henry Ware, an' he's comin' right now with the fleet to save all themwomen an' children behind us."
"God grant that you may be right," said Major Braithwaite devoutly.
The three still leaned against the crest of the wooden wall, and therain yet drove upon them, unnoticed. They listened, with every nervetaut, for a sound that did not come, and whenever the lightning flashedthey strained their eyes down the dark reaches of the river to seesomething that they did not see. Over an hour passed, and they scarcelymoved. Then the scout straightened up.
"Now I hear 'em," he said, "Listen! It's not the cannon that's talkin'.It's the rifles. I tell you that fleet, with the boy on it, is comin'.It's shoved its way right through all them nests uv hornets an' wasps.Hear that. Ef that ain't the crack uv rifles, then I'm no livin' man."
Sounds, faint but with a clear distinct note, came to them, and againMajor Braithwaite knew that he could not be mistaken. It was like thedistant fire of the skirmishers when the Anglo-American army advancedthrough the woods upon Ticonderoga, and he had heard the same sound intheir front when they first stood upon the Plains of Abraham. It wasrifle fire, the lashing whip-like crack of the western rifles, and itwas a rifle fire that was advancing.
"Glory to God!" he exclaimed in immense exultation and relief. "It's thefleet! The fleet's at hand! There cannot be any doubt now! Take the mento the walls, Wilmot, because it's likely that the Indians will renewthe attack upon us when they see that the fleet is coming to ourrelief."
The face of Major George Augustus Braithwaite, scholar and soldier, wastransformed. Both the scout and Gregory Wilmot saw it when the lightningflickered across the sky, but the same joy was pounding at their ownhearts. Wilmot, obeying the Major's order, hurried away to see that thewalls were manned by riflemen ready to repel any attack, but the scoutremained.
"They're comin', they're comin', shore, Major," he said, "but they'vehad to make a mighty fight uv it. You kin be certain that Timmendiquasdid everything to keep them from gittin' by. Listen, thar go the riflesag'in, an' they're nearer now!"
Good news spreads as fast as bad, and in ten minutes it was knownthroughout the beleaguered houses of Fort Prescott that a great andglorious event had occurred. They would not be taken by the Indians,they would not be slaughtered or carried into captivity. Relief, manyboats and canoes filled with their own warlike country-men, anirresistible force, were at hand, because Major Braithwaite and GregoryWilmot had heard the welcome sound of their rifles and cannon.
Out into the rain and darkness poured men, women, and children, and theycared for neither rain nor darkness, because the rescue from imminentdeath was coming, and they would see it.
People gathered around Major Braithwaite and the scout and they did notorder them back, because this was a time when all would wish to know,and in the night and darkness they waited patiently and hopefully to seewhat the fitful flashes of lightning might let them see.
The sound of random shots came from the dripping forest, and the men ofGregory Wilmot at the barrier replied, but Major Braithwaite paid littleattention to such a diversion as this. The Indians would not undertakenow to storm the fort--they had failed already in several suchattempts--and their renewed fire was merely proof that they, too, knewthat the fleet had forced the watery passage.
"Thar she goes ag'in!" said the scout. "Ez shore ez I'm a livin' sinnerthat's the crack uv Kentucky rifles, fifty uv 'em at least!"
"You're right," said Major Braithwaite, "and it cannot come fromanything but the fleet. Hark, there's a new sound, and it removes thelast doubt!"
Clear above all the other clamor of the night, the wind, the firing, andthe rain, rose a long, mellow note, low but distinct, sweet and clear.It was a haunting note, full of music, light, and joy, the peal of asilver trumpet carried by the herald of Adam Colfax. Mellow and clearits echo came back, sweeping over forest and river, and its breath waslife and hope.
"The battle trumpet!" exclaimed Major Braithwaite. "The vanguard of thefleet! It is speaking to us! It tells us that friends are near. Here,you men, build up a bonfire! Let them know just where we are and that weare on watch!"
Twenty willing hands brought dry wood, and, despite the rain, a greatblaze leaped up within the palisade. It grew and grew. The flames,yellow and red, roared and sprang higher, casting a bright light overthe wooden walls, the forest, the cliffs, and the river. Bulletswhistled from the forest, but they passed over the heads of the peoplein the fort, and they let them go by unnoticed.
Higher rose the fires in the face of the rain, and the great yellowlight over the river deepened. When the lightning flared it was amixture of gold and silver, and it was so intense that they could seethe very crinkling of the water on its surface.
Again came the mellow note of the silver trumpet, a clear, far cry thatdied away in little curves and undulations of sound. But it was nearer,undeniably nearer, and once more it breathed life anew into thelisteners.
There was a sudden blaze of lightning, more vivid than all that had gonebefore. The whole surface of the river leaped into the light, and uponthat surface, just where the stream curved before flowing into thenarrowest passage between the hills, appeared a black dot.
It was more than a black dot, it was a boat, and, despite the distance,the astonishing vividness of the lightning made them see in it fivefigures, five human figures, clad in the deerskin of the border.
"Tis the boy, Henry Ware and his comrades, ez shore ez I'm a livin'sinner," muttered the scout. He could not see the faces, but he wasquite sure that the one who knelt in the prow was Henry Ware.
"It is they! It must be they!" exclaimed Major Braithwaite. "And look,there are other boats behind them turning the curve--one, two, three,four, and more--and look, how their rifles flash to right and left! Theybeat back the red savages! Nothing can stop them! Build up the fires, mylads, that they may see!"
The trumpet pealed for the third time, and it came from the prow of the_Independence_. A mighty shout rose from the fort in reply, and thenfrom the forest and the cliffs came the long, defiant yell of the redmen, who were not yet beaten. The light was now sufficient to show themswarming along the edge of the water, and even venturing far from thebank in canoes. The tide of battle swelled anew. Timmendiquas the Great,Red Eagle, Yellow Panther, and the renegades, Girty, Blackstaffe,Braxton Wyatt and the others, urged them on. But always it wasTimmendiquas, the great White Lightning of the Wyandots, who directed.
Major Braithwaite watched with fascinated eyes. The heavens were growingsomewhat lighter, and that fact, allied with his bonfire, was nowsufficient to disclose much. He saw the fleet, despite all the attemptsto hold it, moving steadily forward in two parallel lines; he heardagain the mellow notes of the silver trumpet, calling alike to the menof Adam Colfax and to those in the fort. He looked, too, for the boatthat he had first seen, the one that had contained the five figures, andhe found it, as before, in the very front. The five were still there,and he thought he could see their rifles flashing. The good Major felt asingular throb of relief. Then, as the battle thickened, his courage andmilitary energy leaped up.
"We cannot stand here idle when so great an event, one that means somuch to us, is going on," he said to Seth Cole. "If I mistake not, thesavages are about to make their supreme e
ffort, and it becomes us tohelp repel it."
"I reckon you're right, Major," said the scout. "The next ten minuteswill say how this thing is goin' to end, an' we ought to be in at thesayin'."
"How many men have we on foot, and fit to fight?"
"'Bout sixty, I reckon, Major."
"Then we'll take thirty, leave the other thirty under Wilmot to hold thefort, and go forth to help our friends who wish to help us."
Action was as prompt as decision. In five minutes the brave bordererswere ready, one of the gates was thrown open, to be closed immediatelybehind them, and with the Major and the scout at their head, they rushedtoward the bank.
It was the purpose of Major Braithwaite to lead his men down the streama little, and as soon as a position of vantage could be reached, open acovering fire that would protect the boats. They crossed the clearedspace around the fort unharmed, but directly after they reached thewoods beyond, bullets began to whistle about them, and the Indian warwhoop rang through the dripping forest. The Major knew that he wasattacked in force, and so far from helping the fleet his men must nowdefend themselves. But he would be an aid, nevertheless, since theattack upon his own party must draw off warriors from the leaguer of thefleet.
His men fell back to the shelter of the tree trunks, and began to fire,every one like a sharpshooter choosing his target. The Major's back wasnow to the river, and he could hear the rattle of the rifles behind himas well as before him. Two or three minutes of this, and a shout reachedhis ear. It was not the shrill, high-pitched yell of the Indian, but thedeep, full-throated cry of the white man, and the Major knew it. Asudden burst of firing came from a new point, and then the attack seemedto melt away before him.
Meanwhile, the fleet, with the savages hanging on either flank, crept onup the river.