it found the most convenient.
“Come nearer with that bark canoe,” called out an officer, from a batteau; “I wish to learn who is in it.”
“We are volunteers, that joined the ——th, the day the army moved up, and were guests of Major Bulstrode. Pray sir, can you tell us where that officer can be found?”
“Poor Bulstrode! He got a very awkward hit, early in the day, and was taken past me to the rear. He will be able neither to walk nor to ride, for some months, if they save his leg. I heard the Commander-In-Chief order him to be sent across the lake, in the first boat with wounded; and some one told me, Bulstrode, himself, expressed an intention to be carried some distance, to a friend’s house, to escape from the abominations of an army hospital. The fellow has horses enough to transport him, on a horse-litter, to Cape Horn, if he wishes it. I’ll warrant you, Bulstrode works his way into good quarters, if they are to be had in America. I suppose this arm of mine will have to come off, as soon as we reach Fort William Henry; and, that job done, I confess I should like amazingly to keep him company. Proceed, gentlemen; I hope I have not detained you; but, observing a bark canoe, I thought it my duty to ascertain we were not followed by spies.”
This, then, was another victim of war! He spoke of the loss of his arm, notwithstanding, with as much coolness as if it were the loss of a tooth; yet; I question not, that in secret, he mourned over the calamity in bitterness of heart. Men never wear the mask more completely than when excited and stimulated by the rivalry of arms. Bulstrode, too, at Ravensnest! He could be carried nowhere else, so easily; and, should his wound be of a nature that did not require constant medical treatment, where could he be so happily bestowed as under the roof of Herman Mordaunt? Shall I confess that the idea gave me great pain, and that I was fool enough to wish I, too, could return to Anneke, and appeal to her sympathies, by dragging with me a wounded limb!
Our canoe now passed quite near another batteau, the officer in command of which was standing erect, seemingly watching our movements. He appeared to be unhurt, but was probably intrusted with some special duty. As we paddled by, the following curious conversation occurred.
“You move rapidly to the rear, my friends,” observed the stranger; “pray moderate your zeal; others are in advance of you with the evil tidings!”
“You must think ill of our patriotism and loyalty, sir, to imagine we are hastening on with the intelligence of a check to the British arms,” I answered as drily, and almost as equivocally, in manner, as the other had spoken.
“The check!—I beg a thousand pardons—I see you are patriots, and of the purest water! Check is just the word; though check-mate would be more descriptive and significant! A charming time we’ve had of it, gentlemen! What say you?—it is your move, now.”
“There has been much firmness and gallantry manifested by the troops,” I answered, “as we, who have been merely volunteers, will always be ready to testify.”
“I beg your pardons, again and again,” returned the officer, raising his hat and bowing profoundly—“I did not know I had the honour to address volunteers. You are entitled to superlative respect, gentlemen, having come voluntarily into such a field. For my part, I find the honour oppressive, having no such supererogatory virtue to boast of. Volunteers! On my word, gentlemen, you will have many wonders to relate, when you get back into the family circle.”
“We shall have to speak of the gallantry of the Highlanders, for we saw all they did and all they suffered.”
“Ah! Were you, then, near that brave corps!” exclaimed the other, with something like honest, natural feeling, for the first time exhibited in his voice and meaning; “I honour men who were only spectators of so much courage, especially if they took a tolerably near view of it. May I venture to ask your names, gentlemen.”
I answered, giving him our names, and mentioning the fact that we had been the guest of Bulstrode, and how much we were disappointed in having missed not only our friend, but his corps.
“Gentlemen, I honour courage, let it come whence it may,” said the stranger, with strong feeling, and no acting, “and most admire it when I see it exhibited by natives of these colonies, in a quarrel of their own. I have heard of you as being with poor Howe, when he fell, and hope to know more of you. As for Mr. Bulstrode, he has passed southward, now some hours, and intends to make his cure among some connections that he has in this province. Do not let this be the last of our intercourse, I beg of you; but look up Capt. Charles Lee, of the ——th, who will be glad to take each and all of you by the hand, when we once more get into camp.”
We expressed our thanks, but Susquesus causing the canoe to make a sudden inclination towards the shore, the conversation was suddenly interrupted.
By this time the Indian was awake, and exercising his authority in the canoe, again. Gliding among the islands, he shortly landed us at the precise point where we had embarked only five days before. Securing his little bark, the Onondago led the way up the ravine, and brought us out on the naked cap of the mountain, where we had before slept, after an hour of extreme effort.
If the night had been so memorable, the picture presented at the dawn of day, was not less so! We reached that lofty look-out about the same time in the morning as the Indian had awakened me on the previous occasion, and had the same natural outlines to the view. In one sense, also, the artificial accessaries were the same, though exhibited under a very different aspect. I presume the truth will not be much, if any exceeded, when I say that a thousand boats were in sight, on this, as on the former occasion! A few, a dozen or so, at most, appeared to have reached the head of the lake; but all the rest of that vast flotilla was scattered along the placid surface of the lovely sheet, forming a long, straggling line of dark spots, that extended to the beach under Fort William Henry, in one direction, and far as eye could reach in the other. How different did that melancholy, broken procession of boats appear, from the gallant array, the martial bands, the cheerful troops, and the multitude of ardent young men who had pressed forward, in brigades, less than a week before, filled with hope, and exulting in their strength! As I gazed on the picture I could not but fancy to myself the vast amount of physical pain, the keen mental suffering, and the deep mortification that might have been found, amid that horde of returning adventurers. We had just come up from the level of this scene of human agony, and our imaginations could portray details that were beyond the reach of the senses, at the elevation on which we stood.
A week before, and the name of Abercrombie filled every mouth in America; expectation had almost placed his renown on that giddy height, where performance itself is so often insecure. In the brief interval, he was destroyed. Those who had been ready to bless him, would now heap curses on his devoted head, and none would be so bold as to urge aught in his favour. Men in masses, when goaded by disappointment, are never just. It is, indeed, a hard lesson for the individual to acquire; but, released from his close, personal responsibility, the single man follows the crowd, and soothes his own mortification and wounded pride by joining in the cry that is to immolate a victim. Yet Abercrombie was not the foolhardy and besotted bully that Braddock had proved himself to be. His misfortune was to be ignorant of the warfare of the region in which he was required to serve, and possibly to over-estimate the imaginary invincible character of the veterans he led. In a very short time he was recalled, and America heard no more of him. As some relief to the disgrace that had anew alighted on the British arms, Bradstreet, a soldier who knew the country, and who placed much reliance on the young man of her name and family whom I had met at Madam Schuyler’s, marched against Frontenac, in Canada, at the head of a strong body of provincials; an enterprise that, as it was conducted with skill, resulted in a triumph.
But with all this my narrative has no proper connection. No sooner did we reach the bald mountain-top, than the Onondago directed
