Chapter 13: At the Fort

The cry of the warriors in the woods was answered by a single cry from the log houses. It was that of the women and children, but it was not repeated. They had learned the frontier patience and courage and they settled themselves down to helping--the women and all the children that were large enough--and to waiting. The men at the palisade replied to the Indian volley, some shooting from the crest, while others sent their bullets through loopholes.

Major Braithwaite was standing erect near Henry. After the volley and reply, followed by silence, he took one look about to see that the palisade was well-manned. Then it seemed to Henry that his figure stiffened and grew taller. His nostrils distended and a spark appeared in his eyes. The old soldier smelt the fire and smoke of battle once more, and the odor was not wholly ungrateful to him.

“Young sir,” he said, turning to Henry, “we owe you a great debt. You got here just in time to save us from surprise.”

“I’m glad,” replied Henry, “that one of us was lucky enough to get through.”

“One of you? What did you mean? Did others start?”

Henry flushed. He had not meant to say anything about the circumstances of his coming. It was a slip, but he could not take it back.

“There were five of us when we started,” he said. “We were sure that at least one of us would get here.”

“Good God! You do not mean to tell me that the others have all been killed?”

“No,” replied Henry confidently. “They were wounded or broke down. I’ll find ‘em or they’ll find me. We’ve been ahead of a fleet that is carrying arms, ammunition, and other things for our people in the east. That fleet ought to reach here in a few days.”

The Major’s face showed a little relief.

“Pray God it will come in time,” he said earnestly. “We need it here, and so do our brethren in the east. What do you think is likely to happen here? My experience with the Indians on the Canada frontier tells me that I can never know what to expect of them. But you’ve probably had more experience in that way.”

The boy, before answering, looked up at the sky. It had grown darker. It was a very timid moon, and nearly every star had withdrawn.

“They’ll try to rush us soon,” he replied. “The night helps them. How many men have you got?”

“About eighty, but counting the half-grown boys and several women who can shoot we are able to put a hundred rifles into the defense.”

“Then we can hold ‘em back for a long time,” said Henry. “Tell the men to watch well at the palisade, and I’ll take a look around.”

He glided naturally into his position of wilderness leader, and Major Braithwaite, a cultivated man with a commission, a man who was old enough to be his father, yielded to him without pique or the thought of it. The wild youth of great stature and confident bearing inspired him with a deep sense of relief at such a crisis.

Henry went swiftly among the log houses, which were arranged in rows much after the fashion of Wareville, with a central blockhouse, from the upper story of which riflemen could fire upon enemies who sought to rush across the clearing against the palisade. In a little hollow just beyond the group of houses a cool, clear spring bubbled up, trickled away, passed under the palisade, and flowed into the Ohio. It was an invaluable spring inside the walls and Henry thought its presence, together with the beauty and healthfulness of the site, had determined the location of Fort Prescott.

On the side of the river, the bank dropped down rather steeply to the Ohio, which was not more than a hundred yards away, and which was contracted here to less than half its usual width. Cannon planted on this height could easily sweep the river from shore to shore, and Henry drew a sudden sharp breath. He believed that he had half defined the plan of Timmendiquas, Girty, and their confederates--to seize Fort Prescott, command the river, and shut off the fleet. But how? He could not yet see where they would obtain the means.

The river was dusky, but Henry’s eyes, used to the darkness, could search its surface. He saw a number of moving black dots, three near the center of the stream and others at the farther shore. He could not discern the outlines because of the distance, but he was sure that they were Indian canoes, always watching.

He went back to Major Braithwaite and he was conscious, on the way, that many eyes were gazing at him with curiosity from the open doors of the log houses. It was quickly known to all that a stranger, a most unusual stranger, had come with a warning so quickly justified, and when they saw him they found that the report was true. But Henry took no apparent notice. He found Major Braithwaite standing near the southern side of the palisade.

“Well, what do you think of us?” asked the Major, smiling rather wanly.

“It’s a good fort,” replied Henry, “and that spring will be a great thing for you. We came near being taken once in our own fort of Wareville because the wells failed and we had no spring. Have you put any men in the top of the blockhouse?”

“Eight of our best riflemen are there.”

“Tell them never to stop watching for a second and tell the men at the palisades to do the same. In their fights with us the warriors always rely on their belief that they have more patience than we have, and usually they have.”

The Major breathed hard.

“I would that this thing were well over,” he said. “I have a wife and two little children in one of those houses. Speaking for myself and all the rest of us, too, I cannot thank you too much, young sir, for coming to the fort with this warning.”

“It is what we always owe to one another in the woods,” said Henry. “I think it likely that they will attack about three or four o’clock in the morning. If I were you, sir, I’d have coffee served to the riflemen, that is, if you have coffee.”

“We have it,” said the Major, and soon the women were preparing the coffee. Everybody drank, and then the riflemen resumed their watch upon the forest. Some were men of experience and some were not. Those who were not believed, as the weary hours passed, that it was a false alarm and wished to go to sleep, leaving perhaps a half dozen sentinels to keep guard. But Major Braithwaite would not allow it. Not an expert in the forest himself, he believed that he knew an expert when he saw one, and he already had implicit faith in Henry Ware. The two were together most of the time, passing continually around the enclosure. Henry looked up at the sky, where no ray of moonlight now appeared, and where rolling clouds increased in the darkness. The forest was merely a black shadow, and the clearing between it and the palisade lay in heavy gloom. The wise forethought of Major Braithwaite had caused a narrow platform, or rather ledge, to be run around the inside of the palisade at such a height that a man could stand upon it and fire over the top of the stakes.

Henry and the Major stepped upon the ledge and looked at the clearing. The Major saw nothing--merely the black background of earth, forest and sky. Nor did Henry see anything, but he believed that he heard something, a faint, sliding sound, perhaps like that of a great serpent when it trails its long length over the grass and leaves. It was such a noise as this that he was expecting, and he sought with attentive ear and eye to locate it.

Ear guided eye, and he became sure that the sound came from a point fifteen or twenty yards in front of them, but approaching. Then eye discerned a darker blot against the dark face of the earth, and presently turned this blot into the shape of a creeping warrior. There were other creeping forms to right and left, but Henry, raising his rifle, fired at the first that he had seen.

All the warriors, dozens of them, sprang to their feet, uttering their cry, and rushed upon the wall, firing their rifles as they came. The defenders replied from the top of the palisade through the loopholes and from the upper story of the blockhouse. The Indians kept up their war cries, terrifying in their nature and intended for that purpose, while the white men shouted encouragement to one another. The sharp, crackling fire of the rifles was incessant, and mingled with it was the sighing sound of bullets as they struck deep into the wood of the palisade.

It was a confused struggle, all the more grim because of the darkness. Many of the Indians reached the palisade. Some were shot down as they attempted to climb over. Others knelt under the wall and fired through the very loopholes. One warrior leaped over the palisade, escaping all the bullets aimed at him, and, tomahawk in hand, ran toward a woman who stood by one of the houses with the intention of striking her down. He was wild with the rage of battle, but a lucky shot from the window of the blockhouse slew him. He fell almost at the feet of the horrified woman, and it was seen the next morning that he belonged to the fearless Wyandot nation.

Henry stood for a time on the ledge, firing whenever he saw a chance, wasting no bullets, but after a while he sprang down and ran along the line, believing that he could be of more service by watching as well as fighting. He knew that the brunt of the Indian attack would be likely to veer at any moment, and presently it shifted to the eastern side. Luckily he was there, and at his call the Major came with more men. The warriors were repelled at this point, also. At the end of a half hour the attack sank, and then ceased on all sides. The defenders were victorious for the time, and there was great rejoicing among those who did not know all the ways of the forest.

“It is merely a withdrawal for another and better opportunity, is it not?” said Major Braithwaite to Henry.

“Of course,” replied the boy. “They do not give up as easy as that. It was so dark that I don’t think much damage was done to either side. Besides, a lot of them are there yet, hiding against the palisade, and if they get a chance they will pick off some of your men.”

As Henry spoke, a bullet whizzed through a loophole, and a defender was struck in the shoulder. The others quickly moved out of range. Major Braithwaite was very grave.

“Those savages are a great danger,” he said. “How are we to get at them.”

“If we lean over the wall to shoot down at ‘em,” said Henry, “they can shoot up at us, and they can see us better. It’s a big question. Ah, I know what to do. Those stakes are green wood, are they not?”

“Yes. Why?”

“They won’t burn unless the fire is nursed?”

“I shouldn’t think so.”

“Then we’ll have our red friends out without much danger to ourselves.”

Henry quickly told his plan, and the Major was all approval. Pots and kettles were filled with coals from the smouldering fires in the houses--in every Kentucky pioneer cabin the fire was kept over night in this manner ready for fresh wood in the morning--and then they were carried to the wooden barrier, the bearers taking care to keep out of range of the loopholes. A line of men stood along the ledge, and at a whispered word from Henry twenty heaps of red hot coals were dropped over the palisade, falling down at its foot. A series of howls, wild with pain, arose, and a dozen figures, leaping up, darted toward the forest. Two were shot by the riflemen in the blockhouse, but the rest made good the wood. More coals and boiling water, also, were emptied along the whole line of the stockade, but only three more warriors were roused up, and these escaped in the darkness. All were gone now.

Henry laughed quietly, and Major Braithwaite joined in the laugh.

“It was a good plan,” he said, “and it worked well. Now, I think, young sir, you ought to get a little sleep. I don’t think they can surprise us, and it will not be long before day.”

Henry lay down on a bed of furs in one of the houses, with the first rifle that he had taken by his side--the other he had already given to the defenders--and soon he slept soundly. He was troubled somewhat by dreams, however; in these dreams he saw the faces of his four lost comrades. He awoke once while it was yet dark, and his mind was heavy. “I must go back for them at the very first chance,” he said to himself, and then he was asleep again.

He awoke of his own accord two hours after sunrise, and after he had eaten a breakfast that one of the women brought him, he went forth.

A splendid sun was ascending the heavens, lending to the green wilderness a faint but fine touch of gold. The forest, save for the space about the fort and a tiny cutting here and there, was an enclosing wall of limitless depth. It seemed very peaceful now. There was no sign of a foe in its depths, and Henry could hear distantly the song of birds.