Chapter 14: Six Figures in the Dusk

The hours moved slowly, and Henry began to believe that his grandiloquent speech--purposely so--had met with some success. No attack was made, and delay was what he wanted. The woods seemed to remain the home of peace and quiet. Major Braithwaite had a pair of strong military glasses, and, as an additional precaution, he and Henry searched the woods with them from the upper windows of the blockhouse. Still there was no evidence of Indian attack, and Henry turned the glasses upon the river. He could now make out definitely the canoes, half hidden under the foliage on the far bank, but no stir was there. All things seemed to be waiting.

Henry turned the glasses down the river. He had a long view, but he saw only the Ohio and its yellow ripples. He lowered the glasses with an impatient little movement and handed them back to their owner.

“Why are you disappointed?” asked Major Braithwaite.

“I was hoping that the fleet might be coming, which would be a vast help to you here, but I see no sign of its approach. Of course it’s slow work for rowers and oarsmen to come week after week against a strong current, and they have been delayed, too, by storms.”

The news, confined hitherto to a few, spread through the fort, that a fleet might come soon to their help, and there was a wonderful revival of spirits. People were continually climbing to the cupola of the blockhouse, and the Major’s glasses were in unbroken use. Always they were pointed down the stream, and women’s eyes as well as men’s looked anxiously for a boat, a boat bearing white men, the vanguard of the force that would come to save them. The sight of these women so eagerly studying the Ohio moved Henry. He knew, perhaps better than they, that they had the most to fear, and he resolved never to desert them.

In this interval of quiet Henry went down to the little spring which was just east of the last row of houses, but a full twenty yards from the palisade. The ground sank away abruptly there, leaving a little bluff of stone three or four feet high. The stream, two inches deep and six inches broad, beautifully clear and almost as cold as ice, flowed from an opening at the base of the bluff. A round pool, five or six feet across and two feet deep, had been cut in the stone at the outlet of the spring, and a gourd lay beside it for the use of all who wished to drink.

Henry drank from the pool and sat down beside it with his back against a rock. He watched the water, as it overflowed the pool, trickle away toward the river, and then, closing his eyes, he thought of his comrades, the faithful four. Where were they now? He felt a powerful temptation, now that he had warned Fort Prescott, to slip away in the darkness of the night that was to come and seek them. Three of them were wounded and Paul, who alone was unhurt, did not have the skill of the others in the forest. But powerful as the temptation was, it was a temptation only and he put it away. They must wait, as he himself would have been glad to wait, had it been Shif’less Sol or any other who had arrived instead of himself.

He kept his eyes shut a long while. It seemed to him at this time that he could think more strongly and clearly with all external objects shut out. He saw now without any flattery to self that his presence in the fort was invaluable. Major Braithwaite did not understand forest strategy, but nature and circumstance combined had compelled the boy to learn them. He knew, too, of the fleet of Adam Colfax and its elements, and the plans of the allied tribes and their elements. He seemed to hold the very threads of fate in his hands, whether for good or ill.

Henry Ware opened his eyes, and chance directed that he should open them when his gaze would rest up the stream. There was a black beam in the very center of the circle of vision, and he stared at it. It was moving, and he rose to his feet. He knew that the object was a boat, but it was much larger than an Indian canoe, much larger even than the great war canoes that they sometimes built, capable of carrying thirty or forty men. It was not long, slim, and graceful, but broad of beam, and came slowly and heavily like one of the large square flatboats in which the pioneers sometimes came down the Ohio.

Henry believed this boat an object to be dreaded, and he walked swiftly toward the blockhouse, where Major Braithwaite was standing. The Major noticed his manner and asked:

“Is it anything alarming?”

“I am afraid so. It’s the big boat that you see out there in the river. Suppose we go to the top of the blockhouse and look at it through your glasses.”

The Major went without a word. He was unconsciously relying more and more upon the boy whom he variously addressed as “Young sir” and “My young friend.” Nor did he take the first look. He handed the glasses to Henry, who made a long examination of the boat and then, sighing, passed them back to the Major.

Major Braithwaite’s survey was not so long and he looked puzzled when he took the glasses down.

“Now, what in the name of Neptune do you make of it, young sir?” he asked.

“It’s a flatboat that once belonged to an emigrant party,” said Henry. “Such boats, built for long voyages and much freight, are of heavy timbers and this is no exception. They have mounted upon it two cannon, twelve pounds at least. I can see their muzzles and the places that have been cut away in the boat’s side to admit them.”

Major Braithwaite’s face whitened.

“Cannon here in the wilderness!” he exclaimed.

“One of our stations in Kentucky has been attacked with cannon.”

“Where do they get them?”

“They are brought all the way from Canada and they are worked by the renegades and white men from Canada.”

“This is a great danger to us.”

“It is certainly a very great danger, Major.”

Henry took another look through the glasses. The boat, driven by great sweeps, came on in a diagonal course across the river, bearing down upon the fort. Nobody on board it could yet be seen, so well protected were they by the high sides. It was near enough now to be observed by everybody in the fort, and many curious eyes were turned upon it, although the people did not yet know, as Henry and the Major did, the deadly nature of its burden.

The two descended from the blockhouse. The boat was now much nearer, still coming on, black and silent, but behind it at some distance, hovered a swarm of canoes filled with warriors.

The big boat stopped and swayed a little in the current. There was a flash of flame from her side, a puff of smoke, and a crash that traveled far up and down the river. A cannon ball struck inside the palisade, but buried itself harmlessly in the ground, merely sending up a shower of dirt. There was a second flash, a second puff and crash, and another cannon ball struck near its predecessor, like the first doing no harm.

But consternation spread inside the fort. They could reply to rifles with rifles, but how were they to defend themselves from cannon which from a safe range could batter them to pieces?

While the terrible problem was yet fresh in their minds, the attack on land was resumed. Hundreds of the warriors issued from the woods and began to fire upon the palisade, while the cannon shot were sent at intervals from the floating fortress.

Major Braithwaite retained his courage and presence of mind. All the women and children were told to remain within the heavy log houses, which were thick enough to turn cannon balls, and the best shots of the garrison manned the palisade, replying to the Indian fire.

Henry did not yet take much part in the combat. He believed that the attack upon the palisade was largely in the nature of a feint, intended to keep the defenders busy while the cannon did the real work. Not even Wyandots would storm in broad daylight walls held by good riflemen. He soon knew that he was right, as the rifle fire remained at long range with little damage to either side, while the flatboat was steadily drawing nearer, and the cannon were beginning to do damage. One man was killed and another wounded. Several houses were struck, and here and there stakes in the palisade were knocked away.

Major Braithwaite, despite his courage, showed alarm.

“How can we fight those cannons?” he said.

“Who is the best marksman you have?” asked Henry.

“Seth Cole?” replied the Major promptly.

“Will you call Seth Cole?”

Seth Cole came promptly. He was a tall, thin man, cool of eye and slow of speech.

“Are you ready to go with me anywhere, Mr. Cole?” asked Henry.

“I’m thinkin’ that what another feller kin stand I kin, too,” replied Seth.

“Then you’re ready,” said Henry, and he quickly told his plan.

Major Braithwaite was astonished.

“How in the name of Neptune do you ever expect to get back again, my young friend?” he exclaimed.

“We’ll get back,” replied the boy confidently. “Let us slip out as quietly as we can, Major, but if you see any movement of the Indians to gain that side you might open a covering fire.”

“I’ll do it,” said the Major, “and God bless you both.”

He wrung their hands and they slipped away.

The palisade fronting the river ran along the very edge of the cliff, which rose at a sharp angle and was covered with bushes clustering thickly. It was impossible for a formidable Indian force to approach from that side, climbing up the steep cliff, and but little attention was paid to it.

Henry and Seth Cole waited until one of the cannon was fired, hiding the flatboat in its smoke, and then they leaped lightly over the palisade, landing among the bushes, where they lay hidden.

“You’re sure that no one saw us?” said Henry.

“I’m thinkin’ that I’m shore,” replied Seth.

“Then we’ll go on down the cliff.”

Nimble and light-footed, they began the descent, clinging to rocks and bushes and sedulously keeping under cover. Luckily the bushes remained thick, and three-fourths of the way to the bottom they stopped, Henry resting in the hollow of a rock and Seth lying easily in a clump of bushes. They were now much nearer the flatboat, and while hidden themselves they could see easily.