French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America Read online

  Chapter 4: An Exciting Struggle.

  It was an exciting scene. Susanna stood at the window, and gazedeagerly along the street, striving hard to obtain a sight of theseething crowd in the open square.

  She could see the tall, haggard form of her Uncle Charles, as shecalled him. He was standing upon a little platform that his friendshad erected for him in front of the Assembly Rooms, and he wasspeaking aloud to the surging crowd in accents that rang farthrough the still air, and even reached the ears of the listenersat the open window.

  For once Hannah made no protest when the girl thrust out her head.She herself seemed to be striving to catch the echoes of the clear,trumpet-like voice. Her colour came and went in her cheeks; herbreast heaved with the emotion which often found vent in those daysin a fit of silent weeping.

  "Mother dear, do not weep; they shall be avenged! Nobody can listento Uncle Charles and not be moved. Hark how they are shoutingnow--hark! I can see them raising their arms to heaven. They areshaking their fists in the direction of the windows of the AssemblyHouse. Surely those cowardly men must be roused to action; theycannot hear unmoved a tale such as Uncle Charles has to tell!"

  "Yet even so the dead will not be restored to life; and war is acruel, bitter thing."

  "Yes, but victory is glorious. And we shall surely triumph, for ourcause is righteous. I am sure of that. And Julian Dautray says thesame. I think he is a very good man, mother; I think he is betterthan the Quakers, though he does not talk as if he thought himselfa saint.

  "O mother, there is Uncle Humphrey looking up at us! I pray you letme go down to him. I long so greatly to hear what Uncle Charles issaying. And I shall be safe in his care."

  "I think I will come, too," said Hannah, whose interest andcuriosity were keenly aroused; and after signalling as much toHumphrey, they threw on their cloaks and hoods, and were soon outin the streets, where an excited crowd had gathered.

  "The posts have come in," said Humphrey, as they made their wayslowly along, "and there is news of fresh disasters, and nearer. Ina few minutes we shall have more news. Men have gone in who promiseto come out and read us the letters. But the bearers themselvesdeclare that things are terrible. The Germans have been attacked. AMoravian settlement has been burnt to the ground, and all itsinhabitants butchered. Families are flying from the border country,naked and destitute, to get clear of the savages and theirtomahawks. Every where the people are calling aloud upon theAssembly to come to their succour."

  The crowd in the street was surging to and fro. Some were Quakers,with pale, determined countenances, still holding to their stubbornpolicy of non-resistance to the enemy, but of obstinate resistanceto the Governor and the proprietaries. The sight of these menseemed to inflame the rest of the populace, and they were hustledand hooted as they made their way into the Assembly; whilst theGovernor was cheered as he went by with a grave and troubled face,and on the steps of his house he turned and addressed the people.

  "My friends," he said, "I am doing what I can. I have written tothe proprietaries and to the government at home. I have told themthat the conduct of the Assembly is to me shocking beyond parallel.I am asking for fresh powers to deal with this horrible crisis. ButI cannot look for an answer for long; and meantime are all ourhelpless settlers in the west to be butchered? You men of the city,rise you and make a solemn protest to these obstinate rulers ofyours. I have spoken all that one man may, and they will not hear.Try you now if you cannot make your voice heard."

  "We will, we will!" shouted a hundred voices; and forthwith knotsof influential men began to gather together in corners, talkingeagerly together, and gesticulating in their excitement.

  And all this while Charles, wild-eyed and haggard, was keeping hisplace on the little platform, and telling his story again and againto the shifting groups who came and went. Men and women hung uponhis words in a sort of horrible fascination. Others might talk ofhorrors guessed at, yet unseen; Charles had witnessed the things ofwhich he spoke, and his words sent thrills of horror through theframes of those who heard. Women wept, and wrung their hands, andthe faces of men grew white and stern.

  But upon the opposite side of the square another orator washaranguing the crowd. A young Quaker woman had got up upon somesteps, moved in spirit, as she declared, to denounce the wickednessof war, and to urge the townsmen to peaceful methods. Her shrillvoice rose high and piercing, and she invoked Heaven to bless thework of those who would endure all things rather than spill humanblood.

  But the people had heard something too much of this peacefulgospel. For long they had upheld the policy of non-resistance. Theyhad their shops, their farms, their merchandise; they wereprosperous and phlegmatic, more interested in local than innational issues. They had been content to be preached at by theQuakers, and to give passive adhesion to their policy; but the hourof awakening had come. The agonized cries of those who looked tothem for aid had pierced their ears too often to be ignored.Humanity itself must rise in answer to such an appeal. They werebeginning to see that their peace policy was costing untold humanlives, amid scenes of unspeakable horror.

  They let the woman speak in peace; they did not try to stop herutterances. But when a brother Quaker took her place and began asimilar harangue, the young men round raised a howl, and a voicecried out:

  "Duck him in the horse pond! Roll him in a barrel! Let him betarred and feathered like an Indian, since he loves the scalpingsavages so well. Who's got a tomahawk? Let's see how they use them.Does anybody know how they scalp their prisoners? A Quaker wouldnever miss his scalp; he always has his hat on!"

  A roar of laughter greeted this sally; and a rush was made for theunlucky orator, who showed a bold front enough to the mob. But atthat moment public attention was turned in a different direction bythe appearing upon the steps of the Assembly Rooms of a well-knowncitizen of high repute, who had until latterly been one of thepeace party, but who of late had made a resolute stand, insistingthat something must be done for the protection of the westernsettlers, and for the curbing of the ambitious encroachments andpreposterous claims of France.

  This grave-faced citizen came out with some papers in his hand, andthe crowd was hushed into silence.

  Overhead anxious faces could be seen looking out at the window. Itwas not by the wishes of the Assembly that such letters were madepublic; but many of them had been addressed to James Freemanhimself, and they could not restrain him from doing as he wouldwith his own.

  "My friends," he said, and his voice rose distinct in the clearair, "we have heavy tidings today. You shall hear what is writtenfrom some sufferers not far from Fort Cumberland, where forty whitemen, women, and children were barbarously murdered a few days back.

  "'We are in as bad circumstances as ever any poor Christians wereever in; for the cries of the widowers, widows, fatherless andmotherless children are enough to pierce the hardest of hearts.Likewise it is a very sorrowful spectacle to see those that escapedwith their lives with not a mouthful to eat, or bed to lie on, orclothes to cover their nakedness or keep them warm, but all theyhad consumed to ashes. These deplorable circumstances cry aloud toyour Honour's most wise consideration how steps may speedily betaken to deliver us out of the hand of our persecutors the crueland murderous savages, and to bring the struggle to an end.'"

  The reader paused, and a low, deep murmur passed through the crowd,its note of rage and menace being clearly heard. The speaker tookup another paper and recommenced.

  "This comes from John Harris on the east bank of the Susquehanna:

  "'The Indians are cutting us off every day, and I had a certainaccount of about fifteen hundred Indians, besides French, being ontheir march against us and Virginia, and now close on our borders,their scouts scalping our families on our frontier daily.'"

  Another pause, another murmur like a roar, and a voice from thecrowd was raised to ask:

  "And what says the Assembly to that?"

  "They say that if the Indians are rising against us, who have beenfriendly so lon
g, then we must surely have done something to wrongthem; and they are about to search for the cause of such a possiblewrong, and redress it, rather than impose upon the colony thecalamities of a cruel Indian war!"

  A yell and a groan went up from the crowd. For a moment it seemedalmost as though some attack would be made upon the Assembly House.The habits of law and obedience were, however, strong in thecitizens of Philadelphia, and in the end they dispersed quietly totheir own homes; but a fire had been kindled in their hearts whichwould not easily be quenched.

  Days were wasted by the Quakers in an unsuccessful attempt to provethat there had been some fraud on the part of the Governor in arecent land purchase from the Indians. And they again laid beforethe Governor one of their proposals, still containing the clausewhich he was unable to entertain, and which inevitably broughtmatters to a deadlock.

  The Quakers drew up a declaration affirming that they had now takenevery step in their power, "consistent with the just rights of thefreemen of Pennsylvania, for the relief of the poor distressedinhabitants," and further declared that "we have reason to believethat they themselves would not wish us to go further. Those whowould give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporaryrelief and safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."

  The Governor, in a dignified reply, once more urged upon them theabsolute necessity of waiving for the present the vexed question ofthe proprietary estates, and passing a bill for the relief of thepresent sufferers; but the Quakers remained deaf and mute, andwould not budge one inch from their position.

  All the city was roused. In houses like that of Benjamin Ashley,where people were coming and going the whole day long, and wheretravellers from these border lands were to be found who could giveinformation at first hand, the discussion went on every day and allday long. Ashley himself was keenly excited. He had quite brokenaway from a number of his old friends who supported the Assembly inits blind obstinacy. Nobody could sit by unmoved whilst Charles andHumphrey Angell told their tale of horror and woe; and, moreover,both Julian Dautray and Fritz Neville had much to tell of theaggressive policy of France, and of her resolute determination tostifle and strangle the growing colonies of England, by giving themno room to expand, whilst she herself claimed boundless untroddenregions which she could never hope to populate or hold.

  Fresh excitements came daily to the city. Early one morning, as thetardy daylight broke, a rumble of wheels in the street below toldof the arrival of travellers. The wheels stopped before Ashley'sdoor, and he hastily finished his toilet and went down.

  In a few moments all the house was in a stir and commotion. Aterrible whisper was running from mouth to mouth. That cartstanding grimly silent in the street below carried, it was said, aterrible load. Beneath its heavy cover lay the bodies of abouttwenty victims of Indian ferocity; and the guardians of the loadwere stern-faced men, bearing recent scars upon their own persons,who ate and drank in stony silence, and only waited till theAssembly had met before completing their grim mission.

  The thing had got wind in the town by now, and the square space wasthronged. The members of the Assembly looked a little uneasy asthey passed through the crowd, but not a sound was made till allhad gathered in the upper room.

  Then from out the yard of the inn was dragged the cart. No horseswere fastened to it. The young men of the city dragged it out andpushed it along. The silent, grim-faced guardians walked in front.As it reached the square the crowd sent up a groaning cry, andopened right and left for the dreadful load to be set in positionbefore the windows of the great room where the Assembly had met.

  Then the cover was thrown back, and yells and cries arose from all.Shouts were raised for the Assembly to come and look at their work.

  There was no resisting the mandate of the crowd. White andtrembling, the members of the Assembly were had out upon the steps,and forced to look at the bodies of their victims. The crowdhooted, groaned, yelled with maddened fury. The advocates of peaceshrank into themselves, appalled at the evidences of barbaritiesthey had sought to believe exaggerated. It was useless now toattempt to deny the truth of what had been reported.

  Back they slunk into the Assembly House, white and trembling, andfor the moment cowed. The cart was moved on, and stopped in frontof house after house where notable Quakers dwelt who were notmembers of the Assembly. They were called to come to their windowsand look, and were greeted with hisses and curses.

  The very next day a paper, under preparation by a number of theleading citizens at the suggestion of the Governor, was presentedto the Assembly under the title of a "Representation." It containeda stern appeal for the organization of measures of defence, andended by the dignified and significant words:

  "You will forgive us, gentlemen, if we assume characters somewhathigher than that of humble suitors praying for the defence of ourlives and properties as a matter of grace or favour on your side.You will permit us to make a positive and immediate demand of it."

  The Quakers were frightened, incensed, and perplexed. Theirpreachers went about the streets urging upon the people thedoctrine of non-resistance, and picturing the horrors of warfare.The Assembly debated and debated, but invariably came to theconclusion that they must withstand the Governor to the last uponthe question of taxation.

  All the city was in a tumult and ferment; but when the news camethat a settlement only sixty miles away, Tulpehocken by name, hadbeen destroyed and its inhabitants massacred, even the advocates ofpeace grew white with fear, and the House began to draw up amilitia law--the most futile and foolish perhaps that had ever beensuggested even by lovers of peace--in the vain hope of appeasingthe people.

  But the people would not be appeased by a mere mockery. Theyclamoured for the raising of money for a systematic defence oftheir colony, and the ground was cut from beneath the feet of theAssembly by a letter received from England by the Governor--notindeed in response to his recent urgent appeals, but still writtenwith some knowledge of the unsettled state of the country. In thisletter the proprietaries promised a donation of five thousandpounds as a free gift for the defence of the provinces threatenedin so formidable a manner, provided it was regarded as a gift andnot as any part of a tax upon their estates, which were to remainfree according to the old feudal tenure.

  The Assembly upon hearing this could hold out no longer. They wereforced by the clamour of public opinion to strike out the debatedand debatable clause from the long-contested bill, and immediatelyit was passed into law by the Governor.

  "Ay, they have come to their senses at last--when it is well nightoo late!" spoke John Stark, with a touch of bitterness in histone. "They will furnish money now; but what can be done with thewinter just upon us? For six months we must lie idle, whilst thesnow and ice wrap us round. Why was not this thing done before oursettlements were destroyed, and when we could have pushed forth anarmy into the field to drive back the encroaching foe, so that theywould never have dared to show their faces upon our border again?"

  Charles looked up with burning eyes.

  "What say you? Six months to wait? That will not do for me! Myblood is boiling in my veins; I must needs cool it! If theselaggard rulers, with their clumsy methods, cannot put an army inthe field before the spring, surely there are men enough amongst usto go forth--a hardy band of woodsmen and huntsmen--and hunt andharry, and slay and destroy, even as they have done!"

  "That is what the Rangers do!" cried Stark, with kindling eyes; "Ihave heard of them before this. The Rangers of New England havedone good work before now. Good thought, good thought! Why not formourselves into a band of Rangers? Are we not strong and full ofcourage, seasoned to hardship, expert in our way with gun or axe?Why should we lie idle here all the long winter through? Why notlet us forth to the forest--find out where help is needed most, andmake here a dash and there a raid, striking terror into the heartsof the foe, and bringing help and comfort to those desolateinhabitants of the wilderness who go in terror of their lives? Whynot be a party of bold Rangers, scouring the forests, and doingw
hatever work comes to hand? Men have banded themselves togetherfor this work before now; why may not we do the like?"

  "Why not, indeed?" cried Fritz, leaping to his feet. "I pine in therestraint of this town; I long for the forest and the plain oncemore. My blood, too, is hot within me at the thought of what hasbeen done and will be done again. Let us band ourselves together asbrothers in arms. There must be work and to spare for those whodesire it."

  Ashley thoughtfully stroked his chin, looking round the circlebefore him. He was a shrewd and thoughtful man, and there wasnothing of cowardice in his nature, although he was cautious andcareful.

  "It is not a bad thought, Nephew John," he said; "and yet I hadbeen thinking of something different for some of you intrepid andadventurous youths to do. I had thought of sending news of thestate of parties here to our friends and kinsmen in England. Whenall is said and done, it is to England that we must look for help.She must send us generals to command us, and she must help us withher money. There are many families across the water who would opentheir purses on our behalf right generously were our sad case madeknown to them. Letters are sent continually, but it is the spokentale that moves the heart. I had thought to send across myself tosuch of our friends and families as still regard us as belonging tothem. If they made a response such as I look for, we should soonhave means at our disposal to augment what the tardy Assembly maydo by an auxiliary force, equipped and furnished with all that canbe needed. But you cannot be in two places at once.

  "What think you, my young friends? Will you serve your distressedbrethren better as Rangers of the forest, or as emissaries toEngland?"

  "Why not divide our forces?" asked John Stark; "there are enough ofus for that. I have often heard Humphrey speak of a wish to crossthe sea, and to visit the land from which we have all come. Why notlet him choose a comrade, and go thither with letters and messages,and tell his tale in the ears of friends? And whilst they are thusabsent, why should not the rest of us make up a party of boldspirits, and go forth into the wilderness, and there carry on suchwork of defence and aggression as we find for us to do?"

  "Ay. I have no love for the unknown ocean," said Charles; "I haveother work to do than to visit new lands. I have a vow upon me, andI cannot rest till it be accomplished."

  Humphrey and Julian looked at each other. Already they had spokenof a visit to England. Both desired to see the lands of the EasternHemisphere from whence their fathers had come. Hitherto they hadnot seen how this could be accomplished; but Ashley's words openedout an unexpected way. If the citizens of Philadelphia wanted tosend messengers to their friends across the water, they wouldgladly volunteer for the service.

  "If Julian will go with me, I will gladly go," said Humphrey.

  "I will go, with all my heart," answered Julian at once; "and wewill seek and strive to do the pleasure of those who send us."

  Ashley's face beamed upon the pair. He knew by this time that nobetter messenger than Julian Dautray could be found. He had a giftof eloquence and a singularly attractive personality. His nature wasgentle and refined--curiously so considering his upbringing--and hehad a largeness of heart and a gift of sympathy which was seldom tobe met with amongst the more rugged sons of the north.

  He had made himself something of a power already in the circle intowhich he had been thrown; and when it was known amongst Ashley'sfriends and acquaintance that his wife's brother, together withJulian Dautray, would go to England with their representations tofriends and to those in authority, a liberal response was made asto their outfit and introductions, and the young men were surprisedto find themselves suddenly raised to a place of such importanceand distinction.

  It was an exciting time for Susanna and for all in the house. JohnStark came to and fro, bringing news that he had found freshvolunteers to join the band of Rangers, who were already makingpreparations for departure upon their perilous life of adventure.

  Some of the older citizens looked doubtful, and spoke of therigours of the winter; but John laughed, and Charles smiled hisstrange, mirthless smile, and all declared themselves fearless andready to face whatever might be in store. Come what might, theywould go to the help of the settlers, be the Assembly ever sodilatory in sending help.

  "But you will not get killed?" Susanna would plead, looking fromone face to the other. She was fond of John, who had been like abrother to her all her life; she had a great admiration forhandsome Fritz, who often spent whole evenings telling herwonderful stories of the far south whilst she plied her needle overthe rough garments the Rangers were to take with them. It seemed toher a splendid thing these men were about to do, but she shrankfrom the thought that harm might come to them. She sometimes almostwished they had not thought of it, and that they had been contentto remain in the city, drilling with the town militia, and thinkingof the coming spring campaign.

  "We must take our chance," answered Fritz, as he bent over her witha smile on one of those occasions. "You would not have us value ourlives above the safety of our distressed brethren or the honour ofour nation? The things which have happened here of late havetarnished England's fair name and fame. You would not have us holdback, if we can help to bring back the lustre of that name? I knowyou better than that."

  "I would have you do heroic deeds," answered Susanna, withquickly-kindled enthusiasm, "only I would not have you lose yourlives in doing it."

  "We must take our chance of that," answered Fritz, with a smile,"as other soldiers take theirs. But we shall be a strong and warycompany; and I have passed already unscathed through many perils.You will not forget us when we are gone, Susanna? I shall think ofyou sitting beside this comfortable hearth, when we are lying outbeneath the frosty stars, with the world lying white beneath us,wrapped in its winding sheet!"

  "Ah, you will suffer such hardships! they all say that."

  There was a look of distress in the girl's eyes; but Fritz laughedaloud.

  "Hardship! what is hardship? I know not the name. We can track gamein the forest, and fish the rivers for it. We can make ourselvesfires of sparkling, crackling pine logs; we can slip along over iceand snow upon our snowshoes and skates, as I have heard themdescribed, albeit I myself shall have to learn the trick ofthem--for we had none such methods in my country, where the coldcould never get a grip of us. Fear not for us, Susanna; we shallfare well, and we shall do the work of men, I trow. I am wearyalready of the life of the city; I would go forth once more to myforest home."

  There was a sparkle almost like that of tears in the girl's eyes,and a little unconscious note as of reproach in her voice.

  "That is always the way with men; they would ever be doing anddaring. Would that I too were a man! there is naught in the worldfor a maid to do."

  "Say not so," cried Fritz, taking the little hand and holding ittenderly between his own. "Life would be but a sorry thing for usmen were it not for the gentle maidens left at home to think of usand pray for us and welcome us back again. Say, Susanna, what sortof a welcome will you have for me, when I come to claim it after myduty is done?"

  She raised her eyes to his, and the colour flooded her face.

  "I shall welcome you back with great gladness of heart, Fritz, andI shall pray for you every day whilst you are away."

  "And not forget me, even if other fine fellows of officers, such aswe begin to see in our streets now, come speaking fine words toyou, and seeking to win smiles from your bright eyes? You will keepa place in your heart still for the rough Ranger Fritz?"

  Susanna's eyes lighted with something of mischievous amusement, andthen as she proceeded grew more grave and soft.

  "My good mother will take care that I have small converse with thegay young officers, Fritz. But in truth, even were it not so, Ishould never care for them, or think of them as I do of you. Youare facing perils they would not. You are brave with the bravery ofa true hero. It is with the Rangers of the forest that my heartwill go. Be sure you break it not, Fritz, by too rashly exposingyourself to peril."

  "Sweetheart!"
was his softly-spoken answer; and Susanna went to herbed that night with a heart that beat high with a strange sweethappiness, although the cloud of coming parting lay heavy upon hersoul.

  A few days later, Humphrey and Julian, fully equipped withinstructions, introductions, money and other necessaries, left thecity, ready for their homeward voyage; and in another week thesmall but hardy band of Rangers, with their plain and meagreoutfit, but with stout hearts and brave resolves, said adieu tothose they left behind, and started westward for that debatableground upon which a bloody warfare had to be fought to the bitterend.