The Green Mountain Boys: a story of the American War of Independence ... Illustrated, etc

Front matter

"RAISING HIS DUSKY HAND, LOGAN POINTED SOUTHWARD [p. 109. THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS: A STORY OF THE AMERICAN WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. Br ELIZA F. POLLAKD, AUTHOR OF "ROGER THE RANGER," "ROBERT ASKF," "TRUE UNTO DEATH," ETC. ILLUSTRATED BT PAUL HARDY. LONDON : S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO. 8 & 9 PATERXOSTEK ROW. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. TRUE UNTO DEATH : A Story of Russian Life and the Crimean War. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, 320 pages. Handsomely bound in cloth gilt, zs. (sd. ROGER THE RANGER : A Story of Border Life among the Indians. Illustrated by W. Rainey, R.I. Crown 8vo, 320 pages. Handsomely bound in cloth, zs. 6d. ' NOT WANTED " ; or, The Wreck of the "Providence." Fully illustrated. Cloth extra, 320 pages, zs. (sd. ROBERT ASKE : A Story of the Reformation. Illustrated by C. J. Staniland, R.I. Crown 8vo, 320 pages.

Cloth extra, zs. (sd. BROWNIE; or, The Lady Superior. Well illustrated. Crown 8vo, 320 pages, Cloth extra, zs. AVICE : A Story of Imperial Rome. Crown 8vo. 320 pages. Illustrated. Cloth boards, zs. FLORENCE NIGHTLNGALE, THE WOUNDED SOLDIER'S FRIEND. Fully illustrated. Crown 8vo, 160 pages. Cloth extra, is. (sd. London : S. W. Partridge & Co., 8 & 9 Paternoster Row. CONTENTS. CHAP. ,.U:K I. TWO COMRADES 7 II. THE MARSHLANDS 15 III. THE OLD, OLD STORY 25 IV. A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK . . .38 V. A MOTHER'S STRUGGLE . . . .46 VI. DICK MEETS HIS HERO . . . .55 VII. THE WAGER WON 61 VIII. DICK'S FIRST EXPLOIT . . . . .71 IX. THE RAID 78 X. CASTING LOTS 87 XI. ON THE WAR-TRAIL 96 XII. LOGAN 104 XIII. INDIAN COUNCILS 113 XIV. BOSTON PORT ACT 116 XV. MAKING READY 127 XVI. THE SIGNAL Contents. 6 PAGE CHAP. XVII.

LIBERTY 1<i7 XVIII. TICONDEROGA . . • • • .159 XIX. ENMITY . . . • • • .172 XX. GEORGE WASHINGTON . . • .178 XXI. A HERO 1^.5 XXII. DICK'S LUCK 19- XXIII. TO THE RESCUE 201 xxiv. Washington's army. . . . .217 XXV. CHOOSING A LEADER 222 XXVI. TAKEN PRISONER ..... 232 XXVII. WOUNDED 248 XXVIII. UNDER THE WALLS UF yUEBEC . . . 257 XXIX. THE ASSAULT ...... 266 XXX. THE ESCAPE 279 XXXI. THE RETREAT ...... 289 XXXII. " SNOWFLAKE " 300 XXXIII. CONCLUSION

Chapter I. Two Comrades

IT was evening ; the early spring day was drawing to a close. The sinking sun lit up the mountain heights, gilding with light the uppermost tops of the dark firs. Half-way up the mountain-side a clearance had been made, aud the great trees of the primeval forest lay prone on the ground. In the midst stood a log hut, fashioned rudely, as was the custom among the early settlers in America. Seated on a bench which ran along the wall of the hut a man was resting ; his axe was on the ground at his feet, and a gun lay close beside him. Seth Warner was well known, far and wide, through out his native province of Connecticut, and along the border-land of New England. He was amongst the first settlers who crossed the Connecticut River, and penetrating westward, obtained grants of land in the wilderness and amongst the Green Mountains of that province which we now call Vermont.

These first adventurers, who went forth to concmer the land, were few in number, but for the most part they were God-fearing men ; they were also brave and full of daring, taking possession of a strange land, inhabiting rude cabins, living hard lives, tilling the earth, felling the great trees of the forest, amidst unbroken silence, save when the stroke of their axes awoke an echo, or the howl of the wolf disturbed the dull ear of midnight. Seth Warner, even as he sat on the rude bench outside his hut, was a man of fine, majestic appear ance. Though tall and muscular, so compactly and finely set were his limbs, that his contour presented nothing to the eye in the least disproportioned or ungainly. His features corresponded in regularity of formation to the rest of his person, while his countenance was rather of a cool and deliberate cast, indicative of a mild, benevolent disposition, as well as of a sound and reflecting intellect.

Every appearance, indeed, whether of his shapely head or manly countenance, went to show a strong, well-balanced character, one capable of action beyond the scope of ordinary men. A broad, intellectual forehead, relieved by a profusion of nut-brown hair, with sparkling, blue eyes beaming forth under eyebrows most beautifully arched — his physiognomy gave unmistakable signs of an intelli gent, courageous and energetic man. Suddenly he started and bent forward eagerly, aud then his whole face broke into a smile. " I thought I could not be mistaken," lie said. rising, as the figure of a young man appeared on the edge of the forest, waving his red, woollen cap, and shouting merrily as he leaped over the fallen trees— Tzco Comrades. 9 " Hullo ! Seth Warner caught napping ! " " Not exactly," answered Seth, advancing to meet him.

" What's brought you this way, Ethan Allen ? It's late to be wandering in the forest ; " and the two meu wrung each other's hands. " I ought to have been here full two hours ago," answered Alleu, " but I've been detained on the road." " Where do you come from ? " asked Seth " Bennington," answered Allen shortly. Seth looked at him. " Things going pretty badly there, I hear," he said. "Rather," answered Allen; "but I'm ravenous; give me some food, and then I'll tell you all about it ; I've come for that purpose. You'll have to show yourself, Seth ; we all shall — the time's come ! " " Very good," answered Seth, in his quiet voice, so different from Allen's eager speech. Indeed, the two men formed a strong contrast to each other. Allen was tall and slim, a nervously built man, light and quick in all his movements.

His face was mobile, his eyes flashing ; it was easy to see that in his case action would quickly follow upon words. Seth shouted "John ! " and a big, burly fellow appeared from an outhouse. " Is there anything for supper ? " John nodded, and seeing Allen, came forward and held out his hand. " How goes it with you, Ethan Allen ? " " As well as these bad times will allow," answered Allen. The three men entered the hut together, and John, who was evidently comptroller of the household, going to a rough-hewn cupboard, proceeded slowly and deliberately to place on a round, wooden table, in the centre of the room, tin mugs and plates, a cold haunch of venison, a huge pasty, and bread. Ethan Allen fell to at once, the other men more slowly. Having satisfied the first cravings ot hunger, Ethan threw himself back in his chair, exclaiming, — " Now I'll tell you the news.

There will be work for the Green Mountain Boys ere long. Yesterday, a writ was served on John Brakenridge, whose farm, you know, lies within the township of Bennington. Of course, we don't mean that he should be turned out ; and when the sheriff's officers come down, they'll find their reception a hot one." "I rather think they will," said Seth. "The Governor's mad. John Brakenridge is one of the first settlers— he paid the full worth of his laud, iu good money, as we did. It matters little to us whether we belong to New York or New Hampshire ; we hold our patents from Governor Wentworth. They may change the boundaries as they like, but the land is ours ; and no one, not King George himself, will wrest it from us." " Then you'll fight ? " said Allen. "Fight! of course I will, for my hut ancl lands," said Seth.

" Who*s Governor Tryon, that he should lay down the law ? If the worst comes to the worst, we'll send over to England, aud lay our plaint before the King." Two Comrades. 11 "Good," said Allen; "but, iu the meantime, are we to let them seize the lands ? " " By no means," answered Seth. " What we have we hold. A hundred and thirty-eight townships, for which Governor Wentworth granted patents, must be held at any risk, whether it be decided that the Connecticut be the boundary line westward or not." " I knew you'd say it," said Allen ; " I told them so down at Bennington, but they wanted to make sure, so I came up." " WThen is it supposed that the sheriff's men will go to Brakenridge's farm ? " asked Seth. " In the course of next week," answered Allen. " He had his notice last Monday. Will you come down, Seth ?

" The blood darkened Seth Warner's face, and he answered with shy haughtiness, — " Not this time, Allen ; I'll send John down to you with a dozen 'boys.' I have promised to be at Marshlands the day after to-morrow." A faint smile, which he quickly repressed, lighted up Allen's face. " The fair Susan ? " he said. "Yes," answered Seth. "You know we were to be married next month, but I scarcely see my way now ; with the state of things in these parts, how can I bring a wife home even to Bennington, much less out here ? " " She won't care," said Allen ; " she takes after her race. There never was a braver girl than Susan Langlade." " You're about right there," answered Seth, a soft light coming into his blue eyes ; " but still I cannot bring her into danger." " What has Major Roger been doing of late ?

" asked Allen. " Since the Pontiac war ended, and the Indians gave iii their submission, he has lived quietly at home," answered Seth. " What has become of Langlade ? " persisted Alleu. " He remained at the Marshes throughout the Pontiac war," Seth replied. " He would not raise his hand in offensive warfare against the Indians, but he was ready to defend his hearth against them, and he did so effectually. He and Joseph Brandt are great friends. I have heard it said he is in love with Mary Brandt, or she with him." " Do you think he'll take a second Indian wife ? " asked Allen. " He knows better," answered Seth. " Charles Langlade will never marry again." There was a minute's silence. " You agree, then, Seth, if the sheriff's men come to Brakenridge Farm, we are to let them have a taste of our twigs ?

" said Allen. "A most just chastisement," said Seth, laughing. " John, let the ' boys ' know that they are to muster to-morrow, to go with Ethan Allen." " All right," answered John, as he began to dis mantle the table. Seth rose aud, followed by his friend, went out into the open. " You've been blazing away," said Allen ; '• you've made quite a path up the hill ;" aud he pointed to a fresh opening in the primeval forest. Two Comrades. 13 " Yes," said Seth, " there's a path from the dell now wide enough for two men abreast ; but the sheriff's men had better not try that footpath — they'll find Seth Warner at the top. We've had bad times, and we've paid for our lands with money and with labour. What human law can wrest them from us ? Colour ing a crime with a specious pretence of law only adds to the criminality of it, for it subverts the very design of law, prostituting it to the vilest purposes."

As he uttered these words the two men strolled leisurely on, climbing the mountain-side with the ease of practised mountaineers, till at last they stood upon the projecting ledge of rock. The night was warm, the air balmy ; and as they stretched them selves on the ground overlooking a large tract of country, known only to hunters and wild beasts, Seth exclaimed, — " It's a fair country and a good ; the Lord brought me hither, and here I will remain. Let man do his worst." " My dear fellow, your own pluck brought you hither, and your own pluck will keep you here." " Not if the Lord's hand be against us," answered Seth reverently ; " you're a heathen, Allen, or would make believe you are." "Ah ! well, you know, Seth, I am not one of the pious sort. When I go out of this world I expect to come back into it again — at least, I hope so — as a large white horse.

That is my highest ambition." "Hush! hush!" said Seth. "It is not well to speak thus lightly of what appertains to the spirit world. A man made after God's image, the last and noblest creation, to rank himself amongst brutes is scarcely a high ambition." " What, then, do you hope for ? " asked Allen, turning to his companion. " I abide in faith," said Seth ; " my father's faith. The mysteries of nature are so marvellous, a little more, a little less, it matters not. Our finite under standings must abide in patience until all things are made clear. Everything to us is mystery — life and death, the birds of the air and the flowers of the field, their growth, their uses. We are like children groping in the dark. Only one thing never changes, the great Motive Power which rules the world — Love, human aud divine."

" As reflected in Susie Langlade's eyes," said Allen, smiling. " Just so," said Seth ; and plucking at a handful of long grass, he threw it at Allen, saying, almost triumphantly, " Can you tell me what is better in this world than a true woman's love for a true man ? " " There is naught better," said Allen. " I wish you good luck, Seth Warner." " Thanks," answered his companion, rising, and adding, " And now, if you will, we'll go to rest, for we must both be up betimes to-morrow — you on your way to Bennington, I to the Marshes."

Chapter II. The Marshlands

" TTNDER present circumstances it is the worst U news you could bring me. A fresh war with the Indians at this moment means that they will go against the States, lay waste New Hampshire, and all the border-land ; and we know what that entails." The speaker was a large, tall man, in the prime of life, with a rugged face, full of power. He wore the usual dress of a New England huntsman, and stood leaning against the porch of his house, smoking. There was in his attitude the quiet repose of one sure of himself ; but at this moment the expression of his face was troubled. This man was Major Roger, known throughout the late war between France and England for the Dominion of Canada as " Roger the Ranger."* He had been the friend of Howe, had stood one of the first on the Plains of Abraham, and taken his part in that great victory.

His companion, Charles Langlade, to whom he had addressed himself, was of a different type. Though of the same age, he looked much younger, * " Koger the Kanger." By E. F. Pollard. London : S. W. Partridge & Co,, 8 & 9, Paternoster Row. '5 his figure having retained the lithe elegance of early manhood. He was essentially a handsome man. ; his face, when at rest, was almost sad ; indeed, in his whole demeanour there was a sort of nonchalance, as if the spirit were not wholly present in the flesh. After the great war, these two men had returned to their homes on the Marsh Settlement, and laying aside their warlike weapons, prepared to lead the lives of New England farmers. Such, however, was not to be Roger's destiny. In the late war the greater number of Indian tribes had sided with the French.

They had seen their chief fall in battle, fighting against the English, and their souls cried out for vengeance. The Canadians and the French traders were only too ready to encourage these feelings ; so that along all the border-land of New England the people dwelt in fear and trembling. The Indians were always there threatening the inhabitants of quiet outlying home steads. No man dared venture into his fields unarmed. Thousands of whites were murdered, and their families driven from their homes. Terror and desolation were carried into the most fertile valleys on the frontiers of civilisation. Many a secret messenger came to Charles Langlade from the Indian tribe, which he had led to battle on the French side during the Canadian war, entreating him once more to join them and become their chief.

" Would he not avenge his squaw, and the little ' white chief,' his son, who had been killed in Black Eagle's arms on the Plains of Abraham ? " But he had steadily refused. "I will never go to battle against you, or with you," he said ; " but if you attack my people I will defend them." And he kept his word. Throughout the long Indian war which followed, he never left his native Marshes ; and whether it was his presence or the love they had borne him, the Indian tribes seldom made incursions in the immediate neighbourhood of the Marshes. It was well for his mother's and sister's sake that it was so, for, during all that time, Roger was seldom long under his own roof. In 1760 he had been sent by General Amhnrst to receive the Capitulation of Detroit and other Western posts on the frontier. His name was known and feared by every Indian tribe.

His wonderful adventures and escapes in the past had surrounded him in their eyes with a sort of superstitious invulnerability. They had never been able to lay hands on him, aud so they marvelled. Pontiac, the chief of the Ottawas, the faithful ally of the French, after considerable demur, consented to the surrender of Detroit. His old friends were conquered, and he trusted that by making terms with the English his influence would be increased. When Roger appeared with his two hundred Rangers up the Detroit River, where four hundred Indians were lying in ambush awaiting him, Pontiac persuaded them to withdraw peacefully. So astonished were the Indians at the surrender of Detroit without a blow being struck, that it inclined them still more to attribute superhuman power to Roger. But Pontiac, in his heart, hated the English and dreaded their supremacy ; they had conquered the French, they would surely conquer his own race, and drive them from their ancient hunting grounds.

He was a man of nearly fifty years of age, un usually dark of complexion, of medium height, powerful frame, and haughty bearing. Intellectually, he was far superior to the generality of his race ; he possessed all the few good qualities of the Indian, and most of their many bad ones. He was subtle, patient, and cruel. He sought the friendship of the English, but having obtained it, his savage soul rose up in angry rebellion. Did an Indian ever forgive his enemy ? The great chief retired into his forest, spent whole days, nay weeks, in the silence of his wigwam, where only those bidden dared enter. There, tales reached him of how his father, the French king, was coming with a fleet of great canoes up the St. Lawrence to help his dusky children. Pontiac arose, athirst for vengeance, and sent a red stained tomahawk and a wampum belt to every tribe between the Ottawa and the Lower Mississippi.

Only one tribe of the Iroquois joined him, because the others were restrained by Sir William Johnson, who dwelt in the Mohawk Valley, and called the Indians friends. One, Joseph Brandt, the chief of the Mohawks, and his sister Mary, had been brought up under Sir W '. Johnson's roof, and educated as his own children. They were Christians, and desired to dwell in peace with their white brothers, so the red tomahawk aud the wampum belt were passed on, and did not linger iu their midst. The rising was fixed for the month of May, wlieu each tribe was to dispose of the garrison of the nearest fort ; having done this, they were to attack the settlements. But in many of the forts the secret of the conspiracy oozed out. More than once the bloody belt, as it was brought into some village or fort, was sought for by the English officer in command, and after a long and troublesome spell found and sent on to the English general.

At other times a girl's heart failed her as she gazed at her white lover, aud to save his life she betrayed her own people, satisfied herself to suffer the penalty. Nevertheless, Indian treachery prevailed ; they swarmed in the forests, they entered the forts, murdering aud scalping the white man whenever he fell into their hands. For three years Major Roger with his Rangers waged a defensive war against these savages ; cutting them off when they least expected it ; watching the forts, and giving timely notice to the garrisons. It was a harassiug and cruel warfare. Many were the battles fought ; three out of twelve fortified posts were captured, and the English garrisons massacred. It was, indeed, only by ruse that Roger succeeded in overcoming them. Almost in despair, after two days of heavy fighting at the great battle of Bushy Run, he proposed a feigned retreat, and by careful and clever manœuvres so deceived the Indians, that they, fearful lest their prey should escape them, forsook the shelter of the forest and rushed down in a compact mass upon the foe.

This was exactly the result Roger had desired. Bullet and bayonet could now do their work effectually, and the Indians, literally mowed down, were forced to retreat, and fled in confusion. Submission quickly followed. The chiefs, Pontiac amongst them, assembled at Oswego to meet Sir William Johnson, Major Roger and the generals. In the summer of 1766 a formal peace was concluded ; but still it was long before the people dwelling on the border-lands ceased to live in perpetual fear of the savages. Pontiac tried again and again to rally some of the tribes of the Illinois country, and considerable numbers of French traders joined him ; but finding their efforts useless, and the English power firmly established in the land, they gradually dropped off ; and in 1769 the great chief was ignobly assassinated in the forest by a Kaskaskia Indian, bribed by an English trader with a barrel of rum.

Since this peace Roger had dwelt at home, and the colony of Marshlands had prospered beyond measure. The reputation it attained for order, good government and security, had been the means of drawing new settlers into the vicinity ; and so, for miles round, the valley and the hillsides were dotted with flourish ing farms ; but, over all, looking down on the green pastures and silver flowing river, stood the two rugged homesteads, Alpha and Omega, so named bv the first settlers, the Langlades and Boscowens, whose desceudants still dwelt there, and might be said to rule the land, as their forefathers had done before them ; not by right of conquest, not even by hereditary right, but because they were looked upon by all as the best and wisest men in the country. In any dispute any question relating to the welfare of the colony, their word was law ; none ventured to gainsay them.

These were the two men who now stood in con verse together on the threshold of "Roger the Ranger's" house. Charles Langlade had just returned from a visit to Sir AVilliam Johnson in the Mohawk Valley, and brought the news that a trader, by name Michael Cresap, had fired upon two Indians in a canoe on the Ohio and had slain them, and not content with this, he and his companions had further attacked a wigwam on the Ohio River in West Vir ginia, and slain five Indians. Pursuing their murderous course, they had, within a few days, killed thirteen Indians, amongst whom were two younger brothers, the wife and little ones of the chief Fah-gah-jute, called, by the whites, Logan. "It is a disgrace to humanity, to say nothing of Christianity," said Charles Langlade bitterly. " There is not a kinder-hearted man than Logan.

He is a Cazuga Indian, brought up, as you know, in the beautiful plain of Shamokin, which overhangs the Susquehanna, by Brainerd, the great Moravian missionary, and he always declared he would never lift his tomahawk against the white. When he married a Shawnee woman, he set up his wigwam on the bank of the Ohio, in West Virginia, and he has dwelt there peaceably ever since. I have often met him at Sir William Johnson's ; he and Joseph Brandt are great friends. But when a man returns in the morning to find his home tenanted only by the dead, what can you expect? His whole soul is turned to gal! amd wormwood, and cries out for vengeance. Yet this savage, as we call him, has stayed his hand. Do you know what he did ? With a few chosen companions he went out on the war path, added scalp to scalp, till the number was also thir teen ; then he returned to his desolate wigwam, saying, — " ' Now I am satisfied for the loss of my relatives, and will sit still.'" " You do not suppose the matter will end there !

" said Roger. " Most certainly not," answered Charles. " I pre ferred coming away, or I know not what I might have been tempted to do. Bnt already his wife's tribe, the Shawnese, who are prowling along the Alleghany River, have returned with the scalps of forty men, women, and children, in return for which Dunmore, the Governor of Virginia, allowed the white men to destroy an Indian village on the Muskingam. It is sickening ! " "The old story, a war of retaliation," said Roger. " In which one of the gentlest, finest of the Indian races must necessarily succumb to our so-called civi lisation," answered Charles. " The whole country seems to be up in arms," said Roger ; " the New Hampshire grants is a bad business. The Aliens and Seth Warner will never submit to be dictated to by New York." " Any more than we shall by England," answered Charles Langlade.

"They have paid for their land, they have laboured and made it bring forth, just as we have done. You do not suppose they are to pay for it a second time, or be evicted ; it is out of all reason ! " " Of course it is," said Roger. " I think the end of the world must be coming ; we hear of nothing but wars and rumours of war." " Shall I tell you what troubles you most in this matter, Roger ? " said Langlade, drawing nearer to his friend. " It is because, for once, the only time in your life, you are at war with yourself. You know full well we must be free, and that England is striving to keep us in bondage ; yet yon cannot make up your mind to separate yourself from the old country. But you will have to do it, even as your old comrades Israel Putnam and John Stark will have to do the same. They will be as loth as you are."

" I hope not, I hope not still," said Roger ; and there was intense pain in his voice. " England will not surely drive us to such extremities. It is the ministerial party ; the King cannot know what is going on ; and as for the people, they are just blindfolded. Yes, Charles, you are right ; my mind is tossed and troubled beyond measure. I hold the King's commission, I have served in his army, and my best friends were such men as General Wolfe and Lord Howe." " I know it," said Charles Langlade, " but I also know that Roger the Ranger will never let any personal feeling interfere with his sense of justice. If England will listen to reason, every sword in America will remain in its scabbard. AVe do not wish to separate from the parent kingdom, but we are full-grown children now, and we claim our civil liberty ; if England will not give it us of her own free will, then we shall fight for it."

" And turn rebels. That I will never do," said Roger. " They will have driven us to it," said Charles. At that moment the great gong sounded for supper, and knocking the ashes out of his pipe, Roger said solemnly, — " I have served England all my life, I have been proud to call myself an English subject, and, so help me God, I will be faithful to his Gracious Majesty the King to the very end. If I cannot fight with the English I will never fight against them." With that he strode into the great kitchen, where his wife and children awaited his presence, took his place at the head of the long table, as his father had done before him, and pronounced the blessing ; then every one fell to. Lois, his wife, noted the clouded brow, and with that instiuct which never fails a true womau knew that Roger was troubled.