French and English: a Story of the Struggle in America
Copyright© 2025 by Evelyn Everett-Green
Chapter 1: A Day Of Vengeance.
To the west! to the west! to the west!
Such was the watchword of the band of sturdy Rangers who set forth from Pennsylvania to the defence of the hapless settlers.
They were but a handful of bold spirits. It was little they could hope to accomplish in attempting to stem the tide of war; but their presence brought comfort to many an aching heart, and nerved many a lonely settler to intrench and defend his house and family, instead of giving way to utter despair.
There was work for the little band to do amongst these scattered holdings. John Stark urged upon such settlers as had the courage to remain to build themselves block houses, to establish some sort of communication with one another, to collect arms and ammunition, and be ready to retire behind their defences and repel an attack. For the moment the Indians seemed glutted with spoil and with blood, and were more quiet, although this tranquillity was not to be reckoned upon for a day. Still, whilst it lasted it gave a breathing space to many harassed and desperate settlers; and Fritz could give them many valuable hints as to the best method of intrenching themselves in block houses. He had seen so many of these upon his long journey, and understood their construction well.
Everywhere they found the people in a state of either deep despondency or intense exasperation. It seemed to them that they had been basely deserted and betrayed by their countrymen, who should have been prompt to send to their defence; and although the arrival of the Rangers, and the news they brought of future help, did something to cheer and encourage them, it was easy to see that they were deeply hurt at the manner in which their appeals had been met, and were ready to curse the Quakers and the Assembly who had calmly let them be slaughtered like brute beasts, whilst they wrangled in peaceful security over some disputed point with the Governor.
“Are you Rogers’ men?” was a question which the Rangers met again and again as they pursued their way.
“No,” they would answer; “we know of no Rogers. Who is he, and why is his name in all men’s mouths?”
This question was not always easy to get answered. Some said one thing and some another; but as they pursued their western way, they reached a settlement where more precise information was to be had.
“Have you not heard of Robert Rogers, the New Hampshire Ranger? Well, you will hear his name many times before this war is closed. He has gathered about him a band of bold and daring spirits. He has lived in the forest from boyhood. He has been used to dealings with both English and French settlers. He speaks the language of both. But he is stanch to the heart’s core. He is vowed to the service of his country. He moves through the forests, over the lakes, across the rivers. None can say where he will next appear. He seems everywhere--he spies upon the foe. He appears beneath the walls of their forts, snatches a sleepy sentry away from his post, and carries him to the English camp, where information is thus gleaned of the doings of the enemy. He and his band are here, there, and everywhere. We had hoped to have seen them here by this. Colonel Armstrong sent a message praying him to come and help him to attack a pestilent nest of savages which is the curse of his life. We had hoped you were the forerunners of his band when you appeared. But in these troublous times who can tell whether the messenger ever reached his destination?”
“But if we are not Rogers’ men, we are Rangers of the forest,” cried Stark, who was leader of the party. “We can fight; we are trained to the exercise of arms. We will push on to this Colonel Armstrong, and what aid so small a band can give him that we will give.”
“He will welcome any help from bold men willing to fight,” was the answer they got. “Pray Heaven you be successful; for we all go in terror of our lives from the cruelty of Captain Jacobs. If he were slain, we might have rest awhile.”
“Captain Jacobs?”
“So they call him. He is a notable Indian chieftain. Most likely the French baptized him by that name. They like to be called by some name and title which sounds like that of a white man. He lives at the Indian town of Kittanning, on the banks of the Allegheny, and he is upheld by the French from Fort Duquesne and Venango. They supply him with the munitions of war, and he makes of our lives a terror. Colonel Armstrong has been sent by the Governor to try to fall upon him unawares, and oust him from his vantage ground. If the town were but destroyed and he slain, we might know a little ease of mind.”
The eyes of the Rangers lighted with anticipation. This was the first they had heard of real warfare. If they could lend a hand to such an expedition as this, they would feel rewarded for all their pains and toil.
“Captain Jacobs, Captain Jacobs!” repeated Charles, with a gleam in his sombre eyes; “tell me what manner of man this Captain Jacobs is.”
“I have seen him once--a giant in height, painted in vermilion, and carrying always in his hand a mighty spear, which they say none but he can wield. His eyes roll terribly, and upon his brow is a strange scar shaped like a crescent--”
“Ay, ay, ay; and in his hair is one white tuft, which he has braided with scarlet thread,” interposed Charles, panting and twitching in his excitement.
“That is the man--the most bloodthirsty fire eater of all the Indian chiefs. Could the country but be rid of him, we might sleep in our beds in peace once more, instead of lying shivering and shaking at every breath which passes over the forest at night.”
“Let us be gone!” cried Charles, shaking his knife in a meaning and menacing fashion; “I thirst to be there when that man’s record is closed. Let me see his end; let me plunge my knife into his black heart! There is another yet whom my vengeance must overtake; but let me fall upon this one first.”
“Was he one of the attacking party that desolated your homestead?” asked Stark, as they moved along in the given direction, after a brief pause for rest and refreshment.
“Ay, he was,” answered Charles grimly. “I could not forget that gigantic form, that mighty spear, that scar and the white tuft! He stood by, and laughed at my frantic struggles, at the screams of the children, at the agony of my gentle wife. A fiend from the pit could not have been more cruel. But the hour is at hand when it shall be done to him as he has done. His hand lighted the wood pile they had set against the door of the house. Let him suffer a like fate at our hands in the day of vengeance!”
Spurred on by the hope of striking some well-planted blow at the heart of the enemy, the hardy band of Rangers pushed their way through the forest tracks, scarcely pausing for rest or sleep, till the lights of a little camp and settlement twinkled before them in the dusk, and they were hailed by the voice of a watchful sentinel.
“Friends,” cried Stark, in clear tones--”Rangers of the forest--come to the aid of Colonel Armstrong, hoping to be in time for the attack on Kittanning.”
“Now welcome, welcome!” cried the man, running joyfully forward; and the next minute the little band was borne into the camp by a joyful company of raw soldiers, who seemed to feel a great sense of support even from the arrival of a mere handful.
“Rogers’ Rangers are come! the Rangers are come!” was the word eagerly passed from mouth to mouth; and before the newcomers could make any explanation, they found themselves pushed into a fair-sized building, some thing in the form of a temporary blockhouse, and confronted with the Colonel himself, who received them with great goodwill.
“You are from Captain Rogers?” he said; “is one of you that notable man himself?”
Stark stepped forward to act as spokesman, and was shaken warmly by the hand.
“Rangers we are, but not of Rogers’ company,” he said. “Indeed, when we started forth from Philadelphia to the succour of the distressed districts, we had not even heard the name of Rogers, though it is now familiar enough.
“We heard, however, that you were in need of the help of Rangers, and we have come with all haste to your camp. We wish for nothing better than to stand in the forefront of the battle against the treacherous and hostile Indians. Although not of Rogers’ training, you will not find us faint of heart or feeble of limb. There are a dozen of us, as you see, and we will fight with the best that we have.”
“And right welcome at such a moment,” was the cordial answer, “for the men I have with me are little trained to warfare; and though they will follow when bravely led, they are somewhat like sheep, and are easily thrown into confusion or turned aside from the way. Tonight you shall rest and be well fed after your march, and on the morrow we will make a rapid secret march, and seek to fall upon the foe unawares.”
The Rangers were as hungry as hunters, and glad enough to sit down once more to a well-spread table. The rations were not luxurious as to quality, but there was sufficient quantity, which to hungry men is the great matter. The Colonel sat with them at table, heard all they had to tell of the state of the country from Philadelphia westward, and had many grim tales to tell himself of outrages and losses in this district.
“We lost Fort Granville at harvest time, when the men were forced to garner their crops, and we had to send out soldiers to protect them. The French and Indians set upon the Fort, and though it was gallantly defended by the lieutenant in charge, it fell into their hands. Since then their aggressions have been unbearable. Captain Jacobs has been making the lives of the settlers a terror to them. We have sent for help from the colony, with what success you know. We have sent to the Rangers under Rogers, and had hoped to be reinforced by them.
“But if he cannot help us, it is much to have stout-hearted friends come unexpectedly to our aid. Have you seen fighting, friends? or are you like the bulk of our men--inured to toil and hardship, full of zeal and courage, ready to wield any and every weapon in defence of property, or against the treacherous Indian?”
“Something like that,” answered Stark; “but we can all claim to be good marksmen, and to have good weapons with us. Our rifles carry far, and we seldom miss the quarry. I will answer for us that we stand firm, and that we come not behind your soldiers in steadiness, nor in the use of arms at close quarters.”
“That I can well believe,” answered the Colonel, with a smile; “I have but a score of men who have been trained in the school of arms. The rest were but raw recruits a few months ago, and many of them have little love of fighting, though they seek to do their duty.
“Well, well, we must not sit up all night talking. We have a hard day’s march before us tomorrow, and we must needs make all the speed we can. Indian scouts might discover our camp at any moment, and our only chance is to fall upon the Indian town unawares. They do not look for attack in the winter months--that is our best protection from spies. And so far I think we have escaped notice. But it may not last, and we must be wary. We will sleep till dawn, but with the first of the daylight we must be moving. The way is long, but we have some good guides who know the best tracks. We ought to reach the town soon after nightfall; and when all are sleeping in fancied security, we will fall upon them.”
The Rangers were glad enough of the few hours of sleep which they were able to obtain, and it was luxury to them to sleep beneath a roof, and to be served the next morning with breakfast which they had not had to kill and cook themselves.
The men were in good spirits, too. The arrival of the little body of Rangers had encouraged them; and as the company marched through the forest, generally in single file, the newcomers scattered themselves amongst the larger body, and talked to them of what was going forward in the eastern districts, and how, after long delay, reinforcements were being prepared to come to the aid of the hapless settlers.
That was cheering news for all, and it put new heart into the band. They marched along cheerily, although cautiously, for they knew not what black scouts might be lurking in the thickets; and if the Indians once got wind of their coming, there would be little hope of successful attack.
On and on they marched all through the keen winter air, which gave them fine appetites for their meals when they paused to rest and refresh themselves, but made walking easier than when the sun beat down pitilessly upon them in the summer. There had been no heavy snow as yet, and the track was not hard to find. But the way was longer than had been anticipated, and night had long closed in before they caught a glimpse of any settlement, although they knew they must be drawing near.
The guides became perplexed in the darkness of the forest. The moon was shining, but the light was dim and deceptive within the great glades. Still they pushed on resolutely, and the Rangers gradually drew to the front, goaded on by their own eagerness, and less disposed to feel fatigue than the soldiers, who were in reality less hardy than they.
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