Chapter XXIV
“Pale set the sun—the shades of evening fell,
The mournful night-wind sung their funeral knell;
And the same day beheld their warriors dead,
Their sovereign captive and their glory fled!”
—Mrs. Hemans
I shall never forget the journey of that fearful night. Susquesus paddled the canoe, unaided by us, who were too much fatigued with the toil of the day, to labour much, as soon as we found ourselves in a place of safety. Even Jaap lay down and slept for several hours, the sleep of the weary. I do not think any of us, however, actually slept for the first hour or two, the scenes through which we had just passed, and that, indeed, through which we were then passing, acting as preventives to such an indulgence.
It must have been about nine in the evening, when our canoe quitted the ill-fated shore at the south end of Lake George, moving steadily and silently along the eastern margin of the sheet. By that time, fully five hundred boats had departed for the head of the lake, the retreat having commenced long before sunset. No order was observed in this melancholy procession, each batteau moving off as her load was completed. All the wounded were on the placid bosom of the ‘Holy Lake,’ as some writers have termed this sheet of limpid water, by the time we ourselves got in motion; and the sounds of parting boats told us that the unhurt were following as fast as circumstances would allow.
What a night it was! There was no moon, and a veil of dark vapour was drawn across the vault of the heavens, concealing most of the mild summer stars, that ought to have been seen twinkling in their Creator’s praise. Down, between the boundaries of hills, there was not a breath of air, though we occasionally heard the sighings of light currents among the tree-tops, above us. The eastern shore having fewer sinuosities than the western, most of the boats followed its dark, frowning mass, as the nearest route, and we soon found ourselves near the line of the retiring batteaux. I call it the line, for though there was no order observed each party making the best of its way to the common point of destination, there were so many boats in motion at the same time, that, far as the eye could penetrate by that gloomy light, an unbroken succession of them was visible. Our motion was faster than that of these heavily-laden and feebly-rowed batteaux, the soldiers being too much fatigued to toil at the oars, after the day they had just gone through. We consequently passed nearly everything, and soon got on a parallel course with that of the boats, moving along at a few rods in-shore of them. Dirck remarked, however, that two or three small craft even passed us. They went so near the mountain, quite within its shadows, in fact, as to render it difficult to say what they were; though it was supposed they might be whale-boats, of which there were more than a hundred in the flotilla, carrying officers of rank.
No one spoke. It appeared to me that not a human voice was raised among those humiliated and defeated thousands. The plash of oars, so long as we were at a distance from the line, alone broke the silence of night; but that was incessant. As our canoe drew ahead, however, an hour or two after we had left the shore, and we overtook the boats that had first started, the moaning and groans of the wounded became blended with the monotonous sounds of the oars. In two respects, these unfortunate men had reason to felicitate themselves, notwithstanding their sufferings. No army could have transported its wounded with less pain to the hurt; and the feverish thirst that loss of blood always induces, might be assuaged by the limpid element on which we all floated.
After paddling for hours, Susquesus was relieved by Jaap, Dirck, Guert and myself occasionally lending our aid. Each had a paddle, and each used it as he saw fit, while the Onondago slept. Occasionally I caught a nap, myself, as did my companions; and we all felt refreshed by the rest and sleep. At length we reached the narrow pass, that separated the Upper from the Lower Lake, and we entered the former. This is near the place where the islands are so numerous, and we were unavoidably made to pass quite close to some of the batteaux. I say to some, for the line became broken at this point, each boat going through the openings it found the most convenient.
“Come nearer with that bark canoe,” called out an officer, from a batteau; “I wish to learn who is in it.”
“We are volunteers, that joined the ——th, the day the army moved up, and were guests of Major Bulstrode. Pray sir, can you tell us where that officer can be found?”
“Poor Bulstrode! He got a very awkward hit, early in the day, and was taken past me to the rear. He will be able neither to walk nor to ride, for some months, if they save his leg. I heard the Commander-In-Chief order him to be sent across the lake, in the first boat with wounded; and some one told me, Bulstrode, himself, expressed an intention to be carried some distance, to a friend’s house, to escape from the abominations of an army hospital. The fellow has horses enough to transport him, on a horse-litter, to Cape Horn, if he wishes it. I’ll warrant you, Bulstrode works his way into good quarters, if they are to be had in America. I suppose this arm of mine will have to come off, as soon as we reach Fort William Henry; and, that job done, I confess I should like amazingly to keep him company. Proceed, gentlemen; I hope I have not detained you; but, observing a bark canoe, I thought it my duty to ascertain we were not followed by spies.”
This, then, was another victim of war! He spoke of the loss of his arm, notwithstanding, with as much coolness as if it were the loss of a tooth; yet; I question not, that in secret, he mourned over the calamity in bitterness of heart. Men never wear the mask more completely than when excited and stimulated by the rivalry of arms. Bulstrode, too, at Ravensnest! He could be carried nowhere else, so easily; and, should his wound be of a nature that did not require constant medical treatment, where could he be so happily bestowed as under the roof of Herman Mordaunt? Shall I confess that the idea gave me great pain, and that I was fool enough to wish I, too, could return to Anneke, and appeal to her sympathies, by dragging with me a wounded limb!
Our canoe now passed quite near another batteau, the officer in command of which was standing erect, seemingly watching our movements. He appeared to be unhurt, but was probably intrusted with some special duty. As we paddled by, the following curious conversation occurred.
“You move rapidly to the rear, my friends,” observed the stranger; “pray moderate your zeal; others are in advance of you with the evil tidings!”
“You must think ill of our patriotism and loyalty, sir, to imagine we are hastening on with the intelligence of a check to the British arms,” I answered as drily, and almost as equivocally, in manner, as the other had spoken.
“The check!—I beg a thousand pardons—I see you are patriots, and of the purest water! Check is just the word; though check-mate would be more descriptive and significant! A charming time we’ve had of it, gentlemen! What say you?—it is your move, now.”
“There has been much firmness and gallantry manifested by the troops,” I answered, “as we, who have been merely volunteers, will always be ready to testify.”
“I beg your pardons, again and again,” returned the officer, raising his hat and bowing profoundly—“I did not know I had the honour to address volunteers. You are entitled to superlative respect, gentlemen, having come voluntarily into such a field. For my part, I find the honour oppressive, having no such supererogatory virtue to boast of. Volunteers! On my word, gentlemen, you will have many wonders to relate, when you get back into the family circle.”
“We shall have to speak of the gallantry of the Highlanders, for we saw all they did and all they suffered.”
“Ah! Were you, then, near that brave corps!” exclaimed the other, with something like honest, natural feeling, for the first time exhibited