Everett-Green Evelyn
French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America
Chapter 4: Ticonderoga
A joyous farewell to friends at Albany, with anticipation of a speedy and victorious return thither; a rapid and well-arranged march to Fort Edward and Lake George, where they were gladdened by the sight of the hardy Rogers and the remnant of his gallant band, embarked in whaleboats, and ready to lead the van or perform any daring service asked of them; a cheerful embarking upon the lake in the great multitude of boats and bateaux; bright sunshine overhead, the sound of military music in their ears, flags waving, men cheering and shouting-what expedition could have started under happier and more joyous auspices?
There were regulars from England-the foremost being the Fifty-fifth, commanded by Lord Howe. There were American and Highland regiments, and the provincials from numbers of the provinces, each in its own uniform and colours. The lake was alive with above one thousand craft for the transport of this great army with its heavy artillery, and Rogers declared that Ticonderoga was as good as their own: for it had only provision to last eight or nine days; and if not at once battered down by the enemy's guns, it could easily be starved out by a judicious disposition of the troops.
One night was spent camped halfway down the lake. Lord Howe, with Stark and Rogers and Fritz for companions, lay upon his bearskin overlooking Fritz's diagrams of the fort, taken in past days, listening to what all the three men had to tell of the fortress, both inside and out, and making many plans for the attack upon the morrow.
General Abercromby was with the army; yet it was well known that Lord Howe was the leading spirit, and to him it was that all the men instinctively looked. It was he who upon the morrow, when they had reached and passed the Narrows and were drawing near to the fort, reconnoitred the landing place in whaleboats, drove off a small party of French soldiers who were watching them, but were unable to oppose them, and superintended the landing of the whole army.
The lake here had narrowed down to the dimensions of a river, and it made a considerable bend something like a horseshoe. If the bridge had not been broken down, they could have marched to a point much nearer to Ticonderoga upon a well-trodden road; but the bridge being gone, it was necessary to march the army along the west bank of this river-like waterway which connected Lake George with Lake Champlain, for there were too many dangerous rapids for navigation to be possible; and upon the tongue of land jutting out into Lake Champlain, and washed by the waters of this river on its other side, stood the fortress of Ticonderoga, their goal.
Rogers was their leader. He knew the forest well; yet even he found it a somewhat difficult matter to pick his way through the dense summer foliage. The columns following found the forest tracks extraordinarily difficult to follow. They were many of them unused to such rough walking, and fell into inevitable confusion.
Rogers, together with Lord Howe and some of his hardier soldiers and the Rangers, pushed boldly on. Whilst they walked they talked of what lay before them. Rogers told how Montcalm himself was within the fort, and that his presence there inspired the soldiers with great courage and confidence; because he was a fine soldier, a very gallant gentleman, and had had considerable success in arms ever since he arrived in Canada.
As the forest tracks grew more densely overgrown, Lord Howe paused in his rapid walk beside Rogers.
"My men are growing puzzled by the forest," he said, "and indeed it is small wonder, seeing that we ourselves scarce know where we are. Go you on with the Rangers, Rogers, and I will return a short distance and get my men into better order. I do not anticipate an ambush; but there may be enemies lurking in the woods. We must not be taken unawares. Push you on, and I will follow with my company at a short distance."
"I will take a handful of men with me," answered Rogers, "and push on to reconnoitre. Let the rest remain with you. They will encourage and hearten up the regulars, who are new to this sort of thing; and when I know more clearly our exact position, I will fall back and report."
Fritz remained with Howe, whose men came marching up in a rather confused and straggling fashion, but were only perplexed, not in any wise disheartened, by the roughness of the road. When the column had regained something like marching order, the word was given to start, and Lord Howe with a bodyguard of Rangers marched at the head.
They had proceeded like this for perhaps a mile or more, when there was a quick stir in the thicket. Next moment the challenge rang out:
"Qui vive?"
"Francais!" shouted back a Ranger, who had learned Rogers' trick of puzzling his opponents by the use of French words.
But this time they were not deceived. A stern word of command was given. A crack of rifles sounded out from the bushes; puffs of smoke and flashes of fire were seen.
"Steady, men; load and fire!"
The command was given by Lord Howe. It was the last he ever spoke. The wood rang with the crossfire of the foes who could not see each other. Fritz had discharged his piece, and was loading again when he saw Lord Howe suddenly throw up his hands and fall helplessly forward.
He sprang to his side with a cry of dismay. He strove to hold him up and support him to some place of safety, but could only lay him down beneath a tree hard by, where a ring of Rangers instantly formed around him, whilst the skirmish in the forest was hotly maintained on both sides.
"He is shot through the heart!" cried Stark, in a lamentable voice, as he hastily examined the wound; and indeed the shadow of death had fallen upon the brave, bright, noble face of the young officer.
Just once the heavy lids lifted themselves. Lord Howe looked into the faces of the two men bending over him, and a faint smile curved his lips.
"Keep them steady," he just managed to whisper, and the next moment his head fell back against Fritz's shoulder. He had passed into the unknown land where the clamour of battle is no more heard.
It was a terrible blow, and consternation spread through the ranks as it became known. Indeed, but for the Rangers, a panic and flight would probably have followed. But Rogers, Stark, and Fritz were of sterner stuff than the levies, and more seasoned than the bulk of regular soldiers.
Rogers had returned instantly upon hearing the firing, and had discharged a brisk volley upon the French as he dashed through their ranks to regain his companions. Caught between two fires, they were in no small peril, and made a dash for the riverbed; the Rangers standing steady and driving them to their destruction, whilst the ranks had time to recover themselves and maintain their ground.
The rout of this body of French soldiers was complete, whilst the English loss was small numerically; but the loss of Howe was irreparable, and all heart and hope seemed taken out of the gallant army which had started forth so full of hope. There was nothing now to be done but to fall back upon the main army, with the sorrowful tidings of their leader's death, and await the order of General Abercromby as to the next move.
This was done, and the men were kept under arms all night, waiting for orders which never came. Indecision and procrastination again prevailed, and were again the undoing of the English enterprise.
Still there was no question but that the fort must be attacked, and as the Rangers came in with the news that the French had broken up and deserted a camp they had hitherto held at some sawmills on the river, a little way from the fort, a detachment of soldiers was sent to take possession of this place. This having been done, and a bridge thrown over the river by an able officer of the name of Bradstreet, the army was moved up, and encamped at this place prior to the assault of the fort. Rogers and his Rangers had reconnoitred the whole place, and were eager to tell their tale.
Fort Ticonderoga occupied a triangular promontory, washed upon two sides by the waters of Lake Champlain and the river-like extremity of Lake George. The landward approach was guarded by a strong rampart of felled trees, which the soldiers had formed into a breastwork and abattis which might almost be called musket-proof. So at least Rogers and his men had judged. They had watched the French at their task, and had good reason to know the solid protection given to the men behind by a rampart of this sort.
He was therefore all eagerness for the cannon to be brought up from the lake.
"The artillery will make short work of it, General," he said, in his bluff, abrupt fashion. "It will come rattling about their heads, and they must take to the walls behind, and these will soon give way before a steady cannonade. Or if we take the cannon up to yonder heights of Rattlesnake Hill, we can fling our round shot within their breastwork from end to end, and drive the men back like rabbits to their burrow; or we can plant a battery at the narrow mouth of Lake Champlain, and cut off their supplies. With the big guns we can beat them in half a dozen ways; but let our first act be to bring them up, for muskets and rifles are of little use against such a rampart as they have made, bristling with spikes and living twigs and branches, which baffle assault as you might scarce believe without a trial."
Rogers spoke with the assurance and freedom of a man used to command and certain of his subject. He and Lord Howe had been on terms of most friendly intimacy, and the young Brigadier had learned much from the veteran Ranger, whose services had been of so much value to the English. He would never have taken umbrage at advice given by a subordinate. But General Abercromby was of a different order, and he little liked Rogers' assured manner and brusque, independent tone. He heard him to the end, but gave an evasive reply, and sent out an engineer on his own account to survey the French position, and bring him word what was his opinion.
This worthy made his survey, and came back full of confidence.
"The rampart is but a hastily-constructed breastwork of felled trees; it should be easily carried by assault," he reported, full of careless confidence. "A good bayonet charge, resolutely conducted, is all that is needed, and we shall be in the fort before night."
The soldiers cheered aloud when they heard the news. They were filled with valour and eagerness, in spite of the death of their beloved leader. It seemed as though his spirit inspired them with ardent desire to show what they could do; although generalship, alas! had perished with the young Brigadier, who had fallen at such an untimely moment.
The Rangers looked at one another with grim faces. They would not speak a word to dishearten the troops; but they knew, far better than the raw levies or the English regulars could do, the nature of the obstruction to be encountered.
"A bayonet charge by soldiers full of valour is no light thing," said Pringle to the Ranger, as they stood in the evening light talking together. "Resolute men have done wonders before now in such a charge, and why not we tomorrow?"
"Have you seen the abattis?" asked Rogers, in his grim and brusque fashion.
"No," answered Pringle; "I have only heard it described by those who have."
"Come, then, and look at it before it be dark," was Rogers' reply; and he, together with Stark, led Fritz and Pringle and Roche along a narrow forest pathway which the Rangers were engaged in widening and improving, ready for the morrow's march, until he was able to show them, from a knoll of rising ground, the nature of the fortification they were to attack upon the morrow.
The French had shown no small skill in the building of this breastwork, which ran along a ridge of high ground behind the fort itself, and commanded the approach towards it from the land side. The whole forest in the immediate vicinity had been felled. It bore the appearance of a tract of ground through which a cyclone has whirled its way. Great numbers of the trees had been dragged up to form the rampart, but there were hundreds of others, as well as innumerable roots and stumps, lugs and heads, lying in confusion all around; and Rogers, pointing towards the encumbered tract just beneath and around the rampart, looked at Pringle and said:
"How do you think a bayonet charge is to be rushed over such ground as that? And what good will our musketry fire be against those tough wooden walls, directed upon a foe we cannot see, but who can pick us off in security from behind their breastwork? For let me tell you that there is great skill shown in its construction. On the inside, I doubt not, they can approach close to their loopholes, which you can detect all along, and take easy aim at us; but on this side it is bristling with pointed stakes, twisted boughs, and treetops so arranged as to baffle and hinder any attempt at assault. As I told your General, his cannon could shatter it in a few hours, if he would but bring them to bear. But a rampart like that is practically bayonet and musket proof. It will prove impregnable to assault."
Pringle and Roche exchanged glances. They had seen something of fighting before this, but never warfare so strange.
"Would that Lord Howe were living!" exclaimed the younger officer. "He would have heard reason; he would have been advised. But the General-"
He paused, and a meaning gesture concluded the sentence. It was not for them to speak against their commander; but he inspired no confidence in his men, and it was plainly seen that he was about to take a very ill-judged step.
It is the soldier's fate that he must not rebel or remonstrate or argue; his duty is to obey orders and leave the rest. But that night, as the army slept in the camp round the deserted sawmills, there were many whose eyes never closed in slumber. Fritz saw the veteran Campbell sitting in the moonlight, looking straight before him with wide, unseeing eyes; and when the grey light of day broke over the forest, his face was shadowed, as it seemed, by the approach of death.
"I shall never see another sunrise," he said to Fritz, as the latter walked up to him; "my span of life will be cut through here at Ticonderoga."
Fritz made no reply. It seemed to him that many lives would be cut short upon this fateful day. He wondered whether he should live to see the shades of evening fall. He had no thought of quailing or drawing back. He had cast in his lot with the army, and he meant to fight his very best that day; but he realized the hopelessness of the contest before them, and although, if the General could only be aroused in time to a sense of his own blunder, and would at the eleventh hour order up the cannon, and take those steps which might ensure success, the tide of battle might soon be turned. Yet no man felt any confidence in him as a leader, and it was only the ignorant soldiers, unaware of what lay before them, who rose to greet the coming day with hope and confidence in their hearts.
But it was something that they should start forth with so high a courage. Even if they were going to their death, it was better they should believe that they were marching forth to victory. They cheered lustily as they received the order, which was to carry the breastwork by a bayonet charge; and only the Rangers saw the grim smile which crossed the face of Rogers as he heard that word given.
Yet he and his gallant band of Rangers were in the van. They did not shrink from the task before them, although they knew better than others the perils and difficulties by which it was beset. They had widened the path; they led the way. There was no more confusion in the line of march.
The General remained behind at the sawmills, to direct the operations of the whole army, as there were other slighter enterprises to be undertaken upon the same day, though the assault of the protecting rampart was the chief one. News was to be brought to him at short intervals of the course the fight was taking. It was Rogers' great hope that he would soon be made aware of the impossibility of the task he had set his soldiers, and would send instant and urgent orders for the cannon to be brought up to the aid of his foot soldiers.
Full of hope and confidence the columns pressed forward, till shortly after midday they emerged from the shelter of the forest, and saw before them the broken space of open ground, with its encumbering mass of stumps and fallen timber, and behind that the grim rampart, where all looked still as death. They formed into line quickly and without confusion and then, with an enthusiastic cheer, made a dash for the barrier.
The Rangers and light infantry in front began to fire as they advanced; but the main body of soldiers held their bayonets in position, and strove after an orderly advance. But over such ground order was impossible. They had to clamber, to scramble, to cut their way as best they could. The twigs and branches blinded them; they fell over the knotted roots; they became disordered and scattered, though their confidence remained unshaken.
Then suddenly, when they were half across the open space, came the long crack and blaze from end to end of the rampart; smoke seemed to gush and flash out from one extremity to the other. Sharp cries of agony and dismay, shouts and curses, filled the air. The English fell in dozens amid the fallen trees, and those behind rushed forward over the bodies of their doomed companions.
It was in vain to try to carry the rampart by the bayonet. The soldiers drew up and fired all along their line; but of what avail was it to fire upon an enemy they could not see, whilst they themselves were a target for the grapeshot and musketballs which swept in a deadly cross fire through their ranks? But they would not fall back. Headed by the Rangers, who made rapid way over the rough and encumbered ground, they pressed on, undaunted by the hail of iron about them, and inflamed to fury by the fall of their comrades around them.
It was an awful scene. It was branded upon the memory of the survivors in characters of fire.
Fritz kept in the foremost rank, unable to understand why he was not shot down. He reached the rampart, and was halfway up, when he was clutched by the hands of a man in front, who in his death agony knew not what he did, and the two rolled into the ditch together.
For a moment all was suffocation and horror. Unwounded, but buried and battered, with his musket torn from his grasp, Fritz struggled out through the writhing heap of humanity, and saw that the head of the column had fallen back for a breathing space, though with the evident intention of re-forming and dashing again to the charge.
The firing from the rampart still continued; but Fritz made a successful dash back to the lines, and reached them in safety. He was known by this time as an experienced Ranger, and was taken aside by Bradstreet, the officer in command of the light infantry that with the Rangers headed the charge.
The gallant officer was wounded and breathless, and was seated upon a fallen trunk.
"Neville," he said, "I know that you are fleet of foot and stout of heart. I would have you return to the camp on the instant, with a message for the General. Tell him how things are here, and that this rampart is to the utmost as impregnable as Rogers warned us. Our men are falling thick and fast, and although full of courage, cannot do the impossible. Beg him to order the guns to be brought up, for without them we are helpless against the enemy."
Fritz knew this right well, and took the message.
"We shall make another charge immediately," Bradstreet said in conclusion. "We shall not fail to carry out our orders; but I have little hope of success. We can do almost nothing against the French, whilst they mow us down by hundreds. No men can hold on at such odds for long. Go quickly, and bring us word again, for we are like to be cut to pieces.
"You are not wounded yourself?"
"No; I have escaped as by a miracle. I will run the whole distance and take the message. Would that the General had listened to counsel before!"
Bradstreet made a gesture of assent, but said nothing. Fritz sped through the forest, hot and breathless, yet straining every nerve to reach his goal.
It was a blazing day where the shade of the forest was not found, and this made the fighting all the harder. Fritz's heart was heavy within him for the lives thrown away so needlessly. When he reached the tent of the General, and was ushered into his presence, burning words rushed to his lips, and it was only with an effort that he commanded himself to speak calmly of the fight and deliver the message with which he was charged.
General Abercromby listened and frowned, and looked about him as though to take counsel with his officers. But the best of these were away at the fight, and those with him were few and insignificant and inexperienced.
"Surely a little resolution and vigour would suffice to carry an insignificant breastwork, hastily thrown up only a few days ago," he said, unwilling to confess himself in the wrong. "I will order up the Highland regiments to your aid. With their assistance you can make another charge, and it will be strange if you cannot carry all before you."
Fritz compressed his lips, and his heart sank.
"I will give you a line to Colonel Bradstreet. Tell him that reinforcements are coming, and that another concerted attack must be made. It will be time enough to talk of sending for the artillery when we see the result of that."
A few lines were penned by the General and entrusted to Fritz, who dashed back with burning heart to where the fight still raged so fiercely. He heard the bagpipes of the Highlanders skirling behind as he reached the opening in the forest. He knew that these brave men could fight like tigers; but to what avail, he thought, were so many gallant soldiers to be sent to their death?
The fighting in his absence had been hot and furious, but nothing had been done to change the aspect of affairs. Intrepid men had assaulted the rampart, and even leaped upon and over it, only to meet their death upon the other side.
Once a white flag had been seen waving over the rampart, and for a moment hope had sprung up that the enemy was about to surrender. The firing for that brief space had been suspended, the English raising their muskets over their heads and crying "Quarter!" – meaning that they would show mercy to the foe; the French thinking that they were coming to give themselves up as prisoners of war. The signal had merely been waved by a young captain in defiance to the foe. He had tied his handkerchief to his musket in his excitement, without any intention to deceive. But the incident aroused a bitter feeling. The English shouted out that the French were seeking to betray them, and the fight was resumed with such fury that for a brief while the rampart was in real danger of being taken, and the French General was in considerable anxiety.
But the odds were too great. The gallant assailants were driven back, and when Fritz arrived with his news there was again a slight cessation in the vehemence of the attack.
Bradstreet eagerly snatched at the letter and opened it. Fritz's face had told him something; the written words made assurance doubly sure.
He tore the paper across, and set his foot upon it.
"We can die but once," he said briefly; "but it goes to my heart to see these brave fellows led like sheep to the slaughter. England will want to know the reason why when this story is told at home."
The Highlanders were soon upon the scene of action filled to the brim with the stubborn fury with which they were wont to fight. At their head marched their Major, the dark-faced Inverawe, his son only a little behind.
The arrival of reinforcements put new heart into the gallant but exhausted regiments which had led the attack; and now the Highlanders were swarming about the foot of the rampart, seeking to scale its bristling sides, often gaining the top, by using the bodies of their slain countrymen as ladders, but only to be cut down upon the other side.
The Major cheered on his men. The shadow was gone from his face now. In the heat of the battle he had no thought left for himself. His kinsmen and clansmen were about him. He was ever in the van. One young chieftain with some twenty followers was on the top of the rampart, hacking and hewing at those behind, as if possessed of superhuman strength. The Highlanders, with their strange cries and yells, pressed ever on and on. But the raking fire from behind the abattis swept their ranks, mowed them down, and strewed the ground with dying and dead.
Like a rock stood Campbell of Inverawe, his eyes everywhere, directing, encouraging, cheering on his men, who needed not his words to inspire them with unquenchable fury.
Suddenly his tall figure swayed forward. Without so much as a cry he fell. There was a rush towards him of his own clansmen. They lifted him, and bore him from the scene of action. It was the end of the assault. The Highlanders who had scaled the rampart had all been bayoneted within. Nearly two thousand men, wounded or dead, lay in that terrible clearing. It was hopeless to fight longer. All that man could do had been done. The recall was sounded, and the brave troops, given over to death and disaster by the incompetence of one man, were led back to the camp exhausted and despairing; the Rangers still doing good service in carrying off the wounded, and keeping up a steady fire whilst this task was being proceeded with.
General Abercromby's terror at the result of the day's work was as pitiful as his mismanagement had been. There was no talk now of retrieving past blunders; there was nothing but a general rout-a retreat upon Fort Edward as fast as boats could take them. One blunder was capped by another. Ticonderoga was left to the French, when it might have been an easy prey to the English. The day of disaster was not yet ended, though away in the east the star of hope was rising.
It was at Fort Edward that the wounded laird of Inverawe breathed his last. His wound had been mortal, and he was barely living when they landed him on the banks of Lake George.
"Donald, you are avenged!" he said once, a few minutes before his death. "We have met at Ticonderoga!"
