The Crossing

by Winston Churchill

  CHAPTER XII. THE CAMPAIGN BEGINS

  “Davy, take care of my Tom,” cried Polly Ann.

  I can see her now, standing among the women by the great hewn gateposts,with little Tom in her arms, holding him out to us as we filed by. Andthe vision of his little, round face haunted Tom and me for many wearymiles of our tramp through the wilderness. I have often thought sincethat that march of the volunteer company to join Clark at the Falls ofthe Ohio was a superb example of confidence in one man, and scarce to beequalled in history.

  In less than a week we of Captain Harrod’s little company stood on aforest-clad bank, gazing spellbound at the troubled waters of a mightyriver. That river was the Ohio, and it divided us from the strange northcountry whence the savages came. From below, the angry voice ofthe Great Falls cried out to us unceasingly. Smoke rose through thetree-tops of the island opposite, and through the new gaps of its forestcabins could be seen. And presently, at a signal from us, a big flatboatleft its shore, swung out and circled on the polished current,and grounded at length in the mud below us. A dozen tall boatmen,buckskin-clad, dropped the big oars and leaped out on the bank with ayell of greeting. At the head of them was a man of huge frame, and long,light hair falling down over the collar of his hunting shirt. He wrungCaptain Harrod’s hand.

  “That there’s Simon Kenton, Davy,” said Cowan, as we stood watchingthem.

  I ran forward for a better look at the backwoods Hercules, the talesof whose prowess had helped to while away many a winter’s night inHarrodstown Station. Big-featured and stern, yet he had the kindly eyeof the most indomitable of frontier fighters, and I doubted notthe truth of what was said of him--that he could kill any redskinhand-to-hand.

  “Clark’s thar,” he was saying to Captain Harrod. “God knows what hispluck is. He ain’t said a word.”

  “He doesn’t say whar he’s going?” said Harrod.

  “Not a notion,” answered Kenton. “He’s the greatest man to keep hismouth shut I ever saw. He kept at the governor of Virginny till he gavehim twelve hundred pounds in Continentals and power to raise troops.Then Clark fetched a circle for Fort Pitt, raised some troops thar andin Virginny and some about Red Stone, and come down the Ohio here with‘em in a lot of flatboats. Now that ye’ve got here the Kentucky boys isall in. I come over with Montgomery, and Dillard’s here from the Holstoncountry with a company.”

  “Well,” said Captain Harrod, “I reckon we’ll report.”

  I went among the first boat-load, and as the men strained against thecurrent, Kenton explained that Colonel Clark had brought a number ofemigrants down the river with him; that he purposed to leave themon this island with a little force, that they might raise corn andprovisions during the summer; and that he had called the place CornIsland.

  “Sure, there’s the Colonel himself,” cried Terence McCann, who wasin the bow, and indeed I could pick out the familiar figure amongthe hundred frontiersmen that gathered among the stumps at thelanding-place. As our keel scraped they gave a shout that rattled in theforest behind them, and Clark came down to the waterside.

  “I knew that Harrodstown wouldn’t fail me,” he said, and called everyman by name as we waded ashore. When I came splashing along after Tom hepulled me from the water with his two hands.

  “Colonel,” said Terence McCann, “we’ve brought ye a dhrummer b’y.”

  “We’d have no luck at all without him,” said Cowan, and the men laughed.

  “Can you walk an hundred miles without food, Davy?” asked Colonel Clark,eying me gravely.

  “Faith he’s lean as a wolf, and no stomach to hinder him,” said Terence,seeing me look troubled. “I’ll not be missing the bit of food the likesof him would eat.”

  “And as for the heft of him,” added Cowan, “Mac and I’ll not feel it.”

  Colonel Clark laughed. “Well, boys,” he said, “if you must have him, youmust. His Excellency gave me no instructions about a drummer, but we’lltake you, Davy.”

  In those days he was a man that wasted no time, was Colonel Clark, andwithin the hour our little detachment had joined the others, fellingtrees and shaping the log-ends for the cabins. That night, as Tomand Cowan and McCann and James Ray lay around their fire, takinga well-earned rest, a man broke excitedly into the light with akettle-shaped object balanced on his head, which he set down in front ofus. The man proved to be Swein Poulsson, and the object a big drum,and he straightway began to beat upon it a tattoo with improviseddrumsticks.

  “A Red Stone man,” he cried, “a Red Stone man, he have it in theflatboat. It is for Tavy.”

  “The saints be good to us,” said Terence, “if it isn’t the King’s owndrum he has.” And sure enough, on the head of it gleamed the royal armsof England, and on the other side, as we turned it over, the device of aregiment. They flung the sling about my neck, and the next day, when thelittle army drew up for parade among the stumps, there I was at the endof the line, and prouder than any man in the ranks. And Colonel Clarkcoming to my end of the line paused and smiled and patted me kindly onthe cheek.

  “Have you put this man on the roll, Harrod?” says he.

  “No, Colonel,” answers Captain Harrod, amid the laughter of the men atmy end.

  “What!” says the Colonel, “what an oversight! From this day he isdrummer boy and orderly to the Commander-in-chief. Beat the retreat, myman.”

  I did my best, and as the men broke ranks they crowded around me,laughing and joking, and Cowan picked me up, drum and all, and carriedme off, I rapping furiously the while.

  And so I became a kind of handy boy for the whole regiment from theColonel down, for I was willing and glad to work. I cooked the Colonel’smeals, roasting the turkey breasts and saddles of venison that thehunters brought in from the mainland, and even made him journey-cake, atrick which Polly Ann had taught me. And when I went about the island,if a man were loafing, he would seize his axe and cry, “Here’s Davy,he’ll tell the Colonel on me.” Thanks to the jokes of Terence McCann,I gained an owl-like reputation for wisdom amongst these superstitiousbackwoodsmen, and they came verily to believe that upon my existencedepended the success of the campaign. But day after day passed, and nosign from Colonel Clark of his intentions.

  “There’s a good lad,” said Terence. “He’ll be telling us where we’regoing.”

  I was asked the same question by a score or more, but Colonel Clarkkept his own counsel. He himself was everywhere during the days thatfollowed, superintending the work on the blockhouse we were building,and eying the men. Rumor had it that he was sorting out the sheep fromthe goats, silently choosing those who were to remain on the island andthose who were to take part in the campaign.

  At length the blockhouse stood finished amid the yellow stumps of thegreat trees, the trunks of which were in its walls. And suddenly theorder went forth for the men to draw up in front of it by companies,with the families of the emigrants behind them. It was a picture to fixitself in a boy’s mind, and one that I have never forgotten. The line ofbackwoodsmen, as fine a lot of men as I ever wish to see, bronzed by theJune sun, strong and tireless as the wild animals of the forest, stoodexpectant with rifles grounded. And beside the tallest, at the end ofthe line, was a diminutive figure with a drum hung in front of it. Theearly summer wind rustled in the forest, and the never ending songof the Great Falls sounded from afar. Apart, square-shouldered andindomitable, stood a young man of twenty-six.

  “My friends and neighbors,” he said in a firm voice, “there is scarcea man standing among you to-day who has not suffered at the hands ofsavages. Some of you have seen wives and children killed before youreyes--or dragged into captivity. None of you can to-day call the homefor which he has risked so much his own. And who, I ask you, is to blamefor this hideous war? Whose gold is it that buys guns and powder andlead to send the Shawnee and the Iroquois and Algonquin on the warpath?”

  He paused, and a hoarse murmur of anger ran along the ranks.

  “Whose gold but George’s, by the grace of God K
ing of Great Britain andIreland? And what minions distribute it? Abbott at Kaskaskia, for one,and Hamilton at Detroit, the Hair Buyer, for another!”

  When he spoke Hamilton’s name his voice was nearly drowned byimprecations.

  “Silence!” cried Clark, sternly, and they were silent. “My friends,the best way for a man to defend himself is to maim his enemy. One yearsince, when you did me the honor to choose me Commander-in-chief of yourmilitia in Kentucky, I sent two scouts to Kaskaskia. A dozen yearsago the French owned that place, and St. Vincent, and Detroit, and thepeople there are still French. My men brought back word that the Frenchfeared the Long Knives, as the Indians call us. On the first of OctoberI went to Virginia, and some of you thought again that I had desertedyou. I went to Williamsburg and wrestled with Governor Patrick Henry andhis council, with Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Mason and Mr. Wythe. Virginiahad no troops to send us, and her men were fighting barefoot withWashington against the armies of the British king. But the governor gaveme twelve hundred pounds in paper, and with it I have raised thelittle force that we have here. And with it we will carry the war intoHamilton’s country. On the swift waters of this great river whichflows past us have come tidings to-day, and God Himself has sent them.To-morrow would have been too late. The ships and armies of the Frenchking are on their way across the ocean to help us fight the tyrant, andthis is the news that we bear to the Kaskaskias. When they hear this,the French of those towns will not fight against us. My friends, we aregoing to conquer an empire for liberty, and I can look onward,” he criedin a burst of inspired eloquence, sweeping his arm to the northwardtoward the forests on the far side of the Ohio, “I can look onwardto the day when these lands will be filled with the cities of a GreatRepublic. And who among you will falter at such a call?”

  There was a brief silence, and then a shout went up from the ranks thatdrowned the noise of the Falls, and many fell into antics, some throwingtheir coonskin hats in the air, and others cursing and scalping Hamiltonin mockery, while I pounded on the drum with all my might. But when wehad broken ranks the rumor was whispered about that the Holston companyhad not cheered, and indeed the rest of the day these men went aboutplainly morose and discontented,--some saying openly (and with muchjustice, though we failed to see it then) that they had their ownfamilies and settlements to defend from the Southern Indians andChickamauga bandits, and could not undertake Kentucky’s fight at thattime. And when the enthusiasm had burned away a little the disaffectionspread, and some even of the Kentuckians began to murmur against Clark,for faith or genius was needful to inspire men to his plan. One of themalcontents from Boonesboro came to our fire to argue.

  “He’s mad as a medicine man, is Clark, to go into that country with lessthan two hundred rifles. And he’ll force us, will he? I’d as lief havethe King for a master.”

  He brought every man in our circle to his feet,--Ray, McCann, Cowan, andTom. But Tom was nearest, and words not coming easily to him he fell onthe Boonesboro man instead, and they fought it out for ten minutes inthe firelight with half the regiment around them. At the end of it, whenthe malcontents were carrying their champion away, they were stoppedsuddenly at the sight of one bursting through the circle into the light,and a hush fell upon the quarrel. It was Colonel Clark.

  “Are you hurt, McChesney?” he demanded.

  “I reckon not much, Colonel,” said Tom, grinning, as he wiped his face.

  “If any man deserts this camp to-night,” cried Colonel Clark, swingingaround, “I swear by God to have him chased and brought back and punishedas he deserves. Captain Harrod, set a guard.”

  I pass quickly over the rest of the incident. How the Holston men andsome others escaped in the night in spite of our guard, and swam theriver on logs. How at dawn we found them gone, and Kenton and Harrod andbrave Captain Montgomery set out in pursuit, with Cowan and Tom and Ray.All day they rode, relentless, and the next evening returned with buteight weary and sullen fugitives of all those who had deserted.

  The next day the sun rose on a smiling world, the polished reaches ofthe river golden mirrors reflecting the forest’s green. And we wereastir with the light, preparing for our journey into the unknowncountry. At seven we embarked by companies in the flatboats, wavinga farewell to those who were to be left behind. Some stayed throughinclination and disaffection: others because Colonel Clark did notdeem them equal to the task. But Swein Poulsson came. With tears in hislittle blue eyes he had begged the Colonel to take him, and I rememberhim well on that June morning, his red face perspiring under the whitebristles of his hair as he strained at the big oar. For we must needspull a mile up the stream ere we could reach the passage in which toshoot downward to the Falls. Suddenly Poulsson dropped his handle,causing the boat to swing round in the stream, while the men damned him.Paying them no attention, he stood pointing into the blinding disk ofthe sun. Across the edge of it a piece was bitten out in blackness.

  “Mein Gott!” he cried, “the world is being ended just now.”

  “The holy saints remember us this day!” said McCann, missing a stroke tocross himself. “Will ye pull, ye damned Dutchman? Or we’ll be the firstto slide into hell. This is no kind of a place at all at all.”

  By this time the men all along the line of boats had seen it, and manyfaltered. Clark’s voice could be heard across the waters urging themto pull, while the bows swept across the current. They obeyed him,but steadily the blackness ate out the light, and a weird gloamingoverspread the scene. River and forest became stern, the men silent. Themore ignorant were in fear of a cataclysm, the others taking it for anomen.

  “Shucks!” said Tom, when appealed to, “I’ve seed it afore, and it comeall right again.”

  Clark’s boat rounded the shoal: next our turn came, and then the wholeline was gliding down the river, the rising roar of the angry waterswith which we were soon to grapple coming to us with an added grimness.And now but a faint rim of light saved us from utter darkness. Big BillCowan, undaunted in war, stared at me with fright written on his face.

  “And what ‘ll ye think of it, Davy?” he said.

  I glanced at the figure of our commander in the boat ahead, and tookcourage.

  “It’s Hamilton’s scalp hanging by a lock,” I answered, pointing to whatwas left of the sun. “Soon it will be off, and then we’ll have lightagain.”

  To my surprise he snatched me from the thwart and held me up with ashout, and I saw Colonel Clark turn and look back.

  “Davy says the Ha’r Buyer’s sculp hangs by the lock, boys,” he shouted,pointing at the sun.

  The word was cried from boat to boat, and we could see the men pointingupwards and laughing. And then, as the light began to grow, we were inthe midst of the tumbling waters, the steersmen straining now right, nowleft, to keep the prows in the smooth reaches between rock and bar. Wegained the still pools below, the sun came out once more and smiled onthe landscape, and the spirits of the men, reviving, burst all bounds.

  Thus I earned my reputation as a prophet.

  Four days and nights we rowed down the great river, our oarsdouble-manned, for fear that our coming might be heralded to the Frenchtowns. We made our first camp on a green little island at the mouth ofthe Cherokee, as we then called the Tennessee, and there I set aboutcooking a turkey for Colonel Clark, which Ray had shot. Chancing to lookup, I saw the Colonel himself watching me.

  “How is this, Davy?” said he. “I hear that you have saved my army for mebefore we have met the enemy.”

  “I did not know it, sir,” I answered.

  “Well,” said he, “if you have learned to turn an evil omen into a goodsign, you know more than some generals. What ails you now?”

  “There’s a pirogue, sir,” I cried, staring and pointing.

  “Where?” said he, alert all at once. “Here, McChesney, take a crew andput out after them.”

  He had scarcely spoken ere Tom and his men were rowing into the sunset,the whole of our little army watching from the bank. Presently the otherboat was seen
coming back with ours, and five strange woodsmen steppedashore, our men pressing around them. But Clark flew to the spot, themen giving back.

  “Who’s the leader here?” he demanded.

  A tall man stepped forward.

  “I am,” said he, bewildered but defiant.

  “Your name?”

  “John Duff,” he answered, as though against his will.

  “Your business?”

  “Hunters,” said Duff; “and I reckon we’re in our rights.”

  “I’ll judge of that,” said our Colonel. “Where are you from?”

  “That’s no secret, neither. Kaskasky, ten days gone.”

  At that there was a murmur of surprise from our companies. Clark turned.

  “Get your men back,” he said to the captains, who stood about them. Andall of them not moving: “Get your men back, I say. I’ll have it knownwho’s in command here.”

  At that the men retired. “Who commands at Kaskaskia?” he demanded ofDuff.

  “Monseer Rocheblave, a Frenchy holding a British commission,” said Duff.“And the British Governor Abbott has left Post St. Vincent and gone toDetroit. Who be you?” he added suspiciously. “Be you Rebels?”

  “Colonel Clark is my name, and I am in the service of the Commonwealthof Virginia.”

  Duff uttered an exclamatory oath and his manner changed. “Be you Clark?” he said with respect. “And you’re going after Kaskasky? Wal, the milityis prime, and the Injun scouts is keeping a good lookout. But, Colonel,I’ll tell ye something: the Frenchies is etarnal afeard of the LongKnives. My God! they’ve got the notion that if you ketch ‘em you’ll burnand scalp ‘em same as the Red Sticks.”

  “Good,” was all that Clark answered.

  “I reckon I don’t know much about what the Rebels is fighting for,” saidJohn Duff; “but I like your looks, Colonel, and wharever you’re goingthere’ll be a fight. Me and my boys would kinder like to go along.”

  Clark did not answer at once, but looked John Duff and his men overcarefully.

  “Will you take the oath of allegiance to Virginia and the ContinentalCongress?” he asked at length.

  “I reckon it won’t pizen us,” said John Duff.

  “Hold up your hands,” said Clark, and they took the oath. “Now, my men,” said he, “you will be assigned to companies. Does any one among you knowthe old French trail from Massacre to Kaskaskia?”

  “Why,” exclaimed John Duff, “why, Johnny Saunders here can tread it inthe dark like the road to the grogshop.”

  John Saunders, loose limbed, grinning sheepishly, shuffled forward, andClark shot a dozen questions at him one after another. Yes, the trailhad been blazed the Lord knew how long ago by the French, and given upwhen they left Massacre.

  “Look you,” said Clark to him, “I am not a man to stand trifling. Ifthere is any deception in this, you will be shot without mercy.”

  “And good riddance,” said John Duff. “Boys, we’re Rebels now. Steerclear of the Ha’r Buyer.”