Part 15 (1/2)
=188. The Murder of Jane McCrea.=--The sad story of Jane McCrea has been read and re-read ever since this beautiful girl was tomahawked and scalped by Burgoyne's savages. It is not certain just how it happened.
It is true that a party of Indians seized and carried away Miss McCrea, and a Mrs. McNeil with whom she was visiting in the latter's home near Fort Edward.
It is also known that Jane was betrothed to one of Burgoyne's officers, and as her own home was in New Jersey, it is probable that the unfortunate girl was planning to meet her lover.
Some say that the Indians quarreled over a barrel of rum that was to be given them as a reward on her safe arrival; others claim that a band of American militia fired into the party. At all events, Mrs. McNeil came alone to the English camp.
The next day the body of the murdered girl was found near a spring, pierced with three bullets. An Indian came into camp with a scalp, which Mrs. McNeil recognized as that of her friend by its black, silky hair, more than a yard long.
There was nothing unusual about the murder, for it was only one of many such. The deed has, however, been woven into song and story, which have been repeated with endless variations in detail for more than six-score years. The name ”Jenny McCrea” became a watchword to the stout and resolute farmers who were hastening from far and near to the scene of action.
=189. Burgoyne gets his First Hard Blow; Desperate Fighting in the Mohawk Valley.=--The first hard blow Burgoyne received came from the west.
Colonel St. Leger, as we remember, was marching with seventeen hundred men down the Mohawk Valley. He came to a stronghold called Fort Stanwix, and ordered its commander, Colonel Gansevoort, to surrender. The demand met with a pointed refusal, and the British began a regular siege.
Everywhere through this beautiful valley was great excitement. General Herkimer, a militia officer over sixty years of age, a thorough master of Indian warfare, was a man of might in this section. Eight hundred hardy pioneers of this frontier region rallied at the veteran's call and marched with him to the relief of the fort. The younger officers would not listen to the old general's advice to move with caution.
”You,” said the old patriot, stung by their taunts, ”you, who want to fight so badly now, will be the first to run when you smell burnt powder.”
There was not a proper advance guard, and the men fell into an ambush of the Tories and their Indian allies on the steep slope of a ravine, near a place called Oriskany. A desperate fight began hand to hand and from tree to tree. The worst thunderstorm of the season put an end to the battle for about an hour.
[Ill.u.s.tration: HERKIMER DIRECTING THE BATTLE.]
Herkimer was shot in the leg in the early part of the encounter. He was lifted from his fallen horse and placed, at his own request, upon his saddle, propped against a beech tree. The old soldier lighted his pipe, and though the bullets were whistling about him, and men were falling thick and fast within a few yards, he coolly continued to direct the battle, giving his orders calmly, as if on a parade ground. Through the leafy depths of the forest rang the clas.h.i.+ng of steel, the crack of rifle, and, above all, the hideous yells of the savages. Suddenly the Indians raised the retreating cry of ”Oonah!” and in an instant they were gone! The desperate fighting was too much for the Tories, and they too fled, leaving the patriots in possession of the hard-earned field.
Thus was fought one of the most hotly contested and, for the numbers engaged, one of the deadliest of the Revolutionary battles. No quarter was given on either side. Of the eight hundred men under Herkimer that fought on that sultry August day, only about a third ever saw their homes again.
The brave old Dutchman was carried to his home, where, propped up in bed with pillows, he calmly smoked his pipe, read his Bible, and waited serenely for the end. He died a few days later. He had fought what was perhaps the most desperate battle of the Revolution, and he was victor.
=190. Gallant Defense of Fort Stanwix; First American Flag raised.=--In the mean time St. Leger, in spite of this heavy check, moved up to within one hundred and fifty yards of the fort and again demanded its surrender. The gallant Gansevoort made a flag from portions of an old blue coat, a white s.h.i.+rt, and some strips from a red flannel petticoat, and raised it above five captured British flags and defied his foes to take the fort. We should remember the date, August 6, 1777; for it is claimed that this was the first American flag with stars and stripes that was ever flung to the breeze.
[Ill.u.s.tration: RAISING ”OLD GLORY” FOR THE FIRST TIME.]
While the siege was in full progress, the besiegers suddenly broke up their camps and retreated toward Canada in great confusion, leaving behind them their cannon, supplies, and even their tents. What was the matter? Arnold had been sent north by Was.h.i.+ngton immediately after the fall of Ticonderoga, and had arrived at Schuyler's headquarters three weeks before. Restless and impatient, he was despatched by Schuyler to relieve the brave garrison. On his way he captured and was going to hang as a spy a half-witted but ugly young Tory. The boy's mother begged his life.
Arnold granted the mother's request on condition that the young fellow should take some friendly Indians with him and hasten to the British camp and so alarm St. Leger as to induce him to raise the siege and retreat! The frightened Tory set out on his perilous errand, his brother being held by Arnold as a hostage, and reached the British camp just as the Indians were holding a ”pow-wow” over the dubious enterprise in which they were engaged.
As the savages saw the Tory's coat full of bullet holes, and listened to his wonderful story of his own narrow escape, and heard that Arnold was close on their heels with two thousand regulars, the savages said, ”The pow-wow said we must go”; and go they did in utmost haste. In vain the British officers stormed and swore. The troops were seized with a panic.
St. Leger and all his army retreated in disorder, broken and beaten, to Oswego, and afterwards to Montreal. The valley of the Mohawk was safe.
St. Leger's defeat dealt a severe blow to the plans and prospects of Burgoyne. Arnold was now able to rejoin Schuyler.
=191. Burgoyne plans a Raid into the Country to secure Supplies.=--All this time Burgoyne was hard pushed for food. Every pound of bread and meat had to be brought from Canada. n.o.body but Tories would sell him an ounce of beef or an ear of corn.
The British general was also anxious to strike a blow at the good people of New England. He knew that the supplies of the patriots were stored at Bennington. Supplies he must have. On August 11 he sent off Colonel Baum with about five hundred Hessians, Indians, and Tories on a plundering trip to this little village.
Four days later a second division of about six hundred men was sent under Colonel Breymann to help Baum, for it was evident that the situation was looking ugly. Instead of raiding the country, Baum, learning that the militia were gathering in all directions, entrenched himself on a hill about four miles from Bennington and waited for reinforcements.
=192. The Men of New England rally to defend their Homes.=--The men of New England, instead of waiting till their houses were burnt, their crops destroyed, and their wives and children scalped, were rapidly arriving from far and near to meet their hated foe. The instant the Hessians and Indians threatened to come over the line, the men of New England knew there was only one thing to do and it must be done at once. That was to kill as many of the enemy as they could and drive the rest back. They had already prepared for this.
Not every man was able to act as did staunch old John Langdon, who kept a store in Portsmouth. He said to the New Hamps.h.i.+re a.s.sembly: ”I have three thousand dollars in hard money. I will pledge my plate for as much more. I have seventy hogsheads of rum, which shall be sold. Our old friend John Stark, who defended the rail fence at Bunker Hill, will work like a beaver to stop Burgoyne.”
Among the rugged hills of northern New England no other man had such a personal following as had John Stark--a man of dauntless courage, rough simplicity, and real Yankee shrewdness.