Chapter VI

ON TO KASKASKIA

When night fell, Colonel Clark ordered his men to march. Led by two soldiers who had been scouting the woods all afternoon, they followed the bank of the Kaskaskia River until they came to a farmhouse. Here several boats were moored at the river bank. Clark ordered some of his men to surround the house and others to seize the family living in it.

A very frightened Frenchman, his wife and their several children came out of the house, holding their hands high in the air. The soldiers brought the father to Colonel Clark who began questioning him about the town of Kaskaskia.

The man said the town had been expecting an attack from the direction of the Mississippi River. This alarm had died down, he thought, because now there was no extra militia at Kaskaskia. He also said most of the Indians loitering there had left and gone to Cahokia.

Jim shivered at the mention of Cahokia and wondered if Chief Minnemung and his Potawatomis had arrived there, or if they were still searching for him.

When Clark got the information that the town was quiet, he permitted the French family to return to their home, and ordered his men to start ferrying the army across the river. Since he had well over a hundred men, they must make many trips back and forth in the few boats on the river bank. Jim and Simon Kenton were to go with the first group.

As Jim climbed into one boat, he stumbled over a boy about his own age who was trembling and cowering in the bottom. Kenton, just behind Jim, pointed his rifle at the boy. “Who are you?” he asked gruffly. “What are you doing here?”

The frightened boy did not reply but stared up at the rifle.

“Come, boy,” Kenton repeated, “what are you doing here?”

The boy scrambled to his feet and stammered, “I——I was just going home. I came from Kaskaskia this morning in this boat. I was hunting beeswax for Father Gibault. He needs more beeswax for the church candles. When I saw all your men I hid here. I hoped you would go away so I could go home.”

Kenton sneered. “A likely story. You’ve been spying for de Rochblave no doubt.”

“Oh, no, sir. I only know the commandant by sight, sir. I tell you true, I was hunting beeswax. And I found a bee tree, too.”

“Well, you’ll go back as our prisoner. Sit down in the boat.” Simon Kenton turned to Jim. “Sit beside him, Jim, and keep your eye on him. Don’t let him get away.”

“Yes, sir,” Jim replied, making room for the boy.

The boat was now filled and the men began rowing across the river toward Kaskaskia. Jim could feel the boy trembling beside him. He whispered, “Don’t be afraid. Colonel Clark will see that no harm comes to you. What’s your name? I’m Jim Hudson.”

“Willie——Willie Watson,” the boy replied.

As soon as all soldiers were ferried across the river and assembled in their respective companies, Colonel Clark stepped out in front of them. It was too dark to see this erect, commanding man, but there was no mistaking the stern authority in his voice.

“Men,” he said, “our first objective is to take this town. By seizing Kaskaskia, we’ll be protecting our countrymen in the western country. You all know the British have been inciting the Indians to war against our settlers. By controlling this French settlement, we’ll cut off all supplies from New Orleans and the west to Hamilton at Detroit, so tonight it’s win or lose everything. Now, I’ll make three divisions of these companies. Captain Bowman.”

“Yes, sir,” and Captain Bowman stepped forward.

“You are to command one division. Take your men to the far quarter of the town. Captain Helm, command the second, and take your men to the other end of town. I’ll lead the third division.”

The men assembled quickly according to orders. Jim and Willie were assigned to Captain Bowman’s division.

“Kenton,” Colonel Clark continued, “you’re to go with me. Now, men, if we take the fort and capture de Rochblave without resistance, you’ll hear three shots. The shots will be my signal of victory. Then all of you are to yell and shout as loudly as you can. And Jim,” Colonel Clark peered into the darkness, “where’s Jim Hudson?”

“Here, sir.”

“When the men start yelling, you beat your drum as hard as possible. Run through the town from one end to the other beating it. That will help make the French think we have a large army. Keep beating it. Do you hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If any of you men speak French, step forward.”

Several soldiers stepped forward from the ranks.

Willie whispered to Jim, “I can speak French, too.”

“Step forward then,” Jim urged, so Willie stepped out with the others.

“After I give the signal,” Clark continued, “you are to run through the streets telling the people in French that the Long-Knives have taken Kaskaskia. And tell them to stay inside their homes. If they venture outside they will be shot.” Clark’s voice became sterner than before. “Now then, not one of you is to talk to any of the inhabitants. I want no conversation with them. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the men answered in chorus.

Immediately Colonel Clark set out, leading his own division through dark, silent streets toward the fort. The two captains started with their men for the assigned positions. For Jim and Willie it was an eerie experience to march through the dark streets, then wait—wait in silence for the hoped-for signal.

After what seemed an endless time to the boys, three rifle shots rang out from the fort. These meant that Colonel Clark and his men had captured Commandant Philip de Rochblave and his fort without any resistance.

Then what yelling and screaming went up in all parts of the town. Those men speaking French tried to out-yell other Long-Knives shouting Clark’s orders in English. As Willie ran through the streets shouting his orders, Jim kept beside him, beating his drum with all his might.

Jim thought he’d better keep track of Willie so he wouldn’t escape. Willie, however, showed no signs of wanting to leave the Long-Knives, but kept shouting Clark’s orders over and over. They kept up this din all night and were so excited they never thought of sleep.

The next morning the streets were deserted save for Clark’s troops now doing guard duty in various parts of town. Jim and Willie were still together and Jim was surprised to see what a beautiful place Kaskaskia was.

In the center of town was a large grass-covered square, with narrow streets leading out from it. From here Jim saw the American flag was indeed flying from the old fort. There were a few stone houses here and there, but most of them were wooden with pointed, thatched roofs and chimneys at either end.

While Jim was admiring the town, someone called, “Come on, boys. Breakfast is ready.”

Jim and Willie didn’t need to be called the second time. They dashed to join the men just sitting down to breakfast; it had been prepared by spies Colonel Clark had sent into town ahead of his troops.

Meantime the terror-stricken residents of Kaskaskia remained indoors, not knowing what was to become of them. Father Pierre Gibault asked Colonel Clark if the people could assemble in the church to pray. They feared they were to be separated and taken away by Clark’s soldiers. Clark granted Father Gibault’s request and the people walked solemnly into the church.

Some time later Colonel Clark spoke to them, telling them not to be afraid. He said the king of France had joined the Americans against the British and now they could all work together. He asked only that the residents of Kaskaskia swear allegiance to the Long-Knives, who represented the Continental Congress and Virginia.

Immediately the gloom and fear of the people melted away. They rang the old church bell in jubilation, giving thanks for their freedom, weeping and laughing for joy.

No one was more astounded at this news than little Willie Watson. He clapped his hands and turned handsprings down the street. He had expected to be thrown into chains and taken far away. Now he was as free as Jim. He looked at his friend. “Colonel Clark is a wonderful man,” he said, his dark eyes shining.

Jim nodded. “Willie, were you really hunting beeswax across the river?”

“Of course I was, Jim. We have no wax for the church candles, so I went to hunt a bee tree. Now I’ll get someone to go with me to get the honey and wax.”

“Are you responsible for the candles, Willie?”

“Not entirely, Jim. I am a ward of Father Gibault and I help him in any way I can.

“My father was a river man on the Ohio. He worked for Boynton, Wharton and Morgan Company. They used to send boatloads of merchandise from Philadelphia down the Ohio and up the Mississippi Rivers to their store here. My father made many trips for them, but he was drowned in 1772. So Father Gibault found a house for my mother and me next door to him.”

“Then you live with your mother?”

“Yes, I do. She sews for some of the wealthy people and mends for Father Gibault. In the winter I work for Monsieur Gabriel Cerré.”

Jim’s face was sad for a moment. “My mother was a good seamstress, too.”

Willie was puzzled. “Say, where are your mother and father? How do you happen to be with Clark’s army?”

Then Jim told Willie about the last time he had seen his parents and what had happened to him since.

“That’s too bad, Jim,” Willie said. “Of course Indians do sometimes kill their prisoners, but it’s likely your parents are still alive. What are you going to do now?”

Jim sighed. “I hope I’ll find them some day. Maybe Colonel Clark will have a job for me. I’d like to stay with him and his men.”

Willie smiled. “If he doesn’t, Jim, I think I can get you a job working with me. Monsieur Cerré is a big merchant here and needs quite a few people in the fall. He’s away from Kaskaskia right now.”

Jim nodded. “I may ask you later, Willie, because I have to find something to do.”

“Guess I’d better go home now, Jim. Will you come home with me?”

“No thanks, Willie. I have to see what Colonel Clark has in mind for me.”

“Well, good-bye, for now,” and Willie ran happily down the street toward Father Gibault’s house.

Jim walked slowly over to Colonel Clark’s headquarters. When he arrived Captain Bowman and a few French citizens were just leaving. Clark was giving them last-minute instructions.

“Captain Bowman,” he was saying, “use all your persuasive powers and those of these good citizens,” he nodded toward the Frenchmen, “to get the people of Cahokia to swear allegiance to our Continental Congress. No violence, though.”

“Yes, sir,” Captain Bowman replied, saluting smartly. “I think I can win them over with the help of these men.” Then he and the Frenchmen left headquarters for their ride to Cahokia.

After they had gone Colonel Clark noticed Jim standing in the room. “Hello, Jim. What is it?”

“I wonder, sir,” he began, “if you have a job for me. You see I have no home here, as Willie has.”

Colonel Clark frowned for a moment and then smiled. “To be sure, I have a job for you, Jim. You can be my personal messenger. Now that we have won Kaskaskia, I have to deal with the Indian tribes camped in this neighborhood.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you a good penman, Jim?”

“I can write a good hand, sir. My mother used to be a governess in Virginia and she taught me to read, write and figure.”

“Good. I have a lot of letters to write and you can help me with them, too. You’ll sleep here at headquarters and eat with my men. Tomorrow you’ll have plenty of work to do.”

“Oh, thank you, sir.” Jim’s heart was singing. All would be well with him if he could stay with Colonel Clark.