Chapter 13

The people of Virginia, seeing the forlorn condition of things, were at last awakened to a full sense of the danger that threatened, not only their back settlements, but even the heart of the Old Dominion itself. They therefore began to bestir themselves in right good earnest to put the province in a better posture of defence; and, to this end, resolved to send more troops into the field, raise more money, procure new arms and fresh supplies of military stores, and erect a chain of twenty block-houses, or small forts, stretching along the whole line of their frontier, from Pennsylvania to North Carolina,--a distance of three hundred and sixty miles. Washington's career as a soldier had not, up to this time, been marked by any of those daring and brilliant exploits that charm and dazzle vulgar minds; but had, on the contrary, been one unbroken train of misfortunes and disasters. Notwithstanding this, however, the confidence his countrymen had placed in his prudence, courage, ability, and patriotism, so far from having been diminished thereby, had gone on steadily gaining strength from the very beginning. They well knew, that, had the headstrong and unlucky Braddock given heed to his prudent and timely counsel, the late campaign could never have ended in the disgraceful and disastrous manner that it had. As the most flattering proof of their esteem and confidence, they now turned to him in their hour of peril, and, although he was not yet twenty-four years of age, called upon him, as with one voice, to take the chief command of all the forces of the province. After some deliberation, being persuaded that it was really their earnest desire, he modestly accepted the appointment, on condition that certain changes should be made in the military, and that he should be allowed to choose his field-officers. This was readily agreed to by the Virginia House of Burgesses; who, in addition, voted him fifteen hundred dollars by way of compensating him for the many losses he had suffered, in horses, baggage, and money since the beginning of the war.

Accordingly, early in the autumn, he took up his headquarters at the frontier town of Winchester, beyond the Blue Ridge, in the beautiful Valley of the Shenandoah. As four great highways met here from as many different quarters of the country, it was a post of much importance; and he resolved, by strongly fortifying it, to make it the rallying-point of all the border. His men were all raw recruits, just taken from the plough or forge or carpenter's bench, as the case might be; and, to render them fit for the peculiar service in which they were to be employed, it became his duty, besides training them in the regular military exercises, to instruct them in the arts and stratagems of Indian warfare, or bush-fighting, as it is more aptly called. Long, however, before he was ready to take the field, the French and Indians, made daring and audacious by their great victory on the Monongahela, had crossed the mountains at several different points in great numbers, and had already begun their bloody work. The terrified and defenceless inhabitants dwelling in the distant parts of the wilderness now came flocking to the Shenandoah Valley for protection from the merciless enemy, some of them never stopping till they had passed on over to the eastern slopes of the Blue Ridge.

One morning, a rumor found its way to Winchester, that a large party of Indians were within twelve miles of that place, pillaging, burning, and murdering at a frightful rate. Straightway a great fear fell upon the inhabitants. Little children ran, and hid their faces in their mothers' aprons, crying piteously; women ran hither and thither, screaming, and wringing their hands; and broad-shouldered, double-fisted men stood stock-still, and shook in their moccasins. Washington tried to prevail upon some of his soldiers to sally out with him, and drive the enemy back from the valley; but, being strangers to military obedience, not a leather-shirt of all the rabble could he get to venture beyond the ditches. When he put them in mind of what was expected of them as men and soldiers, they only answered, that, if they must die, they would rather stay there, and die with their wives and families. Having a lurking suspicion, that, after all, there might be more smoke than fire in these flying rumors, he sent out a scout to bring him some more certain tidings of the matter. In a wonderfully short time, the scout came back, pale and affrighted, with the dismal intelligence that he had, with his own ears, heard the guns and yells of the Indians not four miles distant, and that Winchester would be beset by the savages in less than an hour. Whereupon Washington made another appeal to the courage and manhood of his men; which proved so far successful, that a forlorn hope of forty finally screwed up pluck enough to follow him to the scene of danger. Moving with great caution and circumspection, and keeping all their ears and eyes about them, the party came at length to the spot mentioned by the scout; where, sure enough, they heard a somewhat scattering discharge of fire-arms, and divers outlandish noises, that bore, however, but a very slight resemblance to the terrific yells and whoops of Indian warriors. Advancing a few paces farther, a sudden turn of the road brought them in sight of two drunken soldiers, who were cursing and swearing and hallooing in a manner quite outrageous and immoral; and now and then, by way of adding a little spice to this part of their entertainment, firing off their pistols into the tree-tops. And this it was that had given rise to those wild rumors that had thrown the whole country into such a terrible panic. To this imprudent waste of breath and ammunition, the latter of which they had but little enough to spare, Washington put a rather sudden stop by ordering the lively young blades to be seized, and carried as prisoners to Winchester, where he kept them in severe confinement for more than a week after they had regained their sober senses. All this was ludicrous enough; and you may be sure that Washington, although grave and dignified beyond his years, had a hearty laugh over it the first time he found himself alone with one or two of his brother-officers.

In addition to his other cares, the duties of his office required him to visit, from time to time, the several forts along the frontier, to see that those already finished were kept in fighting order, and give directions for the proper construction of those still under way. Now, the little garrison of forty men, that Col. Dunbar had left to hold and defend Fort Cumberland against the combined armies of the French and Indians, was commanded by a certain Dagworthy, who, pluming himself upon the king's commission as captain, refused to own the authority and render obedience to the orders of Washington, who held only a governor's commission as colonel. It will be remembered, that Washington had a similar misunderstanding with Capt. Mackay, eighteen months before, at the Great Meadows, touching this same question of rank between royal and provincial officers, which had caused him great trouble and annoyance. Matters had now come to such a pass, that a little upstart captain of forty men could set at naught the authority of the commander-in-chief of the forces of a whole province, merely because he could boast a bit of paper embellished with the king's name. This was a degradation too grievous to be longer borne by a manly, independent spirit. Though sorely vexed and annoyed, Washington had too much self-respect and prudence to make a noise about the matter; but he inwardly resolved, that, as soon as the coming-on of winter would oblige the Indians to recross the mountains to the shelter of their homes beyond, he would take advantage of the breathing spell thus allowed him to make a journey to Boston, there to submit the question for final settlement to Gen. Shirley, who had succeeded Braddock to the chief command of all the British forces in America.

Accordingly, when the departure of the Indians brought the distressed inhabitants of the border the prospect of a few months' peace and quiet, he departed for Boston, in company with two of his brother-officers, Capts. Stewart and Mercer.

Now, in those days, a journey from the Old Dominion to the Bay City, a distance of but five hundred miles, in the depth of winter, when the roads were either deep and stiff with mire, or rough and knobby with frost, was really a greater undertaking than a voyage in a steamship from Boston to Constantinople would now be considered. Our young men travelled on horseback, as was the fashion of the day; and took with them their negro servants, who, riding behind with their masters' saddle-bags and portmanteaus, and dressed in fine livery, with gold lace on their fur hats, and blue cloaks, gave quite an air of style and consequence to the little cavalcade.

Washington's fame had long since gone before him, as was proved by the marked distinction and respect with which he was treated at Philadelphia, New York, and other places along the route. All were eager to behold with their own eyes the youthful hero, whose gallant conduct and wonderful escape at the defeat of Braddock had been so noised throughout the Colonies; and when we add to this his tall and commanding form, the manly beauty of his face, his dignified bearing, his rich and handsome dress, and the unequalled skill with which he managed his large and noble horse, we cannot wonder at the interest and admiration his appearance awakened in the minds of all who saw him.

When he got to Boston, where he likewise met with a flattering reception, he lost no time in making known to Gen. Shirley the business that had taken him thither. The justness and reasonableness of his complaints were promptly acknowledged by this officer, who, to place the vexed question beyond dispute, declared, that henceforward Capt. Dagworthy and all inferior officers, holding king's commissions, should own the authority and render obedience to the orders of all provincial officers of superior rank. This, the main object of his journey, thus happily disposed of, Col. Washington set out on his return to Virginia: but, knowing that the Indian war-whoop was not likely soon to be heard in the Shenandoah Valley, he indulged himself so far as to tarry two whole weeks at New-York City; and for the best of reasons, as I will tell you.

On his way to Boston, he had met here with the beautiful and accomplished Miss Phillipps, with whom he was vastly pleased; and it was for the nearer study of this young lady's charms, and further cultivation of her acquaintance, that our young Virginia colonel was now tempted for once in his life thus to linger on his way. Nothing came of it, however, that anybody now can tell; although the lady, you may stake your heads upon it, must and ought to have been highly flattered at being thus singled out by the young hero whose name and praise were in everybody's mouth. Perhaps his admiration never ripened into love; and, if it did, his modesty, as in the case of the Lowland Beauty, must have hindered him from making known his partiality. Whatever it may have been, it is, at this late day, of little consequence; for long before that year had passed away, with all its anxious cares, its perils and privations, and with all its train of ghastly Indian horrors, these tender sentiments had become to him nothing more than pleasant memories.

XIX.

DARK DAYS.

It were long to tell you, my dear children, all that happened to Washington, and all that he did for the next two or three years of his life. I shall, therefore, in as brief and clear a manner as may be, present to your minds a picture simply of those scenes in which he figured as the chief actor; although there were, it must be remembered, others who played a far more important part in this old French War than our young Virginia colonel.

The French and Indians, early in the spring of these years, were wont to cross the mountains at different points, and for months together follow their usual programme of fire, plunder, and massacre, till the approach of winter, when, loaded with booty and scalps, they would go as they had come, only to return on the opening of the following spring. With these cruel savages, and their scarcely less cruel white allies, neither age nor sex found mercy; old men, tender women, and helpless children, alike falling victims to their murderous tomahawks and scalping-knives. Farms were laid waste, crops destroyed, cattle butchered; and often, for days and nights together, the smoke could be seen in many directions at once, as it rose from burning barns and dwellings, and hung like a pall over the ill-fated land. At last, so great became the audacity of these pestilent savages, that they carried their depredations within cannon range of the very walls of Winchester; and, under their destroying hand, the rich and beautiful Valley of the Shenandoah seemed likely soon again to become a waste and desert place. It was a boast of theirs, that they could take any fort that could be fired; and round these places of refuge they would skulk and lurk with the greatest patience for a week at a time, quite content could they but get a single shot at such of the garrison as dared to show themselves beyond shelter of the walls. Sometimes, suddenly darting from their hiding-place, they would pounce upon little children playing in the woods, and, in full view of the fort, bear them away captives, never more to be seen by their bereaved parents, who could only listen in helpless anguish to the piteous cries of their little innocents, that grew fainter and fainter as their savage captors hurried them farther and farther into the gloomy depths of the wilderness.

Often, in their excursions along the frontier, Washington and his men would come upon the still smoking ruins of a happy home, or the hacked and mangled body of an unfortunate traveller who had been waylaid and murdered by the Indians in some lonely mountain glen. In after-life, the recollection of these harrowing scenes was to Washington so painful, that he could but seldom be brought to speak of them. Now and then, however, he would relate to a few friends some of these dark experiences; among which is the following, given in his own words, as a fair example of all the rest:--

"One day," said he, "as we were traversing a part of the frontier, we came upon a small log-house, standing in the centre of a little clearing, surrounded by woods on all sides. As we approached, we heard the report of a gun,--the usual signal of coming horror. Our party crept cautiously through the underwood, until we had approached near enough to see what we had already foreboded. A smoke was slowly making its way through the roof of the house; when, at the same time, a party of Indians came forth, laden with plunder,--consisting of clothes, household furniture, domestic utensils, and dripping scalps. We fired, and killed all but one, who tried to get away, but was soon overtaken and shot down. Upon entering the hut, there met us a sight, which, though we were familiar with scenes of blood and massacre, struck us--at least myself--with feelings more mournful than I had ever experienced before. On a bed, in one corner of the room, lay the body of a young woman, swimming in blood, with a gash in the forehead that almost separated the head into two parts. On her breast lay two little babes, less than a twelvemonth old, also with their heads cut open; their innocent blood, that had once flowed in one common vein, now mingling in the same current again. I was inured to scenes of bloodshed and misery; but this cut me to the heart; and never in my after-life did I raise my arm against a savage, without calling to mind the mother and her little twins with their heads cleft asunder. On examining the tracks of the Indians to see what other murders they might have committed, we found a little boy, and, a few steps forward, his father, both scalped, and both stone-dead. From the prints of the boy's feet, it seemed that he had been following the plough with his father, whom he had probably seen shot down; and, in attempting to escape, had been pursued, overtaken, and murdered. The ruin was complete: not one of the family had been spared. Such was the character of this miserable warfare. The wretched people of the frontier never went to rest without bidding each other farewell; for the chances were they might never wake again, or wake only to find their last sleep. When leaving one spot for the purpose of giving protection to another point of exposure, the scene was often such as I shall never forget. The women and children would cling around our knees, and mothers would hold up their little babes before our eyes, begging us to stay and protect them, and, for God's sake, not leave them to be butchered by the savages. A hundred times, I declare to Heaven, I would have laid down my life with pleasure under the tomahawk and scalping-knife, could I, by the sacrifice, have insured the safety of these suffering people."

The little folks can well imagine how scenes like these must have pained and wrung a heart like Washington's. But what could he do? His whole force did not exceed one thousand fighting men; with which he had to man more than twenty forts, and guard a frontier of nearly four hundred miles' extent. In addition to this, his men had been so scattered all the while at these different points, as to have placed it altogether beyond his power to give that attention to their military training which he had had so near at heart when he first entered upon his command. It naturally followed, then, that there was among the greater number an almost total want of order and discipline. They came and went when and where it suited their humor best; were impatient of control; wasted their ammunition, of which there was a great scarcity, in target-shooting; were far more ready to trouble their officers with good advice than aid them by prompt obedience to orders; and, if their sagacious counsels went unheeded, they would, without more ado, shoulder their rifles in high dudgeon, and tramp home. And, withal, so tender were they of what they were pleased to call their _honor_, that they would take it as quite an insult to be put on soldiers' rations; and were too proud or lazy--which with them was the same thing--to carry their own provisions while on the march; choosing, rather, to risk what chance might bring them, in the shape of bullocks, sheep, or pigs, which they would knock down, without a "By your leave" to the owner, and, after eating as much as satisfied their present hunger, would throw the rest away. Thus, between their wasteful defenders and their wasting invaders, the poor distressed inhabitants were brought to the verge of starvation.

The forts were too far apart to prevent the Indians from passing between; and the garrisons were too weak to lend each other aid when any of them chanced to be in hard, besetting need. This plan of giving defence to the border had been strongly opposed by Washington, who foresaw the disadvantages just hinted at, and had urged the exact contrary. This was, instead of having so many small forts, with but a handful of men in each, to fortify Winchester in the completest manner possible, with a view of making it the only stronghold and rallying-point of all the border, and to be manned by the main body of the troops, who were to give support to the smaller parties in their excursions against the enemy. Long before the war was ended, it was clearly to be seen, that, had this plan been adopted, much useless expenditure of money and shedding of blood would have been avoided. As it was, the cunning and watchful foe, whose motions were swift as the birds, and secret as death, could pass between these forts, not only unopposed, but even unobserved, and, without let or hinderance, lay waste the country for the protection of which they had been built. Under this most melancholy state of things, all the region west of the Blue Ridge was fast becoming the dreary and silent wilderness it had been in days gone by. Scarcely a shadow of its former population was left: some had fled to the forts for refuge; some had resettled in the eastern parts of the province; some had been carried away into cruel captivity; and many, very many, had met with a horrible death at the hands of the merciless invaders.

As if all this we have just related were not enough to try the patience and fortitude of young Washington, evil reports, injurious to his character, and charging him with being the author of all these failures and calamities, were set agoing by secret enemies at home. Foremost among these, you will be surprised and sorry to learn, was Gov. Dinwiddie, who had for some time past regarded with a jealous and envious eye this rising hope of the land, and was now seeking, by a variety of underhand means, to have him disgraced from the service, that Col. Innez, a particular chum of his, might be advanced to the chief command of the Virginia troops instead. The lower offices of the army he was zealous to bestow upon a knot of needy adventurers, who, being Scotchmen like himself, were in high favor with him, and scrupled not to make his likes and dislikes their own, if, by so doing, they could further their own private advantage. Perhaps Gov. Dinwiddie himself may not have been the direct author of these reports; but it is quite certain that his hungry hangers-on would never have dared whisper them had they not been fully aware of the ill-will he bore the person by whose injury they hoped to profit, and that they had but to do the thing, when their patron would not only wink at it, but even give it his secret approval.

When these malicious whisperings came to the ears of Washington, he was stung to the quick by such unfair and unmerited treatment. Feeling assured in his own conscience that he had done his whole duty as far as in him lay, all his strong and manly nature was roused to indignant anger, that his fair name should thus become the target of these arrows flying in the dark, without an opportunity being allowed him of a fair and open hearing in his own defence. He would have left the service at once,--the very end his enemies had been plotting so hard to bring about,--had not the frontier settlements, just at that moment, been threatened with more than usual peril; and to have deserted his post at such a time would have given his accusers real grounds for the charges, which heretofore had been but a mere pretence. Before the immediate danger was past that kept him at his post, many of his warmest and most influential friends, residing in different parts of the province, had written to him, earnestly entreating him not to think of resigning his command; assuring him, at the same time, that the base slanders of those evil-minded men had found no place whatever in the minds of his fellow-countrymen. On the contrary, beholding the courage, patience, and humanity with which he was discharging the high and sacred duties they had intrusted to him, they felt their love for him, and confidence in him, increasing every day. With this gratifying assurance that his conduct and motives were rightly understood by those whose approbation he was most desirous of winning, Washington now held on his course with renewed hope and spirit.