Chapter 20

Mount St. Elias! Yes, there it was, they affirmed, on the northeastern horizon, a vapory, unsubstantial cone, dancing up and down in the refracting light. I looked and looked, persuading myself that I saw the glorious vision nineteen thousand five hundred feet high. Others persuaded themselves of the same fact, being naturally ambitious of carrying away remembrances of the tallest mountain in all America. But, after all, I fancy that nobody had a very strong faith in his discovery, particularly as the reputed mountain seemed to change its place, flit hither and thither on the curve of the sky, and finally disappear.

But yonder! What is that? Clouds? Apparently. But look again. What, that small speck just on the edge of the water? No, higher up--up--up. What a sight! Certainly the grandest view we have had yet. A huge, white, snow-tipped back, like a camel's hump, now loomed apparently right out of the water's edge,--the mighty range of Mount Fairweather, Mount Crillon, and eight or ten other domes and peaks, the highest fifteen thousand five hundred feet high, according to the measurement of the United States Coast Survey. This is the finest mountain-landscape we have ever seen, not even excepting the Alps from Neufchâtel. The peaks looked enormously high as they shot up just behind the sea-edge, far above the first stratum of cloud which ran along midway of the mountain in deep slate-colored belts. Now and then the vapor thinned to the fineness of tulle and Brousa gauze, behind which the mountain-colors loomed in vague and yet radiant purity. Gradually the ardent sun melted away the misty striated belts of cloud, and the great peaks stood out calmly and gloriously effulgent in the crystal August air, a scene of exquisite loveliness and sublimity. At one end a mighty glacier ran down to the sea, and at the other the pygmy mountains (two or three thousand feet high) we had been coasting lay like ebon carvings against the white, a ripple of dark velvet against ermine.

For hours we steamed towards this splendid picture, which, while growing more and more distinct, did not appear to be any nearer than when we first saw it. In the afternoon we turned to the right of this range into icy straits, and soon we were in the midst of a scene more wonderful, perhaps, than that through which we had just passed. On the light-green water lay literally hundreds of icebergs, of all shapes and sizes, some a deep translucent blue, the blue of cobalt, others green, others a pure white,--serrated, castellated, crenellated, glittering,--from the size of a tureen to that of a small church. We seemed on the point of entering that ancient palæocrystic sea of which the geologists speak,--ice everywhere, our ship cutting its way through impinging ice.

THE FORT WILLIAM HENRY MASSACRE.

JONATHAN CARVER.

[Carver's interesting "Travels through the Interior Parts of North America, in the years 1766, 1767, and 1768," is the source of the narrative given below, relating to an event with which most of our readers are probably familiar from historical reading, though few of them have read the experience of an actual participant. Carver served as a captain in the French and Indian War, and tells this most thrilling narrative of the American wars as an illustrative episode in his subsequent work of travels. He is describing the cruel actions of the Indians in war.]

I have frequently been a spectator of them, and once bore a part in a similar scene. But what added to the horror of it was that I had not the consolation of being able to oppose their savage attacks. Every circumstance of the adventure still dwells on my memory, and enables me to describe with greater perspicuity the brutal fierceness of the Indians when they have surprised or overpowered an enemy.

As a detail of the massacre at Fort William Henry in the year 1757, the scene to which I refer, cannot appear foreign to the design of this publication, but will serve to give my readers a just idea of the ferocity of this people, I shall take the liberty to insert it, apologizing at the same time for the length of the digression and those egotisms which the relation renders unavoidable.

General Webb, who commanded the English army in North America, which was then encamped at Fort Edward, having intelligence that the French troops under Mons. Montcalm were making some movements towards Fort William Henry, he detached a corps of about fifteen hundred men, consisting of English and provincials, to strengthen the garrison. In this party I went as a volunteer among the latter.

The apprehensions of the English general were not without foundation, for the day after our arrival we saw Lake George (formerly Lake Sacrament), to which it lies contiguous, covered with an immense number of boats, and in a few hours we found our lines attacked by the French general, who had just landed with eleven thousand regulars and Canadians and two thousand Indians. Colonel Munro, a brave officer, commanded in the fort, and had no more than two thousand three hundred men with him, our detachment included.

With these he made a brave defence, and probably would have been able at last to preserve the fort had he been properly supported and permitted to continue his efforts. On every summons to surrender sent by the French general, who offered the most honorable terms, his answer repeatedly was, that he found himself in a condition to repel the most vigorous attacks his besiegers were able to make; and if he thought his present force insufficient, he could soon be supplied with a greater number from the adjacent army.

But the colonel having acquainted General Webb with his situation, and desired he would send him some fresh troops, the general despatched a messenger to him with a letter, wherein he informed him that it was not in his power to assist him, and therefore gave him orders to surrender up the fort on the best terms he could procure. This packet fell into the hands of the French general, who immediately sent a flag of truce, desiring a conference with the governor.

They accordingly met, attended only by a small guard, in the centre between the lines, when Mons. Montcalm told the colonel that he was come in person to demand possession of the fort, as it belonged to the king, his master. The colonel replied that he knew not how that could be, nor should he surrender it up while it was in his power to defend it.

The French general rejoined, at the same time delivering the packet into the colonel's hand, "By this authority do I make the requisition." The brave governor had no sooner read the contents of it, and was convinced that such were the orders of the commander-in-chief, and not to be disobeyed, than he hung his head in silence, and reluctantly entered into a negotiation.

In consideration of the gallant defence the garrison had made, they were to be permitted to march out with all the honors of war, to be allowed covered wagons to transport their baggage to Fort Edward, and a guard to protect them from the fury of the savages.

The morning after the capitulation was signed, as soon as day broke, the whole garrison, now consisting of about two thousand men, besides women and children, were drawn up within the lines, and on the point of marching off, when great numbers of the Indians gathered about and began to plunder. We were at first in hopes that this was their only view, and suffered them to proceed without opposition. Indeed, it was not in our power to make any, had we been so inclined, for, though we were permitted to carry off our arms, yet we were not allowed a single round of ammunition. In these hopes, however, we were disappointed; for presently some of them began to attack the sick and wounded, when such as were not able to crawl into the ranks, notwithstanding they endeavored to avert the fury of their enemies by their shrieks or groans, were soon despatched.

Here we were fully in expectation that the disturbance would have concluded, but in a short time we saw the same division driven back, and discovered that we were entirely encircled by the savages. We expected every moment that the guard, which the French, by the articles of capitulation, had agreed to allow us, would have arrived, and put an end to our apprehensions, but none appeared. The Indians now began to strip every one, without exception, of their arms and clothes, and those who made the least resistance felt the weight of their tomahawks.

I happened to be in the rear division, but it was not long before I shared the fate of my companions. Three or four of the savages laid hold of me, and whilst some held their weapons over my head, the others soon disrobed me of my coat, waistcoat, hat, and buckles, omitting not to take from me what money I had in my pocket. As this was transacted close by the passage that led from the lines on to the plain, near which a French sentinel was posted, I ran to him and claimed his protection, but he only called me an English dog, and thrust me with violence back again into the midst of the Indians.

I now endeavored to join a body of our troops that were crowded together at some distance, but innumerable were the blows that were made at me with different weapons as I passed on; luckily, however, the savages were so close together that they could not strike at me without endangering each other, notwithstanding which one of them found means to make a thrust at me with a spear, which grazed my side, and from another I received a wound with the same kind of weapon on my ankle. At length I gained the spot where my countrymen stood, and forced myself into the midst of them. But before I got thus far out of the hands of the Indians the collar and wristbands of my shirt were all that remained of it, and my flesh was scratched and torn in many places by their savage grips.

By this time the war-whoop was given, and the Indians began to murder those that were nearest to them without distinction. It is not in the power of words to give any tolerable idea of the horrid scene that now ensued; men, women, and children were despatched in the most wanton and cruel manner, and immediately scalped. Many of the savages drank the blood of their victims as it flowed warm from the fatal wound.

We now perceived, though too late to avail us, that we were to expect no relief from the French; and that, contrary to the agreement they had so lately signed to allow us a sufficient force to protect us from these insults, they tacitly permitted them; for I could plainly perceive the French officers walking about at some distance, discoursing together with apparent unconcern. For the honor of human nature I would hope that this flagrant breach of every sacred law proceeded rather from the savage disposition of the Indians, which I acknowledge it is sometimes almost impossible to control, and which might now unexpectedly have arrived to a pitch not easily to be restrained, than from any premeditated design in the French commander. An unprejudiced observer would, however, be apt to conclude that a body of ten thousand Christian troops, most Christian troops, had it in their power to prevent the massacre from becoming so general. But whatever was the cause from which it arose, the consequences of it were dreadful, and not to be paralleled in modern history.

As the circle in which I stood enclosed by this time was much thinned, and death seemed to be approaching with hasty strides, it was proposed by some of the most resolute to make one vigorous effort, and endeavor to force our way through the savages, the only probable method of preserving our lives that now remained. This, however desperate, was resolved upon, and about twenty of us sprung at once into the midst of them.

In a moment we were separated, and what was the fate of my comrades I could not learn till some months after, when I found that only five or six of them effected their design. Intent only on my own hazardous situation, I endeavored to make my way through my savage enemies in the best manner possible. And I have often been astonished since, when I have recollected with what composure I took, as I did, every necessary step for my preservation. Some I overturned, being at that time young and athletic, and others I passed by, dexterously avoiding their weapons; till at last two very stout chiefs, of the most savage tribes, as I could distinguish by their dress, whose strength I could not resist, laid hold of me by each arm, and began to force me through the crowd.

I now resigned myself to my fate, not doubting but that they intended to despatch me, and then to satiate their vengeance with my blood, as I found they were hurrying me towards a retired swamp that lay at some distance. But before we had got many yards, an English gentleman of some distinction, as I could discover by his breeches, the only covering he had on, which were of fine scarlet velvet, rushed close by us. One of the Indians instantly relinquished his hold, and, springing on this new object, endeavored to seize him as his prey; but the gentleman, being strong, threw him on the ground, and would probably have got away, had not he who held my other arm quitted me to assist his brother. I seized the opportunity, and hastened away to join another party of English troops that were yet unbroken, and stood in a body at some distance. But before I had taken many steps I hastily cast my eye towards the gentleman, and saw the Indian's tomahawk gash into his back, and heard him utter his last groan; this added both to my speed and desperation.

I had left this shocking scene but a few yards when a fine boy of about twelve years of age, that had hitherto escaped, came up to me, and begged that I would let him lay hold of me, so that he might stand some chance of getting out of the hands of the savages. I told him that I would give him every assistance in my power, and to this purpose bid him lay hold; but in a few moments he was torn from my side, and by his shrieks I judge was soon demolished. I could not help forgetting my own cares for a minute to lament the fate of so young a sufferer; but it was utterly impossible for me to take any methods to prevent it.

I now got once more into the midst of friends, but we were unable to afford each other any succor. As this was the division that had advanced the farthest from the fort, I thought there might be a possibility (though but a very bare one) of my forcing a way through the outer ranks of the Indians and getting to a neighboring wood, which I perceived at some distance. I was still encouraged to hope by the almost miraculous preservation I had already experienced.

Nor were my hopes vain or the efforts I made ineffectual. Suffice to say that I reached the wood, but by the time I had penetrated a little way into it my breath was so exhausted that I threw myself into a brake, and lay for some minutes apparently at the last gasp. At length I recovered power of respiration, but my apprehensions returned with all their former force when I saw several savages pass by, probably in pursuit of me, at no very great distance.

In this situation I knew not whether it was better to proceed or endeavor to conceal myself where I lay till night came on. Fearing, however, that they would return the same way, I thought it most prudent to get farther from the dreadful scene of my past distresses. Accordingly, striking into another part of the wood, I hastened on as fast as the briers and the loss of one of my shoes would permit me, and, after a slow progress of some hours, gained a hill that overlooked the plain which I had just left, from whence I could discern that the bloody storm still raged with unabated fury.

But not to tire my readers, I shall only add that after passing three days without subsistence, and enduring the severity of the cold dews for three nights, I at length reached Fort Edward; where with proper care my body soon recovered its wonted strength and my mind, as far as the recollection of the late melancholy events would permit, its usual composure.

It was computed that fifteen hundred persons were killed or made prisoners by these savages during this fatal day. Many of the latter were carried off by them and never returned. A few, through favorable accidents, found their way back to their native country after having experienced a long and severe captivity.

The brave Colonel Munro had hastened away, soon after the confusion began, to the French camp to endeavor to procure the guard agreed by the stipulation; but his application proving ineffectual, he remained there till General Webb sent a party of troops to demand and protect him back to Fort Edward. But these unhappy occurrences, which would probably have been prevented had he been left to pursue his own plans, together with the loss of so many brave fellows, murdered in cold blood, to whose valor he had so lately been a witness, made such an impression on his mind that he did not long survive. He died in about three months of a broken heart, and with truth might it be said that he was an honor to his country.

THE GAUCHO AND HIS HORSE.

THOMAS J. HUTCHINSON.

[Among the skilled horsemen of the earth the gaucho of the plains of Argentina bears pre-eminence. The cow-boy of our Western plains somewhat nearly approaches him, but the cow-boy is only a passing accident, not an institution, like the gaucho, who will still flourish on his native soil when the cow-boy has ceased to be. Hutchinson's "Buenos Ayres and Argentine Gleanings" gives us a well-limned picture of this interesting individual, to which we owe the following selection.]

I can hardly consider myself presumptuous in believing that few travellers who have made an ascent of the Paraná for the first time have done so with a more agreeable impression of its beauty than I experienced. The only drawback connected with this pleasure is the consciousness of being unable fully to describe it. My readers will, however, be indulgent enough to give me credit for an effort to do my best.

Our water-way in the little steamer "Dolorcitas," after leaving Buenos Ayres, was through one of the narrow passages that are the boundaries of islets, higher up than, as well as parallel with, the island of Martin Garcia. As we steam along and pass the estancias of wealthy farmers, I observe on the banks hundreds of cows, large troops of horses, and flocks of sheep, in numbers sufficient to puzzle even the calculating Pedder. There are very few wild trees to be seen, except on the highlands an occasional specimen of the Ombu or Algaroba species. The residences are invariably surrounded by groves or shrubberies of peach-trees. The physical aspect of the islands is quite flat, and until we advance a few hundred miles there is no elevation above a few feet close to the river's side. Now and then--as, for example, when passing through the creek called the "Baradero"--I catch a glimpse of high land, on part of which there is a convent or chapel; but the whole country is uncultivated, except in isolated patches near the compounds of the tillers.

Flocks of wild duck and snipe are seen in abundance; wild turkeys likewise, with occasionally a group of flamingoes, whose scarlet plumage forms a strikingly dazzling object in the bright sunshine. Indeed, birds of various kinds are about us everywhere. Passing through one of these island passages, you see strewing the banks on the mainland side the skeletons of cows and horses, while other poor brutes are lying in the agonies of death; for the mud at the extreme edge of the water is too soft to support them; hence, when they go down to drink, they are swamped in its sponginess, and must therefore remain to die.

Steaming on, we pass or meet several small river-craft engaged in the coasting-trade between Montevideo, Buenos Ayres, and the towns up the river, until we land at an estancia, where cows, horses, and sheep are bred and nurtured: the cows and bullocks chiefly for the hides and meat, disposed of as already described at a saladero; sheep for their wool; while horses are reared for every possible purpose, and are turned to use whether alive or dead.

Horses dead! Their skins are tanned; the grease of the mare's body is used for light, and for many oleaginous purposes. Close to one of our towns is a rancho or hut belonging to a brick-maker, and there, between his door and the kiln, is an immense pile--as high as an ordinary house--of dead horses, whose bodies are to be used for burning the bricks. Mares' tongues, preserved, are sold in the market as luxuries; hoofs, skulls, shank, thigh, and other bones of the animal, as well as the hair of the mane and tail, are exported hence to England, America, and other places across the sea in large quantities. At the saladeros, too, they slaughter mares in hundreds for their hides and grease, the operation being conducted by crunching the animal's skull with a mallet, after it has been brought to the ground by means of a lasso thrown round the feet. One can scarcely travel a mile through the camp without seeing a dead horse somewhere.

Horses alive! At many stations on the river they fish on horseback, by riding into a considerable depth of water and throwing a peculiar kind of net, which is drawn back to the shore by the horse. Our letters are delivered at the door by a rat-tat in regular English style from the postman, who is on horseback. The daily journal is brought to us by a cavalier, who hands it in without dismounting; even a beggar-man rides up every Saturday to solicit _Una limosna por el amor de Dios_, and he has a license from the police in the shape of a piece of branded wood suspended round his neck. The aristocracy of beggary is evident in this fellow, too; for on one occasion, being offered cold meat and bread by my servant, he rode off, indignantly saying he wanted money to buy cigarritos.

_Horses making bricks!_ Ay, incredible as it may appear, there are the very animals which dragged the dead bodies of their brethren to be made fuel of at the brick-kilns before mentioned, now driven round and round in a circus, tramping into malleable mud clay and water mixed together, and doing everything in the brick-making except the moulding.

_Horses threshing corn!_ Here at our friend's estancia I see another large circus, styled a _hera_, in which are placed several sheaves of wheat, and into this are turned fifteen to twenty horses; a mounted man goes in also, and drives these animals with whip and yell round the circus until all the corn is threshed by their tramping.

_Horses churning butter!_ A novel sort of thing it is to see a bag made of hides, into which the milk is put when it is turned sufficiently sour; this bag, fastened to a long strip of rope-hide, is attached at the other end to the leather girth which is round the horse's body; the latter is then mounted by a gaucho, and ridden at a hard pace over the camp for a sufficient length of time to secure the making of the butter, by bumping the milk-bag against the ground.

A gaucho without his steed is an impracticability. To move his furniture, consisting of beds, chairs, tables, crockery, or hardware, the horse's back is fitted to the burden. Coffins are conveyed to the burying-ground by being strapped transversely on a horse's loins; and one would scarcely be surprised to hear of a specimen of the semi-centaur under consideration going asleep or cooking his dinner on horseback, more especially with the picture before us of a dentist operating on a poor fellow's grinders, the patient and his physician being both mounted.