Long Knife (43 page)

He was being toasted at midnight, as the fiddlers rested, when a mud-spattered messenger from Kaskaskia burst wild-eyed through the door, ran to him, saluted hastily, and blurted out before the startled assemblage:

“Colonel, sir, General Hamilton is outside Kaskaskia with an army of eight hundred!”

Panic and confusion put the room in a turmoil. “What is this?” George demanded, grabbing the courier by the front of his cloak.

“Aye, sir,” the man stammered. “He’s a-plannin’ t’ attack t’night, sir, and may already have done! I only got here by stayin’ off th’ road, sir!”

The guests had grown still now, and stood white-faced, crowding close to hear. “How come you by this?” George demanded. “Have they been seen?”

“Aye, sir. Rather, a party of their Indians was.”

Every eye in the place was on George now, as if his next words were to determine their fate.

There seemed to be nothing to do but try to get back to the fort at Kaskaskia and direct its defense, if it were not too late for that already. Gasps and forlorn murmurings filled the room when he announced the intention and told his officers to get the horses saddled. “Get blankets for us all,” he said. “In case the fort’s already surrounded, we’ll wrap in ’em and fall in with the Indians, and maybe get close to the fort that way. Then get let in at a signal.” The officers rushed out to get the horses ready.

“You mustn’t go back there, Colonel!” guests began imploring. “The town’s no doubt taken already, the fort already under attack!”

“Let us row you over to the Spanish shore, Mister Clark,” insisted the host. “Then you can study the situation in safety and decide tomorrow what to do.”

“Listen, all of you,” he said, raising his hand for quiet. “I appreciate your care, but I can’t disgrace myself by fleeing with my life, when there’s still a chance of doing service, as I reckon
I can. I hope you won’t let this news spoil your diversion. Get those fiddlers back to work, and we’ll take a few more turns till the horses are ready!”

The people gaped and hesitated for a moment, protesting and clamoring, until George went to a fiddler, took him by the arms and stood him up. “Play, damn you,” he muttered. Within minutes the ball was back in progress, though considerably less joyous. Several young men of the village, obviously inspired by the determination of the Americans, volunteered to saddle up and go with him. “Thank you, but no. Stay, in case you have to defend your own. But I would like one fast rider to take a message to Cahokia.”

“Here,
mon colonel!”

George penned a brief note to Captain Bowman, ordering him to bring reinforcements to Kaskaskia as quickly as he could get them on the road and to send apologies across the river to the de Leyba house. The messenger vanished into the night.

Then, his own men and horses being ready, George said his goodbyes to the host and guests, cloaked himself, and led his horsemen off at a breakneck gallop through spitting snow and darkness back down the twelve-mile road toward Kaskaskia and whatever might await them there.

Teresa, he thought as the powerful mount lunged and panted between his legs. Will I ever see you again?

K
NOWING THAT AN ARMY WOULD BE GUARDING ANY ROADS NEAR
its objective, George led his horsemen off the road and southwestward toward the riverbank when they were within a few miles of Kaskaskia, thus unknowingly avoiding the Indian party which now lay in ambush for him at the fording place where they had seen him that afternoon. They rode across open, snow-covered country in the ghostly semi-darkness, forded a stream that was up to their horses’ bellies, passed the old abandoned windmill, and plunged on through the snowdrifts. A mile above the town George brought the riders to a halt and listened for sounds that might tell whether the town was under fire yet. There was nothing.

He rode on, stopping every few yards to listen and watch for signs of enemy pickets, but met no interference. Soon his party was at the edge of the village. There was a hubbub of excited talking and shouting and sobbing to be heard in the streets, and when he rode in among the houses he was recognized and
greeted by scores of tearful men and women who implored him to save their town.

Entering the fort he found his garrison already getting into a state of defense, and there were several of the young Frenchmen who had come in with arms to assist. Riflemen were on the parapets, outlined dimly against the snowy night sky, and ammunition was being hauled to all the firing stations.

George assembled his captains and lieutenants in his headquarters and asked for their observations. Most of them felt that the British force was waiting for the weather to clear up before attacking.

“From the looks of it, they might also be hangin’ back to give us time t’ abandon the place,” said Captain Bailey. “I reckon it’d please ’em if we did.”

“Likely enough,” said George, “but if so, they aren’t going to have that pleasure. If we have to lose this place, we’ll sell it dear. Now what about the Frenchmen? Have they declared their intents?”

“Just them few as you saw in th’ compound, George. The rest of ’em are havin’ meetings all over the place. Reckon they’ll let us know come morning.”

“Aye. I think this is going to be the trial of their fidelity. I’m not sure I want ’em all anyway. If they take up arms to defend the town, we’ll be obliged probably to go out with ’em and give the enemy battle on th’ commons.”

“We’d surely lose the whole that way, against an army of eight hundred,” said Bailey.

“If I could have my choice,” George said, “I’d prefer to have those without families in here to reinforce the garrison, and the rest lay neutral. Bowman ought to come in by the river by tonight, and then I don’t doubt but with enough provision we could hold out a few weeks till Mr. Hamilton’s Indians should tire of the entertainment, as they always do if they don’t have immediate success. I won’t pretend our situation isn’t bad, but we’ve held forts in Kentucky against greater odds. What say you, boys?”

“Why, I say, bring ’em on,” laughed Bailey. “My people come out here t’ fight Englishmen and Indians, an’ they ain’t had th’ chance t’ shed a drop of blood yit.”

“Aye!”

“My company’s itchin’ fer a little diversion!”

“Mine, too!”

“Good.” George grinned, reassured by their spirit. “Come
daylight, then, we’ll hear what the townfolk intend. We’ll have to burn down the houses close around the fort if we’re going to be under siege. Now, gents, see to your guards, and get a bit of sleep if you can before day comes. Jim, would you fetch me the priest, please? I need to talk with him.”

Father Gibault came within ten minutes, his eyes bulging even more than usual, and embraced his friend. He had two pistols stuck in the sash of his cassock. He knocked a load of snow off the brim of his hat, accepted a glass of brandy and sat down.

“Well, Father, you’ve been among your flock. What d’you make of their resolve?”

Gibault looked down at his brandy. “If the enemy were not so numerous, George … if it were a more equal contest, I think they’d take your side, my son, but …”

George gritted his teeth. “They lack in character, Father.”

“They won’t be against you, you know, my boy. They’ll have their ways of helping.”

“A man stands fast or he doesn’t,” George said.

“You have to understand. This is not their war. They simply find themselves in the midst …”

“France is allied with America, Father.”

Gibault sighed.

“Anyway,” George went on, “what I brought you here to say, my friend, is that you stand in more personal danger yourself than any man of us here, including myself. I mean because of what you did for us at Vincennes. Hamilton will want your hide, Father, and so I should feel more easy if you were over on the Spanish side of the river. Would you be so kind as to take some papers and money across for me tomorrow?”

The priest’s eyes filled. He blinked, drained off his brandy, and sighed. “It would be wise, wouldn’t it?”

“It would.”

“Very well. I’ll go and have my servant pack. He and I can row; you won’t have to spare any of your defenders for that.” He rose. “I’ll come for the papers at daybreak. God protect you, my son.”

“And protect you too, my friend. When this adventure is over, Miss de Leyba and I will have need of a priest, I expect, and none other would be good enough.”

A
T DAYLIGHT THE TOWNSMEN WERE ASSEMBLED AT THE FORT AND
George went before them. They were haggard and agitated, apparently having counciled all night about their plight.

“I want to know what you think of doing,” George said. “Whether you want to defend the town or not. If you do, then I’ll bring my troops down from the fort and lead you. If the enemy is waiting out the weather, we might even discover their camp and get some advantage of ’em. What will it be, gentlemen?”

A dignified elder of the town stood up and held his hat before him. “Colonel Clark,” he began, “please understand that we are all in your interest. We have prospered and enjoyed the greatest happiness since your arrival here.

“But we have studied our situation maturely. Even with your whole force aiding us, we would make but a poor figure against so considerable an enemy. Have you thought, sir, of crossing the river and taking Spanish protection?”

“Not seriously, no.”

“We fear,
mon colonel
, that surely you could not keep possession of the fort for more than a single day. The enemy would surely set the adjacent houses on fire and thus burn the fort as well.

“With sorrow in our hearts, then,
mon colonel
, and despite our extreme affection for you, we have voted to act neither on the one side nor the other …” The old man dropped his eyes. George swept his ferocious gaze over the assembly. They all looked at their hands and squirmed.

George felt his rage rising. He turned his back on the gathering and stalked into an anteroom where he might master his fury unobserved. There he stood for several minutes, fists balled and trembling before him, teeth clenched, eyes shut tight.

When the passion had subsided, he walked back out to face them.

“If ever there was a set of traitors,” he said in a voice icy with contempt, “here they stand. I think then that you need no longer expect any favor from me. I am forced to conceive you as my secret enemies, and shall have to treat you as such! As for the enemy burning your houses, they shan’t have the opportunity, as I’ve decided in my own interest to do that myself first. Now, damn you, out of my sight!”

The people began a whining and complaining among themselves, and two or three pressed forward. “Colonel, believe us, we are in your interest! Give us an order, and we will bring enough provision to the fort to hold you the entire winter! Don’t think badly of us, sir!”

“By God, yes, I’ll take your provisions if you choose to bring
them! But if not, that’s fine, too! Either way, I’ve had all of you my stomach can stand. If you don’t bring it in, I’ll have to burn it all to keep it out of the enemy’s hands, so do as you will. But get away before you make me vomit!”

The people began leaving, some of the men even sobbing and wailing. Their distress moved him, despite his anger. Of course their sympathies are with us, he thought. Of course they’re suffering. Their town about to be set afire by us whose favor they want; at the same time surrounded by savages they can expect nothing from but destruction.

But they have to understand how desperate and determined we are. And when it comes to defense, I can’t have a mob of cowards in my way.

The citizens were not in such a state of lethargy that they had not taken his hint about burning provisions, and by evening they had brought into the fort enough stores of all kinds to last six months. They came up the hill bearing it in barrows and on their shoulders, many with tears streaming down their faces. The fort was soon in a good state of defense, and George sent several parties of men out with orders to find where the enemy was, hoping perhaps to attack their detachments swiftly and weaken them before they could take possession of the town. Other soldiers he sent out to burn down the houses that stood in the way of a good defense, and by late afternoon the immediate neighborhood was under a gray pall of dirty smoke. George stood on the parapet with Captain Bailey and they watched orange flames lick among the timbers, watched roofs and walls seep white smoke, then turn black and cascade roaring to the ground, watched cinders and ash billow into the sky to rain down on the snow everywhere. As he had expected, the heavy cover of snow on the roofs prevented the fire from spreading to any houses he had not intended to burn.

“Why is it, d’you think,” he asked, “that a hearth fire smells so good but a burning house stinks so?”

“Don’t know, George,” Bailey replied with a sad shake of his head. “Guess it’s just somethin’ people put in wood by livin’ in it.”

The weather cleared that night. Embers smoked in the snow and mud. The Americans and a few bachelors of the town remained on guard around the palisades. Scouts returned to report that they had not yet turned up a sign of an enemy. The citizens stayed in their homes and prayed. There was no attack that night.

The next day Joseph Bowman arrived from Cahokia with thirty men of his own and a company of French volunteers from Cahokia, and a better spirit began to prevail everywhere in the fort. The Kaskaskians watched the Cahokia volunteers march proudly into the fort and looked more morose and ashamed than ever, even envious.

“Look at those people now,” Bailey said. “Reckon they wish by now they’d behaved in a different manner?”

“I’m sure of it.”

If the inhabitants had expected more severe treatment now that the Americans were reinforced, they were surprised. George altered his attitude toward them, treating them with kindness and a pleasant aspect whenever a man or group came into the fort with some request or another. Late in the afternoon a delegation of civilians came up, spent a half hour condemning themselves and saying he had indeed treated them as they deserved; they begged his forgiveness and swore that they would fight alongside him to the last man if the enemy did attack. Now the whole place was in a state of readiness and a fierce sense of happiness and strength prevailed.