"With Sacred Honor" Chapters 17-20

Solomon's story continues in chaptera 17 through 20 of With Sacred Honor. Chapters 1 through 16 are also available for download to Amazon's Kindle. In the coming weeks, look for additional chapters on this site and on Amazon. Later in 2011 we expect to publish a print edition of the entire book. Thanks for reading! Please send any feedback to jbsolomoneditions@yahoo.com.

XVII.

We returned to Fort William Henry with news that there would be many small streams and creeks to ford as the army made its way west. Other than the occasional old camp, we had come across little that would indicate we would be impeded as we made our way. Furthermore, our Iroquois brethren had assured our safe passage through their lands.  

On our first morning after returning to the fort, we finished our morning scout early and were dismissed to attend to our own needs as we saw fit. I crawled to the top of the fort’s bastions and watched as the evening’s stars were slowly obliterated by the ceaseless columns of light sent forth by the sun. I thought of Abigail and Patrick, which brought a small parting of my lips. And then my lonely life came to find me. Thoughts of her raided my mind, and I was unable to force them out; though, truthfully, I didn’t really want to. The sensations always passed through in generally the same manner. First, something to tease back a memory – it usually did not take much. Perhaps a smell akin to the scent of her hair. Then the memory would fully develop; it would always start with the eyes, and then the rest of her face would appear. Abigail was right; Catherine was my smile when I could muster no other happiness. The worst part of the memories was their parting – they dissolved suddenly and apparition-like. And I would find myself alone, wondering where and how she was. It was amazing – and sometimes, in my darkest moments, vexing – how such a short period of actual events could occupy so much of my thoughts, and for so long.

By now the sun was creeping over the horizon and I knew that I should rejoin my company. I hopped down and crossed the parade ground, glancing one last time over my shoulder toward the eastern sky and casting the memories’ remnants from my mind. Fortuitously, I soon came across a childhood friend – Noah Oakum – who bore news of Stockbridge. Rebuilding had begun, and the men of Stockbridge seemed to be making a name for them and their like. Apparently, the raid on our village had awakened some profound fortitude, buried deep beneath the years we had spent peacefully in the embrace of the Church. When the French and their allies planned a raid in the North, Noah recounted, warriors sought always to pass as far to the west or east of our village as possible – for, they whispered nervously, the Mohican Wolves had torn their fetters asunder and had been unleashed.

Nonetheless, in preparation for any who might make an attempt on Stockbridge, Reverend Jonathan Edwards had seen to a small stockade being erected near his mission house. As I listened intently, Noah told me about the small ranger company he was scouting for and their abundant ignorance. I told Noah that I had fared better than he, having been fortunate enough to take up with a group of fine men. He assured me that my luck had always been such. Then, with a pained look, he questioned me about Catherine’s whereabouts. My look told him enough. He averted his eyes and we silently contemplated the early morning light; his inquiry had sent my mind on yet another fruitless errand. Noah and I were drawn from our morning meditations by the sudden rattle of drums.

“Looks like another company of hat men coming in,” Noah stated.

 “Looks like,” I said with a nod.

Two columns of crimson-clad soldiers marched briskly though the fort’s gates. Leading the columns was an officer perched upon a white stallion. Even from the distance that separated us, I could see his gold braids and crisp three-cornered hat. He also wore a gorget about his neck – the ever-present, ever-clanking mark of a British officer. Captain Hobbs had surmised long ago that gorgets were not conducive to an extended life in the forest and had duly cast his aside.

“Scout! You – Noah!” called the sergeant of Noah’s company. I realized that Hobbs must have been looking for me by then.

“God be with you, Solomon,” Noah said. “Find me when we start west.”

“I’ll do that,” I returned. “God speed, Noah.”

By now the new company was completely through the gate and I thought that on my way back to my company I would skim by and take a look at these fellows. I jogged to catch up with them and then kept pace alongside. The first few soldiers I encountered sneered or chuckled at the sight of me. I ignored them, knowing one day they would be happy to have me out there scouting the wilderness in front of them. Most of them would probably never know the grief that I might save them nor what comforts they were afforded at rangers’ expense. I found one fellow, though, who did seem contemplative, so I began the usual line of questioning I employed with new arrivals.

“Where are you marching from?” I inquired.

“Boston. We just came into port a month ago, and straight away they have us crossing all of the King’s Land. Hell of a ride across the Atlantic. Thought for sure I’d be tossed over; quite a few, quite a few,” he rambled.

The man spoke like no one had ever turned a willful ear his way. He continued on about storms, rats, black drinking water, and wormy hard tack. I listened intently to what he had to say until the shadow of a mounted man fell across the talkative soldier’s face.

“Pray tell your worry, private?” came from above.

That voice. I knew that voice. I spun around and came face to leg with the British officer. As I looked up I could see, in the breaking daylight, the face of the very same major with whom we had clashed in the Boston tavern.

“Do you seek something in particular, scout, or just to bother my soldier?” he spat.

Despite my attempts to remain unresponsive, I glared up at him and shook my head. I realized that he did not recognize me and I thought it the better. So I made off toward the head of the columns. Along the way, I re-primed my firelock and thought about what we might be sent against today. My pace was quick, and I overtook the soldiers one by one, as I knew the Captain would certainly be looking for me by then. I reached the head of the columns and turned my head for a glance at the major’s lady, who had accompanied her man to this distant place. I wondered what sort of person kept company with his like. She was looking hard right – away from me – as I approached, but as I closed the last few feet she looked straight ahead. My damn head felt like I had been struck with club.

For there, riding upon a horse at the head of the columns, as though she had materialized from my recent, melancholy musings, was Catherine. Catherine, my Catherine – now the woman – the lover – of Major Todd.

“Did she see you?” Abigail asked a short while later.

“No,” I shot back sullenly. “She was looking ahead. I saw her as I ran beside the columns.”

“Why is she with the Major?” continued Abigail.

“I do not know. Did you suppose that I would speak to her? I have not seen her in years. She probably would not even recognize me,” I sputtered in frustration.

“Are you sure it was her?” Abigail asked in a very sisterly fashion. I responded with a glare.

“Hobbs’ Company, fall in!” came the captain’s order.

I rushed out to join up with the rest of Hobbs’ men. Crum ribbed me with his elbow when I fell in with my fellows.

“Where have you been?” he asked

“In hell,” I replied curtly. Crum looked at me in confusion as we neared the columns assembled on the parade ground.

“Present your firelocks!”

The order was sent down by captains, sergeants, and corporals, echoing throughout and above the massed men. In unison, each firelock was briskly brought up so that the bottom of its stock rested near the knee of each soldier. The muzzles of the guns were canted up and at an angle. The English colors were paraded down before us and back. “God Save the King” was played on fife and drum while men remained with their firelocks presented – all a fine show by the new company. At the conclusion of the ceremony, that which I dreaded most occurred. Colonel Montgomery came to review the troops and as he rode past, Major Todd fell in beside him – with his lady close behind. By now, some of the newer men had begun to shake, as they were not accustomed to standing at present for a long duration. The more seasoned men, however, endured this drill passively.

My eyes shifted to the mounted officers riding down the line. Thankfully, the officers had rid themselves of the notion that Indian scouts should stand at attention and no longer required it of us. Still, we were expected to be silent and to not turn our backs on the colors or officers. The reviewers’ approach made me anxious, and I began to unconsciously shift from foot to foot. Captain Hobbs noticed my uncomfortable movements and whispered for me to settle. Unfortunately, the captain whispered his words just as Colonel Montgomery and his fellow riders came abreast of Hobbs’ Company. Colonel Montgomery, ever-watchful and ever-hearing, caught Captain Hobbs speaking and knew that he must address this infraction.

“Captain Hobbs, is there something the matter with your scout?” inquired Montgomery

“Your lordship, I believe he is anxious for the wooded trail, to seek out England’s most hated enemies,” Hobbs replied. “You are acquainted with how these savages misbehave and must constantly be reined to their duties. Your pardon, please, sir.”

“Hobbs, send forward your scout,” Montgomery ordered as soon as Hobbs had finished his groveling. In that moment I felt as if hot lead were being ladled into my ears and scalding metal being pressed to my face. I obeyed, stepping from my place behind Hobbs’ Company and presenting myself before Colonel Montgomery. I stood with my eyes cast down and my musket hanging limply at my side.

“Major Todd, this is one of our red Indian scouts,” Montgomery offered instructively. “Note them well; they are worthless at standing guard or procuring water or the many other menial tasks we set our soldiers to, as they consider such duties ‘women’s work.’ But their knowledge and skill of the forest is unsurpassed and invaluable to our quest against France and her papist king.”

“Yes, your lordship, I will bear this in mind the next time that I encounter one of these dogs sniffing near my men,” Todd replied. This was greeted by a sideways glance and a turn in the saddle by Colonel Montgomery.

“Pray tell, have you been the receiver of some mischief by these fellows?” Montgomery questioned.

“Lordship, just this day when we were arriving, I found this particular scout – though I must admit they all look quite the same, but as I believe it, this one – questioning one of my men of his march from Boston,” Todd replied. “With all due respect, sir, you should be careful of these fellows, as they might set out with such information and hand it to the enemy for nothing more than a jug of rum.”

Major Todd nearly glowed as he gave forth what he surmised in his own fiendish mind to be the truth behind the motives of my fellow scouts and me. This angered me greatly, as I supposed myself more properly in place and competent at this station in the wilderness than he would ever be. I tightly clenched my musket in my hand until Sergeant Timms quietly blew through his teeth at me, a sound imperceptible by any except one accustomed to listening constantly for harbingers of danger signaled by little more than a chirp or click by those brothers stalking behind him. Silence fell over those looming above me; the major and colonel were obviously waiting to see if I would make some bold retort. When a few moments had passed and still I had said nothing, it was clear that Colonel Montgomery was truly mulling over the words – say I, the lies – spoken by Todd. Colonel Montgomery edged his horse near me. I could smell the sweat of the beast and I was incorporated into a swarm of flies, the likes of which accompany these creatures at all times.

 “Scout, what is your name?” inquired Montgomery.

My heart crashed into my stomach.

“Solomon,” I muttered lowly, still looking at the ground and the hooves of Montgomery’s horse.

“Scout, when I ask you a direct question, you will look at me and give me a direct and clear answer,” Montgomery nearly shouted in his thick Scottish accent. “Now, out with your name!”

The moment was inevitable. I slowly lifted my head up to direct my gaze at Colonel Montgomery’s ruddy face, bulging eyes, and tightly drawn lips. In the corner of my vision was a blurred image of Catherine, who was looking toward me, though not at me, with eyes squinting in the streaming morning light. Her face seemed to show little concern for the goings on.

“Your lordship, I am Solomon of the Stockbridge Indians, scout for Captain Humphrey Hobbs’ Company of Rangers,” I stated in a loud, clear voice.

I continued to hold his gaze, but from the corner of my eye I could now see that Catherine, over the colonel’s shoulder, was adjusting forward in her saddle. At the mention of Stockbridge she had brought a gloved hand to her forehead to shield the sun; and this is how she was now to be found, staring across the void, looking at a ghost. Catherine’s face was twisted in confusion and what I might have taken for anger had I not remembered that this was the look she took when concentrating deeply.

“That is all, scout. Return to your position and mind you be more attentive to officers,” Montgomery ordered.

My eyes shifted for a moment to Catherine, and then I quickly withdrew myself and moved to stand behind Hobbs’ Company once again. I felt her eyes upon me as I moved. The sound of horse tails swishing resounded like thunder in my ears as I began to make my turn. I came back around to face forward and watched the procession of three mounts continue on. Catherine, her chin tucked tightly to her shoulder, half-turned her face toward me. Seeing me returning her look, she brought her head back around and I could feel other eyes upon me. Sergeant Timms had not missed the exchange of glances, and he now wore a shining, humorous countenance upon his face; thankfully, he spoke no words.

Finally, all were dismissed, and I immediately made my way toward our ranger hut. I felt hurried steps falling behind me, but I would not look back. Then a hand came gently to my shoulder, which caused me to stop and turn. Sergeant Timms was standing there and he still retained his look of amusement.

“Solomon, Scourge of the French, Taker of Scalps, Walker of the Night’s Edge, have you, with all these accomplishments, also lost your damn mind?” Sergeant Timms laced through his laughter.

I shook his hand off of my shoulder and tried to press on.

“Oh, Solomon, come now! Be truthful and do not tell me lies,” Timms insisted. “That cannot be the one that you speak of; surely you have made some confusion. May be that you swallowed too much powder during that last little scrap we were in and it has eaten your brains, is that it?”

The sergeant kidded on. I, too, was now unable to keep from laughing, and Timms greeted this by running up and tackling me to the ground where we fell in a heap of firelocks, pouches, and wild laughter. Captain Hobbs came upon us and inquired as to what we were doing. I noticed that as he questioned us, his words were followed by a sharp coughing fit that rattled his entire body and left him doubled over, his fist to his mouth.

“Captain, are you all right?” Sergeant Timms inquired.

"It’s nothing … just the dust all these damn men have been kicking up,” Hobbs explained away. “What with all the many new ones here, I can’t hardly walk anywhere without getting a mouthful of earth in my lungs. You men meet up with the rest of us at the hut; we need to go over the morrow duties, as we will be escorting a group of boatmen when they carry their bateaus to the lake’s edge.”

With that Hobbs walked away and left Sergeant Timms and me sitting side by side on the grassy parade grounds. We stared at Captain Hobbs as he walked away, and Sergeant Timms remarked that he believed the captain had borne this cough for a few days now, and that it had grown successively more severe.

“He’s also a little pale, I should think …” Timms said somberly. “… but not as pale as you were when you saw Major Todd’s lady!” He ended with a piercing whisper, then pushed on my chest, thumping me back against the ground.

He continued to laugh as he braced his musket against the ground and hauled himself to his feet. Wiping away tears with the back of his hand, he stood over me and gave me a beaming grin. Then he grew more serious.

“She is the major’s woman and you should be careful, Solomon,” Timms said slowly. “But war is a hellish place, and from the words that I have heard spoken about the fort, what we will soon be set against will be like nothing you have ever seen – and the likes of which I have encountered but briefly. So, brother, if there is something that you need to say to her, do it quietly and do not bring notice to yourself. It is likely we, as rangers, will be sent into the very Devil’s maw. So I say to you from experience, do not leave words unsaid.”

Timms offered nothing more, save that same stare I had first seen back in Stockbridge. He then removed himself from my view, leaving only the endless blue sky before me. I closed my eyes for a moment to drink in his counsel.

But soon I was returned to the present when Patrick roughly dragged me to my feet.

“Damn it, Solomon, we haven’t the time for sleeping,” he said. “I swear to Christ you’d nap on the battle line if there was no protest. Let’s go!”

And go we went as I followed him in a slow jog back to Hobbs’ Company’s encampment.   

XVIII.

I had imagined that my reunion with Catherine would have been very different, but here we were: far from home and in a wild and distant place that neither of us had ever supposed we would find ourselves. I tried to fool myself into thinking it possible she had not thought it me, but knew this to be an untruth. She had recognized me.

I wandered the fort and saw to my duties as always but was left with the haunting realization that I would need to speak to her when the opportunity presented itself. We were being desperately set at the many tasks needing to be performed for the march. One aspect that created difficulty was that Captain Hobbs’ sickness had worsened and Sergeant Timms was left to many of the duties normally reserved for a captain’s charge. Abigail attempted to create succor for Hobbs, but nothing seemed to relieve the great pains that visited him, and his soft coughing had turned into a hellish bark that shook the whole of his body when he was set to the fits of his illness. This caused a distraction to us, even when we were not in his presence, as we each saw him as a great leader and friend. The day came when Captain Hobbs could no longer raise himself from his pallet, and we were all acquainted with the realization of what path our captain was on.

On the day prior to his death, Captain Hobbs was blessed with a few moments of lucidity. He called us all to his bed and we stood, encircling his broken body. A strong spirit still burned from him as he slowly turned his head in a final review of his soldiers.

“Men, I am short of this world and will soon be home with my Father,” he began. “You all know well your duties, and I trust that you will be true to them and to your king.”

His benediction was interrupted by a horrible, rasping cough that visibly caused him great pains – pains which bolted out amongst us, buffeting the lot of us in waves of shared misery.

“You will continue on and be good men; leave no path not ventured, leave nothing unsaid that you mean.” This last was said as his slit eyes fell upon me, he echoing Timms’ words. Then his eyes turned to Timms himself.

“Sergeant,” he said, his voice nearing a whisper, “the company is yours.”

He finished with another coughing spell and we excused ourselves from the hut as Abigail and the other ladies attended to his pains. In the night, Captain Hobbs’ life passed from him and he was prepared for burial. No man, despite his strength and spirit, was capable of keeping back the tears that burned hot on his cheeks. With hideous disbelief, we were made to lower this great man into his final place. Before we placed Captain Hobbs into his grave, Sergeant Timms stepped forward with a eulogy to him.

“Your Lordship, we have fought bravely beside you and now stand ready at this final place where you will, one day, rise to glory to meet our Creator in the sky,” Timms began. “Great God in Heaven, watch over our captain and friend. Sir, we shall meet you in Heaven, where there will be no more partings – no more partings forever.”

This said, each man grasped the thick leather straps that had been placed underneath Captain Hobbs’ body. He had been bound in his white, wool blanket that was emblazoned with a giant GR and the British broad arrow. We bent our backs as we slowly lowered his heavy body to the earthen depths. Another company volunteered to replace the soil, and we went away, separating from one another as we drifted. I walked a few paces from Hobbs’ grave and braced myself against a tree. Whelan came to me. He placed a gentle arm around my shoulder and drew me near. He explained that he had lost many brothers at sea and that it never becomes easy, this business of past friends. His words were comforting and made the dealing easier.

“Solomon, you know how when we come to camp that we stack our muskets together so that they all stand and all hold each other up?” Whelan asked. I nodded. “That is like this – we each will hold each other up, alright?”

His words, although forming a perfect consolation to my first loss of a dear friend, brought forth more tears, at which Whelan drew me closer and assured me that this is the way of things. I hated it. I was still young and did not want to come to such fates. My thoughts were lost in the idea that a man who had stood so strong in the face of our enemy could be stolen away by something such as this. Were we not all meant to die a great death in battle? I began to understand, not without bitterness and regret, that not all events in life are as a man might imagine or hope them to be. Thanking Whelan for his words, I shuffled away. Soon I caught sight of a figure, draped in a dark cloak, standing on a nearby knoll. I drew the rough cloth of my shirt across my face to brush away my grief and then looked longer at the cloaked person.

I knew that it was Catherine but was unsure if I would approach her. Major Todd had not attended Hobbs’ burial, as he had thought Hobbs an adversary and had held great disdain for him. My face clear, I steeled myself and walked toward Catherine. She was standing alone.  As I drew near her, the gray sky broke with a light rain that fell upon everything. When I gained her position, I viewed her face, enshrined in the hood of her cloak. She bore a dark countenance, and the sight of my renewed tears brought forth from her a likewise state.

I wanted to embrace her but could not bring myself to it. I sat down at her feet as we lamented the death of great Hobbs – my tears for my friend and hers’ for me. I sat so near as to feel the fringes of her cloak against my back. Some of the highland men who had benefitted from the presence of Hobbs’ Company approached Captain Hobbs’ grave. Despite his avowed, vocal disagreement with the sounds of bagpipes, he always seemed also to hold a secret reverence for them. Now, as the highlanders played their dirge, the sounds did little to distract me from my grief; truly, they made me to weep more deeply for our lost friend.  The light rain began to fall stronger and Catherine pressed herself near me, looming overhead to shield me from the downpour, offering what comfort she could to me. No words were exchanged as we mourned all that had passed in a few years. But we were not to remain long in this state.

“Catherine!” a voice called shrilly. “Woman, there you are? What is this? Damn you, what are you about? I told you not to come to this thing. Why do you cry for this sad bastard? And why are you near this savage?”

Major Todd’s curses continued as Catherine backed away from me and faced him. I was still set in my place and would not acknowledge this usurper’s presence.

“Wife, return to quarters this minute,” Todd ordered, then turned his voice upon me. “ And boy – I will have words with you.”

I heard her go. I also heard Todd’s footfalls as he neared me. My anguish was suddenly replaced by rage as my soaked shirt, which had started me to shiver, clung to my body. My shivers of cold were changed to tremors of anger when the Major grabbed my arm and tried to haul me to my feet. I slipped and staggered on the wet grass as I was spun around to meet the jealous husband’s face.

“What the hell do you suppose you are doing drawing near my wife, boy?” Todd yelled.

Lightning had now begun to cross the sky, and I stood facing a man that I absolutely disdained for a thousand reasons. I was repulsed by his disgrace to my fallen captain and I was sickened by his relationship with the one whom I so loved.

“Scout, I will take your life if you so much as glance at my wife, do you understand me?” Major Todd threatened.

He continued in this manner, gradually escalating his vows of injury. I would not bring a fight in this place of sacred rest for Captain Hobbs, so I allowed him to continue his threats so long as he did not make a move to cause real injury. I supposed that I would probably kill him on this very ground if he pressed the issue, but when he could elicit no response from me save a blank stare he made his final comment about me being a coward and then stomped away, following Catherine’s trail and yelling after her. Major Todd’s words trailed off as he sloshed back to his comfortable place in the fort. A strange duplicity rose in my mind as I thought on these two officers. Captain Hobb had come to accept and embrace me. He had been fair and honest while Major Todd embodied everything that I abhorred. I pushed thoughts of Todd away as I paid my final respects to the man who had led us through the most arduous of tasks. The rain had by now soaked me so thoroughly that my very bones ached. I walked to the grave and pulled an arrow from my quiver. In a sign of honor I drove it down into the moist earth, as deep as the fletching. I stepped away and said a silent prayer.

My return to the ranger hut was met by Wendell, who had returned for the wake. He pushed a clay mug that was filled with ale into my hand. I quaffed down the beer and slid the cup across the single rough table that stood in our cabin. Instantly it was refilled and handed back to me. All raised mugs gave celebration to our captain and his deeds. Patrick had regained the fiddle that he had procured earlier and began a slow reel that was so like that one which I had heard, long ago, on the banks of the Housatonic River. Too many memories, thoughts, and emotions swept over me in those moments and I felt near insane with the bombardment. Those long hours wiled on as we imbibed deeply. Songs were sung, huzzahs were placed on a passing soul, and every few moments were broken by this or that man or woman’s cries and sobs. No laughter echoed in our cabin that night, and the next morning we were excused from our duties. Our sorrow knew no boundaries.

A final note on this evening is that sometime when the rain subsided, Sergeant Timms drew us all out of the hut and had us fire a volley of honor – and it is truly amazing that no one was injured, as we were all by that hour unfit to handle a musket.   

XIX.

Near midday after Captain Hobbs’ funeral, we rose and boiled hot water for use in making tea and for cleaning our muskets. Few words were exchanged as we sat in a small circle, exchanging cleaning rags and mugs of hot beverage. The rains had gone but the skies stayed gray. A messenger was sent from Colonel Montgomery requesting Sergeant Timms to present himself to the major’s office. Sergeant Timms rose and drew a musket ball from a small pouch hanging at his belt. He cut a patch of cloth from an oiled strip hanging from his pouch strap. He used this to gently wrap the huge musket ball, and then he squeezed the ball in his hand. Bringing his powder horn to his lips, he pulled the small plug with his teeth and shook a small bit of powder into the pan of his musket, snapping closed the hammer and drawing the cock halfway back. He dumped more powder down the musket barrel and then used his thumb to push the patch and ball into the barrel. He did all of this with practiced precision and watched us rather than his hands as he drew the ramrod and pushed the ball down, seating it properly. His face held no expression as he jammed the ball, bouncing the rammer a few times and then replacing it against the musket barrel. We had all stopped our cleaning, and a few still sipped teas in silence as we watched him.

“Crum, watch the boys while I’m gone,” Timms said. “Make sure they all clean their guns, and send two men to draw lead and powder. Send two more to fill the haversacks and ask the ladies to finish the washing. Solomon, with me.”

And so passed Timms’ orders, just as we had received them so many times before from Captain Hobbs. I drew my matchcoat over my shoulder and loaded my musket as we walked.

“Right then. You bastards off your arses and quit your dallying,” Crum ordered as we left.

Sergeant Timms and I walked through the gates of the fort and crossed the parade ground to Colonel Montgomery’s quarters. He and I stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway as we looked in. Montgomery was obscured by several officers who were leaning over a table and discussing battle plans, their pointed fingers running here and there over a map. Timms looked over at me but said nothing, and then looked back into the office. One officer straightened himself and rubbed a hand in the small of his back, eliciting a popping sound from his spine. He turned and we saw that it was Major Todd. A fiendish grin spread across his face as he looked at us standing there and my blood ran cold.

“Sergeant Timms. Come in, come in,” beckoned Montgomery. “Leave your scout at the door.”

Timms looked at me again, and I turned and placed my back against the wall next to the doorway; listening.

“Sergeant, my condolences at the loss of Captain Hobbs. He was great man and his service will be missed,” Montgomery stated. I heard a small puff of air dealt out, no doubt, from Todd. “Sergeant, I will be elevating you to lieutenant in the absence of Captain Hobbs. It was initially thought that you would accompany the force that will be going north, but I have decided to attach you to a light infantry company that will be passing to Schenectady to push west. You will be with Major Todd’s company and I trust that you two have been acquainted?”

“Yes, Your Lordship,” Timms and Todd answered in unison.

“Good then,” Montgomery said. “Major, explain to Lieutenant Timms what he is to do to prepare, and be sure that he and his men are properly provisioned as you will be leaving on the morrow.”

“Lieutenant, have your men draw lead and food¼” began the major.

“Already done, Your Lordship,” Hobbs said through clenched teeth – I knew this even without looking.

“Do not interrupt me, man! I am your superior, and you will see it as such and address me as such. Do you understand, lieutenant?” Major Todd’s voice rose to a girlish squeal in his indignation.

“Your pardon, sir,” gave Timms.

“Now. Return to your godforsaken hut and be ready for morning formation. Do not allow your men to get drunk this evening, as we will be pushing hard to gain Schenectady in a few days. Are my orders clear enough for you, ranger?” Major Todd shouted, injecting derisive laughter in the words hut and ranger.

“Splendidly, sir,” Timms returned. I heard the swish of his coat as he brushed against the table, turning to go.

“Stop!” Major Todd squealed again. I heard Timms pause. “Now, then, you are free to go; dismissed,” Todd gleefully gave out.

Sergeant Timms burst out of the doorway without even looking my direction. His steps were quick and heavy.

“Scout,” Timms growled.

I had to jog to catch up to him, and when I did I could hear him muttering every curse and disparagement that he could think of upon Major Todd’s head.

“That son of a whore, bastard, ass of a mule¼” Timms continued. At one point he stopped and turned to me.

“You know, I was fighting the French before that yellow bastard even thought of strapping on a sword,” he uttered. “While he was sipping his fine clarets and eating fruit from the islands, I was scraping ticks off my legs with a knife, eating whatever we could find that wasn’t too rotten, and getting shot at every time we crested a hill. That monkey’s arse couldn’t find his way through the forest if a straight path was cut a mile wide to where he was going and now, now we are supposed to be attached to his company and traverse hundreds of miles to God knows where! What more shit can be piled on us?” Timms exploded in great rant.

“Well, congratulations on making Lieutenant,” I said optimistically, which nearly elicited an injury from Timms. He really did growl then, and promptly stomped off toward our hut. I fell in behind, trying to stifle a snicker that was bittersweet. Indeed, how much more shit could be piled on?

By morning’s light, we were presented before the men of Major Todd. They were light infantry and they could be heard making comments about the unnecessary, burdensome addition of rangers. We were impassive to these comments and made an appearance as to not hear their words. Major Todd apprised us of the situation and of our duties, which he seemed to minimize in any way he knew how. The ladies who had provided unending comforts to Hobbs’ Company had come to see us off. They gathered together in a tight circle, attempting to comfort one another. Abigail held Hannick with one arm around his waist, he sitting on her hip. Her small, bulging belly that had begun to present itself the past few days stood out with greater distinction that morning. Her other hand gently scratched at Namoosh’s ears. Namoosh had a most peculiar look of concern on her face and did not stand, as usually she did, with her tongue hanging casually – rather she watched on with a most distraught expression. As Timms gave out his orders, I looked at her and could hear her whimpering, which brought me much sadness. I finally allowed my eyes to wander up to Abigail, who was herself holding back tears. At the lieutenant’s closure, we were allowed to huddle near a small fire that would be last of such comforts for awhile.

“Boys, you will enjoy a final merriment before we make for the west,” Todd announced. “I have asked my beautiful wife to play a parting tune for you all. So, enjoy it well and praise her properly!”    In the past few days, he had paraded Catherine about the fort, more like a trophy than a companion. It tore at my soul, but I knew no way to approach her as he always held her within his gaze.

Catherine stepped forward with her fiddle in hand. She gave a shallow bow to us and then began playing. As so long ago, I was transfixed and seemed to float on each little sound that she produced. Absolute silence fell over the men as they, too, listened with great intensity. A few pipes were lit and hot cups of various beverages were passed amongst the small groupings of brothers. We each thought on our fates and knew that we would be challenged by a thousand dangers in the weeks and months to follow. By now, most had become acquainted with the fort that stood at the confluence of the Niagara River and Lake Ontario. Tales were spread of a great, monstrous castle that was impenetrable by any but God’s own angels. And Catherine’s song continued on. Finally, we were told to make our goodbyes, so we approached those that we would be long in seeing. I separated Patrick and Abigail for only a moment, as I knew their parting time was in greater need. I held Abigail tightly and asked her to watch over Namoosh.

“You come back to me, brother. All of you, not just some damn shadow of the fine young man I see now before me. I love you, Solomon,” Abigail choked out through her tears.

I knew that I would be unable to reply to her without crying myself, so I drew her closer and squeezed the back of her neck with my hand. I was then obliged to give an embrace to the other ladies, and then I separated myself from the tearful group. In the earlier hours, before day had broken, I had gone off by myself and plucked my hair back to a proper scalp-lock. I had braided the long, remaining hairs and had affixed a fine red shock of deer hair to my crown. I had, also, painted my face in the traditional way of a warrior, with reds, blacks, yellows, and whites. Timms said that I looked like a proper demon in my attire. This was my appearance as I walked to the edge of the company and as near to Catherine as I dared. I carefully watched Major Todd as he was cajoled by several officers who would be remaining at Fort William Henry. He was quite busy with this affair and thus did not see Catherine walk near to me and press a small bundle into my hand and lean in to say, “Be watchful, Solomon. Be watchful and return soon – I will be waiting.”

She continued on her way after that moment at my side that could have been mistaken for nothing more than a thoughtful pause. I shoved the bundle into the open place in my shirt and felt it settle down inside, near my sash. I did not have the courage to watch her retreat. I simply continued to my place, now with even more to think upon in this early hour. Lieutenant Timms was reviewing his route map, and I went to him. I looked over the map with him as he explained where I was to go and what to be cautious of on the trail. Lastly, without appearing to deviate from his explanations, he asked me what I thought Catherine had given me. I looked at him with surprise and he brought his face from the map with a grin.

“Come now, boy, don’t you know that your eyes give away too much? It will be our secret,” Timms assured. “Now, get down the path. We’ll be right behind you.”

With this, I ran. I made a quick scan of the wooded edge and then plunged into the forest. My glance back caught Major Todd giving a terse kiss and a pat on the head of Catherine, which sent my blood ablaze. I then looked to the soldiers as they were ordered into their lines and the rangers out front, ambling as they best saw fit.

XX.

Our pace was faster than I supposed it would be, and we traversed the paths to Schenectady without incident.

In Schenectady, we met with the major force that had been drawn together to oppose the French at Niagara. General Prideaux was the commanding officers among our lines. He had gathered many officers and soldiers, including one of whom I stood in awe. Sir William Johnson had been a name that I had heard a thousand times in the preceding years. He had begun as a trader and had risen to become held in great esteem by both English and Indians alike. Sir William had brought a great force of the Iroquois Nation. He had been assured by them that it was their utmost desire that the French be removed from the land of the Seneca, a member of their great confederacy. It was good to be in the company of so many other Indian warriors, and as preparations were laid, I spent a great deal of time conferring with them. Some said that they had been in the fort at Niagara, and they explained it in great detail to me. Niagara was a massive, stone fortress with many cannon. It was situated on a slightly elevated point of land that defended the confluence of the Niagara River and Lake Ontario. It held a small port with a few ships that kept it readily supplied from other French holdings to the north.

These warriors stated that the French man, Pouchot, believed that there would be little danger from the English from the east. He had become so confident in the words given him by the Iroquois that he had relieved some of his men to march south. His goal was to regain the lands in the Ohio Country that had been lost in earlier campaigns. The Iroquois had assured Pouchot that they thought of the French as allies. This they once had indeed been – but now the alliance was but a betrayal, a ruse the Iroquois had undertaken because the French had betrayed them. This brought confidence to me and the others.

On the morning that we left to Schenectady to begin further west, we filled the many bateau and whale boats that had been wrought for this push. Time was needed for the men to adjust to this very different platform. We, accustomed to the presence of solid ground underfoot, needed practice in these crafts that were at the mercy of the rolling tide. Each boat held about sixteen men. We supposed that, with the aid of the Iroquois, we would pass through their lands unscathed. But early on we realized that this was not to be assured. One morning, some of the men who were charged with steering and caring for the boats put ashore without their guns. Immediately musket fire erupted from the forest and soon seven of them were dead and one carried away. The remaining boatmen were deeply chastised to never go anywhere without their firelocks, a lesson already deeply instilled in us woodsmen. The Iroquois were deeply insulted that this ambush could occur in their homeland, and they became enraged at the prospect of enemy warriors lurking in the area. Sir William encouraged them to remain true to the goal of attacking Fort Niagara, and his words were held in great solemnity by the warriors. He continued to send his loyal scouts to take false returns to the French officers and General Pouchot, which greatly aided our passage.

Great evidence of this area’s volatility was present in every stop we made. Many small forts had been constructed. Sometimes these were little more than strong houses made of stone and equipped with loopholes in the walls to aid in repelling attackers. This was an area of perpetual warfare, and we became acquainted with the inhabitants and their well wishes for our campaign, they hoping that our endeavor would bring a greater peace to them. We frequently saw enemy scouts trying to access our strength and numbers. It was later discovered that the information they gleaned was always poor and did nothing to prepare Fort Niagara for our arrival.

By the end of June we had gained Fort Oswego at the far eastern end of Lake Ontario. This fort had just recently been recaptured from the French, who had taken possession of it in a past season. At Oswego the officers convened and made their selections as to which men would continue on and which men would stay to garrison the fort. A decision was made to send the very best two thousand men and one hundred officers to attack Niagara. Hobbs’ Company was to continue with Major Todd’s light infantry for the battle. We were placed in boats on the first of July. Again, about sixteen men to each boat was the order of the day. We, with the light infantry and grenadiers, were sent to watch the furthest regions of our flotilla’s forward and rear. The grenadiers were hellish fellows. Most were giants of men made to appear even greater by tall, imposing hats. Each grenadier seemed the very image of Goliath. They wore the bright red regimental coats of regulars, but also carried metal bombs called grenades that were fixed with short fuses. In the crossed belts that lay over their coats they carried a short brass fixture that held a match kept ever-smoldering when in battle. They used this brass match to light the grenades. When an attack began, they could always be seen in the thickest of the fight, battling like crazed men.

The first day we traveled about thirty miles to a large bay that we set in to for shelter. The soldiers were becoming increasingly anxious as we neared our destination. This being the first night away from heavy walls and into the wilderness, the stories and tales flourished among them. The men seemed to dislike the presences of the six hundred Iroquois warriors, questioning the Indians’ intentions and loyalties. Faith in these foreign men, who seemed so different from the soldiers, was not easily come by even in these urgent times. In contrast, the move away from the British fort seemed to place the Indian warriors at greater ease, we being well-placed in the shelter of our natural surroundings.

Our second day saw us another thirty-five miles closer to our destination. The following morning was greeted by furious winds that so defied us that we were made to stay in that place an additional day, bringing more time to reflect on what might befall us. I became enthralled by the excitement that surged through both red and white men. They were made to suppose themselves the most invincible of siege men. It is an illusion I have encountered many times since. It is a confidence that men must exude to assure their own souls of their capability. I have thought deeply on this, and I now reckon that it must be done or else no man would willingly face the nightmares of the storms of lead and iron that are dealt out in war.  

The day after our stalled journey, we made twenty miles. The officers explained that this would be our last stopping point before coming ashore near Fort Niagara. Men reserved these moments to either pray or get drunk on smuggled spirits, each seeing fit to make his own final moments of peace before the siege would open. Hobbs’ Company was made to camp with Todd’s light infantry, but as always we managed to make our own area a bit apart from the rest. In these final hours before we would fall into our attack, the veterans such as Timms and Crum saw to conveying all useful information contained within their experiences to better prepare us. Lieutenant Timms encouraged us to fight bravely but to not throw our lives away on an ignorant task, while Crum drove into our minds to fight hard and mercilessly, as our enemy would have no mercy upon us. Timms went on to explain what had happened at Fort William Henry a few years earlier. The French had set to siege the fort and had been very successful. At the end, the British were unable to hold the fort and were forced to surrender. The French officers had given very easy terms of capitulation, but upon exiting the fort, the soldiers were attacked by Indians who were enraged that they had no plunder or scalps.

“I saw, several times, as warriors led several of our men away from our column to butcher them in the woods,” Timms recounted through clenched teeth. “The cowards never made attempts at those of us who would stand together and not permit their savagery, but any who strayed were killed. They knew no mercy to the weak or injured; their thoughts were given over completely to greed and bloodlust. Those were scenes from hell, but we were so defeated and discouraged that the most heroic deed we could do was to preserve ourselves and the few closest to us. I will not forget that day, and God willing I will have a chance to repay it.”

Timms’ vehemence burned through his words. He rubbed a weathered hand over his face as if to brush away the memories, and then he stared at us with those piercing eyes.

“Be careful, boys,” he said. “Fight hard, as Patrick has said. This will not be like the skirmishes in the forest, where it ends quickly; this business will take awhile, so fight well and sell your lives dearly.”

We were not permitted to have a fire, but Timms lit a single candle that we gathered around on this final night. We continued our council until an emissary of General Prideaux arrived with two red sashes and a note from the general. It stated that one sash was to be worn by Timms. He was to appoint a sergeant who would receive the other. There, in the small light, Timms called forward Patrick, around whose waist he wrapped the second sash.

“Fight well, lads. Bring honor to Captain Hobbs’ memory and to yourselves. Sergeant Crum, you know well to lead these men if I should fall,” Lieutenant Timms explained in those late hours.

Crum’s elevation was protested by no one, each man seeing him as the natural leader in Timms’ absence. Our conversations slowly shifted from our duties to life after the upcoming battle. I reserved these moments to reopen the bundle that Catherine had given me. My thumb slid over her written words, and I pressed the small cloth scarf, which had also been contained in the package, to my nose. The scarf bore several neatly stitched flowers, as well as Catherine’s initials.

Soon the time drew near when we would attempt a few hours of rest, with some men left to keep watch. I rolled up Catherine’s scarf and tied it to my wrist so that it would be near at all times. I refolded her note and placed it in my pouch and then said my evening prayer. I supposed that all could be lost in the next few days, but I also clung to the hope that I would return and see her again.

Images of her face drifted through my mind as I fell into a brief and fitful sleep.


To be continued ...