Thrilling Adventures by Land and Sea - James O. Brayman
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He directly returned to the encampment, and desired the orderly at the
marquee to inform the commander of his wish to speak with him, having
information of importance of communicate. He was admitted, and, having
been heard, the colonel bestowed on him the vacant post of lieutenant of
the corps, and directed him to be ready, with a picket-guard, to march,
at eight o'clock in the evening, to the spot he had occupied the night
before, where he was to place his hat and coat upon the stump, and then
lie in ambush for the intruders. Accordingly, the party proceeded, and
obeyed the colonel's orders. The moon rose, but shone dimly through the
thick branches of the forest.
While the new lieutenant was waiting the result of his manoeuver, an
arrow whizzed from the same quarter as before. The mock soldier fell on
his face. A dozen subdued voices sounded from within the thicket, which
were soon followed by the sudden appearance of the Indians themselves.
They barely reached the stump, when our hero gave the order to fire, and
the whole band were stretched dead upon the plain. After stripping them
of their arms and trappings, the Americans returned to the camp.
Twelve chiefs fell at the destructive fire of the white men, and their
fall was, undoubtedly, one great cause of the French and Indian wars
with the English. The fortunate rifleman, who had originated and
conducted the ambuscade, returned from the war, at its termination, with
a competency. He was not again heard of, until the parent-country raised
her arm against the infant colonies. Then was seen, at the head of a
band of Virginia riflemen our hero as the brave and gallant
Colonel Morgan.
[Illustration: LOSS OF THE BLENDENHALL.]
SHIPWRECK OF THE BLENDENHALL.
In the year 1821, the Blendenhall, free trader, bound from England for
Bombay, partly laden with broadcloths, was proceeding on her voyage with
every prospect of a successful issue. While thus pursuing her way
through the Atlantic, she was unfortunately driven from her course, by
adverse winds and currents, more to the southward and westward than was
required, and it became desirable to reach the island of Tristan
d'Acunha, in order to ascertain and rectify the reckoning.
It was while steering to reach this group of islands, that, one morning
a passenger, on board the Blendenhall, who chanced to be up on deck
earlier than usual, observed great quantities of seaweed occasionally
floating alongside. This excited some alarm, and a man was immediately
sent aloft to keep a good look-out. The weather was then extremely hazy,
though moderate; the weeds continued; all were on the alert; they
shortened sail, and the boatswain piped for breakfast. In less than ten
minutes, "breakers ahead!" startled every soul, and in a moment all
were on deck. "Breakers starboard! breakers larboard! breakers all
around!" was the ominous cry a moment afterward, and all was confusion.
The words were scarcely uttered, when, and before the helm was up, the
ill-fated ship struck, and, after a few tremendous shocks against the
sunken reef, she parted about midship. Ropes and stays were cut
away--all rushed forward, as if instinctively, and had barely reached
the forecastle, when the stern and quarter-deck broke asunder with a
violent crash, and sunk to rise no more. Two of the seamen miserably
perished--the rest, including officers, passengers, and crew, held on
about the head and bows--the struggle was for life!
At this moment the Inaccessible Island, which till then had been vailed
in thick clouds and mist, appeared frowning above the haze. The wreck
was more than two miles from the frightful shore. The base of the island
was still buried in impenetrable gloom. In this perilous extremity, one
was for cutting away the anchor, which had been got up to the cathead in
time of need; another was for cutting down the foremast, the
foretop-mast being already by the board. The fog totally disappeared,
and the black, rocky island stood in all its rugged deformity before
their eyes. Suddenly the sun broke out in full splendor, as if to expose
more clearly to the view of the sufferers their dreadful predicament.
Despair was in every bosom--death, arrayed in all its terrors, seemed to
hover over the wreck. But exertion was required, and every thing that
human energy could devise was effected. The wreck, on which all eagerly
clung, was fortunately drifted by the tide and wind between ledges of
sunken rocks and thundering breakers, until, after the lapse of several
hours, it entered the only spot on the island where a landing was
possibly practicable,--for all the other parts of the coast consisted of
perpendicular cliffs of granite, rising from amid the deafening surf to
the height of twenty, forty, and sixty feet. As the shore was neared, a
raft was prepared, and on this a few paddled for the cove. At last the
wreck drove right in: ropes were instantly thrown out, and the crew and
passengers, (except two who had been crushed in the wreck,) including
three ladies and a female attendant, were snatched from the watery
grave, which a few short hours before had appeared inevitable, and
safely landed on the beach. Evening had now set in, and every effort was
made to secure whatever could be saved from the wreck. Bales of cloth,
cases of wine, a few boxes of cheese, some hams, the carcass of a milch
cow that had been washed on shore, buckets, tubs, butts, a seaman's
chest, (containing a tinder-box, and needles and thread,) with a number
of elegant mahogany turned bed-posts, and part of an investment for the
India market, were got on shore. The rain poured down in torrents--all
hands were busily at work to procure shelter from the weather; and with
the bed-posts and broadcloths, and part of the foresail, as many tents
were soon pitched as there were individuals on the island.
Drenched with the sea and with the rain, hungry, cold, and comfortless,
thousands of miles from their native land, almost beyond expectation of
human succor, hope nearly annihilated,--the shipwrecked voyagers retired
to their tents. In the morning the wreck had gone to pieces; and planks,
and spars, and whatever had floated in, were eagerly dragged on shore.
No sooner was the unfortunate ship broken up, than, deeming themselves
freed from the bonds of authority, many began to secure whatever came to
land: and the captain, officers, passengers, and crew were now reduced
to the same level, and obliged to take their turn to fetch water, and
explore the island for food. The work of exploring was soon over--there
was not a bird, nor a quadruped, nor a single tree to be seen. All was
barren and desolate. The low parts were scattered over with stones and
sand, and a few stunted weeds, rocks, ferns, and other plants. The top
of the mountain was found to consist of a fragment of original
table-land, very marshy, and full of deep sloughs, intersected with
small rills of water, pure and pellucid as crystal, and a profusion of
wild parsley and celery. The prospect was one dreary scene of
destitution, without a single ray of hope to relieve the misery of the
desponding crew. After some days, the dead cow, hams, and cheese were
consumed; and, from one end of the island to the other, not a morsel of
food could be seen. Even the celery began to fail. A few bottles of
wine, which for security had been secreted under ground, only remained.
Famine now began to threaten. Every stone near the sea was examined for
shellfish, but in vain.
In this dreadful extremity, and while the half-famished seamen were at
night squatting in sullen dejection around their fires, a large lot of
sea-birds, allured by the flames, rushed into the midst of them, and
were greedily laid hold of as fast as they could be seized. For several
nights in succession, similar flocks came in; and, by multiplying their
fires, a considerable supply was secured. These visits, however, ceased
at length, and the wretched party were exposed again to the most severe
privation. When their stock of wild fowl had been exhausted for more
than two days, each began to fear they were now approaching that sad
point of necessity, when, between death and casting lots who should be
sacrificed to serve for food for the rest, no alternative remained.
While horror at the bare contemplation of an extremity so repulsive
occupied the thoughts of all, the horizon was observed to be suddenly
obscured, and presently clouds of penguins alighted on the island. The
low grounds were actually covered; and before the evening was dark, the
sand could not be seen for the number of eggs, which, like a sheet of
snow, lay on the surface of the earth. The penguins continued on the
island four or five days, when, as if by signal, the whole took their
flight, and were never seen again. A few were killed, but the flesh was
so extremely rank and nauseous that it could not be eaten. The eggs were
collected and dressed in all manner of ways, and supplied abundance of
food for upward of three weeks. At the expiration of that period, famine
once more seemed inevitable; the third morning began to dawn upon the
unfortunate company after their stock of eggs were exhausted; they had
now been without food for more than forty hours, and were fainting and
dejected; when, as though this desolate rock were really a land of
miracles, a man came running up to the encampment with the unexpected
and joyful tidings that "millions of sea-cows had come on shore." The
crew climbed over the ledge of rocks that flanked their tents, and the
sight of a shoal of manatees immediately beneath them, gladdened their
hearts. These came in with the flood, and were left in the puddles
between the broken rocks of the cove. This supply continued for two or
three weeks. The flesh was mere blubber, and quite unfit for food, for
not a man could retain it on his stomach; but the liver was excellent,
and on this they subsisted. In the meantime, the carpenter with his gang
had constructed a boat, and four of the men had adventured in her for
Tristan d'Acunha, in hopes of ultimately extricating their
fellow-sufferers from their perilous situation. Unfortunately the boat
was lost---whether carried away by the violence of the currents that set
in between the islands, or dashed to pieces against the breakers, was
never known, for no vestige of the boat or crew was ever seen. Before
the manatees, however, began to quit the shore, a second boat was
launched; and in this an officer and some seamen made a second attempt,
and happily succeeded in effecting a landing, after much labor, on
the island.
It was to this island that the boat's crew of the Blendenhall had beat
their course, and its principal inhabitant, Governor Glass, showed them
every mark of attention. On learning the situation of the crew, on
Inaccessible Island, he instantly launched his boat, and, unawed by
considerations of personal danger, hastened, at the risk of his life, to
deliver his shipwrecked countrymen from the calamities they had so long
endured. He made repeated trips, surmounted all difficulties, and
fortunately succeeded in safely landing them on his own island, after
they had been exposed for nearly three months to the horrors of a
situation almost unparalleled in the recorded sufferings of
seafaring men.
After being hospitably treated by Glass and his company for three
months, the survivors obtained a passage to the Cape, all except a young
sailor named White, who had formed an attachment to one of the servant
girls on board, and who, in all the miseries which had been endured, had
been her constant protector and companion; while gratitude on her part
prevented her wishing to leave him. Both chose to remain, and were
forthwith adopted as free citizens of the little community.
ADVENTURES OF SERGEANT CHAMPE
IN HIS ATTEMPT TO CAPTURE ARNOLD.
The treason of General Arnold, the capture of Andre, and the
intelligence received by Washington through his confidential agents in
New York, that many of his officers, and especially a major-general,
whose name was given, were connected with Arnold, could not fail to
arouse the anxiety and vigilance of the commander-in-chief. The moment
he reached the army, then under the orders of Major-General Greene,
encamped in the vicinity of Tappan, he sent for Major Lee, who was
posted with the light troops some distance in front.
Lee repaired to headquarters, and found Washington in his marquee alone,
busily engaged in writing. Lee was requested to take a seat; and a
bundle of papers, lying on the table, was given to him for perusal. The
purport of these tended to show that Arnold was not alone in his base
conspiracy, but that a major-general, whose name was not concealed, was
also implicated. This officer had enjoyed, without interruption, the
confidence of the commander-in-chief, nor did there exist a single
reason in support of the accusation. It altogether rested on the
intelligence derived from the papers before him.
Major Lee was naturally shocked at these suspicions, and suggested that
they were an invention of the enemy. Washington admitted the
plausibility of the suggestion, but remarked that he had the same
confidence in Arnold, a few days before, that he now placed in the
persons accused.
After some further conversation, Washington disclosed a project, which
he had maturely revolved in his own mind. "I have sent for you," he
remarked to Lee, "to learn if you have in your corps any individual
capable of undertaking a delicate and hazardous enterprise. Whoever
comes forward on this occasion will lay me under great obligations
personally; and, in behalf of the United States, I will reward him
amply. No time is to be lost. He must proceed, if possible, this night.
My object is to probe to the bottom the affecting suspicions suggested
by the papers you have just read--to seize Arnold, and, by getting him,
to save Andre. While my emissary is engaged in preparing for the seizure
of Arnold, the agency of others can be traced; and the timely delivery
of Arnold to me, will possibly put it in my power to restore the amiable
and unfortunate Andre to his friends. My instructions are ready, in
which you will find express orders, that Arnold is not to be hurt; but
that he be permitted to escape, if it can be prevented only by killing
him, as his public punishment is the only object in view. This you can
not too forcibly press upon the person who may engage in the enterprise;
and this fail not to do. With my instructions, are two letters, to be
delivered as ordered, and here are some guineas to defray expenses."
Lee replied, that, as the first step to the enterprise was pretended
desertion, it would be difficult to find a commissioned officer, who
would undertake it. He knew, however, a sergeant-major of the cavalry,
named Champe, who was in all respects qualified for the delicate and
adventurous project. Champe was a native of Loudon county, in Virginia,
about twenty years of age. He had enlisted in 1776; was rather above the
common size, full of bone and muscle, with a saturnine countenance,
grave, thoughtful, and taciturn; of tried courage and inflexible
perseverance.
Washington was satisfied with this description, and exclaimed that
Champe was the very man for the enterprise. Lee promised to persuade him
to undertake it, and, taking leave of the general, returned to the camp
of the light corps, which he reached about eight o'clock at night.
Sending instantly for the serjeant-major, he informed him of the project
of the commander-in-chief; and urged upon him, that, by succeeding in
the capture and safe delivery of Arnold, he would not only gratify his
general in the most acceptable manner, but would be hailed as the
avenger of the reputation of the army, stained by a foul and wicked
perfidy; and, what could not but be highly pleasing, he would be the
instrument of saving the life of Major Andre.
Champe listened with attention to the plan unfolded by Lee, and replied
that it met his approbation. Even its partial success was likely to lead
to great good, as it would give relief to Washington's mind, and do
justice, as he hoped, to suspected innocence. Champe added, that he was
not deterred by the danger and difficulty to be encountered, but by the
ignominy of desertion, consequent upon his enlisting with the enemy. It
did not comport with his feelings to be even suspected of such a crime.
Lee combated the objections of the sergeant with his usual address, and
finally subdued his prejudices so far, that Champe consented to
undertake the enterprise. The instructions of Washington were then read
to him; and Lee particularly cautioned him to exercise the utmost
circumspection in delivering the letters, and to take care to withhold
from the two individuals addressed under feigned names, knowledge of
each other. He was further urged to bear in constant recollection the
solemn injunction, so pointedly expressed in the instructions, of
forbearing to kill Arnold in any event.
It now remained to arrange the mode of Champe's desertion, for, in order
to be received favorably by the British, it was necessary that he should
desert under circumstances which should assure them of his sincerity. To
cross the numerous patrols of horse and foot, was no small difficulty,
which was now increased in consequence of the swarms of irregulars, who
sometimes ventured down to the very point of Paulus Hook, with the hope
of picking up booty. Evident as were the difficulties in the way, no
relief could be afforded by Major Lee, lest it might induce a belief
that he was privy to the desertion, which opinion getting to the enemy,
would peril the life of Champe. The sergeant was left to his own
resources and management, Lee agreeing that in case Champe's departure
should be discovered before morning, he would take care to delay pursuit
as long as possible.
Lee placed in the hands of the sergeant some gold for his expenses, and
enjoining it upon him to apprise him of his arrival in New York as soon
as practicable, bade the adventurous Virginian farewell Champe, pulling
out his watch, compared it with that of Lee, reminding him of the
importance of holding back pursuit, which he was convinced would take
place during the night, and which might be fatal, as he would be obliged
to adopt a zigzag course, in order to avoid the patrols, which would
consume time. It was now nearly eleven. The sergeant returned to camp,
and, taking his cloak, valise, and orderly-book, he drew his horse from
the picket, and, mounting, set out upon his novel expedition.
Hardly half an hour had elapsed, when Captain Carnes, officer of the
day, waited on Major Lee, and, with considerable emotion, told him that
one of the patrol had fallen in with a dragoon, who, on being
challenged, put spur to his horse, and escaped, though vigorously
pursued. Lee, complaining of the interruption, and pretending to be
extremely fatigued, answered as if he did not understand what had been
said, which compelled the captain to repeat his remark.
"Who can the fellow be that was pursued?" said Lee; "a countryman,
probably."
"No," replied the captain; "the patrol sufficiently distinguished him to
know that he was a dragoon probably from the army, if not, certainly one
of our own."
This idea was ridiculed by Lee as improbable, as, during the whole
campaign, but a single dragoon had deserted from the legion. Carnes was
not convinced. Much apprehension was felt, at that time, of the effect
of Arnold's example. The captain withdrew to examine the squadron of
horse, whom he had ordered to assemble in pursuance of established usage
on similar occasions. He speedily returned, stating that the deserter
was known; he was no less a person than the sergeant-major, who was gone
off with his horse, baggage, arms, and orderly-book. Sensibly affected
at the supposed baseness of a soldier, who was generally esteemed,
Carnes added, that he had ordered a party to prepare for pursuit, and
that he had come for written orders from the major.
In order to gain time for Champe, Lee expressed his belief, that the
sergeant had not deserted, but had merely taken the liberty to leave
camp upon private business or pleasure; an example, Lee said, too often
set by the officers themselves, destructive as it was of discipline,
opposed as it was to orders, and disastrous as it might prove to the
corps in the course of the service.
Some little delay was thus interposed. Carnes began to grow impatient at
what seemed the long-winded and unseasonable discourse. It being, at
length announced, that the pursuing party were in readiness, Major Lee
directed a change in the officer, giving the command to Cornet
Middleton. His object was to add to the delay. He knew, moreover, that,
from the tenderness of his disposition, Middleton would be reluctant to
do any personal injury to Champe, in the event of a pursuit.
Within ten minutes Middleton appeared to receive his orders, which were
delivered to him, made out in the customary form, and signed by the
major. The directions were, to pursue as far as could be done with
safety, Sergeant Champe, who was suspected of deserting to the enemy,
and of having taken the road to Paulus Hook; to bring him alive to camp,
that he might suffer in the presence of the army, but to kill him if he
resisted or attempted to escape after being taken.
Detaining the cornet a few minutes longer, in advising him what course
to pursue--urging him to take care of the horse and accoutrements, if
taken--and enjoining him to be on his guard, lest he might, by a too
eager pursuit, improvidently fall into the hands of the enemy--Lee
dismissed Middleton and his party. A shower of rain had fallen soon
after Champe's departure, which enabled the pursuing dragoons to find
the trail of his horse; for, at that time, the horses being all shod by
our own farriers, the shoes were made in the same form which, with a
private mark annexed to the fore shoes, and known to the troopers,
pointed out the trail of our dragoons, and, in this way, was
often useful.
When Middleton departed, it was a few minutes past twelve, so that
Champe had the start of his pursuers by little more than an hour. Lee
was very anxious, and passed a sleepless night. The pursuing party were,
on their part, occasionally delayed by the necessary halts to examine
the road, as the impressions of the horse's shoes directed the course.
These were, unfortunately, too evident, no other horse having passed
over the road since the shower. When the day broke, Middleton was no
longer obliged to halt, and he passed on with rapidity.
As the pursuers ascended an eminence to the north of the village of
Bergen, Champe was descried not more than half a mile in front.
Resembling an Indian in his vigilance, the sergeant at the same moment
discovered Middleton and his men, to whose object he was no stranger,
and giving spur to his horse, he determined to outstrip them. Middleton,
at the same instant, put his horses to the top of their speed; and
being, as the legion all were, well acquainted with the country, he
recollected a route through the woods to the bridge below Bergen, which
diverged from the great road near the Three Pigeons. Reaching the point
of separation, he halted, and, dividing his party, directed a sergeant,
with a few dragoons, to take the near cut, and possess, with all
possible dispatch, the bridge, while he, with the rest of his men,
followed Champe. He could not doubt but that Champe, being thus enclosed
between him and his sergeant, would deliver himself up. Champe did not
forget the short cut, and would have taken it, had he not remembered
that it was the usual route of our parties when returning in the day
from the neighborhood of the enemy. He consequently avoided it, and
wisely resolved to abandon his intention of getting to Paulus Hook, and
to seek refuge from two British galleys, lying a few miles to the west
of Bergen.
This was a station generally occupied by one or two galleys. Passing
through the village of Bergen, Champe took the road toward Elizabethtown
Point. Middleton's sergeant gained the bridge, where he concealed
himself, ready to intercept Champe as soon as he appeared. In the
meantime, Middleton, pursuing his course through Bergen, soon arrived,
also, at the bridge, when, to his mortification, he found that Champe
had escaped. Returning up the road, he inquired of the villagers of
Bergen, whether a dragoon had been seen that morning preceding his
party. He was answered in the affirmative, but could learn nothing
satisfactory as to the route taken by the fugitive. While engaged in
inquiries himself, he spread his party through the village to discover
the trail of Champe's horse. Some of the dragoons hit it, just as the
sergeant, leaving the village, reached the road to the point.
Pursuit was now vigorously renewed, and again Champe was descried.
Apprehending the event, he had prepared himself for it by lashing his
valise and orderly-book on his shoulders, and holding his drawn sword in
his hand, having thrown away the scabbard. The delay occasioned by
Champe's preparations for swimming had brought Middleton within two or
three hundred yards. As soon as Champe got abreast of the galleys, he
dismounted, and running through the marsh to the river, plunged into it,
calling on the people in the galley for help. This was readily given.
They fired on our horsemen, and sent a boat to meet Champe, who was
taken in, carried on board, and conveyed to New York, with a letter from
the captain of the galley, describing the scene, which he had himself
witnessed, of Champe's escape.