The Perils and Adventures of Harry Skipwith by Land and Sea

Our men had all fired, and three Indians lay dead in front of us. But though the front rank had wheeled round, the rest were coming on with furious gestures of vengeance. Our little band was also sadly diminished.

For an instant, not hearing Silas Slag’s voice, I turned my head. He lay writhing on the ground, with an arrow through his breast, which he was in vain attempting to drag out, while another man, though he still stood at his post, seemed badly wounded with a spear-thrust in his neck. The pain in my side was increasing so much, that I every instant expected to drop fainting to the ground.

I got out of the waggon, for in a hand-to-hand encounter I could fight longest in an open space. I knew that it would be destruction to yield, so I instantly began reloading my rifle, while I shouted to my companions to struggle to the last. They were doing their best to keep the Indians at bay while I reloaded. Again I fired; my aim was unsteady; and I killed the horse instead of the rider. The animal fell directly in front of me, and served as a barricade, but the Indian, disengaging himself, drew his scalping-knife from his girdle and sprang towards me.

Weak, and suffering intense pain, I could do little to help myself, and thought that my last moments had come when, just as the Redskin was about to plunge his weapon in my breast, Ready, who had been watching by my side, with a fierce growl flew at his throat, and compelled him to turn the intended blow on one side, and the next moment the butt of Peter’s musket came crashing down on his head and stunned him. The rest of the party, still able to stand up, were engaged in single combat with the more daring of our adversaries, while other Indians were flocking round, either thrusting at us with their spears, or with arrows in the string, standing ready to shoot as opportunity might offer.

Now, indeed, I had lost all hope of escaping. More Indians were galloping up, when, through a gap in their ranks, as I stood with one foot on the dead horse, I caught sight in the distance of another body of horsemen moving at full speed across the prairie.

Had I till now entertained even the slightest hopes of resisting our foes, this circumstance made me feel that such hopes were vain; still “the never-say-die principle” made me resolve to fight to the last, and my companions, I saw, were resolved to do the same.

We were, indeed, in a desperate plight. One man was killed outright, Silas appeared to be mortally wounded, and I expected every instant to drop. I heard the Indians shouting to each other – I thought probably to make short work of us. Suddenly they wheeled round and galloped off, as I concluded, to wait till they were joined by the fresh band we saw approaching, when they would again come on and crush us at once. Again I loaded and fired, but it was a last effort; overcome with pain and loss of blood, I fell fainting behind the dead horse, which had served as a barricade.

In vain I tried to rise. I heard the men about me shouting and firing; then there was a loud tramping of horses; the shouts grew louder. In another instant I expected to feel my scalp whipped off my head. In that moment I lived an age. I should have been glad to have lost all consciousness. Had I been able to fight bravely, even against odds so fearful, I should have been content; but to lie helpless at the mercy of savages was terrible. I had heard of the tortures they were wont to inflict on their captives, and I expected to have to endure some such ordeal to try my courage.

On came the horsemen. Voices struck my ear, but they were familiar sounds. The words were mostly English. I opened my eyes. They fell not on Redskin savages, but on a party of white men, well aimed with rifles and pistols, and broadswords or cutlasses.

“On after the varmint!” shouted one, who seemed to be the leader. “Some of you lads stay by these people. Doctor, there’s work for you, I guess.”

While most of the horsemen, to the number of fifty at least, galloped after the flying Indians, some few dismounted and came within our camp.

“Why, lads, you seem to be in a bad way,” observed one of them.

“I guess if you hadn’t come, we shouldn’t have had a scalp on the top of our heads,” was the answer. “There’s the captain dead, and Silas Slag, the next best man, no better off; for, if he isn’t dead, he’ll be before many minutes are over.”

“We’ll see,” said a stranger, whom I guessed to be a surgeon, approaching the spot where poor Silas lay groaning with agony. “Take your hands off the arrow, boy. You’ll not get it out that way. Many a man has lived with a worse wound than that through him. Here, some of you, lend a hand.”

I just lifted myself on my side, and saw the young surgeon engaged with his instrument in cutting out the arrow from Silas’s body. The poor fellow groaned, but did his utmost to refrain from giving fall expression to the agony he was undergoing.

“It will be my turn next,” I thought to myself. “I must nerve myself for the suffering I must endure.”

I waited till the wounds of all the men had been attended to.

“There’s the dead captain on the other side,” said one. I had been dubbed captain by my companions.

The surgeon came up to me.

“I’m not quite dead yet,” I murmured. “Just pull this ugly stick out of me, and I hope to do well.”

“No fear of that, captain,” said the stranger. “Here, lads, some of you hold him down. It’s an unpleasant operation, but it’s necessary.”

The surgeon was skilful, but I own that my nerves got such a twinge that I would rather not dwell on the subject.

Our new friends now set to work to get us into marching order. One of our party had been killed, and another wounded, besides Silas Slag, who was in a very precarious condition, and I was very considerably hurt. The Indians had carried off four of our horses, but as six of their number lay dead on the field, and others were badly wounded, they had paid dearly for their success. Fortunately none of the waggon horses were missing. They were harnessed, and we began to move. Silas Slag and another man who had been hurt were placed in the waggon with me. Some spirits was poured down my throat, and after a time I recovered sufficiently to ask questions. I found that the horsemen who had arrived so opportunely to our rescue were in search of the very band of Comanches that had attacked us. Those predatory Redskins had attacked a party of Texians travelling across the prairie, and were said to have killed all the men, and to have carried off a white girl as prisoner. She was the daughter of one of the murdered men, an old officer of the United States army, and, I was told, was possessed of great personal attractions.

On hearing this, all the romance in my composition was instantly aroused. I regretted my wound more because it kept me a prisoner than on any other account, and longed to be in the saddle and in pursuit of the savages to aid in rescuing the poor girl. We were on our way back to the settlement to which she belonged, but of those who had come to our rescue, the doctor and the greater number were pushing forward after their companions. They had vowed vengeance on the marauders, and were likely to execute it in a terrible manner if they succeeded in overtaking them.

It was dark before we reached the nearest shelter. It was a farm-house on the very verge of civilisation, surrounded with stockades to guard against a sudden attack of Indians. The inhabitants, who were of German descent, though speaking English, received us with kind expressions, and had Silas and me and the other wounded man carried into their largest sleeping-room, where beds were placed for us, into which we were put at once. The mistress of the house then came with ointments, and with the greatest tenderness dressed our wounds, and afterwards brought us some light and nourishing food, of which we stood in great need.

“I can feel for you, stranger,” she remarked to me, as she sat watching like a mother by my bedside. “I had a son wounded by the Redskins many years ago. He came home, poor boy, to die. The young girl, too, carried off by the savages, is a relation. I tremble to think what her fate may be. All the men of our family, even my husband, old as he is, and my sons and grandsons, are gone in pursuit of the enemy. Altogether there are twenty of them from this farm alone. Ah me! I shall rejoice when they come book. It is anxious work waiting for them. I have lost in my time so many kindred and acquaintance through the treachery of these Redskins, that I always dread what may happen.”

I did my best to comfort the kind old lady, and told her that as our small party had been able to keep them so long at bay, there could be little doubt that a well-armed band, such as her friends formed, would have little difficulty in conquering them.

The night, however, passed away, and nothing was heard of the party. Neither the following day were any tidings received. The anxiety of the poor women, of whom there were a considerable number in and about the farm, became very great. People from various other locations also came crowding in, chiefly women, whose husbands and sons had gone on the expedition, to make inquiries. Some, indeed, began to express their fears that the party had fallen into an ambush and been cut off. Such things had occurred before. I was already better, and only wanted strength. I offered, if men could be found, to head a party to go out in search of the missing band.

“They will be here by nightfall,” said the old lady, trying to comfort herself.

I felt, from the remarks I had heard made, considerable doubt about this, and could not help fearing that some catastrophe had occurred. Two whole days passed away, and still there was no tidings of the missing ones.

Chapter Seven

Our Deliverers pursue the Comanches, but fail to return – I am Convalescent and head a Party in Search – There is a Lady in the Case – Stores for Camp – Tony Flack’s Tale of the “Injuns.”

Day after day passed away, and no tidings of the expedition. Under the care of my kind hostess I quickly recovered from the effects of my wound, from which I suffered wonderfully little, and I began to hope that in another day or two I might be fit to mount a horse, and set off to the assistance of the settlers. While I lay on my bed I had plenty of time for thinking. Among other things, I began to regret that I had been turned aside from my original purpose of ascending the Mississippi. I never like to be thwarted in anything I undertake, and on this occasion I felt that I had allowed fear to influence me. I thought this so unworthy of me that, “so soon as I have brought my present adventure to a conclusion,” I said to myself, “I will go back and steam up the mighty river; and any slave-owner or slave-dealer who dares to stop me shall pay dear for his temerity.” I told Peter and Ready of my determination. The latter wagged his tail and seemed highly pleased, though I suspect he thought I was speaking of going home. The former said that he was willing to go wherever I wished, and, if needs be, would fight by my side as long as he could stand up.

“I know you would, Peter,” said I. “Indeed we shall probably have something to try your courage before then.”

I was right in this conjecture. The party which had gone in pursuit of the Comanches did not return, and their friends becoming anxious about them, began to assemble from all directions on horseback, and well-armed. By this time I was able to leave my room, and when they heard that an Englishman was ready to take the command of the party, they all expressed a wish to have me at their head, and to set out immediately. Weak as I was I determined to go. My kind hostess showered blessings on my head when I told her so. I could only reply that I should better merit them if I returned successful.

We were to set off the next morning. Another night’s rest would increase my strength, or might perhaps see the return of the former expedition. I went to see. Silas Slag before starting.

“Well, you Britishers can sometimes put the best leg foremost, I see,” he observed as he took my hand, and pressed it with a warmth I did not expect. “You ain’t far behind us free and independent Americans, I guess. I wish I could go with you; and so I would, if it wasn’t for the big hole which that Comanche made between my ribs. I’d like to go for your sake, and to help to find the young gal those varmint have carried off.”

I thanked Silas heartily for his friendly feelings, and assured him that I shouldn’t wish to have a better man by my side. In truth, I have seldom found Americans wanting in bravery or generosity.

Daybreak found me in the saddle, surrounded by fifty well-armed men; young and old, white, brown, and black; with Peter mounted on a raw-boned steed at my side, and Ready – looking as if he well knew what was in the wind – at my heels. My army was somewhat variously armed: some had muskets, others rifles, others blunderbusses, and others only spears and pistols; while the swords were of all shapes, from Spanish Toledos, to English cutlasses and broadswords. The costumes of my followers were of the same diversified character, as were the accoutrements of the horses and the steeds themselves, but as the men mostly looked ready for work I was satisfied. We had secured a half-caste Indian for a guide, whose parents had been killed and scalped by the Comanches; so he was anxious that we should fall in with them. I must own that I chiefly thought about the young woman who had been carried off, and I hoped that no disaster might have happened to the brave men who had preserved my life and that of my companions at the moment we were almost overpowered. Each of us carried his provisions and cooking utensils at his saddle-bow, as well as a cloak or blanket in which to sleep at night. Every man had his axe in his belt, and a long knife for cutting grass, so that we were provided for a campaign even should it take a month or more.

We pushed on as fast as we could move, making, through the open prairie, full thirty miles each day. We thus travelled a hundred miles; but still there was no sign of our friends or the Comanches. Our guides assured us that the former must be ahead, but, as to the Indians, it was impossible to say where they were. Any moment they might appear on our flanks or rear, and, unless we were well prepared, overwhelm us by their numbers. We, of course, kept a careful watch at night, and sent out scouts as we advanced.

We were soon completely in the desert, and might at any moment be attacked by our enemies. Had our animals been capable of pushing on without stopping, I believe that we should have done so, from the intense eagerness all felt to ascertain what had become of their friends; but my companions were too practical to attempt this. They well knew that “the more haste the less speed.” We therefore camped regularly, and only travelled at stated hours, as if we were in no way in a hurry. This somewhat slow progress was very trying to my temper, although, had we attempted to go faster, we should have knocked up our steeds, and been unable to progress at all.

The time, however, spent while camping, was not occupied unpleasantly. Most of the party had led wild, roving lives, had followed various vocations, and gone through strange adventures, which they were not prevented by bashfulness from recounting. They were not in a mood to sing, but one after the other narrated the most wonderful events, in which, as a rule, they were the chief actors, – grizzly bears, panthers, buffaloes, and rattlesnakes being part of the dramatis persona.

We had several articles of food which were new to me, all as little bulky as possible, and qualified to keep a long time. We had some dried meat, procured from the Mexicans. They prepare it by cutting the meat while fresh into long strips, when it is hung on a line to dry in the sun and wind until it becomes thoroughly hardened. Sometimes it is smoked and dried, with a slow fire underneath, as are dry fish in England. It will, when prepared in either of these ways, keep for a long time. We had another article of food called Penole, which is made by parching Indian corn, then grinding it, and mixing it with cinnamon and sugar. A third, called Atole, is also worthy of mention. It is a kind of meat which, when prepared in a peculiar way, appears and tastes very like what the Americans call Mush. Mush, again, is simply maize, or Indian corn, boiled in water. Penole is especially valuable for travellers, as it requires no fire to cook it, being prepared in a minute by simply mixing it with cold water. In proportion to its weight it occupies very little space, but when prepared for use, swells to twice its former bulk. A very small quantity at a time is therefore sufficient to satisfy hunger. We had, besides, coffee and brown sugar as our chief beverage. I mention these things to show that some forethought had been exercised before starting.

As I said, we were attired in a variety of costumes, but the most common dress was a check or “hickory” shirt, buck-skin pants, a fringed hunting-shirt of the same material, gaily lined with red flannel, and ornamented with brass buttons. A coarse broad-brimmed straw hat covered the head, while the feet and legs were cased in strong cow-hide boots, reaching to the knee. Each man carried at his saddle-bow a porous leathern water-bottle. When hung up in the sun just enough of the liquid exuded deliciously to cool the rest, and in that climate this was a great luxury.

Our progress was in part directed by the places at which water could be procured. Before nightfall we prepared to camp. We first turned our horses out to feed, but as soon as it grew dark they were brought in and picketed in the centre, while we, with our saddles as pillows, lay down in the form of a square outside them, eight or ten men on each side, while the rest watched as scouts in advance. Thus several nights passed away. Our chief apprehension arose from the possibility that the Comanches, discovering our camp, might make an attack during the night on it with overwhelming numbers, and ride over us before we were prepared to receive them.

An old hunter who accompanied us gave me a vivid description of such a scene, when he was one of the few of his party who had escaped. He went by the name of Tony Flack. He was a gaunt, parchment-skinned, wizened individual, with a most lachrymose expression of countenance, which, however, did not exhibit his real character, for he was rather a merry fellow at bottom, but his jollity took some time in appearing. As a Yankee remarked, “I guess he takes a long time to pump it up.” He, in fact, did not begin to laugh till the subject of the conversation had been changed.

“I guess that was an awful time,” he began. “We’d just got into the big sandy desert, not far off from here; there was fifty of us at least, and we were all a-lying down, having no more fear of Injuns than of so many heffers, when there was a whirl and a rush just as if the Falls of Niagara and St. Anthony was running a race.

“‘It’s a stampede!’ shouted one. I looked up. There I saw in the moonlight a thousand warriors, their white shields and spears glistening in the moonbeams, as they galloped right down upon us. Some of our men sprang to their feet, and attempted to defend themselves; but the savages darted on and cut them down, and ran them through in a moment. I was so much astonished that I rolled over with my saddle above my head, and this, I guess, saved my scalp, for most of my companions lost theirs. I thought the mass of warriors would never have done passing. Not one of their horses touched my body, but the loud trampling continued, and the shrieks and cries of my companions rang in my ears as the spears of our assailants went through them, or they were trampled on by their mustangs. At last the noise of the tramping ceased, though I could hear the shouts of the Indians in the distance as they drove off our horses. I knew their ways, and that some of them would certainly return before long to take our scalps. I lifted my head up from under my saddle, and seeing no one moving, I crept away towards some rocks which I had observed before night closed in at a little distance from the camp. I was afraid of speaking, lest any Indians might have remained near – indeed, I thought that all my companions were killed. On I crept, scarcely daring to lift my head above the ground, lest I should be seen. I endeavoured also not to move a stone, or a bush, for fear of being heard. More than once I stopped to listen, fancying that some one was approaching. I did, however, reach the rock, and scarcely had I got behind it, than I again heard the trampling of horses, and then once more arose the fearful shrieks of some of my companions who had remained alive, and whom the savages had now returned to scalp. I wasn’t much given to fainting, even in those days, but I nearly lost my senses as I heard the dreadful cries of my friends, and thought how narrowly I had escaped from the same fate, and that even now it might overtake me. I dared scarcely to breathe till I heard the Indians once more retreating. At daylight I crept out cautiously from my shelter; no one was moving. I advanced towards our camp. I have seen many dreadful sights, but never one more horrid than I then gazed upon. There lay the bodies of my companions; the heads of all of them had been robbed of their hair scalps, while the ground was stained with blood from their wounds. Most of the arms and property had been carried off, but there was food enough and to spare. I loaded myself with as much as I could carry, and, to my great satisfaction, I found a rifle with ammunition, which had been dropped. I must now, I concluded, find my way back to the States as best I could. I had begun my march eastward, when I heard a foot-fall. I started, expecting to see a scalping-knife whirling over my head. My heart leaped with joy when I saw one of my friends. He, like me, had escaped and hid himself before the return of the Indians. We trudged on together across the desert, often thinking that we should never get back to our friends; but we succeeded at last. For some months I fancied that I should never again set my face to go westward, but in time I got tired of a quiet life, and have lived out in these parts pretty well ever since.”

Just as the speaker ceased a cloud of dust was seen in the distance, and out of it emerged our scouts galloping at headlong speed.

Chapter Eight

Our Friends besieged – We surprise the Comanches – Our Victory, and our Friends relieved – What they had suffered – The young Girl restored to her Home

“Forward!” was the word, and our whole troop galloped on, eager for the information the scouts could give us. We pulled up as they drew near. At first all we could make out were the words, “The Comanches are there; on, on! our friends are well-nigh done for.” I ordered a halt, that we might hear more exactly the information they had obtained, and have time to form a plan, of operation with calmness and judgment. They had found themselves, from indubitable signs, in the presence of a numerous band of Indians. Soon the sound of firing reached their ears. Two of them, leaving their horses with the rest, crept forward on foot, till they caught sight of a rocky mound partly covered with trees. The Indians surrounded this mound, and on the top of it some sort of fortification had been thrown up, which they had no doubt was held by our missing friends. From the slow way, however, in which they were firing, it was very evident that their ammunition was almost exhausted, and that in a short time longer their fate would be sealed. The Indians seemed aware of this, for, though completely besetting the hill, they kept close under shelter at a distance, only showing themselves when they had to advance to get a shot at the besieged. One thing was certain – there was not a moment to be lost; for, even while we were advancing, the savages might make one of their fierce onslaughts, and destroy our friends. Still, the very greatest caution was necessary. The enemy far outnumbered us, and were brave and wary. It was advisable, if possible, to take them by surprise, an undertaking of no ordinary difficulty, as Tony Flack observed, in his peculiar way, when I proposed it: “Cap’n, did you ever catch a weasel asleep? No, I guess; then you’ll not catch these here red-skinned varmints, when they know an enemy’s not far off.”

However, there was nothing like trying. I first ascertained from our guides and the scouts the line of country which afforded most shelter, and then directed them to lead us along it. Though speed was important, concealment, till we could make a rush at the Indians, was still more so; and I therefore ordered, as we got nearer, all the men to dismount, and to lead their horses, one following another, in single file, so that there would be less risk of our being perceived. I threw out scouts at the same time, that we might not ourselves be surprised. As we advanced, we listened anxiously for the sound of firing, to assure us that our friends were still holding out. Not hearing any shots, I was considering whether we ought not to mount and dash on all risks, when one of my companions assured me that there was no hurry, that the Indians were too wary to attack the fort till long after our friends had ceased firing, and that very likely they would attempt to starve them out. Thus reassured, we cautiously continued our progress as before. Our well-trained hones seemed to understand the necessity for silence, and, it appeared to me, trod as cautiously as any of the party. At last, emerging from a valley, the report of a musket-shot reached our ears; another and another followed; they sounded louder and louder; we knew that at all events our friends were still holding out, and, what was of infinite consequence, that the Indians would be so engaged in front, that they would probably not discover our approach in their rear. But a thin belt of wood intervened between us and the enemy. I called a halt. Every man looked to the priming of his rifle and pistols, and felt that his sword drew easily from the scabbard. At a word they sprang into their saddles. Still I was unwilling to order a charge till we had got so close that we could not fail to be discovered. Ready, indeed, very nearly betrayed us, by barking at an Indian dog which strayed up to us, and I had to call him off, to prevent a combat, but not without difficulty, as he seemed highly delighted at having found an antagonist worthy of his prowess. We now pushed steadily on; not a shot was fired from the fort. We guessed, and rightly, that our friends’ powder was expended. The Indians redoubled their fire, and with terrific yells were pushing on in dense masses towards the fort.