On the Kentucky Frontier: A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the West

Kenton leaned against a tree, his face hidden in his arm, and we three stood gazing at him in silence and astonishment until perhaps ten minutes had passed, when he turned to face us with an expression such as I shall never forget.

"If you have made no mistake, John Lucas," he said, speaking slowly, and with a ring of joy in his tone, "if you have spoken truly, there is taken from me that which I believed I must carry to my grave, and from there to the presence of my God. If Martin Donnelly be alive, I am a free man once more – "

"I tell you, Simon, I saw and talked with Martin Donnelly," Lucas exclaimed impatiently. "What is the meaning of your words? Why have you not always been a free man, save perchance when the savages had you in their clutches, as these lads here have told?"

"Here is the story of a man who came on the frontier believing himself a murderer, and doing whatsoever he might to atone for a supposed crime committed at a moment when anger held possession of him. As you know, I was born in Fauquier County in 1755, where my father, an Irishman, had won for himself by hard labor such a home and such a plantation as a poor man could survey with pride. Up to the time I was sixteen years old there came no thought into my mind save to be a planter, and continue the work my father had begun. Then I loved a girl, the daughter of our nearest neighbor, and counted, with the consent of her parents as well as mine, on marrying her in due course of time. Martin Donnelly came into the district, and by unfair means, as I did and still claim, won her from me. I met him the day after he was married. He taunted me with what he had done; claimed that an Irish planter in Virginia was of so little consequence that the first newcomer could take from him whatsoever he had that was to be won by fair words, and continued in such strain until rage overpowered me. I leaped upon him like a panther, using no weapons; and with my bare hands pommeled him until he lay like one dead. Fear took the place of anger; I tried to rouse him; but he lay as does a corpse, and I, believing myself a murderer, fled, pursued only by my own conscience, across the Alleghanies, where I joined those who were pushing forward on the extreme frontier. Since that day have I shunned the abode of all men save those who live remote from any settlement. How often I have yearned to see my father and mother, there is no need for me to say. I dared not go back, believing I would be seized and executed as a murderer; but now I am free to do whatsoever I will, and save for the fact that my word binds me to remain as scout with Major Clarke until the expedition comes to an end with the capture of Vincennes, I would set off this hour for the home I have dreamed of, but never expected again to see."

Having thus spoken Simon Kenton walked rapidly away up stream, and we three, awed by his story, and knowing that at such a time it would be best to leave him alone, returned to the camp, I for one feeling that however great a failure might be Major Clarke's expedition so far as concerned the British outposts, it was wondrously successful, inasmuch as through it there had been lifted from one man the shadow of a great crime.

Not until nearly nightfall did the scout rejoin us, and then all traces of his emotion had vanished. He was much the same person as before, and yet entirely different, if I may use so contradictory an expression. I mean that there was no change in his manner so far as could be seen when we spoke of the purpose of our journey, or of that which was to be done in the future; but when talking with Paul and me there was a gladsome ring in his voice – a certain freedom of manner which struck me forcibly, and yet might not have been evident to one who was unacquainted with all the facts.

More than once during the evening he referred to the day when he was to go back to Virginia, and during the remainder of the journey it was as if all his future actions were marked out with especial reference to that visit, only lately become possible.

Not until noon of the following day did the first of the flat-boats come in sight, and it was the advice of these hunters from Kaskaskia that we set out on the march up the Mississippi without delay, lest Monsieur Rocheblave's spies should give that officer timely warning of our coming.

Immediately Major Clarke came on shore Simon Kenton informed him of what we had learned, and the four hunters announced their desire to accompany the expedition from this point as guides.

Nothing could have been more favorable to the enterprise, and, as may be readily supposed, the major did not hesitate to accept their services.

The volunteers, all good men and tried, were speedily acquainted with the facts of the case, for in such an enterprise as this the commander made no effort to conceal his intentions from those who accompanied him, and it was believed by every one that no time should be wasted at this point on the river.

When the last boat had rounded-to and made fast in front of our camp, we were as well prepared for the march, in fact, better, than we should be twenty-four hours later, and the halt was prolonged only until it could be decided by all the members of the party how we might best set out.

After a consultation it was decided that the boats should be dropped about six miles further down the river to such point as would afford concealment for them, after which our party would begin the march across the wilderness, and the last craft had not been made fast half an hour before we were under way again, Simon Kenton, Paul and I paddling ahead to select a spot where we might leave the unwieldy boats with some degree of assurance that they would remain undiscovered.

In order that I should be able to tell the story of all we two lads did while we were with Simon Kenton, it is necessary that much of the detail be omitted, else would this poor story run to such length that he who attempted to read might grow weary in the task.

Therefore it is that nothing shall be set down regarding the march across the wilderness, during which we met with no other adventure than the capture of one of Rocheblave's spies, whom we met the second day after leaving the river.

It chanced to be the good fortune of us three – meaning Simon Kenton, Paul and myself – to come across the fellow while he was cooking a fat turkey, and although it was by no means to his liking, we forced him to go back with us to Major Clarke. He claimed to be an honest settler of Kaskaskia, whose sympathies were with the struggling colonists; but John Lucas had told us that there were few in the settlement thus disposed, and Simon Kenton believed it safer to hold him for a certain time, than run the chances of letting him go whithersoever he would.

The hunters from the outposts soon settled his fate, for they recognized in him one who had been most active in inciting the Indians against the settlers of Kentucky, and but for Major Clarke's bold stand he would have been put out of the world in the quickest possible manner, as indeed he should have been, for I counted him a more deliberate murderer even than the savages, and equally culpable.

However, we held him close prisoner by tying him between two of the strongest men, and I venture to say that during the remainder of our tramp through the wilderness he got a reasonably good idea of how innocent women and children fare when they are forced to accompany savage captors.

Our progress was reasonably rapid, and yet no precautions were spared to prevent surprise.

Twenty of the party, among whom were Simon Kenton, Paul and myself, remained two miles or more in advance of the main body, spreading out in what nowadays would be called a skirmish line, and taking exceeding good care that nothing escaped our attention.

It was on the afternoon of the fourth day of July when we arrived within a mile of the outpost, having every reason to believe that thus far Monsieur Rocheblave was ignorant that we proposed to deprive him of his command.

Had it not been for the opportune meeting with the four hunters, I question if we should have been able to advance secretly thus near; but they, acquainted with all the approaches to the settlement, and knowing where we would be less likely to attract attention, led us safely on until we were in a good position to begin the work on hand.

Although there were more than four hundred in the party, we remained five hours hidden almost beside the garrison, and yet no suspicion of our presence was aroused.

None other, save men familiar with frontier life, could have accomplished what at this time seems to me almost impossible, even though I know full well it was done.

We remained hidden in the thicket, from which point we could see the people of the settlement as they moved to and fro intent on their daily tasks, and yet one might have passed within an hundred yards of us without being suspicious that so many armed men were in the vicinity.

It was believed, at least by Paul and me, that a battle must be fought before we could gain possession of the outpost, and perhaps there is no need why I should set down here the fact that once more was my heart filled with timorousness, for by this time it should well be understood that whenever danger threatened I grew cowardly.

It was one thing to fight against the Indians in the forest where we could find as good shelter as they, and quite another to advance in the open against a garrison of men equally skilful with ourselves in handling a rifle, and protected by a stockade.

I believed, and with good cause, that many of as would be sent into another world before the sun rose again, and, unless I was willing to show my companions how much of a coward I had become, I must take my chances of death with the others.

It was by no means cheerful, lying there in the thicket, not daring to speak or move lest an alarm should be given, and looking forward to that struggle which must speedily ensue.

Had it been possible to hold converse with Paul, then might some subject have been brought up which would have changed the current of my thoughts; but I was forbidden even to whisper, and it seemed to me then as if between us and that stockade so short a distance away, death stalked to and fro, awaiting our approach.

It is the coward, and only the coward, who reaches out into the future in search of danger. The sensible man waits until confronted by the peril before giving way to fear, and this was proven to me before many hours had passed. I suffered ten times more than if we had advanced and been severely beaten, and yet, as we speedily understood, I had no reason whatsoever to thus torture myself.

When the night came it seemed to me as if Major Clarke had forgotten for what purpose we were there.

Peering out from amid the thicket we could see that the inhabitants of the settlement had gone to their rest. Two hours after the sunset, the garrison was quiet, and yet our commander gave no signal.

Looking forward to wounds, and perhaps death, as I did, the moments went by exceedingly slow, and I came to believe that almost any danger would be preferable to this stealthy waiting for the signal which should precipitate the action.

Paul, who lay close by my side, seemingly gave no heed to the passage of time. Like the brave lad I had come to understand him to be, he remained apparently indifferent to what the future might hold in store for us, gaining the repose which would serve him in good stead when violent action was required.

It seemed to me as if the night was more than half spent when I observed Major Clarke rising to his feet, and, as I afterwards learned, it was no more than nine o'clock.

The decisive moment had come. If now we failed to capture Kaskaskia, then was the expedition a dire failure, and those who did not fall beneath the bullets might expect to find themselves prisoners in the hands of captors who would show but little less mercy than the savages.

Before we had arrived at this hiding-place it was decided that the party should be divided into five sections, each of which would make the attack from a different point, and now that the signal had been given the men formed themselves into detachments, moving silently away in the darkness as had been previously agreed upon.

Simon Kenton, Paul and myself, were among those who were to march straight toward the stockade from where we lay, and therefore we made no movement until those who were to approach from the opposite side had been given time to get into position. Major Clarke himself was to lead our division, and although he counted on taking the garrison by surprise, I believe it was in his mind that if a victory was to be secured, we would pay dearly for it in blood.

Well, I am giving over many words to what was in itself but a most trifling affair. It only required that we should march up and take the garrison, as if all the king's soldiers there were waiting with open arms to receive us in friendly fashion.

When the word to advance was given, our portion of the company could see in the gloom far away on either hand the different detachments closing in upon the stockade, and yet not a sound came from those valiant soldiers of the king, who instead of guarding the outpost were spending their time in slumber.

Nearer and nearer we advanced, believing all the while that in the next second would be heard the report of an alarm gun; but the minutes went by, and the silence within the stockade was as profound as if none save the dead held possession.

Straight up to the big gate we advanced, and so secure did the garrison feel in the friendship of the savages, who thirsted for the blood of such white people as were not in the king's favor, that the barrier was not so much as closed.

We entered and had surrounded the commandant's quarters before any one of the enemy was aware of our presence, and then came the alarm.

A gun was fired at the instant Major Clarke stood before the door of Monsieur Rocheblave's house, and the echo of the report had hardly died away before he, followed by a score of men, entered the building.

Standing close by Paul's side, directly behind Simon Kenton, I awaited the beginning of that battle which seemed imminent; yet grown somewhat bolder because of the fact that we were within the stockade.

While I remained on the alert, my rifle half upraised, there came the word, I know not from where, that the commandant had surrendered, and, turning toward us, Simon Kenton said much as if he was dissatisfied with this peaceful ending of what had promised to be a most difficult undertaking.

"Well, lads, the first of the outposts we counted on capturing is ours, and we have not been put to the expense of a single charge of ammunition."

"Do you mean to say that there will be no fighting?" I asked in surprise.

"How can there be since Monsieur Rocheblave has surrendered?"