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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 pa.s.senger, on board the Blendenhall, who chanced to be up on deck earlier than usual, observed great quant.i.ties 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, pa.s.sengers, 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 sh.o.r.e. 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 sh.o.r.e 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 pa.s.sengers, (except two who had been crushed in the wreck,) including three ladies and a female attendant, were s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 carca.s.s of a milch cow that had been washed on sh.o.r.e, buckets, tubs, b.u.t.ts, 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 sh.o.r.e. 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 sh.o.r.e.

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, pa.s.sengers, 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 dest.i.tution, 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 sh.e.l.lfish, 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 sh.o.r.e." 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 princ.i.p.al inhabitant, Governor Gla.s.s, 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 Gla.s.s and his company for three months, the survivors obtained a pa.s.sage 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 grat.i.tude 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 circ.u.mspection 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 circ.u.mstances which should a.s.sure 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 a.s.semble 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed over the road since the shower. When the day broke, Middleton was no longer obliged to halt, and he pa.s.sed 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. Pa.s.sing 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. .h.i.t 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 hors.e.m.e.n, 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.

The horse belonging to Champe, with his equipments, cloak, and sword-scabbard, was recovered by Middleton. About three o'clock in the afternoon, our party returned, and the soldiers, seeing the horse in the possession of the pursuing party, exclaimed that the deserter had been killed. Major Lee, at this heart-rending announcement, rushed from his tent, saw the sergeant's horse led by one of Middleton's dragoons, and began to reproach himself with having been the means of spilling the blood of the faithful and intrepid Champe. Concealing his anguish, he advanced to meet Middleton, but was immediately relieved on seeing the downcast countenance of the officer and his companions. From their looks of disappointment, it was evident that Champe had escaped, and this suspicion was soon confirmed by Middleton's narrative of the issue of their pursuit.

Lee's joy was now as great as his depression had been a moment before.

He informed Washington of the affair, who was sensibly affected by the account of Champe's hair-breadth escape, but was rejoiced that it was of a character to put at rest the suspicions of the enemy, in regard to the supposed deserter.

On the fourth day after Champe's departure, Lee received a letter from him, written the day before, in a disguised hand, without any signature, and stating what had pa.s.sed, after he got on board the galley, where he was kindly received. He was immediately conducted to New York, and introduced to the British commandant, to whom he presented a letter from the captain of the galley. Being asked to what corps he belonged, and a few other general questions, he was sent under charge of an orderly-sergeant to the adjutant-general, who was rejoiced to find that he was sergeant-major of the legion of horse, hitherto remarkable for their fidelity.

The adjutant-general noted down, in a large folio book, some particulars in regard to Champe--his size, figure, place of birth, countenance, the color of his hair, name of the corps to which he had belonged. After this was finished, he was sent to the commander-in-chief in charge of one of the staff, with a letter from the adjutant-general. Sir Henry Clinton received him very kindly, and detained him more than an hour, asking many questions in regard to the probable fate of Andre--whether the example of Arnold's defection had not contaminated many of the American officers and troops--whether Washington was popular with the army, and what means might be employed to induce the men to desert. To these various interrogatories, some of which were perplexing, Champe answered warily; exciting, nevertheless, hopes that the adoption of proper measures to encourage desertion, would probably bring off hundreds of the American soldiers, including some of the best troops, horse as well as foot. Respecting the fate of Andre, he said he was ignorant, though there appeared to be a general wish in the army that his life might not be taken; and that he believed that it would depend more on the disposition of Congress, than on the will of Washington.

After the close of this long conversation, Sir Henry presented Champe with a couple of guineas, and recommended him to wait on General Arnold, who was engaged in raising an American legion for the service of his majesty. Arnold expressed much satisfaction on being informed of the effect of his example, and the manner of Champe's escape. He concluded his numerous inquiries by a.s.signing quarters to the sergeant. He afterward proposed to Champe to join his legion, promising him the same station he had held in the rebel service, and further advancement.

Expressing his wish to retire from the service, and his conviction of the certainty of his being hung, if ever taken by the rebels, he begged to be excused from enlistment; a.s.suring the general, that should he change his mind, he would accept his offer.