Ambush

(Source)

Captain Samuel Jenkins and his company of New Hampshire militia were on the march. By order of the colonial Governor they were being dispatched to the western area of the colony. Rumors of raids and fighting along the Cannitticutt River were rampant. So Jenkins and his men were marching to join the detachment already on the frontier, the detachment commanded by Ensign Charles Mayberry.

Once the company had passed the town of Rumford¹ the men felt themselves to be truly in the wilderness, the road had petered out to the equivalent of a forest trail, barely wide enough for the three wagons loaded with the company's provisions and baggage to navigate. The stultifying summer heat and humidity made things worse.

"Sir, we need to stop and rest. The men are exhausted, I fear we may lose men to the heat if we continue." Lieutenant Robert Cooke begged the captain, the men were starting to straggle and the sergeants were having difficulty keeping the men in ranks.

Jenkins stopped and looked back over the column, truly the men looked worn our, "Very well, have the column halt, send out a scouting party to find a place to camp for the night."

A hunting party of the Pennacook had seen the approaching band of English soldiers. Their leader, Grey Raven, sent three of his fastest men to warn the nearby villages of the soldiers. He had heard of fighting along the Great River and he assumed that these men were heading to that area.

Though the Pennacook were nearly extinct as a tribe, there were enough left to remember the depredations of the English. Grey Raven saw this as an opportunity to hit back for past injustices. Though there were only eleven men, now that the messengers had been dispatched, they could make the English march to the west painful. Perhaps painful enough to make them turn back!

Molly Henderson was awakened in the night by a hand over her mouth and a voice in her ear telling her to be silent in French. She knew enough of that language to understand. Though the word was spelled the same in both languages, it sounded different in French.

She was terrified at first, what new calamity was about to befall her? When she was raised to a sitting position, she saw in the dim light of the dying campfire that the man who had awakened her was her captor. He gestured for her to stick her hands out, which she did, reluctantly.

When he cut the cords that bound her wrists together she moaned softly and began to rub at them, he stopped her. She then felt some sort of greasy ointment which her captor spread upon her chafed skin. Though it smelled disagreeable, it eased the pain almost immediately. She wondered what was going on.

Then the man stood and beckoned to her, indicating that she should follow him. At first she hesitated, but he was insistent. Terrified, she followed him into the night.

She stayed close to him and as they walked she realized that she could see much of the ground around her, for the moon was nearly full. She followed the man, realizing that she had no real  choice in the matter. To stay with the others was not an option, she had had a brief glimpse of how these people treated recalcitrant captives. She was determined to cooperate and live.

A day after his messengers went out, they returned with the news that more warriors were coming to join them. It was then that Grey Raven received the news that the English had destroyed an Abenaki village near the Great River. The sachems of the area were upset and were determined to destroy the English presence in the area. They had kept the peace, now the English had punished a village for the actions of others.

Now these Englishmen would pay for the actions of others. 

Abraham Parker and Jedediah Maxwell were scouting ahead of the main body of the militia. They had been chosen because both had lived on the frontier as trappers and knew the ways of the natives and the forest. Both were very nervous, something was not right.

Hissing to his compatriot, Parker said, "Jedediah, do you see that, down by the stream?"

Maxwell did indeed see something, the carcass of a deer, stripped of the better parts for eating. Maxwell knew the natives were not ordinarily wasteful of the bounty of the forest. Unless they had a need for haste.

"War party?" Maxwell suggested.

"I think so..."

Before Parker could get another word out, an arrow thumped into his back, squarely between the shoulders and piercing his heart. Maxwell turned, frantically trying to cock his firelock and bring it to bear.

The last thing he saw was the face of a painted Abenaki warrior. That warrior brought his tomahawk down on Maxwell's head, killing him instantly.

Sleeping Panther was ecstatic, he and Lone Deer had killed two of the English. After stripping the two dead men of their fire sticks, powder, and shot, the men had pulled the red coats from the two corpses. Then they had taken the scalps of the Englishmen to show their sachem that they were warriors of great courage and skill.

The two men rejoined their band within a half hour of making their kill. "Grey Raven, we have taken the eyes of the English. Their scouts are dead, here is their hair!" Sleeping Panther held the scalp he had taken above his head, threw his head back and screeched like his namesake, the panther.

Over the next hill the English column struggled to make progress. They had already abandoned one of the wagons when a wheel had shattered on a rock. The wagons that were left were overloaded but now had more oxen yoked to the teams which pulled them. Jenkins was more concerned with his men, they were exhausted, the previous night's stop had not refreshed them as he had hoped.

As he watched the column push forward, he heard the scream of a mountain lion. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight out, this wilderness terrified him at times.

At daybreak Short Bear had called a halt to their flight from the other Abenaki. Molly was glad of the stop, her legs were ready to give out. She was surprised when the Indian had given her some food and water from a skin bag.

At first she was repulsed by the smell of what appeared to be dried meat with berries and some sort of grain mashed together with the meat. But she was ravenous so she forced herself to eat, the taste was surprisingly pleasant. She actually smiled at the Indian as she ate.

She was surprised again when the man smiled back at her, offering her more water. She drank deeply until the water was gone. She looked rather sheepish as she handed the empty skin back to the man. He stood, then loped off into the brush, leaving her all alone.

She wasn't sure what to do next, the man seemed to mean her no harm, but she wondered what he had planned for her. She couldn't run as she had no idea where she was, she also knew that the man could track her down with ease. So she decided to wait.

The man returned shortly thereafter and she could see that he had filled the skin with more water. She wondered why they hadn't camped nearer to the stream, which she could hear in the near distance. Then it struck her, others no doubt used that stream and where better to find people fleeing than near a source of water?

Then the man grunted and they were moving again, though at a more relaxed pace. The man obviously knew this area and had no fear of his surroundings, perhaps they were near his home, she thought. But then what? What would become of her when they reached his home?

The first attacks came on the rear of the column. Quick strikes by screaming warriors who came out of the woods, attacked, then disappeared into the forest again. Already three men were down, two dead and one knocked unconscious by a club.

Jenkins had the men surround the wagons, taking up defensive positions in a circle around the wagons. Had it been possible he would have set the wagons in a defensive box, but there was no room to maneuver them off of what passed for a road.

The injured man was treated by one of the men who had been a butcher in civilian life. He knew anatomy at least, human and animal. He looked at Jenkins and shook his head, "He's a goner, Sir, skull is pushed in. I doubt he'll last another hour.

So they waited.

Grey Raven had pulled his warriors back, leading them in the only direction the soldiers could go, along the forest road. Of course, had the Englishmen opted to turn around and go home, that was fine with Grey Raven. His mission was to slow their progress to the west until more warriors could be gathered.

The Abenaki had taken the path to war, they would sweep the English away from the Great River so that the tribe could resume it's peaceful pursuits of farming and hunting. The sachems also thought that inflicting a defeat on their English allies might make their Mohican  enemies seek to trouble someone else.

Private William Jones died shortly before sunset. He had never regained consciousness.

"Sergeant Major Jacobs!" Jenkins wanted to get the casualties buried. He would give the men the night to rest, but he wanted the dead in the ground first. "Take a party and dig a grave for Jones, Hopkins, and Allenby, just off the road should be sufficient. I doubt the natives will attack us tonight. They don't like to fight at night, but we should be ready for them come first light."

"Would you say a few words over the dead, Sir?"

"Certainly Sarn't Major, now get to it, it will be dark soon."

When the sun rose the English were ready to set off once more. They waited for a while, expecting the Indians to attack them in the dawn's light, but they didn't come. So they prepared to move out.

Reluctantly, Jenkins had decided to leave the wagons behind. They could make better time if they traveled light. He had the men load up on provisions and cautioned them to eat sparingly, it was at least three more days to the river.

"What about the oxen, Sir?" Jacobs wanted to know.

One of the junior sergeants, one Moses Donoghue, suggested that they use the animals to carry ammunition and other supplies. They could lead the animals rather than have them pull the wagons.

"Right, excellent idea Sergeant, see to it. We march in one hour."

"Lieutenant Cooke!"

"Sir?"

"I want you to command the rear of the column, take ten men and act as rear guard, stay alert." Jenkins ordered.

"After yesterday? You can count on it Sir." Cooke answered, his voice betrayed his fear. Jenkins wondered if his own voice didn't sound much the same.

More warriors joined Grey Raven's war band, including a senior war chief named Bull Elk. Grey Raven deferred to the war chief who quickly approved of what Grey Raven and his band had been doing.

"Now we will stand and let the English come to us. We have many firesticks we received from les français and my men know how to use them. Will you consent to attack the rear of the English while we hold them in front?" Bull Elk wanted to confuse the soldiers, this plan seemed likely to do just that, so Grey Raven assented.

They would let the English travel unmolested this day, let them grow overconfident. The Abenaki would watch the column, shadowing their every move. Only when the English entered the Tangled Ravine would they strike.

The forest road passed through a ravine through which a small stream ran. One year there had been much rain and the stream had become a torrent, washing many trees away. The ravine was now choked with dead trees and offered many places to attack from and better yet, the English would have to stay on the road once they had advanced far enough.

Bull Elk hoped to leave no survivors, let the English sachems wonder what had happened to the warriors they had sent into the forest. It might dissuade them from sending more.

¹ Present day Concord.

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Escalation

The Abduction of Boone's Daughter by the Indians
Carl Ferdinand Wimar

Molly's wrists were being chafed badly by her bonds. All she could do was bear the pain, her captors showed no signs of slowing down. Little did she realize that the men were not what they seemed. Though she knew little of the native inhabitants, she did note that while their were similarities in their languages and the way they dressed, there were differences.

She was beginning to suspect that the men who captured her and the others were not Abenaki. Especially as the party continued to head west, not north, nor to the south. After crossing the Great River the men had harried the captives along, almost as if they feared pursuit. She knew the Abenaki lived on both sides of the Great River, though they were being pressured in the west by the powerful Iroquois Confederation. Her mother would, no doubt, be shocked by her knowledge of such things. Had she still been alive.

Molly listened when the men discussed such things, so she knew something of the affairs of the region. Now she wished she knew more, like how to speak the language of these men. As she thought of these things, the band continued to move at a fast pace.

One of the boys, Joshua Hawkins, a boy of thirteen, tripped over a tree root and fell, crying out as he did so. One of the warriors reached for his tomahawk and cut the boy's bonds, the boy, thinking they were letting him go almost smiled. Then his look turned to one of horror as he saw the painted man raise his tomahawk again.

Molly gasped when the tomahawk fell, ending Joshua's life. However, she had no time to mourn the boy as her own captor growled at her and tugged sharply on the rawhide encircling her wrists. She nearly stumbled but managed to keep her feet. The warband moved on, sparing no time for the dead boy in their wake.

Short Bear couldn't believe the stupidity of the oafish White Turtle. He had killed the English boy without a second's hesitation, wasting a valuable captive. These people were worth something, either in trade to other tribes, or in working around the village, doing the disagreeable jobs no one else wanted. Rarely, a captive might become a valued member of the tribe. He shook his head and growled at the yellow haired girl, giving a sharp tug on the rawhide tying her to him. Short Bear's legs were beginning to burn, was Spotted Wolf going to make them run forever?

Though the warband were indeed Abenaki, from the Goasiak, this particular band was not happy with the decisions of their sachem. They wanted war, the sachem held out for peace while the English continued to take their land. So they had acted, against the wishes of their tribe, in truth they were now renegades. Men of no people.

Black Deer's plan, which he explained to Spotted Wolf before his death, was to wipe out the settlement, then head west, leaving a trail to confuse any pursuers into thinking the attackers had been Mohawk, and not Abenaki. As they moved west, Spotted Wolf began to realize that Black Deer's plan wasn't very well thought out.

"Hold!" Spotted Wolf raised a hand, it was getting late in the day, it was time to camp. He also needed to think of his next move. Perhaps they should head north and trade their captives to the Wyandot, he could not think of what else to do. He also realized that returning to their own village was out of the question.

He was beginning to wish he had talked this out with Black Deer in more depth, he now realized that what they had now was no plan at all. He would talk with the other men, get their thoughts. Spotted Wolf realized that he was in over his head.

Ensign Charles Mayberry surveyed the carnage his small company had caused. Most of the natives had fled into the forest, his men had managed to kill some of them, the ones who had stayed and fought to buy time for the others to flee. Three of his own men were down, one dead and two wounded. Neither wounded man would live to see another sunrise, their wounds were too grievous and the nearest doctor was five miles to the south at Number 4. Carrying them that distance would surely kill them.

As he walked towards the native houses, his sergeant came up to him. "Sir, what do we do with the village? All the natives have fled into the forest, do we pursue?"

Mayberry turned to look incredulously at Sgt. Adams, "Are you mad Sergeant? Pursue the savages into the forest, their natural element, we would be cut to pieces. Torch the village, we must get back to the fort."

"And the wounded Sir?"

"Arrange to have them carried, along with the dead man, who was it did you say?"

"Perkins, Sir, Private Perkins."

"Very well, now see to the village Sergeant."

"Sir!"

Blue Otter could feel his spirit beginning to drift away. He watched as the soldiers began to burn the homes of his people. At least many of them had managed to escape into the woods. Perhaps they would go to his brother's village, he didn't know. As he watched, he saw the soldier with the fancy coat draw a very long knife from his sash. He wondered what it was, never having seen a sword before.

Blue Otter thanked the Grandmother for accepting his blood into her, soon he would be in the spirit world, perhaps he would see his father again. He hoped so.

"Not dead yet, are you? Ye bloody rascal." Mayberry drew his sword as the badly wounded man grimaced at him from the ground. With a sharp thrust, he finished him. He had never used the sword before and had been surprised when the man had hissed as the blade went into him.

"Deuced odd that." Mayberry began to return the sword to its scabbard, then realized it was bloody, so he wiped the blade clean on the leggings of the man he had just killed.

Sgt. Josiah Adams had watched as the ensign had killed the wounded man with his sword, then cleaned it on the dead man's clothing. Though he had seen such things on battlefields in Europe, it still made him queasy.

While Adams was fairly sure that he had probably killed men in battle, he couldn't be sure. Standing in the ranks and firing volleys into the rapidly thickening powder smoke one could never be sure.

After becoming a sergeant, his job had become making sure that the men did what the officers wanted. In Europe he had carried a spontoon, not a firelock. Here they needed every man to carry a firelock, other than the officers of course. But this Mayberry fellow scared him a bit. The man seemed rather bloodthirsty.

Private James Moore walked past his sergeant, carrying a torch with which to set another of the Indian huts on fire. "Bit of a bloody-minded lad isn't he Sarn't?" He said as he nodded towards the officer.

Adams started to agree then realized who he was talking to, "Watch that talk Private, be about your business, we're setting off soon. Move!"

From the trees a young man watched his village burn. His mother and his father had both been slain in the initial attack, he had watched a soldier kill his brother with a long knife, the longest knife he had ever seen.

He resolved then and there to take that man's long knife, his fancy red coat, and his life. Especially his life. He would follow the soldiers back to their fort and await his chance.

With all of his family dead, he had no other purpose in life but to avenge them, then join them in the spirit world.

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War on the Cannitticutt

(Source)

Little Wolf had convinced the brothers to spend a few days at the village of his father's brother, Blue Otter. The brothers had agreed, they were tired and both felt that a few days of staying in one place would be pleasant.

"Good, I think my arms are ready to fall off from paddling." Jacques groaned.

Little Wolf thought that amusing, he had seen no sign of either of les frères becoming tired, sleepy yes, but the two men were strong and had obviously traveled many days in the wilderness before he had met them.

When they reached the village, Alain noticed that it was on the western bank of the river, which he had assumed was Mohican territory. Which he then mentioned to Little Wolf, whose French was getting very good.

"Alain, the Mohican covet these lands, but we Abenaki have been here since Tabaldak created all that existed upon our Grandmother, the Earth. The Mohican are pushing hard to the south, but here, this is still the land of our ancestors." As he finished speaking a group of people had emerged from the village, his uncle among them and, to the surprise of Alain and Jacques, there was a Catholic priest.

(Source)

Blue Otter wrapped his arms around Little Wolf and in a voice a bear would be proud of, announced, "Son of my brother, son of my blood, welcome. Tell me who are your friends?"

The priest had thought the brothers to be Wyandot, for Little Wolf had convinced them to do their hair in the Wyandot style. The sun had also darkened their skin to the point where only their fine features and blue eyes gave them away.

"Welcome my children, perhaps I could hear your confessions later?" The priest was filthy from living in the village and never washing as the Abenaki did. In private the people called him Smelly Father. Though some in the village were interested in the religion of les français, all things spiritual interested them, they had no desire to offend their hero Gluscabi and Tabaldak. Their shaman had told them that to follow the Christian God would offend their Grandmother, the Earth. Respect Him, he said, but follow Him not.

To the priest Alain said, respectfully, "Perhaps Father, perhaps..." Alain muttered, in Abenaki, to Little Wolf, "I don't care for him, he smells."

Little Wolf laughed and then whispered to Alain, "Be careful, he speaks our language, not well, but he understands much."

(Source)

That night, after an excellent meal of venison, beans, corn, and squash (the latter were called the "Three Sisters" by the Abenaki according to Little Wolf), the brothers joined the men of the tribe around the main campfire. Blue Otter was watching them intently, he seemed to be having an internal debate with himself, finally he spoke.

"So, how did you français come to be so far south by yourselves? You are a long way from the Canadas."

Alain explained that they had traveled with a large party of Wyandot. Men of one clan had been sent by their sachem to determine the depth of English penetration up the Great River. What they had seen alarmed them. The brothers wanted to linger when the majority of the men wished to return to the north and report what they had seen.

The leader of the party, Little Beaver, had told them, "This is dangerous my friends, if something happens to you, your father would be most unhappy with me. But you are men now, not boys, what you will do, you will do." They had been given a small canoe and certain supplies for their trip up the river. The rest they would have to provide for themselves. Having grown up with their father in the wilderness, that wasn't a problem.

"Be careful, dress like the Wyandot, act like the Wyandot, and you might survive. Speak little, listen much. I will tell your father of your decision to have this adventure. I only wish I was young enough and foolish enough to join you." Little Beaver had sent them on their way with those parting words.

There were times when Alain wished they had stayed with the Wyandot, but, he had to admit, he was starting to enjoy himself.

Molly Henderson was upset, her father was insistent on her marrying William Tolbert, a fat merchant who plied his trade here in the wilderness. She thought that she would rather die than marry the much older man and move back to the town of Portsmouth, though it was the capitol of New Hampshire, it was not nearly as exciting as being on the frontier.

"Molly, you must be more ladylike, you will drive your father into an early grave!" Molly's mother Anne often chided her for her behavior. She had nearly fainted when Molly had announced her intention to go deer hunting with young Henry Abercrombie.

"You shall do no such thing young lady!"

Molly had dashed off in a huff, furious with her parents for expecting her to lead the boring life of a wife and mother. In a settled town of all places!

Short Bear was watching the small settlement from a stand of trees a bowshot from the nearest building. He saw a young woman run into view, she was nothing like any woman he had ever seen before. Her hair was the color of the leaves of the striped maple in the fall, rich and yellow. He hoped the signal to attack would be made soon. He was determined to make the woman his captive.

Spotted Wolf gave the signal shortly afterwards. Short Bear rushed forward with the others, he seized the yellow-haired woman and subdued her. While the others butchered the men of the settlement and took their own captives, Short Bear was content. He had what he desired.

Molly's hands were bound in front of her and she was pulled roughly along by her captor. She had turned once to look back and had seen the smoke and the flames rising from what had been her home. She supposed that now she at least wouldn't have to marry the fat merchant, but that did not ease her terror. Perhaps Portsmouth would not have been so bad after all.

Of the thirty-five people who had lived in the settlement, she saw only seven other survivors, three young boys of perhaps eight to ten years of age, and four girls, only one of which was near her in age. They had cried out and screamed until one of the Indians, a very tall man with a badly scarred face, had lifted his hand as if to strike them. They immediately grew quiet.

Molly wondered if they had seen the fresh blood on the tall man's body and arms. She knew then that her parents and all of the people she knew, save those with the war party, were now dead. She realized, with certain horror, that if she did not do as the Indians wished, they would kill her too.

In the afternoon of the second day of their stay at Blue Otter's village, a messenger came. After speaking with Blue Otter, the man continued on to the next village. Little Wolf came to see the brothers shortly afterwards.

"A war party of Abenaki, from a distant village, have attacked an English settlement further up the river. There is a soldier fort not far away, between us and the settlement that was attacked. The soldiers know of our village. Blue Otter fears that the soldiers will blame us for this attack and come here to make war."

Alain looked briefly at Jacques then asked, "Can we help you fight the English?"

Little Wolf looked surprised, then he said, "We are not going to fight them, Blue Otter will talk with them. As for you, brothers, Blue Otter says you must leave, if the English find any français in the village, it will look bad."

"What about Smelly Father?" Jacques asked his friend.

"He is to leave with us."

"You are coming with us? All four of us won't fit in our canoe..." Alain protested.

"Blue Otter has given us a larger canoe, but I know the Smelly Father, he will not paddle, he will sleep or pray all day. I would leave him but the Canadian Fathers would not like that, so we shall take him to the royal mountain."

As the canoe moved away from the shore, Alain noted with disgust that the priest was already asleep. The man didn't even awaken when the three friends heard the sounds of flintlocks firing and the screams of people dying.

It seemed that the English had no desire to talk with the Abenaki.

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Blood on the Frontier

(Source)

Ensign Charles Mayberry stepped outside of the fort's stockade, as he did so he brushed imaginary specks of dust and lint off of his uniform coat. It was a coat he was very proud of and he wore it every chance he got. Now that war seemed imminent, that was all of the time.

Mayberry had done well in New England. He had been a successful trader in Boston but had grown tired of the town and longed to see the frontier. When the governor of New Hampshire issued a proclamation indicating that that colony intended to raise a number of independent infantry companies for service on the frontier, Mayberry had hurried to Portsmouth, the capital of that colony, with a letter of introduction from a business acquaintance who knew the governor.

He had been disappointed in having to settle for a commission as an ensign, in light of his absolute lack of military experience, but the man appointed as captain, one Samuel Jenkins, was a decent enough fellow and he and Mayberry got along quite well. Which is what had led to Mayberry being dispatched along with twenty-five men to this outpost on the Cannitticutt River. Jenkins trusted the younger man more because of his business acumen than for any military qualities he might possess. Mayberry's success in business marked him as an organized man, careful with his assets. Good qualities in a soldier.

"Sergeant Adams, please accompany me down to the river." Mayberry had called out to his sergeant because he was still somewhat nervous about being out here in the open. Rumors of Abenaki war parties were rife and Mayberry thought that having the sergeant and his flintlock along would perhaps deter any nearby natives long enough for him to survey the land along the river. The sergeant came out of the stockade just as Mayberry was lighting his pipe.

"Certainly Sir, not much to worry about right now I think, but better safe than sorry me Mum always said."

Josiah Adams had been a soldier in a regular regiment of foot before coming to New England. He had been mustered out during one of Parliament's attempts to save money by cutting the size of the army. With no prospects in England, he had decided to try his chances in the New World.

He had worked as a dockhand in Portsmouth for a time but he tired of that and when the governor issued a call for experienced men, he jumped at the chance. Based on his experience he had been made a sergeant right away, which was an increase in pay as well. Service on the frontier didn't worry him, he'd faced French regulars in battle, how tough could these natives be?

Black Deer turned to his companion and gestured for him to bring up the rest of the war party. Spotted Wolf nodded and slid back into the brush. He had seen the same thing the party's leader had noted. Two of the English were outside of the protection of the small fort and they had left the gate open!

The war band of the Goasiak¹ numbered twenty-five warriors, they took up positions at the forest's edge, one party by the river, a second party in the forest to the left, and waited for the signal from Black Deer to begin their attack. As the men watched, the two Englishmen began walking to the river. One was smoking a pipe, the other, an older man, had a firestick but held it casually, as if he wasn't expecting trouble.

Black Deer decided to start the action himself, he drew his bow and sighted on the man with the firestick. The man in the fancy coat smoking a pipe had no weapon, so he would die second.

On a whim, Mayberry stopped and turned to his sergeant, "Sergeant Adams, have the men fall out, I wish to exercise them."

"Sir?"

"Don't you agree that the men would benefit from extra firing drills?"

Adams raised his hat and said, "Very good Sir!" then turned on his heel and moved towards the fort, bellowing for the company to muster.

Just after Adams began his move to the fort, an arrow stabbed into the turf at the sergeant's heel. He didn't notice it immediately but Mayberry did. He drew a pistol from his sash, checked that it was primed and cocked it.

The war party hesitated, they had expected to dash from cover when they saw an Englishman fall, that didn't happen, most didn't even see the arrow in the ground near the soldier's foot. They did see the Englishman with the fancy coat pull something from that coat. They watched him fiddle with it, none were familiar with pistols, then watched as the man extended his arm, pointing his hand towards the river and their leader's party. They were stunned when they saw flame and smoke issue from the end of the man's outstretched hand. What sorcery was this?

As Mayberry saw the natives towards the river, he saw one man with a bow, drawing an arrow as he watched. Can't have that, he thought, then he extended his arm. aimed, and pulled the trigger. He owned a very fine set of duelling pistols, specially made for him on the Continent. They were very accurate and he loved to practice with them. That practice paid off this day.

Black Deer felt as if he had been punched in the lower part of his chest, very hard. It caused him to drop the arrow he had been about to place on his bow. The two warriors nearest to him were staring at him in alarm. They had seen the Englishman point his hand and then had seen flames and smoke issue from that hand. The Englishman in the fancy coat had a firestick for an arm, that's all they could assume.

Spotted Wolf watched in shock as Black Deer fell to one knee, blood was pouring from the wound in his chest. "Take him to last night's camp," he told two of the men.

As Spotted Wolf looked up, there were more Englishmen near the fort, they all had firesticks. It was time to run or to attack.

Spotted Wolf was a cautious man, he didn't understand what he had just seen, he was also somewhat terrified. A man with a firestick for an arm, what strange creatures these Englishmen were!

"All of you, back to the camp!" As they began to move off, a volley from the Englishmen passed overhead, the hissing of the balls made the men move that much faster. Spotted Wolf called out to the others in the forest, "Fly, back to the camp!"

Mayberry was tempted to fire his second pistol at the backs of the fleeing Indians, but decided against it. The captain had cautioned him about getting involved in actual fighting, "Remember old boy, you're there to lead the men and direct their efforts. Fighting is such a pedestrian activity don't you know? Best leave that to the soldiery. We use our brains to fight!"

As Adams bellowed for the company to reload, Mayberry saw another party of Indians break from cover to his right, they too seemed to be fleeing. He thought for a moment, then said, "Right Sergeant! Let's get the lads back into the fort before the savages give it another try!"

Spotted Wolf was beside himself. They had tried their best to keep Black Deer alive but he had succumbed to his wound shortly after arriving back at their previous night's campsite. A number of the men wanted to go back to the fort and attack the English who had killed their leader. Spotted Wolf knew that that would only lead to more dead warriors.

"I have a better idea." Spotted Wolf knew of a small English settlement just up the river. There were no soldiers there.

"We must prepare Black Deer for his journey to the spirit world." Spotted Wolf announced.

"Here? In this desolate place?" One of the men protested.

"No, there is a grove of white pine just to the east of here. We shall bury him there. It is fitting, after all, are we not the people of the white pines? After that, we go to the English settlement up the river. We shall kill the men and take the women and children captive. Tomorrow we paint ourselves black, to remember our war chief."

War had come to the frontier once more.

¹ Also known to the Europeans as the Cowasuck.

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The Settlement at Number 4

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Little Wolf showed the brothers a small cove just short of the English settlement. As the canoe pulled into the setback and the three men rested from paddling, Alain thought about what their next move might be. He wasn't sure how to proceed from here, wait for nightfall? For the moment he wanted to stretch his legs, so he pointed at an area along the shoreline of the cove which was hidden from the river's main channel.

Little Wolf studied the surrounding area very carefully before nodding his assent. As quietly as possible the men paddled ashore. As soon as the canoe was in the shallows, Little Wolf slipped over the side and disappeared into the brush.

"Now where the Hell is he going?" Alain murmured just loud enough for Jacques to hear.

"I think he's going to have a look around, he's nervous, I can tell. Did you notice the other signs of settlement downriver?" Jacques was uncharacteristically subdued, Alain was somewhat relieved that his brother was taking this seriously. He had had no idea that the English were building more settlements along the river, along the Abenaki side of the river at that.

As the brothers settled in, pulling the canoe into the brush with them, Little Wolf returned. In the sand on the bank he used a stick to draw the location of the small English settlement in relation to the river. Using signs and gestures Little Wolf relayed to the brothers what he knew of the settlement. He also conveyed the idea that they should wait for moonrise before setting out. They should rest for now. The settlement was close by.

Josiah Wilkins decided to walk down to the river. The day had been hot and the air by the water was often cooler. The captain of the militia had had word from Number 3,¹ which some folks were starting to call Lunenburg for whatever reason, that Indian activity was on the rise along the river.

A party of Mohican, friendly to the English, had passed through there some days back with worrisome news, there was an Abenaki war party down near the falls not far from Number 3. The Mohican claimed that the Abenaki had killed two of their number. Their estimate of the size of the war party was at least twenty warriors.² The Abenaki were not friends of the English.

As Wilkins approached the river, he saw that the moon was already well up, he liked the way its reflection danced on the waters of the river. He stood there for a few long moments before deciding to go back up to the settlement, dawn came early and they were still consolidating the homes of the people who had moved closer to where they planned to build a small fort. The Governor, Jonathan Belcher, had sent word to fortify the plantations. He was sure that war was coming.

As he walked, he paused and looked back at the river. He was startled as he caught a glimpse of a watery flash near the far bank, he had also heard a splash.

"Must be a fish," he thought to himself, "what fool would be upon the river at this time of night?

Alain was glad of the dark, his face burned with embarrassment, he had misjudged his stroke and his paddle had hit the water awkwardly, creating a splash and quite a bit of noise. Little Wolf had turned and looked at him in alarm. The Indian had reached back and placed a hand on Alain's arm, he wanted them to cease paddling. He knew that noises carried further at night and he knew that the settlement was only a bow shot away from the other bank.

Little Wolf studied the far shore, when he was convinced that they hadn't been spotted, he motioned for the brothers to start paddling again.

Alain was mortified, he seldom made mistakes like that, carelessness here could get them killed. The English were fairly thick along this stretch of river, something that the authorities in New France would certainly want to know. But they had to survive the long journey to tell them this news.

The three men continued to paddle upriver during the night, they had taken to resting by day and traveling during the dark hours. The moon helped a great deal, the night also hid them from the eyes of their enemies. It made Alain nervous though, his enemies couldn't see him, nor could he see them. He was thankful for the presence of Little Wolf who knew the territory well.

Though his village was further south, Little Wolf had hunted this area with his brother since he was a boy. He knew the people along the river, at least on his side of the river, and they knew him. But in only another day, they would reach lands unfamiliar to him.

Little Wolf was unsure whether to continue with les frères or to turn back. He liked the idea of seeing this royal mountain les frères spoke of and this was the first time he had traveled without his brother. He had seen the nods of approval from the other men of the tribe when he had announced his intention to go north with les frères, he had also seen the smile and the nod his brother Tall Elk had given him. The look of brotherly pride was unmistakable.

He made his decision right then, he would continue with les frères, they were good companions and Little Wolf had discovered that he had something of an aptitude for language. His French was improving every day, Little Wolf relied on his own tongue less and less.

He had noted the older of les frères, the one called Alain, watching when he had spoken in broken French for the first time. The Frenchman had looked happy that Little Wolf was learning the tongue of les français.

As he pondered these things, he realized that he liked these two men.

¹ Present day Walpole, New Hampshire.

² Actually there were only six, that was Tall Elk's small party. One Leg and He Laughs of the Mohican never did see the Abenaki that ambushed them at the ford. So they exaggerated the numbers of their enemy. In truth, they had no idea.

Author's Note - The settlement at Number 4 eventually became the town of Charlestown, New Hampshire, where my mother lives. My father was born in Walpole, Number 3 if you will...

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The brothers were letting the canoe drift to nearly a stop, it was tiring paddling against the current and they needed a breather. Alain was in the back of the craft, normally paddling and steering, at the moment his head was down, he was exhausted.

He had let his brother, Jacques, rest for longer than he should have, but he had seen how tired his brother was and, as his father did too, he tended to baby Jacques. But that had led to Alain doing more work than he should have, he was close to nodding off. Then his brother spoke.

"Alain, Indians ahead, on that sandbank."

Alain jerked his head up quickly. Sure enough, there, not 50 toises¹ away, was a party of natives, six of them. His initial reaction was fear, then he realized that the men weren't wearing paint, so he doubted that it was a war party. The men were also relaxed. One had a hand raised, palm forward and empty, signifying peaceful intent.

Or so Alain hoped.

"Alain, what do we do?" Jacques, to Alain's surprise, didn't sound scared.

Alain surveyed the river ahead, the sandbank reached out far enough into the river that there was no way of avoiding the men. Taking a deep breath he raised his right hand as the man on the bank was doing.

"There's no avoiding them Jacques, head to the bank."

Tall Elk had made the decision to make contact with les français after speaking with the sachem of the tribe to the north of his peoples' lands. That man was reluctant to let strangers pass through, though they dressed like the Wyandot, so did many of the anglais.

"I have no problem with les français, but unless I know they are français, I will not trust them." said the sachem, a man of forty-two winters who was known to be very cautious and, according to Tall Elk's own sachem, "not all that wise." So Tall Elk had consented to bringing a man, Small Bear, from that tribe when he attempted to make contact with the two men on the river.

As he watched the canoe glide towards the shore, Tall Elk realized that the men looked a lot alike, he surmised that the two were brothers. He thought it odd, and perhaps an omen, that he and his brother were about to greet two brothers from les français.

As the two men pulled their canoe onto the sand, Tall Elk stepped forward and raised a hand in greeting, then spoke in Abenaki. He hoped the men knew some Wyandot, the language wasn't all that different, the two languages had words that were very close in meaning.

Alain was surprised that the man spoke to him, he recognized the word for 'hello,' though he pronounced it differently than the Wyandot did, it was very close.² Alain smiled and answered with the Wyandot word.

Tall Elk allowed himself a small grin, he took an almost immediate liking to these two français. They were nervous, as he would be had he traveled to the land of les français. He thought it might be wise to use that word, what they called themselves, so he pointed at the two men and said, "Français?"

Before Alain could answer, Jacques began babbling away in French, from the looks on the Indians faces, it was obvious they only knew the one word in French. But the antics of his younger brother, his joy in living and his interest in nearly everything proved infectious. Soon the Indians were beckoning the brothers to join them for a meal at a nearby village. Alain was wary but Jacques went along without a qualm.

Oh well, Alain thought to himself, if these men wanted to harm them, they probably would have done so already.

Alain and Jacques were pleasantly surprised to find a man at the village who spoke fairly good French. The man, who introduced himself as Running Bear, had traveled to Montréal in his youth and had spent many years trapping with the coureur de bois. It surprised the brothers further to learn that they had mutual acquaintances in the north.

Tall Elk watched Running Bear in his conversation with the two men, who he learned were indeed brothers and whose names were Alain and Jacques. The conversation was animated and there was much laughter. After a while, Tall Elk asked the Running Bear to translate for him.

"Alain and Jacques, I know that les français have two names, one like ours, which is given, and one which comes from your family. Is this true?"

Alain answered through Running Bear, "Yes, Tall Elk, our names 'Alain' and 'Jacques' were given to us by our father, our family name is Gaudry. Most people have two names, sometimes three. For instance, my father's full name is Étienne-Alphonse Gaudry. He is named for his two grandfathers, do you do the same here?"

"When we are young, our father gives us a name which he thinks suits our personalities, my name as a child was Running Nose, I caught cold easily it seems. When I became a man, the men of my tribe called me Tall Elk, it was a joke really. My first kill was a yearling elk which was not much bigger than a small deer. But over the years I like to think I grew into the name."

At that Little Wolf laughed and spoke, "I have always been called Little Wolf. My father said I howled so often for my mother's milk that he was afraid a she wolf would come take me and feed me herself. That name has stayed with me."

Tall Elk chuckled and said, "He still likes to howl!"

At that Little Wolf threw his head back and did a very creditable imitation of a wolf's call. So good in fact that deep in the forest, a wolf answered him. Soon the men grew quiet as they listened to the wolves calling each other in the slowly waning light. Night was upon them.

When the brothers were offered a place to sleep for the night, Alain was nervous, but Jacques convinced him that these people would not harm them. So Alain, somewhat reluctantly assented.

In the morning the brothers shared a meal with the people they had learned called themselves the Missiquoi, and they were part of the Wabanaki Confederation, commonly referred to collectively as the Abenaki. They also gained a new traveling companion, the man called Little Wolf. He was keen to see the north.

Tall Elk had his concerns about his young brother leaving with les français, but he knew that his brother's heart was set on it. He gave his blessing, even though he did so reluctantly, the joy in his brother's face made his own heart happy.

"Go my brother, try not to be too much of a burden on les frères." They had learned the word for 'brothers' from Alain and Jacques and when referring to both of them used that rather than the more impersonal 'les français.'

"You worry like a grandmother, Tall Elk." Little Wolf grinned to indicate he meant no insult. Tall Elk, knowing his brother very well, laughed and agreed that he was probably right.

"Watch out for the Mohican, I think war is coming. Les anglais covet our lands, they are already building a settlement a day's walk from the Great Falls, near a tributary flowing into the Great River. Do not go close to the river's edge there. It is a small village, there are maybe twenty of the awanoch³ there. Avoid them."

"I will brother, I want to see this royal mountain that Jacques and Alain speak of."

"What royal mountain is this?"

"Ah, it is what Montréal means, it is named for a mountain which les français call 'Mount Royal.' A royal mountain, yes?" Little Wolf cocked his head to one side, just as a curious wolf pup would.

"Very well, go see this mountain. But return to us alive."

"Yes brother, I am not ready to go to the spirit world just yet."

As Alain paddled and guided the canoe north, he watched the back of their new Indian companion. In truth, the man smiled a lot and seemed to enjoy life as much as his brother Jacques did. The two of them got along rather well. Alain supposed that Jacques would be fluent in Abenaki by the time they reached home and Little Wolf would be fluent in French. Their joy in each other's company gave Alain more time to observe and to think.

Another benefit of the extra companion was that there was another man to paddle, giving them all more time to rest and they were able to cover more ground. Also, Little Wolf was familiar with the area, he had already warned them of Mohican scouts on the western side of the river a ways back.

Alain knew that things weren't as peaceful as they seemed on the Cannitticutt. The three men needed to stay alert, something which Little Wolf understood, but Jacques had yet to learn. It was a long way home.

He had no desire to die here in the wilderness.

¹ A toise is an older French unit of measurement roughly equivalent to a fathom. (A toise is 6.394 English feet.)

² 'The Wyandot word for 'hello' is 'kweh,' the same word in Abenaki is 'kwai.''

³ The Abenaki word for "white man" is a combination of the words awani meaning "who" and uji meaning "from". Thus, the word for "white man" literally translates to "Who is this man and where does he come from?"

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