Chapter XIX. The Battle of the Bank

The Free Rangers

by Joseph A. Altsheler

"What is it? What is it?" cried Adam Colfax, as the three
sentinels, who were worth all the others combined, dashed into the
camp.

"An Indian army!" replied Henry Ware. "We do not yet know how
strong, but we have seen their scouts! Hark to them!"

The fierce war whoop rose and swelled through all the forest,
died away, then swelled and died again. From the dark wall of the
trees came the crackling fire of rifles. No one could be in doubt
now.

"Out with the fires! Scatter them, trample them down!"
exclaimed Henry.

He set the example, kicking the wood and embers in every
direction. Adam Colfax was not one to resent such a sudden
assumption of authority, when he saw that it meant the saving of
human lives. He repeated the order and joined in the work himself.
Fortunately the fires had burned low and the task was soon done, but
not before two or three men had been hit by bullets from the
surrounding darkness.

"Lie down, everybody!" cried Henry, and the order was obeyed at
once. Then the strange night battle in the heart of the wilderness
began. The savages, after their first attack, ceased to shout, and
the voyagers on their own part made little noise. But they knew that
the assailing force was numerous. It rimmed them on all sides save
that of the river, and the little pink and red beads of fire seemed
to flash from every bush. The men on the boats swarmed to the shore,
but Adam Colfax allowed only half of them to come, the land force at
the same time falling back on the river to meet them. He had no mind
to let his communications be cut.

As the white line fell back the red came on, and uttered again
the long-drawn, high-pitched war whoop, a cry of exultation. But it
was not repeated, as the white line withdrew only to the bank, and
yielded no more. Then both lines lay in the forest, faces invisible,
but the pink and red beads of opposing fire ran back and forth in a
stream. Now and then, even in the darkness, a bullet struck true. A
groan would start in the white line, but it would be checked at the
lips, because these were men too proud to give expression to pain.

"They can't make much progress in this way," said Adam Colfax to
Henry, who had crept to his side.

"They can make it terribly wearing by keeping it up all
night."

"We can withdraw to the boats entirely and row away."

"I wouldn't do it, they're sure to have boats, too, knowing that
we could take to the water, and, if we were to leave here they'd take
it as a sign of victory and follow. Then we'd have another and worse
fight."

Adam Colfax was of the same opinion. He was not in favor of
yielding an inch.

"I think I can see some of their figures dancing about there
among the bushes," he whispered to Henry.

"I see them, too," replied the youth, "and I think that I see
white men. They must be the desperate gang that followed Alvarez out
of New Orleans."

"No doubt of it."

Adam Colfax presently crept down the river bank, but came back
in a few minutes.

"Now we'll see something," he whispered to Henry, and what the
cautious leader said was quick to come true.

The fire of both sides died for a moment, and then came a heavy
crash and a jet of fire from the river; there was a long, shrill
scream as a missile curved high over the white line and dropped in
the red, where it burst, flinging red-hot pieces of steel in a
shower. It was followed instantly by another report, another jet of
fire, and another shower of metal in the bushes. The brass
twelve-pounders on the boat had opened fire, and with shot after shot
they were searching the dark thickets, whence cries of rage now
came.

The Americans sent up shouts of triumph and redoubled their
rifle fire. Many of the more zealous were eager to creep to the
thickets and turn the defensive into the offensive, but the leaders
restrained them.

"No use to waste life in any such foolish fashion," said shrewd
Adam Colfax. "While we stay under the cannon they won't rush us, but
if we follow them into the bushes they'll have an overwhelming
advantage."

It began to lighten a little, but the wind blew stronger and
very cold for the time of the year. The red line was withdrawn
further into the forest, but it continued an intermittent fire, and
now and then uttered a challenging war whoop. The cannon every ten
minutes sent a shot among them, but whether it did any damage the
Americans could not tell. The defenders saved their bullets, firing
only when there seemed to be a chance for a hit, and thus the hours
dragged their leaden weight slowly by.

A score of the Americans had been wounded by the rifle fire, but
in most cases the wounds were slight. Six were dead and they were
taken to the boats, where stones were ted to them and they were
dropped into the Mississippi to disappear forever. Rovers,
adventurers, masterless men, they had been, but they died in a good
cause, and they were not without mourners, as their bodies slid into
the brown waters.

Adam Colfax had coffee made on several of the boats provided
with a cooking apparatus, and it was served in the darkness to those
who fought on shore. One man had the tin cup shot from his hand as
he was raising it to his lips, but he calmly called for another, and
when he had drunk it, went on with his part of the battle.

The hot coffee heartened them wonderfully, and the ten minute
cannon shots were good company. They grew to look for them, and so
strong is habit, that they knew almost to the second when the shot
was due. It was like a slow, steady chorus, cheering them and
telling them to hold on.

Far toward morning there was a tremendous burst of fire from the
thickets, the fierce, high-pitched war shout was repeated three
times, and after that, silence. Then the darkness sank away, and the
day came in a burst of red and gold, gilding river and forest.

"They are gone," said Henry, "you'll find now that the woods are
empty."

Many of the voyagers rushed into the forest to discover that he
spoke the truth. Nowhere was there a sign of an enemy. No tree
sheltered a warrior, the thickets were harmless. The peaceful
morning breeze had no note of warning in 'its song. But when they
looked more closely they saw that many dark stains had soaked into
the earth, and they knew that not all the bullets and cannon balls
had gone amiss.

"Well, we drove them off that time," said Adam Colfax
cheerfully. "They found that they couldn't surprise us, and I guess
they've concluded that they couldn't rush us either. I fancy it's
the last we'll see of 'em."

Henry shook his head, and Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross, who were
standing by, also shook theirs.

"We're pretty sure that a big league of the southern tribes has
been formed," Henry said, "and there are also many white men with
them, white men who are driven by hate and revenge. They'll
stick."

"Then we've got to defend this fleet to the last," said Adam
Colfax. "It's bound to get through; and the first thing I'll have
done is to cover up our barrels of powder, so no fire or hot bullets
can reach it. Those barrels of powder are as precious as gold."

This task was begun at once and everybody reembarked, a joyful
little army that had won a triumph and that felt able to win more if
need be. The wounded made light of their wounds and all felt new
strength and courage with the daylight. The five returned with the
others to their boats.

"Well, Jim," said Paul to Long Jim Hart, "there's trouble to be
found away from New Orleans as well as in it. Last night was not so
very peaceful, and the woods did contain danger."

Long Jim heaved a satisfied sigh.

"Yes, Paul," he replied, "thar wuz shorely a heap uv danger
stirrin' 'bout last night, an' thar wuz lots uv chances that some uv
it would come knockin' up ag'inst me, but, Paul, I knowed it wuz
thar, I knowed it wuz in the woods in front uv us; it wuzn't settin'
by my side, talkin' soft things to me, an' sayin' it wuz my friend.
No, Paul, ef I had got killed last night I would hey knowed, ef I
knowed anythin' at all, that it wuz an honest Injun bullet that done
it, one that meant to do it, an' no foolin'."

The fleet resumed its passage up the river in its usual arrow
formation, with the five near the tip of the barb, but the bright
promise of the morning was deceitful. Toward noon the clouds of the
night before that had not retreated far, came back again, filing
solemnly across the sky in a long, somber procession. No air
stirred. The wide, yellow river stretched before them, a smooth,
molten surface.

The motion of the fleet became perceptibly slower. The men in
that turgid atmosphere felt languid and inert, and their hands rested
but lightly on oar and paddle. Cheerfulness gave way to depression.
The voyage was far less easy than it had seemed a few hours before.
Overhead the clouds united and drew a leaden blanket from horizon to
horizon.

"It's a storm, of course," said Henry. " Remember the one that
struck us when we were coming down the river. It's just such
another."

There was a sudden rush of hot air. Dull thunder, singularly
uncanny in its low, distant note, began to grumble. Lightning of an
intense coppery color flashed again and again across the heavens.
The river began to rise in yellow waves that crumbled and rose
again.

Some of the boats had sails, but these were quickly taken in -
Adam Colfax was no careless seaman. The fleet, nevertheless, began
to heave on the troubled water, break its formation, and fall into
imminent danger of frequent collision. The great river, usually so
friendly, and, like a long cord, uniting the green lands on either
side, was now full of wrath and fury. Burst after burst of wind,
screaming ominously, swept over it, and the waves rolled like those
of the sea. Despite powerful hands on oar and paddle, the fleet was
driven about like a covey of frightened birds. Meanwhile, the
darkness increased until it was almost like night.

Adam Colfax struggled hard. He wished to keep to the middle of
the river, and a single boat might have fought out the storm there,
but the danger was steadily increasing. Two boats, already, were in
collision, and with great difficulty were saved from sinking.

"We'll have to make for the shore and tie up," he shouted to
Henry, who was in the boat next to him. "I think it's the most
violent storm I ever saw on the Mississippi."

"We may find a sheltered place," Henry shouted back above the
roar of the wind.

"There's nothing else to do," said Adam Colfax. "The eastern
shore looks the lower, and we'll go for it at once."

He gave the signal with hand and voice, and all the boats began
to pull with their whole strength in a diagonal course toward the
east bank, while the wind shrieked in gust after gust, the thunder
crashed incessantly, and the coppery lightning flared in great
saber-cuts across the sky.

It was enough to daunt the heart of many a brave man, but Henry
Ware was not appalled. His primeval instincts had risen to the
surface again. He saw the grandeur of it rather than the weirdness
and danger. Like Long Jim, though less outspoken, he had been
troubled by the intrigue, the shiftiness and the false seeming of New
Orleans, and now his spirit replied to the battle of the elements.
He was the most active man in the fleet. His quick hand and eye and
powerful arm kept one canoe loaded with medical stores, which had in
them the saving of many lives, from going to the bottom. The harder
the wind blew and the rougher the waves grew the higher his spirit
rose to meet them.

"Look!" he shouted to Adam Colfax, as they approached the shore,
"an opening! See it? I think it's a bayou, and if we go up that
we'll be safe!"

Henry was right. Its mouth almost hidden by trees, the deep,
still bayou opened out before them, and ran its narrow length far
back into the land. One could not conceive a better anchorage for
the small boats such as constituted their fleet. The men, when they
saw it, gave a hearty cheer that rose above the wind. Hardy as they
were, fear had entered most of them.

The leading boats passed into the bayou, and all the others,
many struggling hard with wind, current, and waves, followed them.
The change was immediate. They came into quarters comparatively
still, but there was a new danger. A tree, snapped through its
mighty trunk by the hurricane, fell across the bayou directly in
front of them. It was lucky that no canoe was in its way.

"Out, men, with axes!" shouted Adam Colfax, and a dozen leaped
to obey his command. The tree was quickly cut apart and a score more
dragged the two halves up to the banks, leaving a passage once more
for the fleet. This was repeated further on, and now they began to
look anxiously for more open country. Only good fortune had saved
them so far.

The bayou ran on narrow and deep, and they pulled and paddled
with all their might, until at last they came to a place that was
fringed only by high bushes. The forest on either side was two or
three hundred yards away, and Adam Colfax, despite his stern New
Hampshire nature, did not repress a cry of joy. Here they were safe,
alike from the Mississippi and the forest.

"Tie up!" he shouted, and the boats were soon fastened to the
bushes in parallel rows on either side of the bayou. Then they
hurried to make shelter for themselves. The supplies were already
covered. The skies were now at the darkest, a solid circle of heavy
black clouds. The lightning and thunder alike ceased, and then,
borne on the swift wind, came a mighty rain. It was so heavy, so
steady, and so searching that they were put to their utmost labor and
ingenuity to keep their precious cargo dry.

"If the rain were not so tremendously heavy I would look through
the forest to see if any enemies were about," said Henry to the
leader.

Adam Colfax glanced up at the water which was falling in sheets
and laughed, a laugh of genuine relief from a great strain.

"Why, Henry," he said, "I don't believe that a man could keep
his feet out there in all that pelting flood long enough to go many
miles. I wish I was always as safe from attack as I feel now."

It was certainly far more comfortable in the boats than it could
possibly be in the sodden forest, where little lakes were already
forming. In addition, night, very dark, was coming on, and no
cessation of the rain was promised. It was useless, in the face of
the deluge, to attempt to build fires on the shore, and huddling in
the boats under tarpaulins, sails, and blankets, they ate cold food.
But Adam Colfax, as a precaution, allowed a little brandy to be
served to every man.

"It's medicine in this case, boys," he said, "and you must look
on it so. I don't think you'll get any more."

Bye and bye the rain slackened a little. Some one began a line
of a song, but it did not catch. Nobody joined in, and the singer
stopped. The atmosphere was not favorable to any kind of music. The
hours passed slowly, but it was nearly midnight when the rain ceased,
and a timid moon came out to cast a few pale rays over a soaked and
dripping forest. Most of the men were now asleep under their covers,
but not one of the five slumbered, nor did Adam Colfax and a dozen
others.

"Thank God, it's stopped at last!" said Adam Colfax devoutly -
he was a religious man, and his gratitude was not merely oral. "The
clouds are clearing away and I think we can soon see where we
are."

"Yes, it will be much lighter soon," said Henry Ware, "but in
the meantime we are about to receive a visitor. Look!"

He pointed down the bayou toward the river. A light canoe was
emerging from the mists and shadows. It contained a single occupant,
and came straight on up the narrow channel.

The man who sat in the canoe was tall and thin and wrapped in a
dripping black robe. His head was bare and his gray hair fell in
long, straight locks. The moonlight fell directly upon his thin,
ascetic face, and something in the eyes that Adam Colfax saw, or
thought he saw, sent a thrill through him.

"Is it a ghost?" he asked of Henry Ware in an awed whisper.

At that moment the moonlight shifted and fell upon something
metallic that gleamed upon the breast of the mystic visitor.

"It is Father Montigny," said Henry. He, too, felt awe, not at
any ghostly apparition but because the priest had come suddenly at
such a time.

"What does it portend?" was his silent thought.

Paddling with a strong hand the priest came straight toward
them. The moonlight continued to shine upon his face, and Henry
thought that he read there the impulse of a great mission.