The Conspiracy of Pontiac and the Indian War after the Conquest of CanadaParkman, Francis
History
The Conspiracy of Pontiac and the Indian War after the Conquest of Canada
Parkman, Francis
Pontiac's Conspiracy, 1763-1765
wind, bore away gallantly on the other tack. She did not go far. The
wondering spectators, quite at a loss to understand her movements, soon
heard the hoarse rattling of her cable, as the anchor dragged it out, and
saw her furling her vast white wings. As they looked unsuspectingly on, a
puff of smoke was emitted from her side; a loud report followed; then
another and another; and the balls, rushing over their heads, flew through
the midst of their camp, and tore wildly among the forest-trees beyond.
All was terror and consternation. The startled warriors bounded away on
all sides; the squaws snatched up their children, and fled screaming; and,
with a general chorus of yells, the whole encampment scattered in such
haste, that little damage was done, except knocking to pieces their frail
cabins of bark.[240]
This attack was followed by others of a similar kind; and now the Indians
seemed resolved to turn all their energies to the destruction of the
vessel which caused them such annoyance. On the night of the tenth of
July, they sent down a blazing raft, formed of two boats, secured together
with a rope, and filled with pitch-pine, birch-bark, and other
combustibles, which, by good fortune, missed the vessel, and floated down
the stream without doing injury. All was quiet throughout the following
night; but about two o’clock on the morning of the twelfth, the sentinel
on duty saw a glowing spark of fire on the surface of the river, at some
distance above. It grew larger and brighter; it rose in a forked flame,
and at length burst forth into a broad conflagration. In this instance,
too, fortune favored the vessel; for the raft, which was larger than the
former, passed down between her and the fort, brightly gilding her tracery
of ropes and spars, lighting up the old palisades and bastions of Detroit,
disclosing the white Canadian farms and houses along the shore, and
revealing the dusky margin of the forest behind. It showed, too, a dark
group of naked spectators, who stood on the bank to watch the effect of
their artifice, when a cannon flashed, a loud report broke the stillness,
and before the smoke of the gun had risen, these curious observers had
vanished. The raft floated down, its flames crackling and glaring wide
through the night, until it was burnt to the water’s edge, and its last
hissing embers were quenched in the river.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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