United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction; Wyoming Valley (Pa.) -- History -- Juvenile fiction
“It is better that we make for the cave, as has been agreed upon,”
Master Morley said, hoarsely, and I knew full well how he was hungering
to see, once more, those whom he had never expected to greet again.
“We shall then be where the enemy has little idea of finding victims,
and there are not enough men now left in all the valley to hold the
best stockade that was ever built against John Butler’s curs, who are
well-nigh mad with the taste of blood.”
We made no further question as to what we would do, but continued on
to the river; and there, when I would have plunged in to swim across
without delay, Master Morley checked me as he said:
“The ammunition is too precious to be wasted. We must first build such
a raft as will carry our muskets and powder-horns, and then push it
before us as we swim.”
We worked feverishly, not knowing how soon the bloodthirsty brutes
might come back to see if there had been any poor wretches left behind
with sufficient of life in them to afford pleasure by their torture,
and perhaps no more than five minutes were spent before, forcing the
small raft in front of us, we waded out into the black waters.
“Now is the time when we must strain every muscle, lest we be carried
down on Monocasy Island,” Master Morley said, as we struck out, and,
surprised by the words, I asked:
“Why should we not rest ourselves on the island? It will be a long pull
against this vicious current, and we shall need to regain our wind.”
“To my mind Monocasy Island is become no more than a trap to catch
those who, outstripping the others, took to the river with much the
same idea that we have, and it is there the savages will seek fresh
victims.”
As he ceased speaking, Master Morley struck out vigorously, minded, as
I believed, to aid us in the swimming.
I could not put much faith in the proposition that John Butler’s wolves
would bethink themselves of the island, and, therefore, but for what
our leader had said, should have sought refuge on that small spot of
land; but because of having given my word to do as he directed, I
strained every muscle to stem the current.
Work as we might, it was impossible to gain the eastern shore before
coming near Monocasy, and, when we were within a hundred yards or more
of it, good proof was had that Master Morley had not made any mistake.
From three or four points of the small island could be heard shrieks
and cries, and we knew only too well that the savages, and most likely
the Tories as well, were hunting down their human game.
Thanks to the darkness of the night and our distance from the island,
we were not discovered while drifting past; but, before having gotten
so far down-stream as to be beyond hearing of the dreadful work, our
feet touched the bottom.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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