Wacousta : a tale of the Pontiac conspiracy — Volume 2Richardson, Major (John)
General
Wacousta : a tale of the Pontiac conspiracy — Volume 2
Richardson, Major (John)
Pontiac's Conspiracy, 1763-1765 -- Fiction
Meanwhile, the numerous band, who followed their two first fierce
comrades into the lake, bounded rapidly forward; and, so active were
their movements, that, at almost the same moment when the second of the
youths had gained his temporary place of refuge, they stood yelling and
screaming on the sand bar he had just quitted. Two or three, excited to
desperation by the blood they had seen spilt, plunged unhesitatingly
into the opposite depths of the lake; and the foremost of these was the
destroyer of the ill-fated Baynton. With his bloody scalping-knife
closely clutched between his teeth, and his tomahawk in his right hand,
this fierce warrior buffeted the waves lustily with one arm, and,
noiselessly as in the early part of his pursuit, urged his way towards
the boat. In the stern of this a few planks from the schooner had been
firmly lashed, to serve as a shield against the weapons of the savages,
and was so arranged as to conceal all within while retiring from the
shore. A small aperture had, however, been bored for the purpose of
observing the movements of the enemy without risk. Through this an eye
was now directed, while only the blades of the oars were to be seen
projecting from the boat's sides as they reposed in their rowlocks.
Encouraged by the seeming apathy and inertness of the crew, the
swimming savages paused not to consider of consequences, but continued
their daring course as if they had apprehended neither risk nor
resistance. Presently a desperate splash was heard near the stern of
the boat, and the sinuous form of the first savage was raised above the
gunwale, his grim face looking devilish in its war-paint, and his
fierce eyes gleaming and rolling like fire-balls in their sockets.
Scarcely was he seen, however, when he had again disappeared. A blow
from the cutlass that had destroyed his companion descended like
lightning on his naked and hairless head; and, in the agony of death,
he might be seen grinding his teeth against the knife which the
instinctive ferocity of his nature forbade his relinquishing. A yell of
fury burst from the savages on the bar, and presently a shower of
bullets ran whistling through the air. Several were heard striking the
rude rampart in the stem; but, although the boat was scarcely out of
pistol-shot, the thickness of the wood prevented all injury to those
within. Another fierce yell followed this volley; and then nearly a
score of warriors, giving their guns in charge to their companions,
plunged furiously into the water; and, with an air of the most
infuriated determination, leaped rather than swam along its surface.
"Now, then, my lads, give way," said he at the look-out; "there are
more than a dozen of the devils in full cry; and our only chance is in
flight! Ha! another here!" as, turning to issue these directions, he
chanced to see the dark hand of a savage at that moment grasping the
gunwale of the boat, as if with a view to retard her movements until
the arrival of his companions.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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