Chapter VIII: Part 8

Oglethorpe had no sooner reached England than word came that the governor of Florida had ordered every English merchant to leave his territory and was planning for warfare. The king of England at once appointed Oglethorpe commander-in-chief of all his troops in Carolina and Georgia, and ordered a regiment to be raised and equipped for service there. Troops were sent from Gibraltar, and meantime the governor busied himself in urging men and women to go out with him to America as colonists. The terms he offered them were so promising that finally he sailed from Portsmouth with five transports, carrying six hundred men, women, and children, besides arms and provisions.

In a little more than two months this new party reached St. Simons Island. The settlers there, who had been fearing an attack by the Spaniards, were delighted to welcome the general and his company. Oglethorpe went to work at once to strengthen the forts, to build roads between the forts and the towns, and to station scout ships to give notice of any hostile fleet. Then he went to Savannah, where cannon roared at his approach and the settlers crowded about to welcome their trusted governor and general. Tomochichi and the chiefs of the Creek nations came to assure him of their loyalty and offered to serve him at any time against their common enemies the Spaniards.

General Oglethorpe well knew how important the help of the Indians might be to him, and so decided to journey through the wilderness to visit the various tribes. This meant a long and perilous trip. It is partly described for us. "Through tangled thickets," runs an account of the journey, "along rough ravines, over dreary swamps in which the horses reared and plunged, the travelers patiently followed their native guides. More than once they had to construct rafts on which to cross the rivers, and many smaller streams were crossed by wading or swimming.... Wrapped in his cloak, with his portmanteau for a pillow, their hardy leader lay down to sleep upon the ground, or if the night were wet he sheltered himself in a covert of cypress boughs spread upon poles. For two hundred miles they neither saw a human habitation, nor met a soul; but as they neared their journey's end they found here and there provisions, which the primitive people they were about to visit had deposited for them in the woods.... When within fifty miles of his destination, the general was met by a deputation of chiefs who escorted him to Coweta; and although the American aborigines are rarely demonstrative, nothing could exceed the joy manifested by them on Oglethorpe's arrival.... By having undertaken so long and difficult a journey for the purpose of visiting them, by coming with only a few attendants in fearless reliance on their good faith, by the readiness with which he accommodated himself to their habits, and by the natural dignity of his deportment, Oglethorpe had won the hearts of his red brothers, whom he was never known to deceive."

A great council was held, a cup of the sacred black-medicine was drunk by the white man and the chiefs, the calumet or pipe of peace was smoked, and a treaty was drawn up, by which the Creeks renewed their allegiance to the king of England while Oglethorpe promised that the English would not encroach upon the Creeks' country and that the traders would deal honestly with them.

On his way home the governor fell ill of fever and had to stay at Fort Augusta for several weeks. Here chiefs of the Cherokees and Chickasaws came to him, complaining that some of their people had been poisoned by rum they had bought from English traders. Inquiry showed that traders had not only brought bad rum, but smallpox also, to the Indians, and the governor promised the chiefs that hereafter he would only permit certain licensed traders to come among them.

Troubles over runaway slaves, who left South Carolina and Georgia for Florida and were protected by the Spanish there, soon brought fresh controversies between the settlers on the two sides of the border. England, moreover, was preparing for war with Spain. On October 2, 1739, the men of Savannah met at the court-house and General Oglethorpe announced to them that England had declared war on Spain. The governor's militia was now well armed and trained, ships guarded the coast, he had a string of forts protecting his borders. Yet he, like the government in England, would very much have preferred to keep the peace with the Spaniards, and was only driven to hostilities because the latter were constantly making trouble for his colonists and seizing English merchant ships and imprisoning their crews.

The southernmost outpost of Georgia was now Amelia Island, where there was a settlement of about forty persons. They were protected by palisades and several cannon. In November some Spaniards landed at night and hid in the woods. Shots were heard in the fort, and the English soldiers, searching the woods, found the bodies of two of the Highlanders. The Spaniards had shot them, and escaped in their boats.

At once Oglethorpe, with some of his Scotchmen and Indians, marched into Florida. He captured Spanish boats at the mouth of the St. Johns River, and went on toward St. Augustine. A troop of the enemy came out to attack him, but fled before the rush of his Indians.

He knew that he needed more troops, however, if he were to make good his war on Florida, so he sent to South Carolina, urging the governor of that colony to contribute as many soldiers as Georgia had supplied. This caused some delay, but at length arrangements were completed, and Oglethorpe was prepared to take the field.

In May the general assembled four hundred of his soldiers, Creek Indians under their chief Malachee, Cherokees under their chief Raven, at St. George Island, at the mouth of the St. Johns River. Oglethorpe's object was to cut off supplies from St. Augustine. His men crossed the river, and a body of Indians and a few white soldiers made an attack on the Spanish fort at San Diego. This place was defended by a number of large guns, and the first attack on it failed. Then Oglethorpe came up with the rest of his men and decided to try a little strategy. He ordered some of his soldiers to beat drums in different parts of the woods and other soldiers to march out at these places and march back again, the same soldiers appearing again and again. The Spanish garrison, seeing so many men at so many different points in the woods, soon concluded that the English had an overwhelming force in the field against them. Then Oglethorpe sent a Spanish prisoner he had captured to tell the garrison how well he had been treated. Thereupon the garrison surrendered to the English general.

The troops from Carolina had not yet arrived, and Oglethorpe learned that, while they delayed, two sloops filled with provisions and ammunition and six Spanish galleys had reached St. Augustine. On the eighteenth of May, however, two English ships anchored in the harbor and two others blocked the southern entrance to the Spanish port, and soon afterward a part of the troops from Carolina joined the general. He then gave the order to advance on the Spanish town.

St. Augustine was defended by 2,000 soldiers, quite as many as the troops Oglethorpe had marshaled against it. The Spanish artillery was vastly superior to that of the English. If the town was to be taken the sea forces must attack at the same time as the land forces, and signals were arranged for such a joint attack.

The general came to Fort Moosa, three miles from St. Augustine, and found the garrison had abandoned it. He gave orders to burn the gate there and make holes in the walls, "lest," as he said, "it might one day or other be a mouse-trap for some of our own people." Marching on, he gave the signal to attack the Spanish capital, but was surprised that the fleet gave him no answering signal. Later he learned that the Spaniards had deployed their ships in such a way that a sea attack would have been very difficult, and that the English commanders had decided that if they made the attack as agreed upon they would probably be defeated. Therefore the general determined that instead of an assault he would attempt a blockade.

He returned to Fort Diego, and ordered Colonel Palmer, with over two hundred Scotchmen and Indians to march to Fort Moosa and scout through the woods to prevent any communication between St. Augustine and the interior of Florida. Colonel Palmer was told to camp each night in a new place, to avoid battle, and to return at once if a larger force than his own appeared. Another officer was sent with the Carolina soldiers to take Point Quartell, which was about a mile distant from the castle of St. Augustine, and build a battery there to command the northern entrance to the harbor.

The general himself set out to capture the Spaniards' battery at Anastasia, and by clever maneuvers there succeeded in driving the enemy to their boats. Oglethorpe set up cannon and sent an envoy to the Spanish governor, calling on him to surrender. The Spaniard replied that he should be glad to shake hands with General Oglethorpe if the latter would come to him in his castle. In answer Oglethorpe opened fire from his new battery, but the distance to the town was too great for his guns and little harm was done the enemy.

Colonel Palmer, meantime, disregarding the general's orders to camp in a new place each night, had kept his men in the partly demolished Fort Moosa. The Spaniards sent six hundred men to attack his small force. Palmer's soldiers resisted desperately, but the Highlanders and the Indians were too much outnumbered by the Spaniards; half of them, including Colonel Palmer, were killed, a few escaped, and the rest were made prisoners.

The commander of the fleet also disregarded the arrangement he had made with Oglethorpe and ordered off the war-ship stationed outside the harbor, with the result that several sloops from Havana with new troops and provisions stole into the channel and reached the Spanish stronghold. The garrison at St. Augustine had begun to feel the pinch of hunger and might soon have surrendered, but these fresh supplies tided them over and enabled them to keep up their defense.

General Oglethorpe, discouraged in his plan of a blockade, decided to make one more attempt at carrying the town by assault. The British commodore, Pearse, was to attack with his fleet while Oglethorpe led his soldiers by land. The colonial troops and Indians were ready to open fire, and only waited the signal from the ships. They waited in vain, however. Instead of keeping his agreement, Commodore Pearse quietly sailed away with all his ships, sending word to General Oglethorpe that it was now the season when hurricanes might be expected off the Florida coast and that he didn't intend to risk His Majesty's fleet there any longer.

Oglethorpe, who alone seemed really in earnest in his desire to fight the Spaniards, deserted by the English fleet, getting very little support from the officers and men of the Carolina regiments, found it impossible to carry on the campaign. Even his own men from Georgia were worn out by fatigue and the heat of Florida. Reluctantly therefore he gave over his expedition, and returned to Savannah. The campaign, however, had shown the Spaniards that the governor of Georgia was a man whose power was to be respected, and they did not renew their raids into his province for some years.

Oglethorpe was a great builder as well as a very skilful military leader, and he used this time of peace to improve the prosperity and beauty of the towns he had settled in his colony. Savannah was already a thriving place, with fine squares, parks, and wide shaded streets. Now he turned his attention to Frederica, a town of a thousand settlers. He meant this to be a strong frontier fort, and designed an esplanade, barracks, parade-ground, fortifications, everything that could be of use to protect Frederica from an enemy.

Not far from Frederica, on the same island of St. Simons, was a small settlement called Little St. Simons. A road connected the two places, running over a beautiful prairie and through a forest, and at the edge of this forest Oglethorpe built himself a small cottage and planted a garden and an orchard of oranges, grapes and figs. Here he made his home, where he could watch the water and keep an eye on Frederica and its forts. A number of his officers built country-seats for themselves near the general's cottage, almost all of them larger and more pretentious than that of the general. Strange as it may seem, the founder of Georgia never claimed or owned any other land in his province but this one small place, and he lived almost as simply as the poorest colonist, a great contrast to the elaborate state kept by the governors of such colonies as Virginia and Maryland or the luxury of William Penn's home at Pennsbury.

Meantime other forts were built in the southern part of Georgia, one on Jekyll Island, another on Cumberland Island, a third at Fort William; and fortunately the governor saw to all this, for his province was to be for some time the buffer between the English and the Spaniards, two peoples who were constantly either on the verge of warfare or actually fighting. The mother-countries of England and Spain were always at swords' points, and those troubles on the other side of the Atlantic were sure to bring the American colonists into the same strife. Each country hectored the other. In the spring of 1740 the British government decided to attack Spain through its American possessions. France also decided to take a hand in the business, and this time joined with Spain. Ships of these two countries set sail for the West Indies and threatened the British colony of Jamaica. The English admiral, Vernon, was despatched with a large squadron to attack the enemy, but instead of sailing to Havana he turned in the direction of Hispaniola to watch the French fleet, and so lost a splendid chance to capture the Spanish stronghold of Havana. General Oglethorpe learned of this, and in May, 1641, he wrote to the Duke of Newcastle in England, explaining how matters stood in that part of America and stating what the colonists would need if they were to carry on a successful war with the Spanish Dons of Florida and the West Indies.

His letter was laid before the proper officers in England, but, as so often happened in such cases, those officers, far though they were from the scene of action, thought they knew more about conditions in Georgia and Florida than Oglethorpe did. The government delayed and delayed, while the general waited for an answer to his requests. Then he had to write again to England. Either the northern colonies or the mother-country was accustomed to supply his province with flour, but now Spanish privateers were capturing the merchant vessels that brought it. Only two English men-of-war were stationed off the coast, and they were insufficient to protect it from privateers. A Spanish rover had just seized a ship off Charleston Harbor with a great quantity of supplies on board. When Oglethorpe heard of this he sent out his guard-sloop and a schooner he had hired, met three Spanish ships, forced them to fly, attacked one of their privateers and drove it ashore. Then he bought a good-sized vessel and prepared it for service on the coast until the English should send him a proper fleet.

A large Spanish ship was sighted off the bar of Jekyll Sound on August 16th. The intrepid governor manned his sloop and two other vessels, the _Falcon_ and the _Norfork_, and started in pursuit. He ran into a storm, and when the weather had cleared the Spaniard had disappeared. The storm had disabled the _Falcon_, and she had to put back, but Oglethorpe sailed on with the other two, laying his course for Florida, and a few days later sighted the Spanish ship at anchor.

The Spaniard was a man-of-war, and with her was another ship, by name the _Black Sloop_, with a record as a daring privateer. But Oglethorpe was equal in daring to any Spanish captain. He ordered his small boats put out to tow his two ships, the weather being now a calm, and as they approached the enemy, gave the command to board. The two Spanish vessels opened fire, but Oglethorpe's guns answered so vigorously that the Spaniards quickly weighed anchor, and, a light breeze coming to their aid, were able to run across the bar of the harbor.

The English followed, and, though they could not board the enemy, fought them for an hour, at the end of which the Spaniards were so disabled that they ran for the town, while half a dozen of their small galleys came out to safeguard their retreat.

Other Spanish vessels were lying in the harbor, but none dared to attack the two ships of Oglethorpe, and the governor spent that night at anchor within sight of the castle of St. Augustine. Next day he sailed for the open sea again, and there cruised up and down outside the bar, as if daring the Spaniards to come out to meet him. When they refused to come he sailed back to Frederica, having spread a proper fear of his small fleet of two ships all along the Florida coast.

Perhaps the greatest service that Oglethorpe rendered to his colony was his retaining the friendship of all the neighboring Indian tribes. This he did by always treating them fairly and impressing them with his sincere interest in their own welfare. Another man might have let the Indians see that he was merely using them to protect his own white settlers, but Oglethorpe convinced them that he was equally concerned in protecting both red men and white from ill-usage by the French and Spanish. Georgia moreover needed the friendship of the native tribes much more than the other English colonies did. It was nearest to the strong Spanish settlements in Florida, and its neighbor to the north, South Carolina, was able to furnish it very little assistance in times of need, and was often barely able to protect itself. Had the Creeks, the Chickasaws and Cherokees been allies of the Spaniards or the French instead of allies of Georgia the English settlers would have found themselves in hot water most of the time.

The general had difficulty in corresponding with England and letting the people there know what he needed. "Seven out of eight letters miscarry," he said. Fortunately no more English merchantmen were captured by Spanish privateers; the Dons had apparently been taught a lesson by the vigorous attack Oglethorpe had made on their own ships.

To keep this lesson in their mind the governor sailed again for St. Augustine, but ran into a storm that almost destroyed his fleet. At nearly the same time a privateer reached the bar outside St. Augustine with large supplies for the garrison. The Spanish governor, as usual in need of fresh supplies, joyfully hailed the privateer, sent out a pilot with two galleys to bring her into the harbor, fired the guns from his castle, and ordered some of his Indians to cut wood and build a welcoming bonfire.

Oglethorpe and his Indian allies were on the alert, however. A party of his Creek friends attacked the Spanish Indians and captured five of them. At the same time one of his ships reached the privateer before the tide was high enough to float her over the bar, seized her, and took her to Frederica. Now the settlers of Georgia, and even of South Carolina, praised the general for his vigilance and dashing courage. A merchant of Charleston wrote, "Our wrongheads now begin to own that the security of our southern settlements and trade is owing to the vigilance and unwearied endeavors of His Excellency in annoying the enemy."

Yet, in spite of this, Carolina continued to fail in providing the men or ships or supplies that Oglethorpe, Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty's forces in Georgia and Carolina, requested of it.

Presently the Spaniards, following the policy of England in trying to annoy enemy colonies in America, took the offensive. A Spanish fleet of more than fifty ships, with more than 5,000 soldiers on board, was despatched to attack the English settlements. Fourteen of the ships tried to reach Fort William, but were driven back by the battery there. They then made for Cumberland Sound. Oglethorpe sent out Captain Horton with white soldiers and Indians and followed with more troops in three boats. The Spanish ships attacked him, but he fought his way through their fleet with two of his boats. The third boat made for a creek, hid there until the next day, and then returned to St. Simons with the report that General Oglethorpe had been overpowered and killed. A day later, however, the people of St. Simons were delighted to see their general return safe and sound. He had escaped damage from the Spaniards, but had hit them so hard with his guns that four of their ships foundered on the way back to St. Augustine for repairs.

At once he prepared ships and men for another conflict. His daring had so inspired his crews that as some of them said, "We were ready for twice our number of Spaniards." They soon had their chance. Thirty-six Spanish ships in line of battle ran into St. Simons harbor. The forts and the vessels there opened fire at once. Three times the enemy tried to board the _Success_, a ship of twenty guns and one hundred men, but each time the crew proved that they really were ready for twice their number of Spaniards. After fighting for four hours the Spaniards gave up the battle and sailed up the river in the direction of Frederica.

Oglethorpe called a council of war. In view of the great number of Spanish ships it was decided to destroy the batteries at St. Simons and withdraw all the forces to Frederica. This was quickly done, and that evening some of the enemy landed and took possession of the deserted and dismantled fortifications.

Meantime the general learned from some prisoners captured by the Indians that the Spaniards had land forces of 5,000 men and had issued commands to give no quarter to the English. As Mr. Rutledge of Charleston later wrote, "The Spaniards were resolved to put all to the sword, not to spare a life, so as to terrify the English from any future thought of re-settling." Oglethorpe was now in a most dangerous situation. The enemy had numerous ships, a great many soldiers, and were evidently determined to settle matters once for all with their neighbors. The fate of the English colonies of Georgia and South Carolina might depend on the outcome of the next few days.

Spanish outposts tried to reach the fort at Frederica, but were driven back by Indian scouts. The only road to the town was by the narrow highway, where only three men could walk abreast, with a forest on one side and a marsh on the other. Artillery could not be carried over it, and it was guarded by Highlanders and Indians in ambush. Yet, after many attempts, the Spaniards managed to get within two miles of the town.

Oglethorpe now led a charge of his rangers, Highlanders and Indians, so fiercely that all but a few of the enemy's advance-guard were killed or made prisoners. The Spanish commander was captured. The English pursued the retreating Spaniards for a mile, then posted guards, while the general returned to the town for reinforcements.

The Spaniards again marched up the road and camped near where the English lay hid in ambush. A noise startled them and they seized their arms. The men in ambush fired, many Spaniards fell, and the rest fled in confusion. As a Spanish sergeant said, "The woods were so full of Indians that the devil himself could not get through them." For a long time the place was known as the "Bloody Marsh." Oglethorpe marched his troops over the road to within two miles of the main Spanish encampment, and there halted for the night.

The enemy withdrew to the ruined fort at St. Simons, where they were sheltered by the guns of their fleet. Oglethorpe went back to Frederica, leaving outposts to watch the Spaniards. There he found that his provisions were running low, and he knew that no more could be brought in since the enemy blocked the sound. He told the people, however, that if they had to abandon their settlement they could escape through Alligators Creek and the canal that had been cut through Generals Island, and he assured his little army of 800 men that they were more than a match for the whole Spanish expedition.

Presently Spanish galleys came up the river; but Indians, hid in the long grasses, prevented the soldiers from landing. When they approached the town the batteries opened such a hot fire that the galleys fled down-stream much faster than they had come up.

English prisoners, escaping from the Spaniards, began to bring word that the enemy were much discouraged. Many Spaniards had fallen sick, and the soldiers from Cuba were wrangling with the men from Florida. Oglethorpe therefore planned a surprise for the enemy and marched to within a mile of their camp. He was about to attack when one of his soldiers, a Frenchman who had volunteered but was in reality a spy, fired his gun and ran from the general's ranks.

The Frenchman was not caught, and the general knew that he would tell the Spaniards how few English soldiers there were. So Oglethorpe tried a trick of his own, hoping to make the Frenchman appear to be a double spy. He hired a Spanish prisoner to carry a letter to the spy. "The letter was in French," Oglethorpe later said, "as if from a friend, telling him that he had received the money, and would strive to make the Spaniards believe the English were very weak; that he should undertake to pilot their boats and galleys, and then bring them into the woods where the hidden batteries were. That if he could bring about all this, he should have double the reward, and that the French deserters should have all that had been promised them.

"The Spanish prisoner got into their camp," Oglethorpe said, "and was immediately carried before the general. He was asked how he escaped and whether he had any letters; but denying this, was searched and the letter found. And he, upon being pardoned, confessed that he had received money to carry it to the Frenchman, for the letter was not directed. The Frenchman, of course, denied knowing anything of the contents of the letter, or having received any money or had any correspondence with me. Notwithstanding which, a council of war was held and they decided the Frenchman a double spy, but the general would not suffer him to be executed, having been employed by himself."

While the Spaniards were still in doubt as to the strength of Oglethorpe's forces some English ships arrived off the coast. This decided the Spaniards to leave, and they burned the barracks at St. Simons and took to their ships in such haste that they left behind some of their cannon and provisions.

Hearing that ships had been sighted Oglethorpe sent an officer in a boat with a letter to their commander. But when the officer embarked he found no ships were to be seen. Later the general learned that one of the vessels sighted came from South Carolina, and that the officer in command had orders to see if the Spanish fleet had taken possession of the fort at St. Simons, and if it had to sail back to Charleston at once. Here was further proof that the plucky governor of Georgia could expect little assistance from the sister colony on the north.

By now some of the Spanish ships were out at sea, and others had landed their soldiers at St. Andrews in a temporary camp. A couple of days later twenty-eight of their ships sailed up to Fort William and called upon the garrison to surrender. The English officer there answered that he would not surrender the fort and defied the Spaniards to take it. The latter tried; they landed men, who were driven off by the guns of soldiers hidden in the sand-dunes, their ships fired on the fort, but were disabled by the return-fire of the Georgia batteries. After a battle of three hours the Spaniards withdrew from the scene and returned to their base at St. Augustine.

With a few ships and eight hundred men Oglethorpe had defeated a Spanish fleet of fifty-six vessels and an army of more than 5,000 soldiers. Small wonder that the people of his province couldn't find praise enough for their leader! George Whitefield, a famous clergyman of Savannah, wrote of this war against the Spanish Dons, "The deliverance of Georgia from the Spaniards is such as cannot be paralleled but by some instances out of the Old Testament. The Spaniards had intended to attack Carolina, but wanting water, they put into Georgia, and so would take that colony on their way. They were wonderfully repelled, and sent away before our ships were seen."

The governors of the colonies of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina sent letters to Oglethorpe thanking him for his valiant defense of the southern seaboard and expressing their gratitude to God that Georgia had a commander so well fitted to protect her borders. The governor of South Carolina and most of his officers had done little or nothing to help their neighbor, but the people of that colony thoroughly disapproved of this failure to be of assistance and a number of them sent a message to Oglethorpe in which they said, "If the Spaniards had succeeded in their attempts they would have destroyed us, laid our province waste and desolate, and filled our habitations with blood and slaughter.... We are very sensible of the great protection and safety we have so long enjoyed by having your Excellency to the southward of us; had you been cut off, we must, of course, have fallen."

Even after this defeat, however, the Spaniards of Florida continued from time to time to molest the Georgia borders. A party of rangers was killed by Spanish soldiers, the settlement at Mount Venture was burned by Yamasee Spanish Indians. Oglethorpe had to be on the watch constantly lest the French or the Spanish should raid his territory. And the English government, though he wrote them time and again, neglected to send him proper reinforcements.

In the spring of 1743 the general was again camped on the St. Johns River. He heard that a Spanish army was marching against him, and he resolved to attack them before they should attack him. His Indian allies stole up on the enemy, and surprising them, drove them back in confusion. The Spaniards took shelter behind one of their forts, and Oglethorpe could not manage to draw them out to battle. He marched his men back to Frederica, and there by Indian scouts, by sentry-boats, kept an eye on the Spaniards, ready to spring out to meet them should they renew their raids at any time.

His soldiers never faltered in their obedience to the general's orders; his Indian allies, though they were often tempted, never forsook their allegiance to him. The Spaniards tried many times to buy the red men over to their side. Similli, a chief of the Creeks, went to St. Augustine to see what was being done there. The Spaniards offered to pay him a large sum of money for every English prisoner he would bring them, and showed him a sword and scarlet clothes they had given a chief of the Yamasees. They said of Oglethorpe, "He is poor, he can give you nothing; it is foolish for you to go back to him." The Creek chief answered, "We love him. It is true he does not give us silver, but he gives us everything we want that he has. He has given me the coat off his back and the blanket from under him." In return for his loyalty to his English friend the Spaniards drove the Indian from St. Augustine at the point of the sword.

The general had spent all his own money in protecting his people in Georgia, and the English government would not send him the sums he said were urgently needed for the province. Therefore he decided that he must go to England and see what could be done there. He put his forts on the border in the best possible shape for defense, appointed a deputy governor in Savannah, and sailed for England in July, 1743.

Was the colonial hero received with the praise his great services deserved from England? Instead of praise he was harshly criticized for this or that trivial matter; though a few of the wiser men came forward to do him honor. Parliament would not vote him the money his colony needed; he had difficulty in finding enough money to pay his personal debts. Yet he kept on appealing for aid for Georgia, while the government took the same attitude it had taken toward so many of the other American colonies, and appeared of the opinion that the province across the Atlantic must look after itself. Fortunately for Georgia, Oglethorpe had so trained its soldiers, had so befriended its Indian neighbors, had so protected it by forts that the colony was now able to go its own way without English help.

In 1744 Oglethorpe married Elizabeth Wright, the heiress of Cranham Hall, a manor in Essex. He was also in that same year chosen as one of the officers to defend England from a threatened invasion by France. His services were not needed for that purpose; but in the next year he was given the rank of major-general and took part in the suppression of the rebellion of the "Young Pretender." This kept him in England, and he left the government of Georgia to the care of the men he had trained there. From time to time, however, he bestirred himself to send new colonists across the sea to Savannah.

When the rebellion was ended General Oglethorpe and his wife settled at Cranham Hall. Here he lived the life of a country gentleman, delighting in the peace and quiet after his many turbulent years in Georgia. He lived to see the American Revolution, though he took no part in it; he said "that he knew the people of America well; that they could never be subdued by arms, but their obedience could ever be secured by treating them justly;" he learned that his colony of Georgia, with twelve of her sisters, had succeeded in winning her independence from that mother-country he had served so long and on whose lists he was now the senior ranking general; and he seems to have harbored no ill-feeling against the colonists for forming a new nation.

Georgia and America owe a great debt of gratitude to General James Edward Oglethorpe. None of the colonies had a more unselfish founder and governor, none were more bravely defended from enemies, and in none was more devotion shown to making a few scattered settlements in the wilderness blossom into the safe homes of a contented people.

X

THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS AND THE YORKERS

(_Vermont, 1774_)

I

A young fellow, raccoon skin cap on his head, with heavy homespun jacket, with breeches made of buckskin and tucked into the tops of light, supple doeskin boots, was running along the shore of a lake in the Green Mountain country on a winter afternoon in 1774. He went at a comfortable dog-trot, and every now and then he would slow up or stop and look about him with keen eyes. Some people would only have seen the lake, with thin, broken layers of ice floating out from the shore, the underbrush and woods to the other side, powdered with a light fall of snow, and heard only the crackling of frozen twigs and the occasional scrunch of loose ice against the bank. But this tall, slim boy saw and heard a great deal more. He caught the hoot of an owl way off through the forest, and listened intently to make certain that it was an owl and not a signal call of some Indian or trapper; he saw little footprints in the snow that told him a marten had gone hunting small game through the brush, and he spied the thatched roof of a beaver's house in a little scallop of the lake. Then he ran on up the shore of the lake, all his senses alert, his eyes constantly looking for other trails than the one he had made himself on his south-bound journey that morning.

The sun had been set a half-hour when he came to a place where the trail led inward a short distance from the shore. A few more yards brought him to a small log cabin. Other ears heard him coming and as he stopped a boy and a man looked out from the cabin doorway. "You made good time of it, Jack," said the boy at the door. "Did you really get to Dutton's?"

"Did I get there?" chuckled the runner. "I got there a good hour before noon."

"And what did they say there?" asked the man at the door.

"That the Yorkers mean to settle this land themselves. If they can," he added, with a grin. "That's what all the men said down at Dutton's, 'if they can,' and they shook their fists when they said it." Jack Sloan shook his fist in imitation of the men. "Not if the Green Mountain Boys can help it! Not by a jugful! No, sir!" he added.

The man grunted approvingly and stepped back into the cabin. The boy came out. "I got a silver fox to-day," he declared proudly. "The biggest one I ever saw, too."

"Did you, Sam? That's fine! I saw plenty of tracks, heard a bull-moose calling, too; but I didn't have time to stop. Gee, but my legs are tired now! I'm going to lie down by the fire and rest a bit."

He went inside, where the man was busy frying bacon and boiling coffee, and taking a blanket from a bed in the corner spread it out before the fire and stretched himself comfortably on it. "Dutton wanted to know when you'd be sending him some more skins, Peter," he said. "He wants to get 'em over to Albany early this year, in case there should be more trouble with the Yorkers."

"I can send him some next week," was the answer. "There's a dozen mink and a dozen otter out in the shed now, an' a lot o' beavers an' martens, and four fine foxes. Did they say anything about Ethan Allen, Jack?"

"They said he was down at Bennington. My, but that bacon smells good! They had corn-cake and molasses down at Dutton's, and I ate so much I didn't think I'd ever be hungry again, but I am all right now."

Peter Jones, the trapper, laughed. "I never saw the time when you and Sam wasn't ready for food."

Sam came in soon, like a bear-cub scenting food, and the three had supper and then made things snug for the night. The weather was growing colder. Peter, taking a squint at the sky, allowed that he thought the lake would be frozen clear across by morning. They brought in a good stock of wood and built up the fire, and then sat down in front of it to hear what Jack had to tell them of the news at Dutton's trading-post.

At that time, in 1774, there was a great dispute between the two colonies of New Hampshire and New York as to which owned the country of the Green Mountains. New York stretched way up on the west shore of Lake Champlain, and New Hampshire extended from the northern boundary of Massachusetts up along the eastern shore of the Connecticut River. Now Massachusetts reached as far west as a line drawn south from Lake Champlain, and the governor of New Hampshire claimed that his colony extended as far west as Massachusetts. He quoted his colony's grant from the king of England to prove his claim, and he sent word to Governor Clinton of New York that he meant to settle the great Green Mountain tract that lay between the Connecticut River and Lake Champlain.

Governor Clinton sent back word to Governor Wentworth of New Hampshire that the province of New York claimed all that land under the charter of King Charles II to his brother the Duke of York.

New Hampshire settlers, however, went into this debatable land and built homes and began to farm there. Governor Wentworth granted lands, known as the New Hampshire Grants, to any who would settle there, and a township was organized west of the Connecticut River, and was named Bennington. The country was very fertile, the woods and rivers were full of game, and it was a tempting land to take. But the New Yorkers looked on the land as greedily as did the men from New Hampshire, and soon both provinces were sending their sheriffs and other officers to enforce their own laws there.

New York appealed to the king of England to settle the dispute, and he declared that the western bank of the Connecticut River should be the boundary line, giving all the Green Mountain country to the province of New York. By this time, however, there were a great many people from New Hampshire living there, and they meant to keep their homes no matter what the New York governor might do. What he did was to order the settlers to give up their grants from New Hampshire and buy their lands over again from New York, which charged twenty times as much as New Hampshire had. A few settlers did this, but most of them refused. A meeting of the latter was held at Bennington, and they resolved, as they said, "to support their rights and property in the New Hampshire Grants against the usurpations and unjust claims of the governor and Council of New York by force, as law and justice were denied them."

The settlers began to resist all New York officers who came to arrest them or try to eject them from their homes. Surveyors who came to run new lines across lands already granted by New Hampshire were forced to stop. No matter how secretly a sheriff with a party of Yorkers, as the New York officers were called, came to a farm in the disputed land, there were sure to be settlers there to meet the Yorkers and drive them away. The settlers had scouts all through the country; every trading-post was a rallying-point.

A military force was organized, and chose Ethan Allen, a rugged, eloquent man, to be its colonel. The governor of New York declared that he would drive these men into the Green Mountains, and when they heard this Ethan Allen's followers took the name of Green Mountain Boys for themselves.

Peter Jones was a hunter and trapper. The two boys, Jack and Sam, were the sons of men who had moved into the country on New Hampshire grants and taken up farm land. The boys had wanted to learn more of the woods than they could on their fathers' farms, and so had joined Peter at his cabin. He had taught them woodcraft and Indian lore, how to paddle a canoe, how to shoot straight, how to track the animals they wanted. All three were ready at any time to go to the help of settlers who might be driven from their land by New York officers.

Jack told the news of Dutton's trading-post, and then the hunter and the boys went to bed. Outside the cabin the wind whistled and sang. By morning the wind had dropped, but the air was very cold. Peter was up soon after dawn, putting fresh wood on the fire. The boys followed him shortly, getting into warm clothes as quickly as they could. They ate breakfast, and went outdoors. The lake was a field of ice, the trees were stiff with frost, the cold air nipped and stung their faces viciously.

There was plenty of work to do. Soon Peter set out to visit a line of traps to the south, and the boys went through the woods northwest to look at other traps. They came to the frozen bed of a little stream and a couple of beaver traps. There were no animals there. Perhaps the night had been too cold to tempt them from their homes. "I shouldn't think any animals would have gone prowling round last night," said Sam.

"I know I wouldn't," said Jack, "if I was a beaver."

They pushed on through the woods until they came to an open pasture. They had started across it when they heard a crow calling overhead. "Must be a fox somewhere about," whispered Jack. "Let's see if we can find him, even if we haven't got our guns."

They went back to the edge of the woods, making as little noise as they could, for they knew that a fox depends more on his ears than on his eyes. They stopped behind the trees and after a few minutes saw a big gray fox trotting slowly along the edge of the woods. Dropping to their knees the boys crept forward to a hummock and hid back of it. The fox stood still, looked about, and then started at a slow gait across the meadow.

The fox was more than a hundred yards away from the boys when Jack began to squeak like a meadow-mouse. No Indian or hunter could have heard the sound at half that distance, but the air was very still and Jack knew the fox's big ears were very sharp. True enough, the fox did hear it, and stopping, looked around.

Again Jack gave the squeak of the meadow-mouse. The fox came leaping lightly over the frozen hassocks of the meadow toward the two hidden boys. Every few yards he would stop and cock his ears over the long grass to listen. Each time he did this Jack squeaked, lower and lower each time, and every time the fox came on again, more and more cautiously, as if he were afraid of frightening the game he was hunting.

The fox got within fifty yards, and from there the boys, crouching behind their hummock, were in plain view of him. The fox looked sharply, distrustingly at the hummock. Had either boy moved his head or arm the fraction of an inch the fox would have shot off like an arrow to the woods. Neither did move, however. Jack waited until he judged from the fox's attitude and the set of his ears that his suspicions were vanishing, and then he squeaked again, very faintly now. The fox bounded on, almost up to the hummock. Then he stopped short, and the boys could see from the look on his shrewd face that he judged something was wrong. Instead of coming on he circled round to the left, trusting to his nose rather than to his eyes.

Jack squeaked, but the fox went on circling; it was plain he meant to come no farther. "What's the matter, old boy?" said Jack softly.

At the sound of Jack's voice the fox sprang up into the air and then bounded away to the edge of the woods, where he stopped a minute to look back and then disappeared behind the trees.

"We could have had him easy," said Sam, getting up. "We could almost have caught him with our hands."

"I don't want to try catching a big fellow like that with my hands," said Jack, chuckling. "Give me a gun every time."

When they got back to the cabin they found that Peter had been more successful than they in his visit to the traps on the south, for the skins of an otter and a mink had been added to the store that hung on a line in the drying-shed. After dinner the hunter took from his pocket a piece of wood he had been working over for several days. "I'm going to see if I can't fool a pickerel with this," he announced, holding out the little decoy for the boys to look at. The wood was cut to represent a minnow, was weighted on the bottom with lead, and had fins and a tail made of tin. He had painted a red stripe on each side, a white belly, and a brilliant green back. A line fastened to the minnow would allow Peter to pull it about in the water as if it were swimming.

Armed with a long-shafted fish-spear and a hatchet Peter and the boys went out on the ice. Choosing a smooth place Peter cut a square of ice. Then through the open space the hunter dropped his wooden minnow and made it swim about in a very lively way. In his right hand he held the spear poised, ready to strike at any venturesome fish.

For some time they waited; then the long nose of a pickerel showed in the water; Peter jerked the minnow and struck with the spear. The pickerel, however, slipped away unharmed. They had to wait fifteen minutes before another appeared. This time the pickerel stopped motionless, and seemed to be carefully considering the lively red-striped minnow. Then the fish shot forward, Peter aimed his spear, and the shining pickerel was caught and thrown out on the ice. Peter caught two more fish before he let Sam have a try at it. Sam and Jack each caught a pickerel, and then they brought their five trophies back to the camp to cook for supper.

They had just sat down to supper when there came a rap on the door followed by the entrance of a tall man in a fur jacket with a gun slung across his back. He was John Snyder, a hunter from the country north of the lake, and he had met the three in the cabin several times before.

"H-mm," said he, "that fish smells mighty good. I haven't tasted fish for a month o' Sundays."

"Pitch right in," invited Peter, setting out another tin plate and pouring a cup of coffee for the new arrival.

Snyder pulled off his cap and gloves, and threw off his fur coat, showing a buckskin jacket underneath. He ate like a man who hadn't tasted food for a month. After a while he said, "They say up where I come from that thar's trouble down Bennington way. If the Yorkers want trouble I reckon we can supply 'em good and proper. I'm on my way to Dutton's, and thar's more of the Boys comin' on down through the woods. Why don't you come along with me in the morning?"

"We was planning to go when we'd got a few more skins," said Peter. "But we've got a fair-sized stock, an' I don't know but what we might go along with you."

"That's what the word is," said Snyder. "Green Mountain Boys to Bennington." He looked hardy and tough, a typical pioneer, quite as ready to fight as he was to hunt or farm.

That night the guest slept on the floor before the fire, rolled in a blanket, and soon after dawn next morning the four set out, pulling two heavy sleds to which the furs and skins were securely strapped.

All four of the party were used to long trips on foot, often carrying considerable baggage. There were few post-roads through that part of the country, and horses would have been little use in traveling through such rough and wooded stretches. So most of the new settlers, and particularly those who were hunters, copied the customs of the Indians and trained themselves to long journeys afoot, varied occasionally by canoeing when they reached open water. The party of four traveled fast, in spite of the heavy sleds. Peter Jones, not very tall but very wiry, all sinew and muscle, and Sam, red-haired, freckle-faced, and rather stocky, pulled one sled, and big, raw-boned, weather-beaten Snyder, and slim, Indian-like Jack the other.

Presently they left the lake and came into more open country, where they could see snow-powdered hills stretching away to the clear blue horizon. Now they made better time, for there was no underbrush to catch the sleds and stop them. On they went until they saw a number of cabins grouped about a larger frame building, then they broke into a run, and dashed up with a shout before Dutton's trading-post.