# Benedict Arnold. A biography/7

CHAPTER VII.
THE NORTHERN ARMY.
VERY unexpectedly to all who kept their eyes fixed on the army in the vicinity of Ticonderoga, that fortress was suddenly deserted by the American troops, and the British advance under Burgoyne made their way downwards from the north unmolested.
Burgoyne had been gathering his forces at St. John's, on the Sorel river, for some time, preparing for the descent he afterwards made. In fact, the whole of the memorable campaign of the year 1777, at the end of which he and his army were taken prisoners, was mapped out by Lord Germaine, the British Secretary of War, and himself, some time before he came over and took command. Governor Carleton, of Canada, gave the plan all the aid possible. By the 1st of June, therefore, six thousand men were assembled at St. John's, ready to take boats and go up the lake. They immediately embarked, and set sail for Cumberland Head, where they waited for ammunition and stores, and then pushed on. At the river Boquet, a few miles north of Crown Point, they landed and held a council with the Indians. Burgoyne made a war-feast for the savages; and then addressed them in a pompous speech, which at this day sounds no more ridiculous than it must have sounded then.
St. Clair was in command at Ticonderoga, and his scouts brought him word of the enemy's coming. They had seen their boats, their vessels, and the savages, with the smokes of their wigwams on the hillsides. The enemy's number was greatly exaggerated, and St. Clair felt frightened. He wrote down to General Schuyler, who was stationed at Fort Edward, about it, and the latter despatched the letter to Washington, urging that reinforcements should be sent immediately to his relief. Enjoining it upon St. Clair likewise to keep a sharp look out on the east and west sides of the lake, he started off himself from Fort Edward for Albany, to get what aid was to be had there.
Every sign went to show by this time that the British intended to invest and finally capture the fortress at Ticonderoga. They were so shaping matters as to cut off all communication of the garrison with the country below. Forces were assembling on the east and west, to make ready for the final demonstration. Schuyler promised St. Clair that he would help him if help was possible; but no symptoms of aid showed themselves, and day after day slipped rapidly by. The enemy's vessels were coming nearer and nearer. At Ticonderoga the garrison could hear the morning guns of the British fleet, over the water, continually. The enemy are in front of them; the enemy are seeking to post themselves around them; and they will very soon wind a complete coil about their position, in whose folds there is no chance of escape.
St. Clair waited for succor, and waited in vain. It was already the last of June.
On the 1st of July, Burgoyne came within four miles of the fortress; here he encamped, began to erect works for defence, and threw a heavy boom across the lake. He issued at this place another pronunciamento to the savages, even more full of nonsense than the other. Schuyler had in the meantime been doing all he could. He made a draft on Gen. Putnam at Peekskill for men, but they had not arrived at Albany, as expected, on the 5th. He said he should go without them, if they did not arrive on the 6th; they did not arrive, and he set out with a force of militia on the 7th.
He had gone only as far as Stillwater, on the Hudson, when the astounding news reached him that St. Clair had evacuated Ticonderoga, and made his retreat to Fort Edward. Some of the troops belonging to St. Clair's army had had a fight with the British, who pursued them, while St. Clair himself had disappeared into the forest, and not been heard of since by any one!
St. Clair had abandoned his post, which was a strong one, without firing a gun. Washington was struck dumb with the intelligence; he could not conceive its cause or meaning. In this dilemma, he had vast plans resting upon him indeed. It was necessary for him to hold the posts on the Hudson, to prevent the junction of Burgoyne on the north and General Howe from New York; Philadelphia must likewise be guarded, since the enemy were already making a feint in that direction; and on the east, the necessity of remaining as strong as possible was just as apparent now as it was on the day the British determined to destroy the stores at Concord. The enemy likewise had another plan, which they began to put in operation as soon as Burgoyne commenced his march southward; Lieut. Col. St. Leger, with a force of seven hundred Canadians and regulars, was to effect a landing at Oswego, and, joined by the tories and Indians under Johnson, was to distract the attention of Schuyler by passing down the Mohawk Valley towards the Hudson, besiege and capture Fort Stanwix (or Schuyler), lay waste the eettlements along their route, and at last unite with Burgoyne about the time he should arrive at Albany from the Lake.
It was a fine plan, if it had only worked well. With such diverse and widely separated points to protect, it is easy to understand that Wash- ington had as full a weight of responsibility upon him as even his large and comprehensive mind could well bear.
It was while matters were in this state, Congress having done nothing as yet in the way of justice to Arnold, that the latter sent in his letter of resignation. At the same moment came also a letter from Washington to Congress, requesting that Arnold should at once be sent to the northern army; "I need not enlarge," said he, "upon his well-known activity, conduct and bravery. The proofs he has given of all these have gained him the confidence of the public and of the army, the Eastern troops in particular." Arnold reflected upon the matter, agreed to waive for the present all thought of his injuries, and asked that his letter of resignation be left unconsidered until he could first go and render the service needed on the northern frontier.
Washington set matters in train for defence against the irruption of the British from the north, without delay. He never despaired, let the skies look as dark as they might. He ordered all the vessels not needed at Albany to move down to Fishkill, so as to be ready to transport the troops there to the northward, the moment Howe began his advance up the river. He next issued circulars to all the brigadier-generals in Western Connecticut and Massachusetts, requesting them to concentrate at least a third of their militia forces at or near Saratoga, or wherever Generals Schuyler and Arnold might direct.
Schuyler now had deserted Fort Edward, and moved down four miles below to Moses Creek; and the men were engaged in throwing up works of defence. While here, several letters passed between him and the commander-in-chief relative to the work to be done; the latter suggested, among other things, that if Fort Stanwix should be threatened, General Arnold would be just the officer to take command of that position, for he could do as much as any man to inspirit the garrison and the inhabitants in the neighborhood.
While Burgoyne and his semi-barbarous force were at Fort Anne, some distance below Lake Champlain, he contemplated several plans by means of which he might make his Indian allies of service to him. They were treacherous fellows, and already occasioned him a deal of trouble. And the Canadian interpreters, or go-betweens, were the knaves who successfully imposed upon both himself and them. Many of these very same savages had previously served with the French against the British, during the Old French War.
At this time it was that a tragedy occurred in the vicinity of the deserted Fort Edward, which has left one of the foulest blots in history upon the name and fame of Burgoyne; and yet he may not himself be held altogether responsible, since the plan of employing Indians to help them fight their battles in America, was a favorite one with the Ministry at home.
There was a young man named David Jones in the division of General Frazer, an American by birth, yet still loyal to the King. Previous to the revolution, he had been living near Fort Edward. A young and lovely girl, named Jane McRea, the daughter of a Scotch Presbyterian clergyman in New Jersey, likewise lived about five miles below the Fort at the same time; hei father was dead, and she had made her home with her brother. Thus, being neighbors, a strong and fond attachment sprang up between the young man and the young girl, and they soon exchanged vows of fidelity and devotion. In fact, they were all ready to be married when the war between America and the mother country broke out.
The Joneses, however, favored the royal cause , while the family in which the beautiful Jane McRea lived were devoted to the cause of America. It was therefore quite natural, even if it were not necessary, that the former should move off into Canada, where all were royalists alike. Young Jones was there invested with a Lieutenant's commission. Still, absence served to make no inroad on their affection. They kept up a correspondence with one another, and proffered all the former tokens of devotion on the one side and the other.
Just at this present time, Jones was serving with General Fraser, who had advanced with his division to within a short distance of Fort Edward; in this neighborhood the young man felt perfectly at home again. His youthful lady-love had just previously left her brother's, below Fort Edward, and gone on a brief visit to a Mrs. O'Neil, who lived at the Fort.
As soon as the news spread that Burgoyne was approaching with his army of British and Indians, the people began to scatter. Miss McRea's brother sent for her to come home as quick as she could, intending to take all and go down to Albany. She did not obey at once, however, for there were too many inducements for her to remain a little longer where she was. Her lover was with the British army just above, and the lady with whom she was staying was likewise a royalist; she had not rested her eyes in a long time on the form of her betrothed; she knew there could be nothing to fear, with friends all around her; and she kept delaying, and delaying, determined to have an interview with her lover if she could reach him.
Her brother sent up a second message, urging her in stronger terms to come away and join the family, and setting forth the danger of remaining where she was, at the Fort. Still she did not go. She felt no fear, even should Burgoyne come and capture the Fort; for then she would only be united with the one whom her heart had so long treasured.
More messages came from her brother; so emphatic and urgent now, that even her infatuation began to yield; and she got ready, with several other families, though not without much reluctance, to embark on a large and commodious bateau, and make her way down the river.
But her resolution, alas ! was taken a little too late. Had she gone before, her life would have been spared. On the very morning set for the journey, a band of Indians made an irruption into the neighborhood, sent out by Burgoyne to plunder and annoy all who remained near the camp of General Schuyler. Early in the morning they came and burst into the house of Mrs. O'Neil.
A black boy who belonged to Mrs. O'Neil saw them coming just in time to give the alarm to his mistress, and then ran off himself to the Fort. The only persons in the house were the old lady, young Jenny McRea, two small children, and a black female servant. The latter caught up the children and fled to the kitchen, which in those days stood a few feet distant from the house; as soon as she gained this place, she opened a trap-door in the floor and climbed down with all haste into the cellar. Jenny and Mrs. O'Neil ran on after her as fast as they could. Jenny got to the trap-door first, and managed to descend into the cellar before the savages came up; but the old lady was not quite as agile, and got but part way down when her Indian pursuers espied her, and, seizing her by the hair of her head, violently dragged her up again. They next went down and found Jenny, and pulled her out of her hiding place also. The black girl they fortunately did not see, on account of the darkness; and so she and the two children escaped.
Jenny and the old lady they bore away in triumph to the camp of Burgoyne. Coming to the foot of a hill, they captured two horses that were grazing there; on one of them they tried to place Mrs. O'Neil, but she was so heavy and unwieldy that they did not succeed, and so hurried her on up the hill. Jenny, however, they lifted to the other horse's back, and set out with her thus mounted for the camp, furnishing her with as ample and attentive an escort as she could ask.
Mrs. O'Neil was carried directly into camp by the Indians, and forthwith began to upbraid General Frazer, who was her relative, for permitting his Indians to use her in this way; but he declared he did not know she was in that part of the country, and made haste to make her as comfortable as he could.
While she was thus detained, two parties of savages came in bringing several scalps reeking with blood. The old lady looked at them with a chill of horror. As she gazed, her fears told her that the long silken tresses by which one was held, could be none other than the beautiful locks of her dear Jenny! It was, alas! too true. No language can fitly describe the anguish of her heart. She could scarcely have suffered more intensely, had she been put to the torture by the savages herself.
These luxuriant locks of the young girl were said to be a yard and a quarter long; and the hues were such as greatly heightened the natural attractions of her face and features.
The Indians, on being brought to account for this atrocious murder of an innocent girl, explained that they were coming along the road near the spring by a well-known pine tree, when a bullet was shot from the gun of some American scouting party, which brought her from the horse she was riding to the ground. Not being able then to bring her in as a trophy to the camp, they resolved to do the next best thing, and carry in her scalp! They of course expected their reward.
It was told around at that time, that young Lieutenant Jones had employed these Indians to go to the house where she was staying, and bring her into the camp; and that they had stopped at the spring with her, and fallen into a quarrel about the amount of the reward they were to get for performing their errand; in the midst of which one savage chief suddenly slew her, as the best way to finish the dispute.
But the truth was otherwise. The real story has been told by a man who was also taken prisoner by the same party of savages, Standish by name, and a lineal descendant of the famous Miles Standish, of Pilgrim memory. He said that he was carried off a little ways from the spring and pine tree alluded to, and there left to himself for a few moments, while the savages gathered about the spring, which was a sort of rendezvous with them. Presently he saw another party of Indians coming up the hill, bringing along their youthful prisoner. He knew her well, for he had often seen her at Mrs. O' Neil's house. Not many minutes after the second party came up, a dispute arose between them and the other party, in the course of which warm words were used, and excited gestures; and at last they fell to belaboring one another with the stocks of their muskets. One of the chiefs seemed to be in a towering rage, so that he could not control himself; and in the heat of it, he suddenly stepped up in front of Miss Me Rea, presented his musket to her breast, and fired! She fell dead instantly.
The savage then drew his knife and took off her scalp so skilfully, that nearly the whole of her long hair came with it; and seizing this bloody trophy in one hand, he sprang up and shook it in the face of the rival chief, at the same time giving a yell of barbarous delight. After this, the quarrel was at an end; and the Indians hurried off to the camp where General Frazer was, fearing lest they might be overtaken by the aroused Americans below.
When the body of Miss McRea was found, it was pierced with several wounds, as if made by a knife. Her brother was informed of the transaction, and immediately came up from below and took charge of her corpse. It was to him a heavy blow indeed; and aroused his hatred of the British, who could employ these savages in their warfare, to its highest pitch.
The feelings of the hapless lover, on first beholding the scalp and the matchless tresses of young Jenny, it is not possible to describe. He secured this melancholy relic of the object of his devotion, and, with such a strange possession, settled down into a state of despondency and gloom. Sometime afer that he rushed madly into the subsequent battle at Bemis Heights, desirous of throwing away a life that had become already worse than worthless to him. At any rate, it is known that he not long after left the army, retired into Canada, and lived only to cherish that dark melancholy into which this horrible tragedy so suddenly plunged him. He became an old man, never marrying, and keeping away from society altogether. On the anniversary of this tragical day, which came in July, he always shut himself in his room from the observation of every one, and gave himself up to his sorrowful reflections. He was never known to allude to the war afterwards.
Jenny's grave is still to be seen near the ruins at Fort Edward, marked by a plain white marble slab about three feet high, with nothing but the simple inscription JANE McREA.
This murder very soon did its legitimate work. The hearts of those Americans that never had been moved before against the enemy, were now filled with indignation. The story went with the wind; it aroused the entire northern country as no other appeal could have done. General Gates addressed a letter to Burgoyne on the subject, charging home upon him and his government these most barbarous practices, and citing many instances where equal cruelty had been employed with his knowledge and at his instigation. Burgoyne denied the whole of the charges, and asserted that this was the only case of murder that had transpired; which was known to be untrue. Edmund Burke told the harrowing tale in eloquent language, in the British House of Commons, and it very soon became a familiar story throughout Europe. Burgoyne dared not punish the savage who was proved guilty of this crime, for the rest of the warriors threatened, in case he did, to desert the army altogether.
The moment Arnold heard of these incursions of the Indians, he detached two bodies of troops to overtake them on their retreat; but it rained very hard after they began their march, spoiling nearly the whole of their ammunition, and obliging them to fall back again. It is not likely, however, that they would have fallen in with the Indians, had they kept on; for the latter had made as swift a retreat as possible to the camp of their scarcely more civilized employers.