Suddenly several Indians showed themselves on the bank,
and opened heavy fire upon the boat. The astonishment of the crew may
be conceived. Captain Ward and his nephew were at the oars when the
enemy appeared, and the captain knowing that their safety depended
upon their ability to regain the middle of the river, kept his seat
firmly, and exerted his utmost powers at the oar, but his nephew
started up at the sight of the enemy, seized his rifle and was in the
act of levelling it, when he received a ball in the breast, and fell
dead in the bottom of the boat. Unfortunately, his oar fell into the
river, and the Captain having no one to pull against him, rather urged
the boat nearer to the hostile shore than otherwise. He quickly seized
a plank, however, and giving his own oar to another of the crew, he
took the station which his nephew had held, and unhurt by the bullets
which flew around him, continued to exert himself, until the boat had
reached a more respectable distance. He then, for the first time,
looked around him in order to observe the condition of the crew. His
nephew lay in his blood, perfectly lifeless,--the horses had been all
killed or mortally wounded. Some had fallen overboard--others were
struggling violently, and causing their frail bark to dip water so as
to excite the most serious apprehensions.
But the crew presented the most singular spectacle.
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