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ceived them. Encumbered with plunder, the boats moved slowly; and as oarsman after oarsman dropped dead, and some of the boats sunk under the well sustained fire, it seemed as though the whole body would be captured or destroyed. A strong wind, however, aiding the violent exertions of the oarsmen, carried a few of the boats beyond the reach of danger. It was now the turn of Putnam to fear an ambush; knowing that the remnant of the boats would hasten to Ticonderoga with intelligence of the surprise. His party, therefore, used every exertion, and with difficulty reached their boats and embarked in them before night. The next day, as they were moving quietly along, they discovered on the shore the party which had been sent in pursuit, as they had anticipated. The French being three times as numerous as Putnam's party, embarked with great confidence and rowed out to meet them. Fortunately, however, the latter had taken on board of their boats two wall-pieces, and two blunderbusses; and these, when the enemy had approached within pistol shot, were discharged upon them with great havoc. A destructive and sustained fire from small arms followed and routed the enemy completely. Great numbers of French and Indians were seen to fall overboard. The shattered boats with the wounded and the dead hastened back in dismay to Ticonderoga; while Putnam's soldiers returned in high spirits to their camp, having but one of their number killed and two wounded.

The campaign of 1757 was remarkable for the brave defence of Fort William Henry, under Colonel Munroe, and the horrible massacre which followed its capitulation-a massacre the more melancholy from the fact that had General Webb, the commander of the northern department, acted with ordinary bravery, the fort might have been successfully defended and a most bloody scene prevented. Putnam, now raised to the rank of major, remonstrated urgently against the faint-hearted course of his commander; but in vain. No assistance was sent to the besieged garrison; and it was not until after the surrender that Putnam and his corps were despatched to observe the movements of the enemy.

But we must pass over the details of this campaign to relate an instance of Putnam's bravery and coolness, worthy of his early adventure. A fire had broken out in the barracks, and when discovered, was already burning furiously. The magazine, containing a large quantity of powder, stood within twelve feet of the barracks and in the direction towards which the flames were spreading. Putnam, hearing the alarm, hastened from his outpost, and quickly formed a line of soldiers from the barracks to the river. He then mounted upon the burning building, received the water which was handed to him, and poured it upon the fire. Wrapped in smoke, and with his thick mittens burning off from his hands, he continued in his perilous position, until the flame swept over the whole building and stretched across to the magazine. Driven then from the blazing roof of the barracks, he took his place be

tween them and the magazine, pouring upon them a constant stream of water. All eyes were now turned upon the magazine, as with the energy inspired by danger the soldiers rapidly passed along buckets and pails of water to Putnam. The outside planks of the magazine were already blackened and smoking; still Putnam remained at his post, deliberately pouring each pailful of water where it seemed to be most needed. But in spite of his efforts the fire grew hotter; the outside planks of the magazine were consumed, and a timber partition, already smoking, alone remained. The sight of this, even in the excitement of the moment, struck every one with terror and a shuddering feeling of his danger. Involuntarily every man shrunk back a step from the fearful vicinity. Not a sound was heard, but the crackling of the fire and the hissing of the water, as Putnam, amid the falling cinders, persevered in his dangerous task. The flames swept over and around him, and it seemed doubtful whether he or they would be triumphant. At length the rafters of the barracks fell in; the danger was over and the terrified bystanders breathed freely once

more.

But Putnam had won the safety of the garrison at his own cost. His face, hands and arms were blistered; and when he drew off his second pair of mittens, the skin of his hands followed.

But our limits will not permit us to follow Putnam through all the adventures of this war-his perilous escapes-his capture and the cruel treatment which he received from the Indians-his shipwreck on the coast of Cuba-and the ingenious devices by which he assisted General Amherst in the expedition against Montreal. Over these varied scenes, and over the Indian war, which followed soon after the peace of Paris, and in which Col. Putnam, (as he had then become,) bore his usual active part, we must hasten to find our hero once more on his farm, holding the plow with the same firm hand with which he had wielded the sword.

It was not, however, to be expected that in the exciting times, which were now commencing, a man of Putnam's prominence would remain in retirement, nor could there be any doubt to those who knew his bold and independent character, which side he would espouse in the approaching strife. For a strife was evidently approaching. The spirit of resistance had filled the minds of the colonists, and had shown itself in acts. The calm which followed the repeal of the stamp act, was only the quiet of night upon an undecided battle field. Neither the parliament nor the colonists had retreated from their positions; and the tax bill of 1767, like the morning light, showed the combatants in the same hostile attitudes. Meanwhile the colonists, under the direction of Putnam, and others like him, were firmly and resolutely training themselves to arms, and awaiting the summons to the field.

It came at last, from Major Pitcairn's pistol at Lexington. The news of the conflict flew through the country, and called the nation to arms. It found Putnam plowing in the field. He left his

plow in the furrow, sprang upon his horse, and without going to his house, galloped to Boston, and was gladly welcomed by the assembled militia,-the embryo American army. His popularity and experience at once made him one of their leaders.

The battle of Bunker Hill followed. The story has been so often told, and the part which Putnam took in the glorious conflict, is so well known, that we do not venture to repeat it. Arms were now to decide the contest. Putnam was at once appointed majorgeneral by the continental congress; and was by Washington put in command of the centre of the army, beseiging Boston.

In the condition of the army at that time, Putnam must have been a most useful man. The troops were militia; little used to the fatigue of military labor and to the strictness of military discipline. They were engaged in a struggle for independence, a thing which does not flourish in camps; and they had been through their lives more accustomed to obey laws than men. But Putnam's known courage and generosity, and his occasional humor, tended to reconcile them to the necessary discipline; while his readiness to share in the most laborious duties, encouraged them in their toil. The general had not forgotten the farmer; and Putnam was no more ashamed to pile sods on a redoubt, than he had been a year before to hold the plow-handle.

Upon the evacuation of Boston by Gen. Gage, Putnam was placed in command at New York, where he continued until the unfortunate battle of Long Island. Here there was room for the employment of his ingenuity in the construction of chevaux-de-frise and similar contrivances, for the obstruction of the channel of the Hudson. Under his direction various means of this kind were adopted for the purpose of preventing the British ships from ascending the North river; but with very little success.

After the loss of the battle of Long Island, the American forces were with consummate skill withdrawn by night to New York; and soon afterwards a part of the army was stationed at Kingsbridge, a part remained under Putnam's command in the city, and the remainder occupied the space between. In a few days, however, three British ships of war had moved up the Hudson to Bloomingdale; and Clinton, with scarcely any opposition, had landed several thousand men at Kip's bay, on the East river, about three miles above the city. Retreat was now unavoidable. The other divisions of the American army had moved to Harlaem, and the only remaining route by which Putnam's could join them was by Bloomingdale. Clinton was marching to intercept Putnam's retreat, and the enemy thus closing in upon him on each side. Putnam urged his men with all the vehemence of his natural ardor, increased by the perilous situation in which he found himself. Riding backwards and forwards in his impatience, he encouraged the soldiers, who were, in many instances, fainting from fatigue and thirst. A portion of the British army was already seen descending upon the right, and the rear of Putman's division was

fired upon. But his exertions saved them, and they slipped through, just before the enemy's lines were extended from river to river.

It is said that in this retreat, Putnam, finding his danger to be very great, and hearing that Clinton on his march would pass the house of a Mrs. Murray, sent an aid to this lady, requesting her to detain Clinton and his staff, as long as possible, by her hospitality; and that the safety of the retreating division was secured by Mrs. Murray's compliance with the request, and her skillful performance of the stratagem.

In that dark period of the war which followed the disastrous loss of Fort Lee and the evacuation of Fort Washington, when Washington, with a remnant of an army, was retreating before a victorious enemy, to the shores of the Delaware, Putnam acompanied the commander in chief; and doubtless by his hopeful and courageous spirit, encouraged that great man in the steady perseverance, which saved the nation. He was soon afterwards stationed at Philadelphia, and employed in fortifying the place, deemed so important to the American cause. After the victories of Trenton and Princeton, he took up his winter quarters at the latter place, with only a few hundred men and within fifteen miles of the enemy. It was here that an incident occurred which shows his character. A wounded British officer had been left at Princeton, in great distress. Putnam immediately provided for all his wants and treated him with great kindness. The officer requested Putnam to send to the British army for a friend to come and assist in making his will. Putnam had but fifty men; and while he wished to comply with the request, he feared to expose his weakness. He accordingly adopted an ingenious expedient. He sent a flag of truce, as requested, with orders that the flag should not return with the Englishman, until after dark. He then had the college and other buildings of the town lighted up, and kept his fifty men marching, sometimes all together, and sometimes in detachments, in front of the house where the officer lay. So well did the device succeed, that the Englishman, on his return, reported Putnam's force at five thousand.

In the next year, Putnam was appointed to the command of the Highlands; and he was directed to attend particularly to preparing the obstructions designed to prevent the ascent of British ships up the North river. It was under his direction that the great chain was stretched across the river; a work of no small magnitude, and one for which Putnam's ingenuity fitted him. Here he celebrated the first anniversary of the declaration of independence with festivity and rejoicing, and concluded the day's sport by dislodging a huge rock which lay balanced on the top of a precipice. The great mass rolled crashing and thundering down the precipice, amid the simultaneous roar of artillery; while the surrounding officers shouted, " So may the thrones of tyrants fall,”—“ So may the enemies of freedom sink to rise no more." The performance may seem foolish to us, but it accorded with the enthusiasm and he somewhat pedantic taste of the day.

It was here too, that he sent the well known answer to Clinton's flag of truce, demanding the delivery of a spy.

"Head Quarters, 7th of August, 1777. "Edward Palmer, an officer in the enemy's service, was taken as a spy, lurking within our lines; he has been tried as a spy, condemned as a spy, and shall be executed as a spy, and the flag is ordered to depart immediately. ISRAEL PUTNAM.

P. S. He has accordingly been executed."

Forts Montgomery and Clinton on the western, and Forts Independence and Constitution on the eastern side of the river, were embraced in Putnam's command. The two former were on such ground, that they could not be stormed in port, and they had been stated to be inaccessible in the rear, by Generals Knox and Greene. Putnam's force had been greatly diminished by repeated requisitions, and Sir Henry Clinton, knowing this fact, resolved upon an expedition against this post. By a dexterous manoeuver, aided by the fog in the river, he deceived Putnam as to the immediate object of his attack; and landing a detachment at Stony Point, sent it through the rough and difficult passes of the mountain, to attack Fort Clinton on the rear. The treachery of a messenger who had been sent from that Fort, to Putnam's head quarters at Peekskill, contributed to the success of the expedition; and Forts Clinton and Montgomery were taken before Putnam could afford them support. After their capture, the forts on the eastern side could not be defended, and the river was open to the enemy.

These unfortunate losses, added perhaps to the lenity with which Putnam treated those who were inclined to the British party, rendered him unpopular with the people and the political leaders of New York, and he was recalled from this post. Washington, however, impliedly disavowed that this recall arose from any disapprobation on his own part. "My reason," he said, "for making this change, is owing to the prejudices of the people, which, whether well or ill grounded, must be indulged."

Putnam was then placed in command in Connecticut; where he rendered a new service to his country. The hardships which the troops had suffered and the irregularity of their pay had excited a spirit of insubordination; and one brigade took arms to march upon Hartford, where the Connecticut Assembly was in session, and demand redress, Putnam at once galloped down to the soldiers, and with his hearty, plain eloquence dissuaded them from their rash. project and at once put an end to the mutiny. It was about this same time that he effected his perilous escape down Horseneck rocks, which is so well known, and to which we have before all uded

Putnam's service was now nearly at an end. On his return to the camp, the next year, from a visit to his family in Connecticut, he was suddenly seized with paralysis, from which he never entirely recovered. He survived the attack nearly twelve years; and though able at all times to walk and ride, he could not resume his

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