ern lakes deceived him as
it had deceived Major Wilkins in the preceding year, for when a sudden
gale overtook him, surprised and confused, he ran the boats ashore on an
open beach, where twenty-five were broken into fragments by the surf,
and six cannon, together with most of the ammunition and baggage, were
lost. This open beach was within a mile of the scene of the previous
year's disaster. As before, the storm continued three days, and many of
the men were lost, swept away by the waves and overcome with hunger and
fatigue. When the skies cleared, Bradstreet reviewed his diminished
forces, and after burying the remaining cannon and ammunition, started
onward with the regulars in the batteaux which had escaped the storm,
leaving the provincials and Indians to make their way by land, on foot
and without provisions, four hundred miles through the forest as best
they could. These provincials came from New York, Connecticut and New
Jersey, and were commanded by Major Israel Putnam, afterward
major-general in the United States army. The story of their terrible
journey is unwritten, but it is known that many died of slow starvation
and fatigue along the route, which led through swamps and thickets, with
deep rivers barring their path; and not until the last of December did
they reach the forts, after having been twelve weeks in the wilderness.
The number of those who perished in the wreck or died on the journey is
not recorded, but it was so large as to occasion petitions to the
government--an unusual proceeding at that early date.

These are the narratives as compiled from authorities most vague and
diverse, and yet, when taken together, most indisputable. At that time,
before the Revolution, when, save a narrow belt on the Atlantic coast,
the whole country was a forest, authentic news was rare, and records
carelessly kept, if kept at all. Soldiers marching hundreds of miles
through a wilderness had no time to compose elaborate journals, and had
something else to think of than the curiosity of posterity. When a man
lives in a state of uncertainty as to his scalp, we cannot expect from
him systematic habits of writing; and therefore we are compelled to call
upon the earth and sea for information concerning these early
adventures. Generously have they responded, producing silent witnesses
who tell the tale of disaster with a melancholy fidelity more real than
the printed page.

From time to time after heavy storms portions