Had Johnson followed up his success, he might have reached South Bay before the French, in which case the whole of Dieskau’s column must have fallen into his hands; nor did he press forward against Ticonderoga, which he might easily have captured.  For ten days nothing was done except to fortify the camp, and when, at the end of that time, he thought of advancing against Ticonderoga, the French had already fortified the place so strongly that they were able to defy attack.  The colonists sent him large reinforcements, but the season was getting late, and, after keeping the army stationary until the end of November, the troops, having suffered terribly from the cold and exposure, became almost mutinous, and were finally marched back to Albany, a small detachment being left to hold the fort by the lake.  This was now christened Fort William Henry.

The victory was due principally to the gallantry and coolness of Lyman; but Johnson, in his report of the battle, made no mention of that officer’s name, and took all the credit to himself.  He was rewarded by being made a baronet, and by being voted a pension, by parliament, of five thousand a year.

James Walsham, having no duties during the fight at the camp, had taken a musket and lain down behind the logs with the soldiers, and had, all the afternoon, kept up a fire at the trees and bushes behind which the enemy were hiding.  After the battle, he had volunteered to assist the over-worked surgeons, whose labours lasted through the night.  When he found that no forward movement was likely to take place, he determined to leave the camp.  He therefore asked Captain Rogers, who was the leader of a band of scouts, and a man of extraordinary energy and enterprise, to allow him to accompany him on a scouting expedition towards Ticonderoga.

“I shall be glad to have you with me,” Rogers replied; “but you know it is a service of danger.  It is not like work with regular troops, where all march, fight, stand, or fall together.  Here each man fights for himself.  Mind, there is not a man among my band who would not risk his life for the rest; but, scattered through the woods as each man is, each must perforce rely principally on himself.  The woods near Ticonderoga will be full of lurking redskins, and a man may be brained and scalped without his fellow, a few yards away, hearing a sound.  I only say this that you may feel that you must take your chances.  The men under me are, every one, old hunters and Indian fighters, and are a match for the redskin in every move of forest war.  They are true grit to the backbone, but they are rough outspoken men, and, on a service when a foot carelessly placed on a dried twig, or a word spoken above a whisper, may bring a crowd of yelping redskins upon us, and cost every man his scalp, they would speak sharply to the king himself, if he were on the scout with them, and you must not take offence at any rough word that may be said.”