Before noon on the following day, the boat that was to convey Major Montgomerie and his niece to the American shore, pulled up to the landing place in front of the fort. The weather, as on the preceding day, was fine, and the river exhibited the same placidity of surface. Numerous bodies of Indians were collected on the banks, pointing to, and remarking on the singularity of the white flag which hung drooping at the stern of the boat. Presently the prisoners were seen advancing to the bank, accompanied by General Brock, Commodore Barclay, and the principal officers of the garrison. Major Montgomerie appeared pleased at the prospect of the liberty that awaited him, while the countenance of his niece, on the contrary, presented an expression of deep thought, although it was afterwards remarked by Granville and Villiers— both close observers of her demeanour that as her eye occasionally glanced in the direction of Detroit, it lighted up with an animation strongly in contrast with the general calm and abstractedness of her manner. All being now ready, Gerald Grantham, who had received his final instructions from the General, offered his arm to Miss Montgomerie, who, to all outward appearance, took it mechanically and unconsciously, although, in the animated look which the young sailor turned upon her in the next instant, there was evidence the contact had thrilled electrically to his heart. After exchanging a cordial pressure of the hand with his gallant entertainers, and reiterating to the General his thanks for the especial favor conferred upon him, the venerable Major followed them to the boat. His departure was the signal for much commotion among the Indians. Hitherto they had had no idea of what was in contemplation; but when they saw them enter and take their seats in the boat, they raised one of those terrific shouts which have so often struck terror and dismay, and brandishing their weapons seemed ready to testify their disapprobation by something more than words. It was however momentary—a commanding voice made itself heard, even amid the din of their loud yell, and, when silence had been obtained, a few animated sentences, uttered in a tone of deep authority, caused the tumult at once to subside. The voice was that of Tecumseh, and there were few among his race who, brave and indomitable as they were, could find courage to thwart his will. Meanwhile the boat, impelled by eight active seamen, urged its way through the silvery current, and in less than an hour from its departure had disappeared.
Two hours had elapsed—the General and superior officers had retired; and the Indians, few by few had repaired to their several encampments, except a party of young warriors, who, wrapped in their blankets and mantles, lay indolently extended on the grass, smoking their pipes, or producing wild sounds from their melancholy flutes. Not far from these, sat, with their legs overhanging the edge of the steep bank, a group of the junior officers of the garrison, who, with that indifference which characterized their years, were occupied in casting pebbles into the river, and watching the bubbles that arose to the surface. Among the number was Henry Grantham, and, at a short distance from him, sat the old but athletic negro, Sambo, who, not having been required to accompany Gerald, to whom he was especially attached, had continued to linger on the bank long after his anxious eye had lost sight of the boat in which the latter had departed. While thus engaged, a new direction was given to the interest of all parties, by a peculiar cry, which reached them from a distance over the water, apparently from beyond the near extremity of the Island of Bois Blanc. To the officers the sound was unintelligible, for it was the first of the kind they had ever heard, but the young Indians appeared fully to understand its import. Starting from their lethargy, they sprang abruptly to their feet, and giving a sharp answering yell, stamped upon the green turf, and snuffed the hot air, with distended nostrils, like so many wild horses let loose upon the desert. Nor was the excitement confined to these, for, all along the line of encampment, the same wild notes were echoed, and forms came bounding again to the front, until the bank was once more peopled with savages.
"What was the meaning of that cry, Sambo, and whence came it?" asked Henry Grantham, who, as well as his companions, had strained their eyes in every direction, but in vain, to discover its cause.
"Dat a calp cry, Massa Henry—see he dere a canoe not bigger nor a hick'ry nut," and he pointed with his finger to what in fact had the appearance of being little larger; "I wish," he pursued with bitterness, "dey bring him calp of dem billians Desborough—Dam him lying tief to hell."
"Bravo!" exclaimed De Courcy, who, in common with his companions, recollecting Gerald's story of the preceding day, was at no loss to understand why the latter epithet had been so emphatically bestowed; "I see (winking to Henry Grantham) you have not yet forgiven his paddling round the gun boat the other night, while you and the rest of the crew were asleep, eh, Sambo?
"So help me hebben, Obbicer, he no sail around a gun boat, he dam a Yankee. He come along a lake like a dam tief in e night and I tell a Massa Geral—and Massa Geral and me chase him all ober e water—I not a sleep Massa Courcy;" pursued the old man with pique; "I nebber sleep,—Massa Geral, nebber sleep."
"The devil ye don't" observed De Courcy quaintly, "then the Lord deliver ME from gun boat service, I say."
"Amen" responded Villiers.
"Why," asked Middlemore, "do Gerald Grantham and old Frumpy here remind one of a certain Irish festival? Do you give it up? Because they are AWAKE—"
The abuse heaped on the pre-eminently vile attempt was unmeasured—Sambo conceived it a personal affront to himself, and he said, with an air of mortification and wounded dignity, not unmixed with anger!
"Sambo poor black nigger—obbicer berry white man, but him heart all ob a color. He no Frumpy—Massa Geral no like an Irish bestibal. I wonder he no tick up for a broder, Massa Henry." His agitation here was extreme.
"Nonsense Sambo—don't you see we are only jesting with you," said the youth, in the kindest tone, for he perceived that the faithful creature was striving hard to check the rising tear—"there is not an officer here who does not respect you for your long attachment to my family, and none would willingly give you pain—neither should you suppose they would say anything offensive in regard to my brother Gerald."
Pacified by this assurance, which was moreover, corroborated by several of his companions, really annoyed at having pained the old man, Sambo sank once more into respectful silence, still however continuing to occupy the same spot. During this colloquy the cry had been several times repeated, and as often replied to from the shore; and now a canoe was distinctly visible, urging its way to the beach. The warriors it contained were a scouting party, six in number—four paddling the light bark, and one at the helm, while the sixth who appeared, to be the leader, stood upright in the bow, waving from the long pole to which it was attached a human scalp. A few minutes and the whole had landed, and were encircled on the bank by their eager and inquiring comrades. Their story was soon told. They had encountered two Americans at some distance on the opposite shore, who were evidently making the best of their way through the forest to Detroit. They called upon them to deliver themselves up, but the only answer was an attempt at flight. The Indians fired, and one fell dead, pierced by many balls. The other, however, who happened to be considerably in advance, threw all his energy into his muscular frame, and being untouched by the discharge that had slain his companion, succeeded in gaining a dense underwood, through which he finally effected his escape. The scouts continued their pursuit for upwards of an hour, but finding it fruitless, returned to the place where they had left their canoe, having first secured the scalp and spoils of the fallen man."
"Dam him, debbel," exclaimed Sambo, who as well as the officers, had approached the party detailing their exploit, and had fixed his dark eye on the dangling trophy. "May I nebber see a hebben ib he not a calp of a younger Desborough. I know him lying tief by he hair—he all yaller like a sogers breast plate—curse him rascal (and his white and even teeth, were exhibited in the grin that accompanied the remark,) he nebber no more say he sail round Massa Geral gun boat, and Massa Geral and Sambo sleep."
"By Jove he is right," said De Courcy. "I recollect remarking the colour of the fellow's hair yesterday when on calling for a glass of "gin sling," at the inn to which I had conducted him, he threw his slouched hat unceremoniously on the table, and rubbed the fingers of both hands through his carrotty locks, until they actually appeared to stand like those of the Gorgon perfectly on end."
"And were there other proof wanting," said Villiers, "we have it here in the spoil his slayers are exhibiting to their companions. There are the identical powder horn, bullet pouch, and waist belt, which he wore when he landed on this very spot."
"And I," said Middlemore, "will swear by the crooked buck horn handle of that huge knife, or dagger; for in our struggle on the sands yesterday morning, his blanket coat came open, and discovered the weapon on which I kept a sharp eye, during the whole time. Had he but managed to plant that monster (and he affected to shudder,) under my middle ribs, then would it hare been ail over with poor Middlemore."
"There cannot be a doubt," remarked Henry Grantham. "With Sambo and De Courcy, I well recollect the hair, and I also particularly noticed the handle of his dagger, which, as you perceive, has a remarkable twist in it."
All doubt was put to rest by Sambo, who, having spoken with its possessor for a moment, now returned, bearing the knife, at the extremity of the handle of which, was engraved on a silver shield the letters P. E. T. A. Ens. M. M.
"Paul, Emilius, Theophilus, Arnoldi, Ensign Michigan Militia," pursued Grantham reading. "This then is conclusive, and we have to congratulate ourselves that one at least of two of the vilest scoundrels this country ever harboured, has at length met the fate he merited."
"Fate him merit, Massa Henry," muttered the aged and privileged negro, with something like anger in his tones, as he returned the knife to the Indian; "he dam 'serter from a king! No, no, he nebber deserb a die like dis. He ought to hab a rope roun him neck and die him lying teef like a dog."
"I guess however our friend Jeremiah has got clean slick off," said Villiers, imitating the tone and language of that individual, "and he, I take it, is by far the more formidable of the two. I expect that, before he dies, he will give one of us a long shot yet, in revenge for the fall of young hopeful."
"Traitorous and revengeful scoundrel," aspirated Henry Grantham, as the recollection of the manner of his father's death came over his mind. "It is, at least, some consolation to think his villainy has in part met its reward. I confess I think in the death of young Desborough, less even because a dangerous enemy has been removed, than because in his fall the heart of the father will be racked in its only assailable point. I trust I am not naturally cruel, yet do I hope the image of his slain partner in infamy may ever after revisit his memory, and remind him of his crime."
An exclamation from the Indians now drew the attention of the officers to a boat that came in sight, in the direction in which that of Gerald Grantham had long since disappeared, and as she drew nearer, a white flag, floating in the stem became gradually distinguishable. Expressions of surprise passed among the officers, by whom various motives were assigned as the cause of the return of the flag of truce, for that it was their own boat no one doubted, especially, as, on approaching sufficiently near, the blue uniform of the officer who steered the boat was visible to the naked eye. On a yet nearer approach, however, it was perceived that the individual in question wore not the uniform of the British Navy, but that of an officer of the American line, the same precisely, indeed, as that of Major Montgomerie. It was further remarked that there was no lady in the boat, and that, independently of the crew, there was besides the officer already named, merely one individual, dressed in the non-commissioned uniform, who seemed to serve as his orderly. Full evidence being now had that this was a flag sent from the American Fort, which had, in all probability, missed Gerald by descending one channel of the river formed by Turkey Island, while the latter had ascended by the other, the aid-de-camp, De Courcy hastened to acquaint General Brock with the circumstance, and to receive his orders. By the time the American reached the landing place, the youth had returned, accompanying a superior officer of the staff. Both descended the flight of steps leading to the river, when, having saluted the officer, after a moment or two of conversation, they proceeded to blindfold him. This precaution having been taken, the American was then handed over the gun-wale of the boat, and assisted up the flight of steps by the two British officers on whose arms he leaned. As they passed through the crowd, on their way to the Fort, the ears of the stranger were assailed by loud yells from the bands of Indians, who, with looks of intense curiosity and interest, gazed on the passing, and to them in some degree inexplicable, scene. Startling as was the fierce cry, the officer pursued his course without moving a muscle of his fine and manly form, beyond what was necessary to the action in which he was engaged. It was a position which demanded all his collectedness and courage, and he seemed as though he had previously made up his mind not to be deficient in either. Perhaps it was well that he had been temporarily deprived of sight, for could he have remarked the numerous tomahawks that were raised towards him, in pantomimic representation of what they would have done had they been permitted, the view would in no way have assisted his self-possession. The entrance to the fort once gained by the little party, the clamour began to subside, and the Indians, by whom they had been followed, returned to the bank of the river to satisfy their curiosity with a view of those who had been left in the boat, to which, as a security against all possible outrage, a sergeant's command had meanwhile been despatched.
It was in the drawing room of Colonel D'Egville, that the General, surrounded by his chief officers, awaited the arrival of the flag of truce. Into this the American Colonel, for such was his rank, after traversing the area of the fort that lay between, was now ushered, and, the bandage being removed, his eye encountered several to whom he was personally known, and with these such salutations as became the occasion were exchanged.
"The flag you bear, sir," commenced the General, after a few moments of pause succeeding these greetings, "relates I presume, to the prisoners so recently fallen into our hands."
"By no means, General," returned the American, "this is the first intimation I have had of such fact—my mission is of a wholly different nature. I am deputed by the officer commanding the forces of the United States, to summon the garrison of Amherstburg, with all its naval dependencies, to surrender within ten days from this period."
The General smiled. "A similar purpose seems to have actuated us both," he observed. "A shorter limit have I prescribed to the officer by whom I have, this very day, sent a flag to General Hull; I have caused it to be intimated, that, failing to comply with my summons, he may on the ensuing Sabbath expect to see the standard of England floating over the walls of his citadel. This, Colonel, you may moreover repeat as my answer to your mission."
The American bowed. "Such then, General, is your final determination?"
"Not more certain is it that the next Sabbath will dawn, than that the force I have the honor to command will attempt the assault upon that day."
"What, within three days? You would seem to hold us cheaply, General," said the American piquedly, "that you do not even leave us in doubt as to the moment of your intended attack."
"And if I would, it were useless," was the reply, "since what I do attempt shall be attempted openly. In the broad face of day will I lead my troops to the trenches. By this time, however, your chief must know my determination— where, may I ask, did you pass my flag?"
"I met with none, General, and yet my boat kept as nearly in the middle of the stream as possible."
"Then must ye have passed each other on the opposite sides of Turkey Island. The officer in charge was moreover accompanied by two of the prisoners to whom I have alluded —one a field officer in your own regiment."
"May I ask who?" interrupted the American quickly, and slightly coloring.
"Major Montgomerie."
"So I suspected. Was the other officer of my regiment?"
"The other," said the General, "bears no commission, and is simply a volunteer in the expedition—one in short, whose earnest wish to reach Detroit, was the principal motive for my offering the Major his liberty on parole."
"And may I ask the name of this individual, so unimportant in rank, and yet so filled with ardor in the cause, as to be thus anxious to gain the theatre of war?"
"One probably not unknown to you, Colonel, as the niece of your brother officer—Miss Montgomerie."
"Miss Montgomerie here!" faltered the American, rising and paling as he spoke, while he mechanically placed on the table a glass of wine he had the instant before raised to his lips—"surely it cannot be."
There was much to excite interest, not only in the changed tone but in the altered features of the American, as he thus involuntarily gave expression to his surprise. The younger officers winked at each other, and smiled their conviction of une affaire de coeur—while the seniors were no less ready to infer that they now had arrived at the true secret of the impatience of Miss Montgomerie to reach the place of her destination. To the penetrating eye of the General, however, there was an expression of pain on the countenance of the officer, which accorded ill with the feeling one might be supposed to entertain, who had been unexpectedly brought nearer to an object of attachment, and he kindly sought to relieve his evident embarrassment by remarking:
"I can readily comprehend your surprise, Colonel. One would scarcely have supposed that a female could have had courage to brave the dangers attendant on an expedition of this kind, in an open boat—but Miss Montgomerie, I confess, appears to me to be one whom no danger could daunt, and whose resoluteness of purpose, once directed, no secondary agency could divert from its original aim."
Before the officer, having partially regained his composure, could reply, Colonel D'Egville, who had absented himself during the latter part of the conversation, returned and addressing the former in terms that proved their acquaintance to have been of previous date, invited him to partake of some refreshment, which had been prepared for him in an adjoining apartment. This the American at first faintly declined, on the plea of delay having been prohibited by his chief; but, on the General jocosely remarking that, sharing their hospitality on the present occasion would be no barrier to breaking a lance a week hence, he assented; and, following Colonel D'Egville, passed through a short corridor into a smaller apartment where a copious but hurried refreshment had been prepared.
The entry of the officer was greeted by the presence of three ladies—Mrs. D'Egville and her daughters—all of whom received him with the frank cordiality that bespoke intimacy, while, on the countenance of one of the latter, might be detected evidences of an interest that had its foundation in something more than the mere esteem which dictated the conduct of her mother and sister. If Julia D'Egville was in reality the laughing, light hearted, creature represented in the mess room conversation of the officers of the garrison, it would have been difficult for a stranger to have recognized her in the somewhat serious girl who now added her greetings to theirs, but in a manner slightly tinctured with embarrassment.
The American, who seemed not to notice it, directed his conversation, as he partook of the refreshment, principally to Mrs. D'Egville, to whom he spoke of various ladies at Detroit, friends of both, who were deep deplorers of the war and the non-communication which it occasioned; alluded to the many delightful parties that had taken place, yet were now interrupted; and to the many warm friendships which had been formed, yet might by this event be severed for ever. He concluded by presenting a note front a very intimate friend of the family, to which, he said, he had been requested to take back a written answer.
A feeling of deep gratification pervaded the benevolent countenance of Mrs D'Egville, as, on perusal, she found that it contained the offer of an asylum for herself and daughters in case Amherstburg should be carried by storm, as, considering the American great superiority of force, was thought likely, in the event of the British General refusing to surrender.
"Excellent, kind hearted friend!" she exclaimed when she had finished—"this indeed does merit an answer. Need of assistance, however, there is none, since my noble friend, the General, has pledged himself to anticipate any attempt to make our soil the theatre of war—still, does it give me pleasure to be enabled to reciprocate her offer, by promising, in my turn, an asylum against all chances of outrage on the part of the wild Indians, attached to our cause"—and she left the room.
No sooner did the American find himself alone with the sisters, for Colonel D'Egville had previously retired to the General, than discarding all reserve, and throwing himself on his knees at the feet of her who sat next him, he exclaimed, in accents of the most touching pathos:
"Julia, dearest Julia! for this alone am I here. I volunteered to be the bearer of the summons to the British General, in the hope that some kind chance would give you to my view, and now that fortune, propitious beyond my utmost expectations, affords me the happiness of speaking to you whom I had feared never to behold more, oh, tell me that, whatever be the result of this unhappy war, you will not forget me. For me, I shall ever cherish you in my heart's core."
The glow which mantled over the cheek of the agitated girl, plainly told that this passionate appeal was made to no unwilling ear. Still she spoke not.
"Dearest Julia, answer me—the moments of my stay are few, and at each instant we are liable to interruption. In one word, therefore, may I hope? In less than a week, many who have long been friends will meet as enemies. Let me then at least have the consolation to know from your lips, that whatever be the event, that dearest of all gifts—your regard—is unchangeably mine."
"I do promise, Ernest," faltered the trembling girl. "My heart is yours and yours forever—but do not unnecessarily expose yourself," and her head sank confidingly on the shoulder of her lover.
"Thank you, dearest," and the encircling arm of the impassioned officer drew her form closer to his beating heart. Gertrude, you are witness of her vow, and before you, under more auspicious circumstances, will I claim its fulfilment. Oh Julia, Julia, this indeed does recompense me for many a long hour of anxiety and doubt."
"And hers too have been hours of anxiety and doubt," said the gentle Gertrude. "Ever since the war has been spoken of as certain, Julia has been no longer the gay girl she was. Her dejection has been subject of remark with all, and such is her dislike to any allusion to the past, that she never even rallies Captain Cranstoun on his bear-skin adventure of last winter on the ice."
"Ah," interrupted the American, "never shall I forget the evening that preceded that adventure. It was then, dearest Julia, that I ventured to express the feeling with which you had inspired me. It was then I had first the delight of hearing from your lips that I need not entirely despair. I often, often, think of that night."
"Of course you have not yet received my note, Ernest. Perhaps you will deem it inconsiderate in me to have written, but I could not resist the desire to afford you what I conceived would be a gratification, by communicating intelligence of ourselves."
"Note! what note! and by whom conveyed?"
"Have you not heard," enquired Gertrude, warming into animation, "that the General has sent a flag this morning to Detroit, and, under its protection, two prisoners captured by my gallant cousin, who is the officer that conducts them."
"And to that cousin you have confided the letter?" interrupted the Colonel, somewhat eagerly.
"No, not my cousin," said Julia, "but to one I conceived better suited to the trust. You must know that my father, with his usual hospitality, insisted on Major Montgomerie and his niece, the parties in question, taking up their abode with us during the short time they remained."
"And to Miss Montgomerie you gave your letter," hurriedly exclaimed the Colonel, starting to his feet, and exhibiting a countenance of extreme paleness."
"Good heaven, Ernest! what is the matter? Surely you do not think me guilty of imprudence in this affair. I was anxious to write to you,—I imagined you would be glad to hear from me, and thought that the niece of one of your officers would be the most suitable medium of communication. I therefore confessed to her my secret, and requested her to take charge the letter."
"Oh, Julia, you have been indeed imprudent. But what said she—how looked she when you confided to her our secret?"
"She made no other remark than to ask how long our attachment had existed, adding that she had once known something of you herself; and her look and voice were calm, and her cheek underwent no variation from the settled paleness observable there since her arrival."
"And in what manner did she receive her trust?" again eagerly demanded the Colonel.
"With a solemn assurance that it should be delivered to you with her own hand—then, and then only, did a faint smile animate her still but beautiful features. Yet why all these questions, Ernest? Or can it really be? Tell me," and the voice of the young girl became imperative, "has Miss Montgomerie any claim upon your hand—she admitted to have known you?"
"On my honor, none;" impressively returned the Colonel.
"Oh, what a weight you have removed from my heart, Ernest, but wherefore your alarm, and wherein consists my imprudence?"
"In this only, dearest Julia, that I had much rather another than she had been admitted into your confidence. But as you have acted for the best, I cannot blame you. Still I doubt not," and the tones of the American were low and desponding, "that, as she has promised, she will find means to deliver your note into my own hands—the seal is—?"
"A fancy one—Andromache disarming Hector."
"Rise, for Heaven's sake rise," interrupted Gertrude; "here comes mamma."
One fond pressure of her graceful form, and the Colonel had resumed his seat. In the next moment Mrs. D'Egville entered, by one door, and immediately afterwards her husband by another. The former handed her note, and during the remarks which accompanied its delivery, gave the little party (for Gertrude was scarcely less agitated than her sister) time to recover from their embarassment. Some casual conversation then ensued, when the American, despite of Mrs. D'Egville's declaration that he could not have touched a single thing during her absence, expressed his anxiety to depart. The same testimonies of friendly greeting, which had marked his entrance, were exchanged, and preceded by his kind host. The Colonel once more gained the apartment where the General still lingered, awaiting his reappearance.
Nothing remaining to be added to the answer already given to the summons, the American, after exchanging salutations with such of the English Officers as were personally known to him, again submitted himself to the operation of blindfolding; after which he was reconducted to the beach, where his boat's crew, who had in their turn been supplied with refreshments, were ready to receive him. As on his arrival, the loud yellings of the Indians accompanied his departure but as these had been found to be harmless, they were even less heeded than before. Within two hours, despite of the strong current, the boat had disappeared altogether from the view.
Late in that day, the barge of Gerald Grantham returned from Detroit. Ushered into the presence of the General, the young sailor communicated the delivery of his charge into the hands of the American Chief, who had returned his personal acknowledgments for the courtesy. His answer to the summons, however, was that having a force fully adequate to the purpose, he was prepared to defend the fort to the last extremity, and waiving his own original plan of attack, would await the British General on the defensive, when to the God of Battles should be left the decision of the contest. To a question on the subject, the young officer added that he had seen nothing of the American flag of truce, either in going or returning.
That night orders were issued to the heads of the different departments, immediately to prepare materiel for a short siege; and, an assault at the termination of the third day. By both troops and Indians, this intelligence was received with pleasure; for all, sanguine as they were under such a leader, looked confidently to the speedy conquest of a post which was one of the highest importance on that frontier.
Conformably with the orders of the British General, the siege of the American fortress was commenced on the day following that of the mutual exchange of flags. The elevated ground above the village of Sandwich, immediately opposite to the enemy's fort, was chosen for the erection of three batteries, from which a well sustained and well directed fire was kept up for several successive days, yet without effecting any practicable breach in their defences. One of these batteries, manned principally by sailors, was under the direction of Gerald Grantham, whose look out duty had been in a great degree rendered unnecessary, by the advance of the English flotilla up the river, and who had consequently been appointed to this more active service.
During the whole of Saturday, the 15th of August, the British guns had continued to play upon the fort, vomiting shot and shell as from an exhaustless and angry volcano— and several of the latter falling short, the town which was of wood had been more than once set on fire. As, however, it was by no means the intention of the General to do injury to the inhabitants, no obstacle was opposed to the attempts of the enemy to get it under, and the flames were as often and as speedily extinguished. An advanced hour of night at length put an end to the firing, and the artillery men and seamen, extended on their great coats and pea jackets, in their several embrasures, snatched from fatigue that repose which their unceasing exertions of the many previous hours had rendered at once a luxury and a want.
The battery commanded by Gerald Grantham, was the central and most prominent of the three, and it had been remarked by all—and especially by the troops stationed in the rear in support of the guns—that his firing during the day, had been the most efficient, many of his shot going point blank into the hostile fortress, and (as could be distinctly seen with the telescope) occasioning evident confusion.
The several officers commanding batteries were now met in that of the young sailor, and habited in a garb befitting the rude duty at which they had presided, were earnestly engaged in discussing the contents of their haversacks, moistened by occasional drafts of rum and water from their wooden canteens, and seasoned with frequent reference to the events of the past day, and anticipations of what the morrow would bring forth. A lantern so closed as to prevent all possibility of contact with the powder that lay strewed about, was placed in the centre of the circle, and the dim reflexion from this upon the unwashed hands and faces of the party, begrimed as they were with powder and perspiration, contributed to give an air of wildness to the whole scene, that found its origin in the peculiar circumstances of the moment. Nor was the picture at all lessened in ferocity of effect, by the figure of Sambo in the back ground, who, dividing his time between the performances of such offices as his young master demanded, in the coarse of the frugal meal of the party, and a most assiduous application of his own white and shining teeth to a huge piece of venison ham, might, without effort, have called up the image of some lawless, yet obedient slave, attending on and sharing in the orgies of a company of buccaneers.
At length the meal was ended, and each was preparing to depart, with a view to snatch an hour or two of rest in his own battery, when the pricked ear and forward thrown head of the old negro, accompanied by a quick, "Husha, Massa Geral," stilled them all into attitudes of expectancy. Presently the sound of muffled oars was heard, and then the harsh grating as of a boat's keel upon the sands.
In the next minute the officers were at their posts; but before they could succeed in awakening their jaded men, who seemed to sleep the sleep of death, the sentinel at the first battery had received, in answer to his hurried challenge, the proper countersign, and, as on closer inspection it was found that there was only one boat, he knew it must be their own, and the alarm which had seized them for the security of their trust passed away.
They were not long kept in suspense. One individual alone had ascended from the beach, and now stood among them, habited in a dread-nought jacket and trousers and round hat. His salutation to each was cordial, and he expressed in warm terms the approbation he felt at the indefatigable and efficient manner in which the duty assigned to each had been conducted.
"Well, gentlemen," continued the Commodore, (for it was he), "you have done famously today—and in most masterly style did you silence those batteries, which the enemy, to divert your fire from the fort, had erected on the opposite bank. Much has been done, but more remains. Tomorrow you must work double tides. At daylight you must re-open with showers of shot and shell, for it is, during the confusion caused by your fire, that the General intends crossing his troops and advancing to the assault. But this is not all—we have some suspicion the enemy may attempt your batteries this very night, with a view of either spiking the guns, if they cannot maintain the position; or of turning them, if they can, on our advancing columns. Now all the troops destined for the assault, are assembled ready to effect their landing at day-break, and none can be spared unless the emergency be palpable. What I seek is a volunteer to watch the movements of the enemy during the remainder of the night—one (and he looked at Grantham) whose knowledge of the country will enable him to approach the opposite coast unseen, and whose expedition will enable us to have due warning of any hostile attempt."
"I shall be most happy, sir, to undertake the task, if you consider me worthy of it," said Grantham, "but—"
"But what?" interrupted the Commodore hastily.
"My only difficulty, sir, is the means. Had I my light canoe here, with Sambo for my helmsman, I would seek their secret even on their own shores."
"Bravo, my gallant fellow," returned the Commodore, again cordially shaking the hand of his Lieutenant. "This I expected of you, and have come prepared. I have had the precaution to bring your canoe and paddles with me—you will find them below in my boat."
"Then is every difficulty at an end," exclaimed the young sailor joyously. "And our dress, sir?"
"No disguise whatever, in case of accidents—we must not have you run the risk of being hanged for a spy."
Gerald Grantham having secured his cutlass and pistols, now descended with the Commodore to the beach, whither Sambo (similarly armed) had already preceded him. Under the active and vigorous hands of the latter, the canoe had already been removed from the boat, and now rested on the sands ready to be shoved off. The final instructions of the Commodore to his officer, as to the manner of communicating intelligence of any movement on the part of the Americans, having been given, the latter glided noiselessly from the shore into the stream, while the boat, resuming the direction by which it had approached, was impelled down the river with as little noise as possible, and hugging the shore for greater secrecy, was soon lost both to the eye and to the ear.
It was with a caution rendered necessary by the presence of the vessels in the harbour, that Gerald Grantham and his faithful companion, having gained the middle of the river, now sought to approach nearer to the shore. The night, although not absolutely gloomy, was yet sufficiently obscure to aid their enterprize; and notwithstanding they could distinctly hear the tread of the American sentinels, as they paced the deck of their flotilla, such was the stillness of Sambo's practised paddle, that the little canoe glided past them unheard, and, stealing along the shore, was enabled to gain the farther extremity of the town, where however, despite of the most scrupulous inspection, not the slightest evidence of a collective movement was to be observed. Recollecting that most of the American boats used for the transport of their Army from the Canadian shore, (which they had occupied for some time,) were drawn up on the beach at the opposite end of the town, and deeming that if any attempt on the batteries was in contemplation, the troops ordered for that duty would naturally embark at a point whence, crossing the river considerably above the object of their expedition, they might drift down with the current, and effect a landing without noise, he determined to direct his course between the merchantmen and vessels of war, and pursue his way to the opposite end of the town. The enterprise, it is true, was bold, and not by any means, without hazard; but Grantham's was a spirit that delighted in excitement, and moreover he trusted much to the skill of his pilot, the darkness of the night, and the seeming repose of the enemy. Even if seen, it was by no means certain he should be taken, for his light skiff could worm its way where another dared not follow, and as for any shot that might be sent in pursuit of them, its aim would, in the obscurity of the night, be extremely uncertain.
Devoted as the old negro was to Gerald's will, it was but to acquaint him with his intention to ensure a compliance; although, in this case, it must be admitted a reluctant one. Cautiously and silently, therefore, they moved between the line of vessels, keeping as close as they could to the merchantmen, in which there was apparently no guard, so that under the shadow of the hulls of these they might escape all observation from the more watchful vessels of war without. They had cleared all but one, when the head of the canoe suddenly came foul of the hawser of the latter, and was by the checked motion brought round, with her broadside completely under her stern, in the cabin windows of which, much to the annoyance of our adventurer, a light was plainly visible. Rising as gently as he could to clear the bow of the light skiff, he found his head on a level with the windows, and as his eye naturally fell on all within, his attention was arrested sufficiently to cause a sign from him to Sambo to remain still. The cabin was spacious, and filled every where with female forms, who were lying in various attitudes of repose, while the whole character of the arrangements were such as to induce his belief, that the vessel had been appropriated to the reception of the families of the principal inhabitants of the place, and this with a view of their being more secure from outrage from the Indians on the ensuing day. In the midst of the profound repose in which, forgetful of the dangers of the morrow, all appeared to be wrapped, there was one striking exception. At a small table in the centre of the cabin, sat a figure enveloped in a long and ample dark cloak, and covered with a slouched hat. There was nothing to indicate sex in the figure, which might have been taken either for a woman, or for a youth. It was clear, however, that it wanted in its contour the proportions of manhood. At the moment when Gerald's attention was first arrested, the figure was occupied in reading a letter, which she afterwards sealed with black. The heart of the sailor beat violently, he knew not wherefore, but before he could explain his feelings even to himself, he saw the figure deposit the letter, and remove, apparently from the bosom of its dress, a miniature on which it gazed intently for upwards of a minute. The back being turned towards the windows he could trace no expression on the countenance, but in the manner there was none of that emotion, which usually accompanies the contemplation of the features of a beloved object. Depositing the picture in the folds of its cloak, the figure rose, and with a caution indicating desire not to disturb those who slumbered around, moved through the straggling forms that lay at its feet, and ascending the stairs, finally disappeared from the cabin.
Somewhat startled, the young officer hesitated as to what course he should pursue, for it was evident that if the figure, whoever it might prove, should come to the stem of the vessel, he and his companion must be discovered. For a moment he continued motionless, but with ear and eye keenly on the alert. At length he fancied he heard footsteps, as of one treading the loose plank that led from the vessel's side to the wharf. He pushed the canoe lightly along, so as to enable him to get clear of her stem, when glancing his eye in that direction, he saw the figure, still in the same dress, quit the plank it had been traversing, and move rapidly along the wharf towards the centre of the town.
Ruminating on the singularity of what he had observed, our adventurer now pursued his course up the river; but still without discovering any evidence of hostile preparation. On the contrary, a deep silence appeared to pervade every part of the town, the repose of which was the more remarkable, as it was generally known, that the attack on the fort was to be made on the following day. Arrived opposite the point where the town terminated, Grantham could distinctly count some twenty or thirty large boats drawn up on the beach, while in the fields beyond, the drowsy guard evidently stationed there for their protection, and visible by the dying embers of their watch-fire, denoted any thing but the activity which should have governed an enterprize of the nature apprehended. Satisfied that the information conveyed to his superiors was incorrect, the young officer dismissed from his mind all further anxiety on the subject; yet, impelled by recollections well befitting the hour and the circumstances, he could not avoid lingering near a spot, which, tradition had invested with much to excite the imagination and feeling. It was familiar to his memory, (for he had frequently heard it in boyhood,) that some dreadful tragedy had, in former days, been perpetrated near this bridge; and he had reason to believe that some of the actors in it, were those whose blood flowed in his own young veins. The extreme pain it seemed to give his parents, however, whenever allusion was made to the subject, had ever repressed inquiry, and all his knowledge of these events, was confined to what he had been enabled to glean from the aged Canadians. That Sambo, who was a very old servant of the family, had more than hear-say acquaintance with the circumstances, he was almost certain; for he had frequently remarked, when after having had his imagination excited by the oft told tale, he felt desirous of visiting the spot, the negro obedient in all things else, ever found some excuse to avoid accompanying him, nor, within his own recollection, had he once approached the scene. Certain vague allusions, of late date, by the old man, had moreover, confirmed him in his impression, and he now called forcibly to mind an observation made by his faithful attendant on the night of their pursuit of the younger Desborough, which, evidently referred to that period. Even on the present occasion, he had been struck by the urgency with which he contended for a return to their own shore, without pursuing their course to the extreme end of the town; nor was his unwillingness to approach the bridge overcome, until Gerald told him it was the positive order of the Commodore, that they should embrace the whole of the American lines in their inspection, and even THEN, it was with a relaxed vigour of arm, that he obeyed the instruction to proceed.
Determined to sound him, as to his knowledge of the fact, Grantham stole gently from the bow to the stern of the canoe, and he was about to question him, when the other, grasping his arm with an expressive touch, pointed to a dark object moving across the road. Gerald turned his head, and beheld the same figure that had so recently quitted the cabin of the merchantman. Following its movements, he saw it noiselessly enter into the grounds of a cottage, opposite an old tannery, where it totally disappeared.
A new direction was now given to the curiosity of the sailor. Expressing in a whisper to Sambo, his determination to follow, he desired him to make for the shore, near the tannery, beneath the shadow of which he might be secure, while he himself advanced, and traced the movements of the mysterious wanderer.
"Oh Massa Geral," urged the old man in the same whisper—his teeth chattering with fear—"for Hebben' sake e no go ashore. All dis a place berry bad, and dat no a livin' ting what e see yonder. Do Massa Geral take poor nigger word, and not so dere affer e ghost."
"Nay, Sambo, it is no ghost, but flesh and blood, for I saw it in the brig we were foul of just now, however be under no alarm. Armed as, I am, I have nothing to fear from one individual, and if I am seen and pursued in my turn, it is but to spring in again, and before any one can put off in chase we shall have nearly reached the opposite shore—You shall remain in the canoe it—you please, but I most certainly will see where that figure went."
"Berry well, Massa Geral," and the old man spoke piquedly, although partly re-assured by the assurance that it was no ghost. "If e no take e poor nigger wice e do as e like; but I no top in e canoe while e go and have him troat cut, or carry off by a debbil—I dam if e go—I go too."
This energetic rejoinder being conclusive, and in no wise opposed by his master, the old man made for the shore as desired. Both having disembarked, a cautious examination was first made of the premises, which tending to satisfy them that all within slumbered, the canoe was secreted under the shadow of the cottage, the adventurers crossed the road in the direction taken by the figure—Sambo following close in the rear of his master, and looking occasionally behind him, not with the air of one who fears a mortal enemy, but of one rather who shrinks from collision with a spirit of another world.
The front grounds of the cottage were separated from the high road by a fence of open pallisades, in the centre of which was a small gate of the same description. It was evidently through this latter that the figure had disappeared, and as its entrance had been effected without effort. Gerald came to the conclusion, on finding the latter yield to his touch, that this was the abode of the midnight wanderer. Perhaps some young American officer, whom intrigue or frolic had led forth in disguise on an excursion from which he was now returned. His curiosity was therefore on the point of yielding to the prudence which dictated an immediate relinquishment of the adventure, when he felt his right arm suddenly seized in the convulsed and trembling grasp of his attendant. Turning to ascertain the cause, he beheld as distinctly as the gloom of the night would permit, the features of the old man worked into an expression of horror, while trembling in every joint, he pointed to the mound of earth at the far extremity of the garden, which was known to contain the ashes of those from whom his imagination had been so suddenly diverted by the reappearance of the figure. This, owing to the position in which he stood, had hitherto escaped the notice of the officer, whose surprise may be imagined, when, looking in the direction pointed out to him, he beheld the same muffled figure, reposing its head apparently in an attitude of profound sorrow, against one of the white tomb stones that rose perpendicularly from the graves.
That Sambo feared nothing which emanated not from the world of spirits, Grantham well knew. It therefore became his first care to dismiss from the mind of the poor fellow the superstitious alarm that had taken possession of every faculty. From their proximity to the party, this could only be done by energetic signs, the progress of which was however interrupted by their mutual attention being diverted by a change in the position of the figure, which, throwing itself at its length upon the grave, for a moment or two sobbed audibly Presently afterwards it rose abruptly, and wrapping its disguise more closely around it, quitted the mound and disappeared in the rear of the house.
The emotion of the figure, in giving evidence of its materiality, had, more than all the signs of his master, contributed to allay the agitation of the old negro. When therefore Gerald, urged by his irrepressible curiosity, in a whisper declared his intention to penetrate to the rear of the house, he was enabled to answer.
"For Gorramity's sake, Massa Geral, nebber go dare. Dis a place all berry bad for e family. Poor Sambo hair white now but when he black like a quirrel he see all a dis a people kill—" (and he pointed to the mound) "oh, berry much blood spill here, Massa Geral. It make a poor nigger heart sick to link of it."
Gerald grasped the shoulder of the old man. "Sambo," he whispered, in the same low, but in a determined tone, "I have long thought you acquainted with the history of this place, although you have eluded my desire for information on the subject. After the admission you have now made, however, I expect you will tell me all and every thing connected with it. Not now—for I am resolved to see who that singular being is, who apparently, like myself, feels an interest in these mouldering bones. As you perceive it is no ghost, but flesh and blood like ourselves, stay here if you will, until I return; but something more must I see of this mystery before I quit the spot."
Without waiting for reply, he gently pushed the unlatched gate before him. It opened without noise, and quitting the pathway he moved along the green sward in the direction in which the figure had disappeared. Love for his master, even more than the superstitious awe he felt on being left alone, in that memorable spot, at so late an hour, put an end to the indecision of the old man. Entering and cautiously closing the gate, he followed in the footsteps of his master, and both in the next minute were opposite to the mound where the figure had first been observed.
As he was about to quit the grass, and enter upon the gravelled walk that led to the rear of the cottage, he fancied he distinguished a sound within, similar to that of a door cautiously opening. Pausing again to listen, he saw a light strongly reflected from an upper window, upon what had the appearance of a court yard in the rear, and in that light the dark shadow of a human form. This he at once recognized, from its peculiar costume to be the mysterious person who had so strongly excited his curiosity. For a moment or two all was obscurity, when again, but from a more distant window, the same light and figure were again reflected. Presently the figure disappeared, but the light still remained. Impelled by an uncontrollable desire to behold the features, and ascertain, if possible, the object of this strange wanderer, the young sailor cast his eye rapidly in search of the means of raising himself to a level with the window, when, much to his satisfaction, he remarked immediately beneath, a large water butt which was fully adequate to the purpose, and near this a rude wooden stool which would enable him to gain a footing on its edge, without exertion, or noise. It is true there was every reason to believe that what he had seen was, an officer belonging to the guard stationed in the adjoining held, who had his temporary residence in this building, and was now, after the prosecution of some love adventure returning home; but Gerald could not reconcile this with the strong emotion he had manifested near the tomb, and the startling secrecy with which, even when he had entered, he moved along his own apartments. These contradictions were stimulants to the gratification of his own curiosity, or interest, or whatever it might be; and although he could not conceal from himself that he incurred no inconsiderable risk from observation, by the party itself, the desire to see into the interior of the apartment and learn something further, rose paramount to all consideration for his personal safety. His first care now was to disencumber himself of his shoes and cutlass, which he gave in charge to Sambo, with directions to the latter to remain stationary on the sward, keeping a good look-out to guard against surprise. As by this arrangement his master would be kept in tolerable proximity, the old negro, whose repugnance to be left alone in that melancholy spot was invincible, offered no longer an objection, and Gerald, bracing more tightly round his loins, the belt which contained his pistols, proceeded cautiously to secure the stool, by the aid of which he speedily found his feet resting on the edge of the water butt, and his face level with the window. This, owing to the activity of his professional habits, he had been enabled to accomplish without perceptible noise.
The scene that met the fixed gaze of the adventurous officer, was one to startle and excite in no ordinary degree. The room into which he looked was square, with deep recesses on the side where he lingered, formed by the projection of a chimney in which, however, owing to the sultry season of the year, no traces of recent fire were visible. In the space between the chimney and wall, forming the innermost recess, was placed a rude uncurtained bed, and on this lay extended, and delineated beneath the covering, a human form, the upper extremities of which was hidden from view by the projecting chimney. The whole attitude of repose of this latter indicated the unconciousness of profound slumber. On a small table near the foot, were placed several books and papers, and an extinguished candle. Leaning over the bed and holding a small lamp which had evidently been brought and lighted since its entrance, stood the mysterious figure on whom the interest of Gerald had been so strongly excited. It seemed to be gazing intently on the features of the sleeper, and more than once, by the convulsed movements of its form, betrayed intense agitation. Once it made a motion as if to awaken the person on whom it gazed, but suddenly changing its purpose, drew from its dress a letter which Gerald recognized to be that so recently prepared in the cabin of the brig. Presently both letter and lamp were deposited on the bed, and in one upraised hand of the figure gleamed the blade of a knife or dagger, while the left grasped and shook, with an evident view to arouse, the sleeper. An exclamation of horror, accompanied by a violent struggle of its limbs, proclaimed reviving consciousness in the latter. A low wild laugh burst in scorn from the lips of the figure, and the strongly nerved arm was already descending to strike its assassin blow, when suddenly the pistol, which Gerald had almost unconsciously cocked and raised to the window, was discharged with a loud explosion. The awakened slumberer was now seen to spring from the bed to the floor, and in the action the lamp was overturned and extinguished; but all struggle appeared to have ceased.
Bewildered beyond measure in his reflection, yet secure in the conviction that he had by this desperate step saved the life of a human being from the dagger of the assassin, the only object of Gerald now was to secure himself from the consequences. Springing from his position he was soon at the side of the startled Sambo, who had witnessed his last act with inconceivable dismay. Already were the guard in the adjoining field, alarmed by the report of the pistol, hurrying toward the house, when they reached the little gate, and some even appeared to be making for their boats on the beach. With these motives to exertion, neither Gerald nor the old negro were likely to be deficient in activity. Bending low as they crossed the road, they managed unperceived to reach that part of the tannery where their canoe had been secreted, and Sambo having hastily launched it, they made directly for the opposite shore, unharmed by some fifteen or twenty shots that were fired at them by the guard, and drifting down with the current, reached, about an hour before dawn, the battery from which they had started.
At day-break on the rooming of Sunday, the 16th of August, the fire from the batteries was resumed, and with a fury that must have satisfied the Americans, even had they been ignorant of the purpose, it was intended to cover some ulterior plan of operation on the part of the British General. Their own object appeared rather to make preparation of defence against the threatened assault, than to return a cannonade, which, having attained its true range, excessively annoyed and occasioned them much loss. Meanwhile every precaution had been taken to secure the safe transport of the army. The flotilla, considerably superior at the outset of the war, to that of the Americans, had worked up the river during the night, and anchored in the middle lay with their broadsides ready to open upon any force that might appear to oppose the landing of the troops, while numerous scows, for the transport of a light brigade of horse artillery, and all the boats and batteaux that could be collected, added to those of the fleet, lay covering the sands, ready to receive their destined burdens. At length the embarkation was completed, and the signal having been given, the several divisions of boats moved off in the order prescribed to them. Never did a more picturesque scene present itself to the human eye, than during the half hour occupied in the transit of this little army. The sun was just rising gloriously and unclouded, as the first division of boats pushed from the shore, and every object within the British and American line of operation, tended to the production of an effect, that was little in unison with the anticipated issue of the whole. Not a breeze ruffled the fair face of the placid Detroit, through which the heavily laden boats now made their slow, but certain way, and a spectator who, in utter ignorance of events, might hare been suddenly placed on the Canadian hank, would have been led to imagine, that a fete, not a battle, was intended. Immediately above the village of Sandwich, and in full view of the American Fort, lay the English flotilla at anchor, their white sails half clewed up, their masts decked with gay pendants, and their taffrails with, ensigns that lay drooping over their sterns into the water, as if too indolent to bear up against the coming sultriness of the day. Below these, glittering in bright scarlet, that glowed not unpleasingly on the silvery stream, the sun's rays dancing on their polished muskets and accoutrements, glided like gay actors in an approaching pageant, the columns destined for the assault, while further down, and distributed far and wide over the expanse of water, were to be seen a multitude of canoes, filled with Indian warriors, whose war costume could not, in the distance, be distinguished from that of the dance; the whole contributing, with the air of quietude on both shores, and absence of all opposition on the American especially, to inspire feelings of joyousness and pleasure, rather than the melancholy consequent on a knowledge of the final destination of the whole. Nor would the incessant thunder of the cannon in the distance, have in any way diminished this impression; for as the volumes of smoke, vomited from the opposing batteries, met and wreathed themselves together in the centre of the stream, leaving at intervals the gay colours of England and America, brightly displayed to the view, the impression, to a spectator, would have been that of one who witnesses the exchange of military honors between two brave and friendly powers, preparing the one to confer, the other to receive all the becoming courtesies of a chivalrous hospitality. If any thing were wanting to complete the illusion, the sound of the early mass bell, summoning to the worship of that God whom no pageantry of man may dispossess of homage, would amply crown and heighten the effect of the whole, while the chaunting of the hymn of adoration, would appear a part of the worship of the Deity, and of the pageantry itself.
Vying, each with the other, who should first gain the land, the exertions of the several rowers increased, as the distance to be traversed diminished, so that many arrived simultaneously at the beach. Forming in close column of sections as they landed, the regular troops occupied the road, their right flank resting on the river, while a strong body of Indians under Round-head, Split-log, and Walk-in-the-Water, scouring the open country beyond, completely guarded their left from surprise. Among the first to reach the shore, was the gallant General, the planner of the enterprise, who, with his personal staff, crossed the river in the barge of the Commodore, steered by that officer himself. During the short period that the columns were delayed for the landing of the artillery, necessarily slower in their movements, a short conference among the leaders, to whom were added Tecumseh and Colonel D'Egville, as to their final operations, took place. Never did the noble Indian appear to greater advantage than on this occasion. A neat hunting dress, of smoked deer skin, handsomely ornamented, covered his fine and athletic person, while the swarthiness of his cheek and dazzling lustre of his eye, were admirably set off, not only by the snow white linen which hung loose and open about his throat, but by a full turban, in which waved a splendid white Ostrich feather, the much prized gift, as we have already observed, of Mrs. D'Egville. Firmly seated, on his long tailed gray charger, which he managed with a dexterity uncommon to his race, his warrior and commanding air, might have called up the image of a Tamerlane, or a Genghis Khan, were it not known, that to the more savage qualities of these, he united others that would lend lustre to the most civilized Potentates. There was, however, that ardor of expression in his eye which rumor had ascribed to him, whenever an appeal to arms against the deadly foe of his country was about to be made, that could not fail to endear him to the soldier hearts of time who stood around, and to inspire them with a veneration and esteem, not even surpassed by what they entertained for their own immediate leader, who in his turn, animated by the inspiriting scene, and confident in his own powers, presented an appearance so anticipatory of coining success, that the least sanguine could not fail to be encouraged by it.
It had been arranged that on the landing of the troops, the flotilla should again weigh anchor, and approach as near as possible to the American Fort, with a view, in conjunction with the batteries, to a cross-fire that would cover the approach of the assaulting columns. The Indians, meanwhile, were to disperse themselves throughout the skirt of the forest, and, headed by the Chiefs already named, to advance under whatever they might find in the shape of hedges, clumps of trees, or fields, sufficiently near to maintain a heavy fire from their rifles on such force as might appear on the ramparts to oppose the assault—a task in which they were to be assisted by the brigade of light guns charged with shrapnell and grape. Tecumseh himself, accompanied by Colonel D'Egville, was with the majority of his warriors, to gain the rear of the town, there to act at circumstances might require. To this, as an inferior post, the Chieftain had at first strongly objected, but when it was represented to him that the enemy, with a view to turn the English flank on the forest side, would probably detach in that direction a strong force, which he would have the exclusive merit of encountering, he finally assented; urged to it, as he was, moreover, by the consideration that his pretence would be effectual in repressing any attempt at massacre, or outrage, of the helpless inhabitants, by his wild and excited bands.
The guns being at length disembarked and limbered, every thing was now in readiness for the advance. The horses of the General and his staff, had crossed in the scows appropriated to the artillery, and his favorite charger, being now brought up by his groom, the former mounted with an activity and vigour, not surpassed even by the youngest of his aides-de-camp, while his fine and martial form, towered above those around him, in a manner to excite admiration in all who beheld him. Giving his brief instructions to his second in command, he now grasped and shook the hand of his dark brother in aims, who, patting spurs to his horse, dashed off with Colonel D'Egville into the open country on the left, in the direction taken by his warriors, while the General and his staff, boldly, and without escort, pursued their way along the high road at a brisk trot. The Commodore in his torn, sprang once more into his barge, which, impelled by stout hearts, and willing hands, was soon seen to gain the side of the principal vessel of the little squadron, which, rapidly getting under weigh, had already loosened its sails to catch the light, yet favorable breeze, now beginning to curl the surface of the river.
The little army composing this adventurous expedition, consisted of about five hundred men of the regular troops, forming the garrison of Amherstburgh, to which had been added about three hundred well organized militia, from the central district—volunteers on the occasion, and habited in a manner to give them the appearance of troops of the line—in all, however, there were not more than eight hundred men, exclusive of Indians; yet, these were advancing, confident of success, against a fortress defended with five and thirty pieces of cannon, and garrisoned by upwards of two thousand men. A stronger illustration of what the directing powers of a master mind may accomplish, over those under its control, was probably never afforded more than on this occasion. One would have imagined, from the reckless laugh and ready repartee, which marked the early part of the march, that they expected to possess themselves of the Fort merely by the will of their General, and without suffering any of those contingencies which are the unfailing results of such enterprizes. In short, it seemed as if they thought that whatever be directed, they could perform, no matter what the difficulty; and such was their exuberance of spirits, that it was not without effort, that their officers, making all due allowance for the occasion, could keep them within those bounds required by discipline, and by the occasion.
During all this time, the cannon from our batteries, but faintly answered by the Americans, had continued to thunder without intermission, and as the columns drew nearer, each succeeding discharge came upon the ear with increased and more exciting loudness. Hitherto the view had been obstructed by the numerous farm houses and other buildings, that skirted the windings of the road, but when at length the column emerged into more open ground, the whole scene burst splendidly and imposingly upon the sight. Within half a mile, and to the left, rose the American ramparts, surmounted by the national flag, suspended from a staff planted on the identical spot which had been the scene of the fearful exploit of Wacousta in former days. Bristling with cannon, they seemed now to threaten with extermination those who should have the temerity to approach them, and the men, awed into silence, regarded them with a certain air of respects. Close under the town were anchored the American vessels of war, which, however, having taken no part in returning the bombardment, had been left unmolested across the river, and in full view of all, was to be seen the high ground where the batteries had been erected and, visible at such intervals as the continuous clouds of smoke and flashes of fire would permit, the Union Jack of England floating above the whole; while in the river and immediately opposite to the point the columns had now reached, the English flotilla, which had kept pace with their movements, were already taking up a position to commence their raking fire. What more than all, however, attracted the general attention, was the appearance of two or three heavy guns, crowning the ascent of the sloping road by which they had advanced, and now, at the distance of not quite half a mile, defending the entrance to the town. If the British force had felt surprise at the non-resistance to their landing, that surprise was increased to astonishment on finding that not one of these guns, which might hare raked the entire column, destroying numbers in the choked up road, opened upon them: Had the Americans done as they might, many a British soldier would have there found his grave; but Providence had decreed that a day so fair and beautiful, commencing in the homage of human hearts to the source of all good, should not be sullied by the further shedding of human blood.
It was on reaching this point of the road, that the little army, obedient to the command of the General, who from a farm house on the left, was then examining the American defences, filed off past the house into a large field, preparatory to forming into column to attack. Scarcely, however, had the General descended to the field to make his dispositions, when it was observed that the batteries had suddenly discontinued their fire, and on looking to ascertain the cause, a white flag was seen waving on the eminence where the heavy guns just alluded to had been placed. While all were yielding to their surprise at this unexpected circumstance, De Courcy, who by the direction of his General, had remained reconnoitring with his telescopes at the top of the house, announced that an officer, bearing a smaller white flag, was then descending the road, with an evident view to a parley.
"Ah! is it even so?" exclaimed the General, with vivacity, as if to himself. "Quick, my horse! I must go to meet him. He has seen that we have stout hearts—but he must not perceive the weakness of our numbers. Captain Stanley— De Courcy—mount—St. Julian (turning to his second in command) finish what I have begun—let the columns be got ready in the order I have directed. We may have need of them yet."
So saying he once more sprang into his saddle, and accompanied by his young aides-de-camp, galloped past the line of admiring troops, who involuntarily cheered him as he passed; and quitting the field hastened to leach the flag, before the bearer could approach sufficiently near to make any correct observation respecting his force.
Nearly twenty minutes of anxious suspense had succeeded the departure of the officer, when De Courcy again made his appearance at full speed.
"Hurrah! hurrah !" he shouted, as he approached a large group of his more immediate companions, who were canvassing the probable termination of this pacific demonstration on the part of the enemy—"the Fort is our own," (then turning to the second in command,) "Colonel St. Julian, it is the General's desire that the men pile their arms on the ground they occupy, and refresh themselves with whatever their haver sacks contain."
"How is this, De Courcy." "Surely the Americans do not capitulate"—"Is it to be child's play after all." "Dom it mon who would ha' thoat it poossible? "were among the various remarks made to the young aid-de-camp, on his return from the delivery of the last order.
"Heaven only knows how, Granville," said the vivacious officer, in reply to the first querist; "but certainly it is something very like it, for the General, accompanied by Stanley, has entered the town under the flag. However before we discuss the subject further, I vote that we enter the farm house and discuss wherewith to satisfy our own appetites—I saw a devilish pretty girl just now—one who seemed to have no sort of objection to a handsome scarlet uniform whatever her predilection for a blue with red facings may formerly have been. She looked so good naturedly on Stanley and myself, that we should have ogled her into a breakfast ere this, had not the General sworn he would not break his fast until he had planted the colours of England on yon fortress, or failed in the attempt. Of course we, as young heroes, could not think of eating after that. But come along-Nay Cranstoun, do not look as if you were afraid to budge an inch without an order in writing—I have it in suggestion from Colonel St. Julian, that we go in and do the best we can.