FERNANDO SEES SERVICE.
The trump of war stirred two passions in the heart of Fernando Stevens,
revenge and patriotism. One was a noble and the other a very human but
ignoble passion; but Fernando was only a common mortal with mortal
weaknesses. When he reflected on the wrongs he had suffered; when he
remembered the death of poor Boseley, slain to gratify the malice of
Captain Snipes, and poor Sukey still the slave of the British monarch,
he could not be other than revengeful.
"Mother," he said one day, shortly after they had heard of war. "I am
going to enter the army."
The mother, who was plying her needle, sat for several moments in
silence. She was not surprised at the declaration. For several days, she
had watched her son with the care and anxiety of a mother. She had noted
that he read the papers regularly. He pored over any news which hinted
of war and was an eager listener to the latest rumor which his father
brought from town. The parents had talked the matter over frequently,
and Captain Stevens, himself a veteran, said:
"I can't blame him; no, I can't blame him. Poor boy, he has suffered
enough to know the wrongs done to our flag."
"But would it be for the flag, or revenge?" said the mother.
"Both," answered the practical father. "He is only human, wife, and
human hearts can't endure what he endured without human resentment."
The mother hoped it was more patriotism than revenge, for she was a
Christian lady, and while war might be proper, even for Christian
people, she thought it should be purely a conflict of principle and not
of revenge.
"Fernando," said the mother laying aside her knitting and taking off her
glasses and wiping them, "do you really mean to go?"
"Yes, mother. My country needs my services. There are thousands of
unfortunate Americans, still in bondage. I seem to hear their pitiful
cries calling on their country to send brave men to their rescue."
"I have expected this," sighed Mrs. Stevens, and tears gathered in her
eyes.
"Mother, would you have me stay?"
It was hard for a mother to say it; but she had to do so. She was
patriotic, and she answered:
"No."
"Then I will go."
"When?"
"They are beating up for volunteers at town, and I am going there to
enlist in a day or two. First I must help father drain the flat and
clear off a few timber patches."
It soon became rumored all over the neighborhood that Fernando was going
to enlist. Many friends came to see him, bid him good-by and wish him
God-speed. The day before he went away, he was chopping wood, when he
saw a large man riding a large bay mare followed by a large colt, cross
the old bridge a few hundred paces below and ascend the hill toward the
house. The visitor was Mr. Winners. He had grown older and stouter, and
the mare was older and heavier, and this was her fourth colt since he
had come over to talk with his neighbor about sending his son to college
with Fernando. The kind, good face of the old farmer expressed sadness,
and his eye, always dull, seemed melancholy.
He rode slowly up the hill to where Fernando was chopping wood. Fernando
saw him coming and laid down his axe, for it was quite evident that Mr.
Winners wanted to speak with him. The old man, drawing rein close by
Fernando, said:
"Mornin', Fernando, how's all?"
"We are all well, Mr. Winners. How are yourself and family?"
"Oh, we are just middlin' like."
"Won't you alight and come into the house?"
"No; I ain't got time, Fernando. I just came to see you, that's all.
Fernando, I hear as how you're goin' t' ther war."
"I am, Mr. Winners. I am a young man with no wife or children. My
country just now stands in need of young men."
"Ya-as, it does, an' I don't come t' blame ye for it,--mind ye, I don't
blame ye fur it. I'm sometimes tempted to go myself, old as I am."
"No, no, Mr. Winners, there is no occasion. Let the younger men do the
service."
"I don't blame ye, for goin', Fernando; but I hope ye won't furgit one
thing."
"What?"
"My Sukey's on t'other side. Now that fightin's begun, he'll have to
light his own flag; but he won't do it with a very good grace, lem me
tell ye. No, he won't. Now, Fernando, I don't want to ask ye to ease
down on the British a bit; but when ye come to the crowd that Sukey's
with, won't ye kind a shoot easy?"
Fernando promised to do all he could to aid Sukey to escape, and assured
him that, when once he was free, the cruel masters should pay for their
tyranny. The old man seemed partially satisfied, and, as he rode away,
he twisted himself half way round in the saddle to say:
"Now, Fernando, if ye meet Sukey's crowd, I want ye to remember to shoot
easy."
"I will not harm Sukey, if I can help it," Fernando answered. Next
morning, he bade his parents farewell and, with his clothes tied up in a
little bundle, set out on his way to the town.
A flag was streaming from a long pole, and Fernando heard the roll of
the drum and the shrill notes of a fife. The company was more than half
made up when he arrived. He enlisted at once and four days later the
company was ready to march.
As yet the armies of the United States were not organized, and for some
time Captain George Rose was at a loss what to do with his volunteers.
They were riflemen, ready for any detached service to which they might
be assigned. The militia forces raised were, of course, to serve in
their own respective States; but the volunteers were allowed to attach
to any regiment they chose. For some time, it was doubtful whether
Captain Rose would be sent West under Hull and Harrison, or to the North
to act under General Jacob Brown.
The latter course was at last decided upon, and they hurried to the
northern frontier of New York. But small preparations had been made for
the defence of this portion of the frontier. From Oswego to Lake St.
Francis, an expansion of the St. Lawrence, General Brown's forces were
scattered. The length of this territory was about two hundred miles.
There was only one American war-vessel (the _Oneida_) on Lake Ontario.
This was commanded by Lieutenant Melancthon Woolsey; while the British,
in anticipation of difficulties, had built at Kingston, at the foot of
the lake, a small squadron of light vessels-of-war. Brown and Woolsey
were authorized to defend the frontier from invasion, but not to act on
the offensive except in certain emergencies.
About the 20th of July, Fernando's company joined the regiment of
Colonel Bellinger at Sackett's Harbor, at the eastern end of Lake
Ontario. Nine days later, the British squadron composed of the _Royal
George_, 24 guns, _Prince Regent_, 22 guns, _Earl of Moira_, 20 guns,
_Simcoe_, 12 guns, and _Seneca_, 4 guns, appeared and bore down on the
American forces there. Fernando was sleeping when the discovery was
made, but was soon roused and saw soldiers hauling in the _Oneida_ so as
to lay her broadside to the approaching enemy. Colonel Bellinger's
militia were many of them raw recruits, and the approach of a fleet
unnerved a few of them; but the majority were cool as veterans.
"Take that thirty-two pound gun up on the bluff," commanded the
colonel, pointing out an old iron cannon down by the shore.
Fernando assisted them to drag it to the rocky bluff, and the whole
battery was placed in charge of Captain Vaughn, a sailing master in the
navy. Slowly the fleet bore in, the _Royal George_, having the heaviest
guns, coming ahead of the others. A wreath of smoke curled up from her
forecastle, and a ball, skipping over the water, struck the sandy beach.
Captain Rose and his company of riflemen took up their station on the
high bluff, where, should the troops attempt to land, they might do
effective work. Fernando had been promoted to sergeant in the company
and was quite popular with both officers and men.
For two hours, a cannonade between the _Royal George_ and the big guns
on shore was kept up, with very little effect, when a 32 pound ball from
the former came over the bluff and ploughed a furrow near where the
riflemen were standing. Fernando ran and caught up the ball and, running
with it to Captain Vaughn, said:
"Captain Vaughn, I've been playing ball with the redcoats, and I have
caught them out."
"That will just fit our gun," said the captain. "Hand it to the gunner."
Fernando did so. The gunner said:
"Captain, it fits better than our own balls. The shot we have been
firing were all too small."
"Send it back to them," said Captain Vaughn.
The gun was trained and fired. The heavy boom rang out over the bluffs
and water. The ball went through the _Royal George_ from stern to stem,
sending splinters as high as her mizzen topsail yard, killing fourteen
men and wounding eighteen.
This ended the bombardment. The squadron, alarmed, sailed out of the
harbor.
Eight merchant schooners were at Ogdensburg, being converted into
American war vessels, and, immediately after being repulsed at Sackett's
Harbor, two of the British armed vessels started to Ogdensburg to
destroy them. The American schooner _Julia_ was armed and, with sixty
volunteers from the _Oneida_ and Fernando's company of riflemen in a
boat, set out to overtake the British. They caught up with them among
the Thousand Islands, on the 31st of July, fought for three hours with
the enemy, and then, in the shadows of an intensely dark night, relieved
occasionally by flashes of lightning, reached Ogdensburg in safety
before morning.
During the armistice which was granted shortly after this, the _Julia_
and her consort and the six schooners made their way to the lake, where
the latter were converted into vessels-of-war.
On the 8th of November, Chauncey appeared in those waters with a fleet
of seven armed war-schooners and, after a short cruise, disabled the
_Royal George_ and blockaded the British harbor of Kingston. Fernando,
meanwhile, was at Ogdensburg under General Brown, who had about fifteen
hundred troops, including the militia. On the 1st of October, the very
day of General Brown's arrival, a large flotilla of British bateaux,
escorted by a gun-boat, appeared at Prescott, on the opposite side of
the river. This flotilla contained armed men, who, on the 4th of
October, attempted to cross the river and attack Ogdensburg, but were
repulsed by the Americans. Eight days later, Fernando was with Major
G.D. Young when he captured a large portion of a British detachment at
St. Regis, an Indian village on the line between the United States and
Canada. Fernando was close at the side of Lieutenant William L. Marcy
(afterward governor of New York), when he captured a British flag, the
first trophy of the kind taken on land in the war.
While lying at Ogdensburg, Fernando heard of the daring feat of
Lieutenant Jesse Elliott, who, with a picked party of seamen and
riflemen, had at Black Rock, under the British heavy guns, captured the
war-schooner _Caledonia_ and burned the _Detroit_. While these many
stories of the bravery of Americans were thrilling the hearts of
patriots, the cowardice of the pompous General Smythe at Buffalo caused
much ridicule and humiliation.
Despite all his boasts and threats to invade Canada, he remained on
American soil. He was finally dismissed from the service, and, in a
petition to congress to reinstate him, he prayed for permission to "die
for his country." His petition excited much ridicule, and, at a public
celebration of Washington's birthday, a wit proposed the following:
"General Smythe's petition to congress to die for his country. May it be
ordered that the prayer of said petition be granted!"
Early in January, 1813, Fernando Stevens' company, being Ohio
volunteers, was for some reason, he never knew what, transferred to the
army of the West. General William H. Harrison had succeeded Hull in
command of this army. Historians do not accord to General Harrison the
distinction of greatness, though he was one of the successful generals
of the last war with England. It was under him that first victories were
gained over the British in the Northwest. Though his name goes down to
posterity connected with the battle of the Thames, Colonel Richard M.
Johnson was the real hero of that conflict. Johnson's Kentucky riflemen
fought and won the battle, though Harrison received the credit. Harrison
was even more honorably remembered for his Indian wars, and, as the hero
of Tippecanoe, gained a fast hold on the public heart; but Tippecanoe
was only a skirmish and, viewed in the light of a battle, could hardly
be considered a great victory. The American losses were probably as
great, if not greater than the Indians, and it was only an accident that
Harrison was not surprised. Tippecanoe was fought by the soldiers, and
to their coolness and courage belonged the victory. Critically speaking,
General Harrison was inferior in military genius to both Jackson and
Brown. He wanted the terrible energy, the almost reckless bravery which
characterized these two leaders. He belonged to a different school
altogether. His was a policy of Fabius rather than of Marcellus, and
this not from necessity but for choice. The bent of his mind was to be
prudent, economic of means, willing to listen to advice, a very
excellent qualification for a general or a statesman.
The dispute between Harrison and Winchester had been settled before
Captain Rose with his company reached the army and joined General
Winchester, then on his march to the Raisin, January 21, 1813. As
Winchester's volunteers were mostly Kentuckians, Fernando found many
friends among them. Some had formerly lived in Ohio. On the same
evening, they reached Frenchtown, where they found Colonel Lewis, who,
with Allen and six hundred men, had defeated and routed a force of
British and Indians under Major Reynolds.
The troops were in the highest spirits, and all were anxious to press on
to drive General Proctor from Malden.
The day had been cold, and Fernando was wearied with long marches
through snow, ice and mud. The ground was covered with snow which had
but a thin frozen crust over it, and the soldiers frequently broke
through, especially in the swampy regions they crossed. Their second
lieutenant was sick; the first lieutenant, being wounded, was left
behind, and the management of the company fell upon Captain Rose and his
orderly sergeant, Fernando Stevens.
Captain Rose, though a brave man, loved his ease and comfort, so the
most irksome duty fell upon the orderly. He saw that quarters as
comfortable as were possible were made for the men. Boards, canvas,
brush and everything possible to make a shelter were provided. The
wintry sky was clear, and when night came on the stars came out one by
one. The moon shone on the snow-covered earth, so soon to be crimsoned
with patriotic blood.
Fernando Stevens and Captain Rose were quartered in an old shed
building, with a roaring fire in the broad fireplace. Their quarters
were quite comfortable, and, after having made all the necessary
arrangements for the company's comfort, Fernando partook of a light
supper and, wrapping himself in a blanket, lay down on the left side of
the broad fireplace to sleep. Corporal Mott entered and told Captain
Rose, who sat smoking his pipe, that Colonels Wells and Lewis were
having some trouble about their positions.
"Why should they quarrel over that?" asked Captain Rose taking his pipe
from his mouth.
"Wells, who is colonel of regulars, claims to outrank Lewis, and demands
to be posted on the right."
"That's in an open field."
"Yes; Lewis thinks that, in case of an attack, Wells should be posted in
some gardens on the left."
"Lewis knows more about it than Wells or Winchester either," growled
Captain Rose.
"Yes; but Winchester decided in favor of Wells. There is also a rumor
that Proctor is on his way from Malden to attack us."
"I hope it is so," said Captain Rose. "If he will come here and take his
whipping like a man, it will save us going to Malden to give it to him."
Then they wondered what General Harrison was doing and when they would
join him; but Fernando left off listening to their conversation and
gazed into the glowing fire before which he lay stretched on
his blanket.
His mind was busy with his own sad life. All through the long years of
trying events, he had never forgotten Morgianna. Her sweet face had
haunted him while a slave on the British war-ship. In the camp, or on
the battle field, she was ever near him. A thousand times he had said
to himself:
"Oh, why can I not forget her? Morgianna is nothing to me. No doubt,
long ere this she has married Lieutenant Matson and is happy. May God
bless her in her happiness, and may Heaven spare her husband."
It never once entered his mind that she could possibly care for him. She
had been so cool, so careless, and seemed so unconcerned on the night of
their parting, that he thought she must be glad that he was away and had
ceased to annoy her.
Yet her face, as he remembered it that night, lying gazing into the
fire, half asleep and half awake, was lovely, and she was blameless. To
him, she was a goddess to be worshipped, one incapable of wrong. If she
had rejected him, it was right. If she had loved the lieutenant, it was
perfectly right; yet he could not crush her image out of his heart. It
was indelibly stamped there, and had become a part of his existence.
The bleak northeast wind swept through the woods and howled about the
rude shanty, rattling the boards and causing the sentries to shiver, as
they drew their cloaks about their shoulders. Fernando felt almost
comfortable in this retreat, and the fire burned low, still giving out a
generous heat.
Two officers from another company came to their quarters, and the last
Fernando remembered was hearing them talking of the disposition of the
troops and the probability of meeting the enemy and sharing the glory
which Lewis and Allen had won but three days before.
Their voices were low and indistinct and finally became mingled with his
dreams of the past, forming a mass of events, sights and sounds which at
first had no meaning. At last the scene changed. The officers ceased
talking, the firelight disappeared, and his dreaming fancy, which had
been struggling with these realities, was freed to take what course
it chose.
He was once more on the sands of Mariana. He saw the great white stone
house on the hill and the form of Morgianna descending toward the
seashore. He knew he had been gone for years, was conscious that their
parting had been unpleasant, and yet her appearance seemed to inspire
his heart with hope. The sun's golden rays fell upon the bright,
fairy-like being as, with a glad smile she hastened toward him.
"You have come at last," she said, with a happy smile. "I have waited so
long, oh, so long, that I feared you would never come."
"Morgianna!" he cried, starting forward and clasping her in his arms.
"Are you pleased to see me?"
"I am happy, Fernando, oh, so happy----"
Then he was partially awakened by some one throwing logs of wood on the
fire, and he had an indistinct impression of hearing a soldier say:
"It's four o'clock and has begun to snow a little. We'll have it cold as
blazes by morning."
As the fire roared, and the wind whistled about their miserable
barracks, he sank away into dreamland again. He had hardly been
sufficiently awakened to break the thread of his dreams. His mind
however was disturbed by the entrance of the officer, and though he
wooed back the gentle dream, it had lost much of its charm and
brightness.
He saw Morgianna no longer wreathed in sweet smiles; her face was
expressive of distress and agony. The joy and sunlight had given place
to sorrow and gloom. What had occasioned this change?
"Morgianna, do you not love me?"
She bowed her head and wept.
"What is amiss?"
She pointed to her once beautiful home, and he discovered that it was in
flames. Painted demons, whose yells seemed to make the earthquake, were
dancing about the blazing, crackling building. Then wild cheers came
from the ocean, with the boom of a cannon.
He saw British marines, headed by Captain Snipes and Lieutenant Matson,
leap from boats and rush toward them as they stood on the beach.
"Fly! Morgianna, fly!" he cried.
She turned to run, and Fernando, all unarmed as he was, wheeled to face
the foe. Suddenly there came a rattling crash of firearms. He saw
Morgianna throw up her arms, and he sprang toward her, as she fell
bleeding at his feet. He uttered a cry of horror and became conscious of
some one shaking his shoulder.
"Wake up, for Heaven sake, awake! we are attacked!" cried the voice of
Captain Rose.
On his ear, there still came a confused noise of cries, shouts, reports
of firearms and boom of artillery.
"Sergeant Stevens, awake!"
He sprang to his feet and seized his rifle. The roaring of the battle
could be plainly heard, and a cannon-ball came crashing through the top
of their miserable shanty.
They leaped out to find all in utter confusion. General Winchester, who,
despite his faults, was no coward, was mounted on his horse rallying his
men at every point. Wells was forming on the open fields, and Lewis, in
a very disadvantageous position, was making a strong fight. It was
scarcely daylight yet. The air was sharp and frosty; but the snow had
ceased falling. Day was dawning; but in the deeper shadows of the wood
the night lingered in patches.
From the forest came those streams of fire, those storms of grape-shot
and the yells of savage demons. A bombshell came screaming through the
air and fell into one of the shanties, exploding and scattering the
loose boards in every direction.
"Who has attacked us?" some of the officers asked Winchester.
"Proctor from Malden," was the answer.
It was just as day began to dawn, that Proctor, with his combined force
of British, Canadians and Indians, attacked the Americans, while
Fernando was still lost in the mazes of a troubled dream. With his right
covered with artillery, and his flanks with marksmen, Proctor advanced
at first gallantly; but when he approached within musket-shot of the
pickets, he was met by such a galling and incessant fire, that the
centre of his army fell back in confusion. On the left, however, he was
more successful. Perceiving the exposed situation of the detachment
under Wells, Proctor hastened to concentrate all his forces against it.
A furious conflict ensued on this part of the field. Sharp and rapid
volleys followed in quick succession from either side, while high and
clear above the terrible din of battle, rose the war-whoop of savages
and the wild cheers of the Kentuckians. That little band, unprotected as
it was, could not long hold out against overwhelming numbers. The sun
rose over the bleak woods, and, after a short fight of twenty minutes,
Winchester ordered Wells to fall back and gain the enclosures of Lewis.
At the first symptom of retreat, the enemy redoubled their exertions and
pressed so obstinately on the Americans, that the little line was soon
thrown into disorder. A panic seized the Kentuckians, who had just
defended themselves so bravely, and mistaking the command to fall back,
for directions to retreat, they rushed to the river, which they crossed
on the ice, and began to fly through the woods, in the direction of the
Maumee Rapids. Exhilarated by victory, the British gave pursuit, the
chase being led by the savages, who tasted, in anticipation, the blood
of the fugitives. In vain Winchester, riding among the men, endeavored
to rally them; in vain Colonels Lewis and Allen, hurrying from their
enclosures with a company of fifty men each, struggled to check the
torrent of defeat. Nothing would avail. Allen fell, bravely fighting in
the desperate attempt; while Winchester, with Lewis and other officers
were taken prisoners. The rout now became a massacre. The Indians, like
hungry tigers, pursued the soldiers and brought them down with rifle or
tomahawk. Of the whole of that chivalrous band which had left the Raisin
with Winchester two days before, all were slaughtered except forty who
were taken prisoners and twenty-eight who escaped. The troops at
Frenchtown, about six hundred able-bodied men, surrendered. Sixty-four
wounded prisoners were burned in a house.
Why dwell on the horrors of the River Raisin? They are matters of
history which had better be forgotten than remembered. Fernando Stevens'
company did excellent work until the retreat began. Captain Rose, with
his sharpshooters, sought to cover the retreat of the Americans, but
discovered that they were about to be flanked.
"Sergeant, Sergeant!" cried Captain Rose, "we must fly!"
The two officers were almost alone on the field; but, taking to their
heels, they soon outstripped three big Indians who were trying to head
them off. Fernando shot one of the savages with his pistol and, dodging
the hatchets which the others threw at him, charged them with his
clubbed rifle and knocked one down. The other fled. Fernando did not
attempt to pursue him, but flew as fast as his legs could carry him to
the river.
He had reached the middle of the frozen stream, which was covered with
ghastly forms, when Captain Rose suddenly clasped his hand to his side
and uttered a groan.
"Captain, are you hit?" he asked.
Captain Rose made no answer, but turned partially around. His eyes were
closed; his jaw fell, and Fernando saw he was sinking. He caught him in
his arms; but Captain Rose was dead before he touched the ice.
There was no time to waste with dead friends, and Fernando fled to the
wood beyond.
For a long time, the Indians were close at his heels. Once they were so
near that he heard a tomahawk as it came fluttering through the air past
his head. Then the sounds of pursuit grew less, and at last he found
himself alone on a hill. Three Indians were following on his trail, and
he concealed himself behind a tree until they were within range of his
rifle, and then fired.
One of them fell, and his companions ran away.
Fernando continued his flight until nearly night, when he fell in with
four Kentuckians, who had escaped the massacre, and they proceeded to
the Maumee Rapids, where General Harrison was building Fort Meigs.
Fernando was in the fort when it was besieged several weeks later by
Proctor and Tecumseh with fully two thousand men. General Clay coming to
his assistance on the 5th of May, Proctor retreated.
Colonel Dudley made a sortie from Fort Meigs on the same day and was
drawn into an ambuscade. He was mortally wounded and lost six hundred
and fifty men.
Mr. Madison, who had been re-elected president of the United States,
showed a disposition to prosecute the war with great vigor. While the
success of the Americans on land was not very encouraging, to the
surprise of everybody, their greatest achievements were on water.
England's boasted navies seemed to have become second to the American
war-vessels. On Lake Erie, Commodore Oliver Perry, in command of an
inferior fleet, had won a signal victory over Commodore Barclay after a
long and hotly contested battle. There has never been such a remarkable
naval victory on fresh water. Perry's famous dispatch to General
Harrison, "We have met the enemy and they are ours," has become
a proverb.
Shortly after the repulse of Proctor, Fernando, who had taken a place in
another company, was sent to Fort Stephenson, then commanded by Major
George Croghan, a regular army officer only twenty-one years of age.
Proctor's dusky allies marched across the country to assist the British
in the siege of the fort; and when, on the afternoon of the 31st, the
British transports and gunboats appeared at a turn in the river a mile
from the fort, the woods were swarming with Indians.
[Illustration: JAMES MADISON.]
Within the fort, all were calm, pale, yet determined. Only one hundred
and sixty men were there to oppose the hosts of Proctor and Tecumseh.
Proctor sent a demand to the fort for surrender, accompanied by the
usual threat of massacre by the Indians in case of refusal. To his
surprise, Major Croghan sent a defiant refusal. A cannonade from the
gunboats and howitzers which the British had landed commenced.
All night long the great guns played upon the fort without any serious
effect, occasionally answered by the solitary six-pound cannon of the
garrison, which was rapidly shifted from one block house to another, to
give the impression that the fort was armed with several guns. During
the night, the British dragged three six-pound cannon to a point higher
than the fort to open on it in the morning.
It was a trying night for Fernando. All night long, the incessant
thunder of cannon shook the air, and the great balls, striking the sides
of the earthworks, or bursting over their heads, presented a scene grand
but awful.
Morning came slowly and wearily to the besieged. As the gray dawn melted
into the rosy hues of sunrise, many a brave man within that fort looked
up for the last time, as he thought, but still with no unmanly fear,
only with that sad feeling which the boldest will experience when he
sees himself about to be immolated. Such a feeling, perhaps, crossed the
heart of Leonidas, when he fastened on his buckler and waited for the
Persian thousands. Fernando stood near Croghan, who was in front of his
men, calm in that hour of extreme peril. It soon became apparent that
the enemy did not intend an immediate assault, for, with the battery of
six pieces, they began a fearful cannonade.
"Lie under the breastworks," said Croghan to his men as the balls were
hurled about the fort, or bounded from the ramparts. The surface of the
ground in the line of fire, soon became covered with smoke, which every
few moments was rent by a whistling ball.
All that long forenoon Fernando Stevens remained behind the works
occasionally picking off a gunner at long range. When the hot August sun
began to decline in the West, the roar of artillery seemed to increase
rather than diminish. At last he heard the young commander say:
"They are concentrating on the northwest corner of the fort; that is the
point from which the attack will be made." He called to Fernando and a
dozen other sharpshooters and hastened to the threatened spot. Every man
who could be spared from other quarters was put in requisition, and
every bag of sand and flour that could be found was hurriedly collected
and sent to strengthen the angle.
"Lieutenant Stevens," said Major Croghan, "get your riflemen together
and pick off those fellows as fast as you can. Never mind those bags of
sand. Others will attend to them."
Fernando and his score of sharpshooters soon began dropping the redcoats
as fast as they could see them. The solitary cannon, the only hope of
the defenders, was loaded to its fullest capacity and trained so as to
enfilade the enemy. The gunner who rammed home the charge said:
"By thunder, she's almost full to the muzzle. Shouldn't wonder if she'd
bust." Each soldier took his position. A tremendous volley of cannon
shots suddenly rained on the fort. It seemed as if the British had fired
every gun at the same instant. A profound silence succeeded within,
which lasted for perhaps two minutes, at the end of which time the enemy
was seen to advance through the smoke, in one compact column, with the
steady tread of assured victors. When Croghan gave the order to fire,
such a withering volley was poured in by the garrison, that the British
reeled and fell into disorder. Whatever others may have done in that
fire, Fernando's sharpshooters wasted no bullets. For a moment, the
Britons wavered and were about to fly, when Lieutenant-Colonel Short,
who led the British in assault, sprang to the front of his soldiers and,
waving his sword above his head, cried:
"Cut away the pickets, my brave boys, and show the d--d Yankees no
quarter!"
A wild, angry shout answered this appeal, and the ranks recovering their
order, the head of the column rushed forward, and leaped down into the
ditch, which was soon densely crowded. This was the time for which
Croghan had waited. Another minute and the fort would have been
captured. The over-loaded six-pounder, so trained as to rake the
assailants, now bore fully on the masses of soldiery in the ditch. The
dark mask which had concealed it was suddenly jerked aside, and
Croghan cried:
"Fire!"
The match was applied. A clap of thunder, a sheet of flame, a hissing
sound of grape, shrieks and groans, and Fernando saw whole ranks mowed
down, as the white smoke arose for a moment hiding the prospect from
view. When the veil of battle blew aside, he saw such a scene of horror
as he had never before witnessed. At first a lane was perceptible
extending through the densest portion of the assaulting mass, marking
the path traversed by the shot; but as the distance from the gun
increased, and the grape scattered, this clearly defined line gave place
to a prospect of the wildest confusion. One third of those who had
entered the ditch lay there a shapeless, quivering mass. In many
instances, the dead had fallen on the wounded, and as the latter
struggled to extricate themselves, the scene resembled that depicted in
old paintings of the final judgment, where fiends and men wrestle in
horrible contortions. Groans, shrieks and curses more terrible than all
rose from that Golgotha. Lieutenant-Colonel Short was among the slain.
The few who retained life and strength, after the first second of
amazement, rushed from the post of peril, leaped wildly upon the bank,
and, communicating their terror to the rest of the column, the whole
took flight and buried itself in the neighboring woods; while such a
shout went up to heaven from the conquerors as had never been heard on
that wild shore before. Well might the Americans exult, for the
successful resistance was against ten times their own number. The
British loss was one hundred and fifty. That hot day, August 2, 1813, at
five o'clock in the evening, George Croghan by one cannon-shot
immortalized himself.
Fernando Stevens had been under a terrible strain all the day and the
night before, and no sooner was the enemy gone, than he sank exhausted
on the ground with scores of others.