The European war was drawing to a close, or rather to an intense lull
before the final conflict. Napoleon's arrogance in declining to yield a
jot of German territory to Austria's demand, culminated eventually in
his crushing defeat at Leipzic in the "Battle of the Nations." The
British forces, too, were successful wherever they turned their arms,
and at Vittoria, Wellington routed the legions of Joseph Bonaparte.
Before the close of the year disasters were even more complete, and the
remains of Napoleon's armies were driven out of Germany as well as
Spain.
British veterans, inured to the discipline and fatigues of campaign
life, were fast returning to their own shores; and it was from these
that Sir George Head's companies were chosen. Already they had spent
months in the rest of barrack life, and tired of inactivity, they
welcomed the call to duty again.
There was something alluring to the soldier in the thought of service in
America, whether engaged in active warfare or not. The Western continent
was an El Dorado toward which all eyes were turned. It offered
something different from the camp life of Europe, where prospective and
actual battles were looked upon as the be-all and end-all of the
soldier's career. Of emigration to Europe there was none, but of
emigration to America, save for the brief interruption caused by the war
with the States, there was a never-ending stream.
Hence, when the seared soldiers of Wellington's brigades came home, and
were told to prepare to cross the Atlantic, either to fight the
Americans or to guard the British frontier from invasion, hats went up,
cheers echoed through the air and every man became an enthusiast.
For many days the _North King_, one of the largest war vessels of the
period, had been undergoing repairs. Her keel was repainted, her hold
thoroughly cleansed, and additional iron girders put in to strengthen
her bulwarks. Her gun-carriages were rearranged, and to meet any
possible contingency new guns were added. Then vast and unusual stores
were loaded upon her, not for the use of the troops only, but for the
building and maintenance of the new fort as well.
In direct preparation for the prospective voyage, perhaps no man was so
actively engaged as Captain Payne of the Royal Engineers. To him was
assigned the erection of the new fort at Penetang, together with
whatever barracks might be required for the accommodation of the men.
What added much to his difficulties was the selection and packing of
materials to be carried in midwinter over a thousand miles of territory,
three-fourths of the journey being through the woods.
But Captain Payne was equal to the occasion; and days before the time of
sailing, the holds of the ship were filled with stores.
In completing and carrying out the arrangements, Harold's time was
largely occupied, so that it was late each evening before he could have
leave of absence to see his wife. These brief interviews were very
precious to them; but to their amazement days passed without a word from
the Colonel. Apparently he had not relented. Still Helen hoped on, while
she devoted her time to preparation. At last a message came:
"Colonel Head desires an interview with Lieutenant Manning ten minutes
before parade."
Such were the contents of a note handed to Harold in the early morning
three days before sailing.
With a convulsive leap the young man's heart seemed to bound into his
throat. What could it mean? Would his wife, after all, be allowed to go?
Then, perhaps for the first time, something like an adequate conception
of the magnitude and danger of the journey to her, forced itself upon
him. Was it right to yield to their mutual desire, to take her with the
troops in midwinter, and while war was still raging? Could it be his
duty to transfer his bride from the comforts of home and the social
world to the conditions which the trip must inevitably bring? He knew
that her desire was just as keen as ever. It had also been his own
passionate wish during the weeks that had elapsed since their marriage;
but as he neared the Colonel's quarters, he found himself actually
hoping that the final edict would forbid his wife to undertake the
journey.
With many conflicting thoughts Harold joined his fellow officers at mess
that morning. All were there. Even Sir George had walked over from his
private residence to breakfast with them. From his manner, however, he
could surmise nothing. Neither by word nor look did the Colonel indicate
what was passing through his mind. At the appointed time Harold
presented himself.
"I intended my first reply to your request to be the decisive one," said
Sir George, without prelude. "But my mind may have changed somewhat. Do
I understand that your wife still desires to go with us?"
"Yes, sir," was Harold's quick response.
"Has she thought the matter out in all its bearings? And does she
appreciate how much of hardship and privation the trip will involve, to
say nothing of the vicissitudes she will be obliged to endure after we
get to our destination?"
"She has considered all these, Sir George, and her mind has remained
unchanged," said Harold.
"It is a big undertaking," muttered the Colonel, and for a minute he
walked up and down the room with his hands behind his back.
"I know it, sir; but fortunately she has means of her own, as I said,
and can amply defray whatever extra expenditure may be incurred on her
account."
"That is satisfactory," said the Colonel, "and after all, the objections
may not be insuperable. I have, I must confess, a strong admiration for
your wife; and if we succeed in establishing a fort at Penetang, she
will, if she goes, be its brightest ornament."
"Thank you very much," exclaimed Harold, his face flushing with
undisguised pleasure. "And am I to take this as equivalent to your
consent?"
"Well, yes; if she is as firmly convinced as ever that it is the wiser
and better thing for her to do."
For some moments Harold stood still with his hands pressed upon the desk
in front of him. The old questions were coming back to him. Was it? Was
it not?
"What is it, lad?" said the Colonel in a friendly tone, although he
observed him keenly.
"I was just thinking," stammered Harold, "what a terrible thing it would
be when too late, if it should prove to be a mistake."
"That is possible," returned the Colonel, again walking up and down the
floor. "But, remember, if faint heart never won fair lady, neither did
timid soldier ever win a battle. If you go into the thing at all you go
in to win. Every obstacle must be overthrown. We must guard and keep
that wife of yours--take her right through to the end--and crown her
queen of the little fortress of Penetang which, please God, we shall
build.
"It is very good of you, Colonel," was all Harold could say.
"Well, we'll leave it all to the lady herself. Explain everything to
her; but tell her from me that our officers are fine fellows, and from
the Colonel to the last of them, will do what they can to make the
journey comfortable, if she decides to undertake it."
"I thank you, Colonel, from the bottom of my heart," said Harold, warmly
grasping his chief by the hand.
"That is all right," was the smiling response. "One more point, as your
wife may need every remaining moment for preparation, you are relieved
from duty from now out. So give her the news and aid her what you can."
Harold saluted, and in another minute was outside the barracks,
speeding along the street to tell it all to Helen.