Colonel Scott was pacing the walk in front of the battery of the little
fort of Coteau-du-lac, viewing alternately lake St Francis, glittering
peacefully in the rays of the fast westering sun, and the swift-running
river into which it contracted where he stood, with the surges of the
rapids farther down. He was tall, and his face was that of a man who
had intellect to conceive and will to put his conceptions into force.
To the door of a house larger than any of its neighbors, and before
which a sentry paced, the Colonel often glanced and when a lady came
out, he stepped to meet her. It was his wife, who joined him for an
airing before dinner. After admiring, as she had done every day since
her arrival, the contrast between the lake and the river, as it went
sweeping downwards between forest-covered islands, she asked, “And is
there any news? I heard an arrival reported.”
“None since the despatch of last night and it said Wilkinson was still
at Sackett’s Harbor.”
“So we may not expect his flotilla of boats this week?”
“No, and were I in Sir George Prevost’s place, they would never leave
Sackett’s Harbor.”
“Why, you have told me his Excellency has not sufficient naval force to
attack them.”
“I would not attack the flotilla; I would render its purpose abortive.
What is the American plan of invasion? I can give it to you in a
nutshell, Helen. Wilkinson is to take possession of the St Lawrence
with his flotilla and is to meet Hampton at the mouth of the Chateaugay
river, when the combined forces will land on the island of Montreal and
capture it and the city. Now, to defeat this plan, it is not necessary
to destroy the flotilla. If the line of communication between Wilkinson
and Hampton is cut, the whole scheme fails.”
“And how would you cut the line?”
“Why, as I have represented time and again to headquarters, by the
capture of French Mills. Four hundred men could take and hold that
place, and with it in British hands Wilkinson and Hampton would be as
completely prevented from acting in concert as if Hampton was back to
his slaves in Carolina and Wilkinson to his gally-pots. It provokes
me to see the opportunities our forces miss. The war in the time of
Washington was a series of blunders on our side and it looks as if the
second was going to be a repetition.”
“And you blame his Excellency?”
“Yes and his staff. He is brave personally, and he is active to
fussiness, but he is unable to plan a campaign or carry it out. Here we
have the flower of the British army arriving by every convoy, yet our
policy is a purely defensive one and changed every day. Out upon such
a peddling course of action! I would teach the braggarts who lurk on
yonder heights that Canada is not to be invaded with impunity, and that
she has hearts to dare and die in defence of her independence.”
“Well, Norman, it may prove to be all for the best. So far Canada has
repulsed every attempt at invasion.”
“It is not for the best. I have made suggestion after suggestion to
improve the opportunities presented to me, and every one has been set
aside, and I am condemned to a course of inaction that galls and frets
me.”
Here an orderly approached. “An Indian and a young woman want to speak
with you.”
“I will go,” said Mrs Scott.
“Do not,” cried the Colonel, “what tete-a-tete may I not have with the
lovely squaw.”
“Please, sir,” said the orderly, “she is not a squaw. She is white and
a Scotchwoman by her speech.”
“And young to boot,” exclaimed Mrs Scott archly, “I shall certainly
stay and keep you from falling into temptation.”
“Bring them this way,” said the Colonel, and the orderly returned with
Hemlock and Maggie.
“In truth an odd-matched pair,” whispered the Colonel as he saw them
approach.
“Why, it’s you, Hemlock. I thought you were raising the war-whoop on
the Huntingdon frontier. And who may your companion be? Too young to
be your wife--too fair to be your sweetheart.”
The Indian’s features relaxed into the nearest approach they ever came
to a smile, as he answered, “An arrow from another bow than mine has
struck the doe.”
“Well, Hemlock, do you bring me news from Hinchinbrook? When is Hampton
going to march?”
In reply, Hemlock briefly told how he had been at Oka, was sought
out there by Maggie and for what purpose. The Colonel listened with
stern expression as he was told of Morton’s peril, and when the Indian
had done, he plied Maggie with questions. When she had told all, the
Colonel brought his fist down heavily on the cannon beside which he
stood as he exclaimed, “I knew these Americans were boasters but I did
not think they were capable of such cruelty. Once they hung a gentleman
wearing His Majesty’s uniform and were allowed to escape under the
belief that, tradesmen and farmers as they were, they knew no better,
but if they send a second to the gallows, there is not an officer
in Canada who would not consider it his duty to challenge every one
concerned in the deed.”
With a glance of apprehension at her husband, Mrs Scott with admirable
tact strove to divert him from his vengeful mood by changing the
subject. Addressing Maggie she asked, “And what is Mr Morton to you
that you should risk the peril of these woods to save him? Is he a
brother?”
“He is neither kith nor kin to me,” answered Maggie.
“The attraction is of another sort, then. Cupid flies his arrows in
these woods as well as the red warrior.”
Maggie blushed and the Colonel, forgetting his anger, gallantly came to
her rescue. “And if he does, madam, I would say to Master Cupid, give
me the maiden who, like our fair Maggie, would dare the dragons of the
field and flood to save her lover.”
“Oh!” retorted Mrs Scott, “that is as much as to say, I would not do
that and more for you. What thankless monsters you men are!”
“Nay, spare me, Helen, and as by what she has told us, she has walked
from Oka today, perhaps you will take her with you and play the
hostess.”
“She has done more than walk from Oka today,” said Hemlock, “she killed
a bear and saved my life.”
“What!” cried Mrs Scott in astonishment, and Hemlock told the story
of the encounter. When he had done the Colonel stepped forward and
grasping Maggie’s hands he said, “I honor you as a brave man honors
a brave woman, and if there is any possibility of saving Mr Morton’s
life, it shall be done.”
Maggie was too overcome to reply, and Mrs Scott, slipping her arm into
hers, led her away to her husband’s quarters, leaving Hemlock and the
Colonel in eager converse, which lasted until daylight had nearly
faded and until a servant came with word that dinner was waiting the
Colonel. Ordering the servant to call one of the sergeants, the Colonel
committed Hemlock to his hospitable care and then entered his own
quarters. Maggie spent one of the most delightful evenings of her life
in the company of the Colonel and his wife, forgetting her weariness
and the excitement she had passed through in the enjoyment of social
converse of a brighter and wider scope than she had been accustomed.
When bedtime came she was solicitous about being called early so
that Hemlock might not be kept waiting, when the Colonel assured her
he would take her restoration to her home by the Chateaugay into
his own hands. When she made her appearance next day, she found her
entertainers seated on the veranda, and was concerned to learn that it
was near noon and that Hemlock had left at sunrise. The anxious look
that flitted across her face, the Colonel relieved by telling her that
Hemlock had chosen a route she could not have followed, across the
great swamp that lay between the St Lawrence and the Chateaugay, and
that he carried a letter to her father, telling where she was and that
she would go home by the first safe opportunity.
“And now, my dear Maggie,” said Mrs Scott, “You need not be concerned
about those at home but be my companion for a few days. Buried away
here in these romantic wilds, you cannot conceive what a treat it is
to me to have your society.”
“You are welcome, Miss Forsyth,” added the Colonel, “and you will get
a chance before long of a convoy to Annfield, for I expect one from
Kingston by the end of the week.”
“But they may be needing me at home, Colonel; my mother is frail and if
the Yankees have crossed she will be sore in need of my help.”
“Make yourself easy as to that,” said the Colonel with a smile.
“General Hampton, as I know for an assured fact, has not crossed the
frontier and will not for several days, at least--perhaps never, for
he has no heart in the undertaking. As to Wilkinson coming, I wish
he would. I am just afraid he is going to deprive me of the pleasure
of giving him the warm reception I have gone to so much trouble to
prepare. After lunch, or rather your breakfast, we will take the boat
and see that everything is in order for him.”
A couple of hours later they were seated in the Colonel’s long boat,
manned by four tars, who, however, were spared the labor of rowing
all the way, for the wind was favorable. Heading Grande Isle, they
sailed down the south channel of the St Lawrence to a narrow point,
where, by means of the trunks of huge trees anchored above where rapids
foamed, the passage of boats was made impossible and before these
obstructions could be lifted out, the Colonel pointed to his wife and
Maggie how a concealed battery aided by sharp-shooters hid among the
foliage that lined the river would decimate the occupants of the boats.
He considered the southern channel to be so effectually closed that
Wilkinson would not attempt it and would, therefore, have to take the
northern, where he would have to run the gauntlet of the fire of the
fort at Coteau-du-lac. “True it is,” added the Colonel, “that that
channel is wide and the current swift, yet with a fire from both banks
many boats must needs be crippled or sunk, and those that do escape
would have to face a similar ordeal at Long Point, opposite the Cedars
rapids, where another battery has been placed.”
“What if the Americans passed in the dark?” suggested Maggie.
“Yes,” added Mrs Scott, “or what if they landed a part of their large
force before they came within range of the Coteau batteries and
assailed them from the land-side?”
“All that I have considered. Were they to pass in the dark, they would
not see to shoot the rapids properly, and their angry waters would be
more disastrous than our shot. As to a flank movement, I rely on the
Indian scouts to bring me word and, fully warned of their coming, these
woods are so dense and cut up by swamps, that, with a hundred men, I
would undertake to repulse a thousand.”
“So you keep constant watch?” asked Maggie.
“Unceasing,” answered the Colonel. “If you take this telescope you
will perceive a sail at the upper end of the lake. It is one of the
gunboats on the watch, and which would, on appearance of Wilkinson’s
flotilla, either make for Coteau or if the wind were unfavorable send a
row-boat. Then, on that farthest island there is a guard of regulars,
who are likely to give the island a name, for already it is called
Grenadier island. To the guard on that island, scouts on the southern
shore report daily.”
“Surely you have contrived well,” exclaimed Maggie, “and I just wish
the Yankees would come and get what you have prepared for them.”
“‘Their kail het through the reek, as the Scotch say,’” laughed the
Colonel, “well I am just afraid I will not see them. Along the river,
between Prescott and Cornwall, there is such a succession of points of
attack, that, from all I learn of him, Wilkinson is not soldier enough
to overcome.”
In returning, the boat landed the party in a cove on Grande Isle,
whence, from under the shade of maples, they scanned the lake,
shimmering in the sun, and the islets, heavy with trees richly colored
by Autumn’s fingers, set in it like gems.
“This is so pleasant,” remarked Mrs Scott, “that I do not wonder at
people growing to passionately love Canada. Do you prefer Canada to
Scotland, Maggie?”
“I never saw Scotland,” replied Maggie, “but I dearly love Canada and
can find it in my heart to wish that the Colonel may wring the necks
of those who are trying to take it away from us.”
“Well said!” shouted the Colonel, “and Canada is so favored by nature
in her line of defence and in her climate, that I cannot conceive
how, if her people are true, she can ever come under the heel of a
conqueror.”
The day passed happily and so did several others. Accompanying Mrs
Scott, Maggie visited the little canals that enabled the boats, that
plied between Montreal and Upper Canada, to overcome the rapids, to see
the lockmen and their families, and watch the peculiar class of men who
assisted the boats in passing upwards, either by poling and towing or
by lightening their load with the help of their diminutive carts and
ponies. With the garrison and its daily life she became familiar, and
the detachment of blue jackets, drafted from the men-of-war at Quebec,
partly engaged in manning the gunboats already afloat and in building
others, she never wearied in watching. Each day endeared her more to
Mrs Scott, who, she learned, had sacrificed her comfort and safety,
by accompanying her husband on duty. Following the regiment, she had
been with him in India, Egypt, and Spain, and, when ordered on special
service to Canada, had unhesitatingly followed him, leaving their two
children with friends in England. Maggie saw that her presence was a
help rather than a drag upon the Colonel, whom she assisted and cared
for as only a true woman can and preserved him from many privations
he must otherwise have undergone. While most anxious to be at home
again, it was not without a pang of regret that Maggie learned one
morning that a fleet of the King’s bateaux was in sight coming down the
lake. An hour afterwards she was on board of one, waving farewell to
her friends. Landed at the foot of the Cascade rapids, she walked home
before sunset.