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 demeanor, 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 his eyes in
every direction, but in vain, to discover its cause.
"Dat a calp cry, Massa Henry--see he dere a canoe not bigger than 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 billains Desborough--Dam him
lying tief."
"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 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
asleep. 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 of 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 soger's breastplate--curse him rascal (and his white and even teeth
were exhibited in the grin that accompanied the remark,) he nebber more
say he sail round Massa Geral's gun-boat, and Massa Geral and Sambo
sleep."
"By Jove he is right," said De Courcy. "I recollect remarking the color
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 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 is 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 buckhorn 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 affair. Had he but managed to plant
that monster (and he affected to shudder,) under my middle ribs, then
would it have been all 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 harbored, 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 tief 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 exult 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 of 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 stern, 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 that 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 beheld 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 clamor 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 message to General Hull; 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 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 senior
were no less ready to infer that they had now 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 which a lover 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
object could divert from its original aim."
Before the officer 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 that
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 officers 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 recognised 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 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 from 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 Amherstburgh should be
carried by storm.
"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 chiefly 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 love
is unchangeably mine."
"I do promise, Ernest," faltered the trembling girl. "My heart is yours
and yours for ever--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," inquired Gertrude, warming into animation, "that
the General has sent a flag this morning to Detroit, and, under its
protection, two prisoners captured by my 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 of 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, 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
you 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 embarrassment. 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 their 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 _material_ for a short siege; and, an assault at
the termination of the third day.