Seldom has there been witnessed a more romantic or picturesque sight
than that presented by a warlike expedition of batteaux moving across
one of the American lakes, during a season of profound calm. The uniform
and steady pull of the crew, directed in their time by the wild chaunt
of the steersman, with whom they ever and anon join in full chorus--the
measured plash of the oars into the calm surface of the water--the
joyous laugh and rude, but witty, jest of the more youthful and buoyant
of the soldiery, from whom, at such moments, although in presence of
their officers, the trammels of restraint are partially removed--all
these, added to the inspiriting sight of their gay scarlet uniforms, and
the dancing of the sunbeams upon their polished arms, have a tendency to
call up impressions of a wild interest, tempered only by the
recollection that many of those who move gaily on, as if to a
festival--bright in hope as though the season of existence were to last
for ever--may never more set eye upon the scenes they are fast quitting,
with the joyousness produced by the natural thirst of the human heart
for adventure, and a love of change.
On the second day of its departure from Malden, the expedition, preceded
by the gun-boats, entered the narrow river of the Miami, and, the woods
on either shore being scoured by the Indians, gained without opposition
the point of debarkation. Batteries having, under great difficulties,
been erected on the right bank, immediately opposite to and about six
hundred yards from the American fort, which had been recently and
hurriedly constructed, a heavy and destructive fire was, on the morning
of the third day, opened from them, supported by the gun-boats, one of
which, commanded by Gerald Grantham, had advanced so close to the
enemy's position as to have diverted upon herself the fire which would
else have been directed to the demolition of a British battery, hastily
thrown up on the left bank. The daring manifested by the gallant sailor
was subject of surprise and admiration at once to friends and foes; and
yet, although his boat lay moored within musket shot of the defences, he
sustained but trifling loss. The very recklessness and boldness of his
advance had been the means of his preservation; for, as almost all the
shots from the battery flew over him, it was evident he owed his safety
to the difficulty the Americans found in depressing their guns
sufficiently to bear advantageously upon the boat, which, if anchored
fifty yards beyond, they might have blown out of the water.
The limits of our story will not admit of a further detail of the
operations of this siege. The object was foiled, and the expedition was
re-embarked and directed against Fort Sandusky, a post of the Americans
situated on the river of that name, and running also into Lake Erie.
Here, once more, was the British artillery landed, while, under a heavy
fire from the fort, the troops advanced within range, to take possession
of an eminence whereon it was intended to erect the batteries. Two days
were passed in incessant cannonading, but, as at the Miami, without
making the slightest impression. Finding all idea of a practicable
breach hopeless, it was at length resolved that an attempt at assault
should be made; and, with this view, the troops were, on the afternoon
of the second day, ordered to hold themselves in immediate readiness.
In consequence of the shallowness of the river, it had been found
necessary to moor the gun-boats at a point considerably below, and out
of sight of the fort. Gerald Grantham had obtained permission to leave
his command, and take charge of one of the batteries, which, however, he
relinquished on the day of the assault, having successfully petitioned
to be permitted to join the attack as a volunteer. In the dress of a
grenadier soldier, disabled during the siege, he now joined the party of
animated officers, who, delighted at the prospect of being brought once
more in close contact with their enemies, after so many wearing days of
inaction--were seated at a rude but plentiful repast in Captain
Cranstoun's tent, and indulging in remarks which, although often uttered
without aim or ill-nature, are as often but too bitter subject of after
self-reproach to those who have uttered them. Of those who had
originally set out on the expedition, the only officer of the
Forty-first Regiment absent was Henry Grantham, who, having been
slightly wounded at the Miami, had, much against his inclination, been
ordered back to Amherstburg, in charge of the sick and wounded of the
detachment, and this so suddenly, that he had not had an opportunity of
taking leave of his brother.
"Ha! Gerald, my fine fellow," exclaimed Captain Molineux, as the youth
now joined their circle, "so you have clapped on the true harness at
last. I always said that your figure became a red jacket a devilish deal
better than a blue. But what new freak is this? Had you not a close
enough berth to Jonathan in the Miami, without running the risk of a
broken head with us to-day in his trenches?"
"No such good luck is there in store for my juniors, I fancy," replied
Grantham, swallowing off a goblet of wine which had been presented to
him--"but if I do fall, it will be in good company. Although the
American seems to lie quietly within his defences, there is that about
him which promises us rather a hot reception."
"So much the better," said Villiers; "there will be broken heads for
some of us. Who do you think we have booked for a place to the other
world?"
Gerald made no answer, but his look and manner implied that he
understood himself to be the party thus favored.
"Not so," returned Villiers, "we can't afford to spare you yet--besides,
the death of a blue jacket can in no way benefit us. What's the
use of 'a bloody war and a sickly season,' that standard toast
at every West India mess, if the juniors are to go off, and not the
seniors?--Cranstoun's the man we've booked."
"Captain Cranstoun, I have the honor of wishing you a safe passage, and
speedy promotion in Heaven," said Middlemore, draining off his glass.
"Devilish good port this of yours! By the bye, as you have a better
_port_ in view, you cannot do better than assign over what is left of
this to me."
"Thank you, Mr. Middlemore," returned Cranstoun, drily yet
good-humoredly, "yet as you are attached to my division, you will
perhaps run just the same risk; and as, perhaps, you will not require
more wine than we have taken to-day, I will pledge you in a last cup a
safe passage to Heaven, where I trust you will find credit for better
qualities than you possess as a punster."
"What," asked Gerald, with an unfeigned surprise, when the laugh against
Middlemore had subsided, "and is it really in his own wine that you have
all been thus courteously pledging Captain Cranstoun's death?"
"Even so," said Middlemore, rallying and returning to the attack, "he
invited us all to lunch in his tent, and how could we better repay him
for opening his hampers, than by returning his _spirit scot-free_ and
_unhampered_ to Heaven?"
"Oh, oh, oh!" ejaculated St. Clair, stopping his ears and throwing up
his eyes; "surely, Mr. Middlemore, if you are not shot this day, it must
be that you were born to be hanged--no man can perpetrate so horrible a
pun, and expect to live."
"I'm hanged if I am, then," returned the other; "but, talking of being
shot--is there another shot in the locker, Cranstoun---another bottle of
port?"
"The shot that is reserved for you, will bring you acquainted with
another locker than Cranstoun's, I suspect," said Villiers, "one Mr.
David Jones's locker--hit there, eh?"
The low roll of a muffled drum suddenly recalled the party from their
trifling to considerations of a graver interest. It was the signal for
forming the columns of attack. In a moment the tone, the air of
ribaldry, was exchanged for a seriousness that befitted the
occasion--and it seemed as if a momentary reproach passed over the minds
of those who had most amused themselves at the expense of Cranstoun, for
each, as he quitted the tent, gave his extended hand to his host, who
pressed it in a manner to show all was forgiven.
The English batteries had been constructed on the skirt of the wood
surrounding the fort, from which latter they were separated by a meadow
covered with long grass, about six hundred yards across at the narrowest
point. Behind these the columns of attack, three in number, were now
rapidly and silently formed. To that commanded by Captain Cranstoun, on
the extreme left, and intended to assault the fort at the strongest
point, Gerald Grantham had attached himself, in the simple dress, as we
have observed, of a private soldier, and armed with a common musket. In
passing, with the former officer, to take his position in front of the
column, he was struck by the utter want of means for executing with
success the duty assigned to the several divisions. Each column was
provided with a certain number of axemen, selected to act as pioneers;
but not one of the necessary implements was in a condition to be used:
neither had a single fascine or ladder been provided, although it was
well known that a deep ditch remained to be passed before the axes,
inefficient as they were, could be brought into use.
"Such," said Captain Cranstoun, with a sneer of much bitterness, "are
the pitiful things on which hang the lives of our brave fellows. No
doubt the despatches will say a great deal about the excellent
arrangements for attack--but if you do not fall, Gerald, I hope you will
make a proper representation of the affair. As you belong to the other
service, there is little fear the General can hurt your promotion for
merely speaking the truth. A General, indeed!--who'll say Fortune is not
blind to make a General of such as he?"
It was not an usual thing for Cranstoun to express himself thus in
regard to his superiors; but he was really vexed at the idea of the
sacrifice of human life that must attend this wantonness of neglect and
imbecility of arrangement. He had moreover taken wine enough, not in any
way to intoxicate, but sufficient to thaw his habitual caution and
reserve. Fearless as his sword, he cared not for his own life; but,
although a strict officer, he was ever attentive to the interests of his
men, who in their turn, admired him for his cool, unflinching courage,
and would have dared anything under the direction of their captain.
It was evident that the contempt of the sailor for the capacity of the
leader, to whom it was well known all the minute arrangements were
submitted, was not one whit inferior to what was entertained by the
brave and honest Cranstoun. He, however, merely answered, as they both
assumed their places in front, and with the air of one utterly
indifferent to these disadvantages.
"No matter, Cranstoun, the greater the obstacles we have to contend
against, the more glorious will be our victory. Where you lead, however,
we shall not be long in following."
"Hem! since it is to be a game of follow-my-leader," said Middlemore,
who had now joined them, "I must not be far behind. A month's pay with
either of you I reach the stockade first."
"Done, Middlemore, done," eagerly replied Cranstoun, and they joined
hands in confirmation of the bet.
This conversation had taken place during the interval occupied by the
movements of the right and centre columns along the skirt of the wood,
to equidistant points in the half circle embraced in the plan of attack.
A single blast of the bugle now announced that the furthermost had
reached its place of destination, when suddenly a gun--the first fired
since noon from the English batteries--gave the signal for which all
were now prepared.
In the next minute the heads of the several columns debouched from the
woods, and, the whole advancing in double quick time, with their arms at
the trail, moved across the meadow in the several directions assigned
them. The space to be traversed by Captain Cranstoun's division was
considerably the shortest of the three; but, on the other hand, he was
opposed to that part of the enemy's defences where there was the least
cover afforded to an assailing force.
Meanwhile there was an utter repose in the fort, which for some moments
induced the belief that the Americans were preparing to surrender their
trust without a struggle, and loud yells from the Indians, who, from
their cover in the rear, watched the progress of the troops with
admiration and surprise, were pealed forth as if in encouragement to the
latter to proceed. But the American Commander had planned his defence
with skill. No sooner had the several columns got within half musket
shot, than a tremendous fire of musketry and rifles was opened upon them
from two distinct faces of the stockade. Captain Cranstoun's division,
being the nearest, was the first attacked, and suffered considerably
without attempting to return a shot. At the first discharge, the two
leading sergeants, and many of the men, were knocked down; but neither
Cranstoun, nor Middlemore, nor Grantham, were touched.
"Forward men, forward," shouted the former, brandishing his sword, and
dashing down a deep ravine, that separated them from the trenches.
"On, my gallant fellows, on!--the left column for ever!" cried
Middlemore, imitating the example of his captain, and, in his eagerness
to reach the ditch first, leaving his men to follow as they could.
Few of these, however, needed the injunction. Although galled by the
severe fire of the enemy, they followed their leaders down the ravine
with a steadiness worthy of a better result; then climbing up the
opposite ascent, under a shower of bullets, yet, without pulling a
trigger themselves, made for the ditch their officer had already gained.
Cranstoun, still continuing in advance, was the first who arrived on the
brink. For a moment he paused, as if uncertain what course to pursue,
then, seeing Middlemore close behind him, he leaped in, and striking a
blow of his sabre upon the stockade, called loudly upon the axemen to
follow. While he was yet shouting, a ball from a loop-hole not three
feet above his head, entered his brain, and he fell dead across the
trench.
"Ha! well have you won your wager, my noble Captain," exclaimed
Middlemore, putting his hand to his chest, and staggering from the
effects of a shot he had that instant received. "You are indeed the
_better_ man" (he continued, excited beyond his usual calm by the
circumstances in which he found himself placed, yet unable to resist his
dominating propensity, even at such a moment,) "and deserve the palm of
honor this day. Forward, men, forward! axemen, do your duty.--Down with
the stockade, my lads, and give them a bellyful of steel."
Scarcely had he spoken, when a second discharge from the same wall-piece
that had killed Cranstoun passed through his throat. "Forward!" he again
but more faintly shouted, with the gurgling tone of suffocation peculiar
to a wound in that region, then falling headlong into the ditch, was in
the next instant trodden under by the advance of the column who rushed
forward, though fruitlessly, to avenge the deaths of their officers.
All was now confusion, noise and carnage. Obeying the command of their
leader, the axemen had sprung into the ditch, and, with efforts nerved
by desperation, applied themselves vigorously to the task allotted them.
But as well might they have attempted to raze the foundations of the
globe itself. Incapable from their bluntness of making the slightest
impression on the obstinate wood, the iron at each stroke rebounded off,
leaving to the eye no vestige of where it had rested. Filled with
disappointment and rage, the brave and unfortunate fellows dashed the
useless metal to the earth, and endeavored to escape from the ditch back
into the ravine, where, at least, there was a prospect of supplying
themselves with more serviceable weapons from among their slain
comrades; but the ditch was deep and slimy, and the difficulty of ascent
great. Before they could accomplish it, the Americans opened a fire from
a bastion, the guns of which, loaded with slugs and musket balls, raked
the trench from end to end, and swept away all that came within its
range. This was the first check given to the division of the unfortunate
Cranstoun. Many of the leading sections had leaped, regardless of all
obstacles, into the trench, with a view of avenging their slaughtered
officers; but these, like the axemen, had been carried away by the
discharges from the bastion, and the incessant fire poured upon them
from the loop-holes of the stockade. Despairing of success, without
fascines to fill up the ditch, or a ladder to scale the picketing that
afforded cover to their enemies, there was no alternative, but to remain
and be cut down to a man where they stood, or to retire into the
brushwood that lined the ravine. The latter was finally adopted; but not
before one-third of the column had paid the penalty of their own daring,
and what the brave Cranstoun had sneeringly termed the "General's
excellent arrangements," with their lives. The firing at this time had
now almost wholly ceased between the enemy and the columns on the right
and centre, neither of which had penetrated beyond the ravine, and at a
late hour in the evening the whole were drawn off.
Meanwhile, steady at his post at the head of the division, Gerald
Grantham had continued to act with the men as though he had been one of
themselves. During the whole course of the advance, he neither joined in
the cheers of the officers, nor uttered word of encouragement to those
who followed. But in his manner there was remarked a quietness of
determination, a sullen disregard of danger, that seemed to denote some
deeper rooted purpose than the mere desire of personal distinction. His
ambition seemed to consist, not in being the first to reach or scale the
fort, but in placing himself wherever the balls of the enemy flew
thickest. There was no enthusiasm in his mien, no excitement in his eye;
neither had his step the buoyancy that marks the young heart wedded to
valorous achievement, but was, on the contrary, heavy, measured, yet
firm. His whole manner and actions, in short, as reported to his
brother, on the return of the expedition, by those who had been near him
throughout the affair, was that of a man who courts not victory but
death. Planted on the brow of the ditch at the moment when Middlemore
fell, he had deliberately discharged his pistol into the loop-hole
whence the shot had been fired; but although, as he seemed to expect,
the next instant brought several barrels to play upon himself, not one
of these had taken effect. A moment after and he was in the ditch,
followed by some twenty or thirty of the leading men of the column, and
advancing towards the bastion, then preparing to vomit forth its fire
upon the devoted axemen. Even here, Fate, or Destiny, or whatever power
it be that wills the nature of the end of man, turned aside the death
with which he already seemed to grapple. At the very moment when the
flash rose from the havoc-dealing gun, he chanced to stumble over the
dead body of a soldier, and fell flat upon his face. Scarcely had he
touched the ground when he was again upon his feet; but even in that
short space of time, he alone, of those who had entered the ditch, had
been left unscathed. Before him came bellying along the damp trench, the
dense smoke from the fatal bastion, as it were a funeral shroud for its
victims; and behind him were to be seen the mangled and distorted forms
of his companions, some dead, others writhing with acute agony, and
filling the air with shrieks, and groans, and prayers for water to
soothe their burning lips, that mingled fearfully yet characteristically,
with the unsubdued roar of small arms.
It was now, for the first time, that Gerald evinced anything like
excitement, but it was the excitement of bitter disappointment. He saw
those to whom the preservation of life would have been a blessing, cut
down and slaughtered; while he, whose object it was to lay it down for
ever, was, by some strange fatality, wholly exempt.
The reflections that passed with lightning quickness through his mind,
only served to stimulate his determination the more. Scarcely had the
smoke which had hitherto kept him concealed from the battery, passed
beyond him, when, rushing forward and shouting, "To the bastion, men--to
the bastion!" he planted himself in front of the gun, and not three
yards from its muzzle. Prevented by the dense smoke that choked up the
trench, from ascertaining the extent of execution produced by their
discharge, the American artillerymen, who had again loaded, were once
more on the alert and preparing to repeat it. Already was the match in
the act of descending, which would have blown the unfortunate Gerald to
atoms, when suddenly an officer, whose uniform bespoke him to be of some
rank, and to whose quick eye it was apparent the rash assailant was
utterly unsupported, sprang upon the bastion, and dashing the fuze from
the hand of the gunner, commanded that a small sally-port, which opened
into the trench a few yards beyond the point where he stood, should be
opened, and the brave soldier taken prisoner without harm. So prompt was
the execution of this order, that, before Gerald could succeed in
clambering up the ditch, which, with the instinctive dread of captivity,
he attempted, he was seized by half a dozen soldiers, and by these borne
hurriedly back through the sally-port, which was again closed.