How Ned Had Many Adventures, and Bee
Becomes a Woman.
Ned thought a man would have to be mad or very drunk before he could
be saucy to such a lady, and he answered in his meekest voice, "We
wanted to hold a prayer meeting, madam, and hoped you might be so
good as to give us some candles."
"For the land's sake, a prayer meeting! Not but what you need them
badly. But whoever is going to hold a prayer meeting? There isn't a
chaplain of any sort here."
"We have a soldier preacher, madam, a Mr. Ferguson."
"What, not one of those soldiers?" Astonishment and unbelief were in
the lady's tones.
"Yes, madam, he preaches very well too, and I hope you will come to
hear him. He never steals apples or anything, for he is a Methodist.
And while I admit he is a private in the ranks, still it doesn't do
always to say 'Can any good come out of Nazareth?'"
She looked at him. His manner was certainly not what she would have
looked for in a private soldier, and changing her attitude with
feminine quickness, she said--"Come right in and sit down. Here's a
pie right out of the oven and you must try it. Not hungry?
Nonsense; men, especially soldiers, always are. Now, tell your Mr.
Ferguson to call on me. If it isn't some trick of you boys I'll keep
you in candles. I'm a Methodist myself, but its hard not to grow
cold in religion when there's no church, and war's making everybody
wild. My husband and three boys are all out with the militia--and
they won't quit fighting while there's a Yankee in Canada. But it's
hard on flesh and blood to see a farm like the one we had here going
to wrack and ruin, without a man to do a hand's turn. But I
shouldn't complain, my house is filled with officers, and they pay me
well. And the cows, and the stuff the girls and me did get in, are
doing splendid."
From the farm Ned went at once to Archy, to see if he couldn't be
sent out again at once--to avoid meeting Ferguson--and found Percy
there before him. "How'd you like to change into the regulars, Ned?"
said Archy briskly. "I hate to lose you, for you're a kind of
reliable--from that first hour when you were under fire at Humber
Bay, you've been to be depended upon. But Captain Haslem's going
with his company to try and steal some Yankee flour up Niagara way,
and he'll take you, if you're willing, and its a good chance for you."
"You would have the rank of sergeant," said Percy, "and the position
of 'Talk Man', as you call an Indian interpreter; for your captain
says you studied the Indian dialects with your father last winter in
York. Then we shall have no surgeon with us, and as Dr. Tam
recommends you highly as an emergency one, I think you can be sure of
getting a commission before six months are out."
Ned knew Ferguson had been assigned by Percy to duty with the
commissariat and transport, which would keep him in Stoney Creek, so
he thanked his friends and accepted. He set off that same day, one
of seventy-five white men, with a dozen Indian scouts.
They reached the Niagara district, and lay low in the great forest
that filled the back of the fertile peninsula between the lakes Erie
and Ontario. Before them was the garden land of Canada, guarded by
forts Erie and George, on the upper and lower lakes--and both alas
held by the triumphant enemy--fronted by the deep gorge of the wild
Niagara River. For the first time Ned heard the far-off awful roar
of the great falls, and in a sense he was afraid, for he understood
why the Indians said it was the voice of God.
But he had little time to think of the mysterious poetry of the Great
Waters. The party were marching silently across Niagara in the
night. Tiny lights, placed by brave women in farmhouse windows, told
Percy all he needed to know, and so they crept down to the shore by
Fort Erie, and seizing boats, put out, as a sentry challenged them.
"Provision boats from Buffalo," Percy answered instantly, and so they
passed.
Across Niagara River twinkled the lights of Buffalo and Black Rock,
and before them three ships laden with stores, loomed up dark as they
lay at anchor. The first was boarded with a savage rush of excited
men. In five minutes she was mastered, and scudding out into Erie,
keeping the other ships between her and the guns of the fort till she
was out of range.
At dawn the prize was lying in a little bay. She had landed part of
the men, including Ned and the Indians, with a good portion of her
cargo of flour, when the 10-gun "Hunter", one of the British
war-fleet on Erie, came up. She was to take the boat and part of the
stores to Detroit, that one bit of American soil to which Canada was
clinging. She felt that she was not quite conquered while she held
it, though her garrison there were very short of food.
So the war went on that summer, until it was September; and on
Friday, the tenth of that month--a day to be marked in American
histories--Betty sat in Susie's best room, feeling depressed. Susie
was with her, but both women were silent, thinking of their husbands.
Susie knew that Edgar had escaped, had got to Detroit, and then had
heard no more, and so she worked and suffered as thousands of brave
women did in that olden war. She had herself and her children to
keep on what she could get from her garden and cows and poultry, for
there was no possibility of getting food from outside. The
Americans, honourable invaders all, though they knew the women in the
country they occupied must be continually sending information to the
men in the bush, yet would not punish the captive but unconquered,
towns and villages. They had only burnt and plundered buildings
owned by the government. But to Susie and Bettie, and many other
women, the worst was the impossibility of knowing even if their men
folk were living or dead.
* * *
One day Chloe was at the door beaming on them; a small ship had
managed to run in from Kingston; her lading was ammunition for the
men at the west end of the lake, but she had left a bundle of mail,
and a woman in Quaker-like dress, at York. It was Mrs. Ferguson, who
had just made the risky journey from Montreal, and she brought a note
from Percy to his wife, asking Betty to keep her with herself, till
his commanders would allow women to come where he and the others were
fighting.
Betty welcomed her warmly, overjoyed to hear from her husband, and
know him alive somewhere--though his letter had run the blockade to
Montreal, and back again as far as York, before it reached her. She
had sent letters by the same boat, hoping he would get them.
Then Betty read the letter from Sir John at Kingston. He did not
mention Ned, so Bee was still the only one above Kingston who knew of
the boy's disgrace. Sir John wrote--"Vere is steadying to his work
like the Haslem and gentleman-born that he is. He is expecting
promotion, and may be sent to Montreal. I have spoken to him of Bee,
and like his spirit very much, for he is quite willing to overlook
that she is penniless, and that her mother made a disgraceful
marriage with an American. So I am hoping to arrange for you and Bee
to travel to Kingston under a flag of truce. The enemy, in spite of
their Infernal and Thrice Damnable Republicanism, seem to act like
gentlemen whenever our women are concerned. So you can prepare Bee
for her marriage soon. She is a wilful minx sometimes, but I am sure
she will be overjoyed at the prospect of being Lady Haslem some day."
Betty was not so sure. She looked out into the fine rain that had
begun to fall, while a south wind blew, and saw Bee racing home with
the three Edgar boys. Then Bee was in the room, flushed and
laughing, her eyes shining like stars, and her coarse homespun frock
showing her strong young figure. That dress had been made from wool
off Susie's sheep, spun and woven in York, for the women who made the
holding of Canada possible in 1812, had to depend on themselves for
clothing as well as food.
"You do look quite grown-up, Bee," said Betty. "Next thing you will
be thinking of getting an establishment."
Bee knew that her world had no room for an unmarried woman, but she
said nothing as Betty went on. "You could be very happy living with
me--and I would love to keep you--while you are young and
handsome--oh, yes, dear, you are that now--but when you grew old and
faded and sour-tempered, like all unmarried women do, you would blame
me for not helping you to get established while you were young
enough."
"But nobody wants to marry me," murmured poor Bee, heartily wishing
that girls did not have to grow up.
"Someone does, Bee, I know there has been a little against him, but I
have just heard that he is retrieving himself splendidly. We women
have to overlook very much in men, as long as they are not cowards."
Betty did not mention Vere's name, and Bee suddenly thought of Ned,
poor Ned!--yet not so poor if a woman like Betty believed in his
innocence. Knowing as she did what Sir John thought of her mother's
marriage, she never dreamed that he thought of her (with an American
father) as a future Lady Haslem, but confused at the idea of an
establishment, even with Ned, she turned to ask Betty what she had
heard of him. Then through the open window the damp wind brought the
terrible sounds of far-off cannon, and they both forgot marrying and
giving in marriage, as all that day, they and the other women in York
listened with straining ears to catch the faint sounds that meant the
men they loved might even then be dying among those thundering guns.
That day the most spectacular, if not the most important battle of
the war was fought. In a last attempt to break the American hold on
Lake Erie, and save Detroit from starvation, Barclay, one of Nelson's
captains, with six ships and carrying light guns, put out against
Perry, the young and daring American, with his nine ships, and doubly
heavy cannon.
The American Lawrence, with her flag inscribed "Don't give up the
ship," led into battle. It was a battle of seamanship. Barclay
wished to fight at long range where the better marksmanship of his
men might offset the heavier guns of his enemy, and Perry meant to
come to close quarters. The Lawrence was soon a wreck, with only
twenty men on board unhurt, and Perry transferring himself and his
flag to the Niagara, through a storm of shot. Then with consummate
seamanship he brought his fleet to where their broadsides "tore hulls
clean of masts and decks," and Barclay surrendered the tiny British
fleet--a drove of shattered, blood-drenched wrecks, laden with the
mangled bodies of one-third of their crews.
"We have met the enemy, and they are ours," Perry wrote laconically
to Congress, while the United States went wild with joy, and
Washington Irving writing what his countrymen believed, said, "The
last roar of the cannon that died along Lake Erie's shore was the
expiring note of British domination on this continent."
But Canada didn't see it that way. Her people were sorry for the
loss of the fleet, with the guns they could not possibly replace--and
more sorry when Detroit fell, and two thousand more were added to the
British prisoners of war in the States; but they thought it no reason
for them to "give up the ship." So, while American newspapers raged
against their stubbornness, they went on fighting as if nothing had
happened.
Perhaps the results of the battle were more felt in England than
Canada. There men realized that Perry's victory was really the
victory of the best seaman, and it made them inclined to consider the
wisdom of coming some day to an understanding with this arrogant
young Republic, who seemed willing--and perhaps was able--to meet
them on the seas they looked on as their own.
An American letter brought the news at last to York. It was to Bee,
and told of Edgar being again a prisoner of war, and that Eli,
seriously wounded in the lake fight, had been brought to Newark, and
wanted his sister to come to him. So Bee and Betty, with the baby,
and Chloe, and Mrs. Ferguson, sailed across Ontario. Betty was glad
that it was not to Kingston; she was relieved at Bee's quiet
acceptance of the plan to marry her cousin (as she supposed) but she
did not want to hurry the marriage. Let Vere show himself to be a
man indeed before this child was given him, she thought.
Bee had forgotten marriage all those weeks that her brother was in
danger. She told him, "I can't marry an Englishman or Canadian, when
they are trying to kill you."
"I'm not dead yet, Bee, and our father gave you to the Edgars, for
your grandfather to claim, if he liked, because our mother was
English. But who is wanting to marry you?"
Bee evaded the question, not feeling ready to tell him of Ned yet.
She wondered where he was, fighting for his country, that was half
hers, and to clear his name.
* * *
As for Ned, he was back at Stoney Creek again, hearing that
over-cautious commanders had again ordered Vincent to retreat to
Kingston, but instead Vincent was staying there, and sending the
regiment that Ned had come out with, on the "Lightfoot". Murray, its
colonel, was to fortify Twenty-mile Creek (now St. Catherines) and do
all he could to "annoy the enemy" then holding Niagara.
Ferguson would go with the regiment, and the people of Stoney Creek,
who had grown very attached to the soldier-preacher, and who thought
Murray's advance foolhardy, as the Americans had six thousand in
Niagara, came to church, to hear, as one pessimist said--"Mr.
Ferguson preach his own funeral sermon."
Ferguson had overheard the words, and he repeated them as he stood,
for the last time, in his scarlet regimentals, in the pulpit at
Stoney Creek. Then he added in a voice that rang with all the power
of a strong man's faith: "You may hear of George Ferguson falling on
the field, but he will not be dead. You have it from his own lips
that all is well with him. The sting of death is removed, and I know
that if this tabernacle of my body be dissolved, I have a building of
God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens."
* * *
Murray, carefully reckless, did annoy the enemy very much. McClure
who commanded at Niagara, demanded more men to crush the enemy who
was continually attacking his foraging parties. The American
newspapers loudly declared that "It is a mistake to keep the war in
Upper Canada. We could take Lower Canada without soldiers. We have
only to lead officers into the lower province, and the disaffected
people will rise round our standard."
Winter came early that year and two armies were preparing to invade
Lower Canada. Hampton, with five thousand men, was ordered to bring
stores by way of Lake Champlain and meet Wilkinson. This last
general, with nine thousand men, was to run the rapids of the St.
Lawrence, and make a dash for Montreal. Kingston would not dare,
they thought, to diminish her scanty garrison by sending men down the
river. Lake Champlain had been stripped of troops to aid Upper
Canada, and Montreal had only a few hundred regulars. Every thing
depended on the Lower Canada militia.
Late that October the French-Canadians came out. They blocked every
road that Hampton could take, and at Chateauguay, under De Salaberry,
on October twenty-fifth, an army entirely of militia and Indians
ambushed in the woods, so demoralized Hampton's army, that he decided
it was impossible to get through with his heavy baggage, and
retreated.
Cold and much snow came with November, but Wilkinson did not mean to
stop. On November fifth, the startled scouts on the Canadian side
saw one of the most dramatic scenes of the whole war. Between its
snow-covered banks the St. Lawrence was storming black through the
Galops Rapids, the first below Kingston, and down that rush of dark
water, flecked with spurts of white foam, hundreds of bateaux,
splendidly handled, were shooting one after another, laden with
thousands of blue-coated men.
But Kingston did not intend to remain idle. She sent eight hundred
men with a battery, to do anything they could. They fired on, and
followed the bateaux, which suffered some loss. The enemy being
delayed by want of provisions, and the landing parties sent out to
forage, found to their dismay that the French-Canadian farmers had
fled, burning what stores they could not take with them, and driving
off their cattle.
On November tenth, the invaders, suffering much with cold and hunger,
had most of their force down the Long Sault. Two thousand men were
still above that great rapid, when a terrific fire was opened on them
from the bank. The only thing to do was to land and dislodge the
enemy. So was fought the battle of Chrysler's Farm. Eight hundred
men with two cannon, poured a hot fire from behind the stone farm
fences, then rushed out, and charged the invaders with flashing
bayonets. Leaving many behind them, the Americans retreated in
confusion to the boats, and ran the rapids. Wilkinson had just heard
of Hampton's defeat, and as his men were starving, and the fights at
Chrysler's and Chateauguay had taught him the kind of "welcome" he
would get from Lower Canada, he retired entirely.
* * *
An old gray-headed man had command of the tiny battery at
Chrysler's--Sir John Haslem--and after the victory he went on to
Montreal, where Vere, now a lieutenant, was stationed. Since Vere's
escape through Ned's condemnation, he had lived carefully, attending
to his duties, and very hard on the failings of those under him.
"Can't be medium in anything," grumbled Sir John as he stood in a
Montreal ball-room on Christmas evening watching Vere dancing with a
pretty French-Canadian girl. "A year ago he was slackness itself,
now he seems to delight in detecting and punishing slackness in
others."
"He'll die by a shot from his own men in some battle," said the man
he spoke to, to himself, adding aloud, "Hullo, what's the matter?"
The music had stopped and a man coming in called to Vere: "Hell's
broke loose on the Niagara frontier, and we're to leave for there
to-night."