How Ned Won the "Bubble Reputation", at
the Cannon's Mouth.
Betty thought of hell, the hell of man's inhumanity to man, as she
stood by her window in Newark, looking down a street of fire. From a
hundred roofs red flames were bursting. Blue-coated men rushed out
of smoke-shrouded doors with their arms full of plunder. Outside in
the deep snow and bitter cold, a crowd of women and children moved
about aimlessly, or stood still as if stupefied by the sight of the
ruin round them.
[Illustration: "Outside in the bitter cold a crowd of women and
children moved about aimlessly."]
The Americans had feared to stay in bitterly hostile Niagara after
navigation had stopped, and they could not be helped by their fleet.
Sooner than risk a winter siege there, they had blown up Forts George
and Erie and were then burning Newark by way of retaliation.
Betty waited to see what their fate was to be. Sentries at her door
kept the women from going out or the plunderers from coming in. At
last Eli, who had almost recovered, came back--"This house will be
spared," he told her formally, "I have represented it as the home of
my sister, an American, and I came to tell you, you can take in whom
you like. There are one hundred and fifty families homeless, but you
may have room for the sick. I will see the house is guarded."
"You will find this burning of Newark is worse than a crime, it is a
blunder," exclaimed Betty, and in his heart Eli agreed with her,
though he said nothing.
The black, far-rolling smoke of Newark, gave the alarm at Twenty Mile
Creek, and over nine hundred men--the old Irish regiment of the
"Lightfoot", with a goodly number of Canadians added to its
ranks--marched hot-foot to rescue, or avenge, if wrong had been done.
The Americans had all crossed the river, and the sight of the burnt
and plundered homes roused even Ferguson to militancy.
The men were set to work; they roughly roofed the cellars to make
shelters for the women and children, and threw up hasty ramparts on
the ruins of Fort George for themselves. Then the Niagara militia, a
thousand raging men, came in, with their Indian allies after them.
Murray, the colonel, had no artillery, and very little food, and if
large supplies of food, blankets and other supplies were not procured
soon, the victims of Newark must starve and freeze in their cellars.
"And the only place we can get supplies is from the enemy--across
there." Ned was standing by the Niagara River as he spoke, to Tim.
"And a sweet little stream it certainly is," answered the Irishman.
It was night, and huge fires of logs blazed all along the American
side, throwing a lurid glow across the dark rapid water, and the
ghostly cakes of ice that whirled by. By the snow-covered banks the
ice was continually forming, and being broken off as constantly by
the swift flowing river.
"It sure will be lovely navigating to cross it," continued Tim, "and
do you know what we shall be up against on the other side?"
"Two thousand men at Buffalo," Ned answered. "And four hundred at
Fort Niagara, which has stone bastions, and the best guns on the
river. A hundred men could easily hold it against a thousand."
For seven nights the log fires threw their search-lights across the
river, and armed patrols watched, but they saw no movements on the
Canadian side. On the eighth night, the river was dark. Leonard,
commander of Fort Niagara, having ascertained the British had no
artillery, and feeling sure they would not attempt to cross the
dangerous river, drew in his pickets, for it was a bitter night.
On the Canadian side there was a quiet stir among the men waiting
savagely by the ashes of Newark, a crouching lion.
The regiment marched silently out of the ruined town and up the
river. Not a word was allowed to be spoken, and commands were passed
down the ranks in whispers. Ferguson and Ned were together again as
they entered the boats, which crept across the black river with
muffled oars, the tense excitement of the men keeping them from
feeling the cold. And distant and menacing sounded the deep thunder
of Niagara.
They landed, unseen, at Youngstown, three miles above Fort Niagara.
Here was the American hospital with its fill of wounded men.
Noiselessly the buildings were surrounded, and a party entered, the
sight of the hated redcoats telling the alarmed patients they were
prisoners. Two brave men, convalescents, did not submit. Ready to
die on the chance of being able to give the alarm, one sprang up the
wide chimney, but was dragged back, promptly and roughly. The other
leaped from a window, but was overtaken.
"We must go on, to get food and clothes for Newark," said Ferguson in
a low earnest voice, "but, remember, men, for every deed we do
to-night we must answer to God our Judge." He went on speaking
quietly as boat after boat touched shore, and the men crowded near
him, listening in respectful silence, till the word of command sent
them moving silently along the road to Fort Niagara.
No one saw them, but a man had gone ahead of them--Sells, the
deserter. He had been stealing cattle on the Canadian side, till the
retreat, when he followed the Americans across the river. Now he
came swiftly to the fort gate on his crunching snowshoes, urging the
immediate lighting of the "search-lights" along the river. "I know
the English way," he said to the sergeant-major, who came out between
the massive walls to see what he had to say. "They'll fool 'round
making mistakes, till the enemy do something like you did at Newark,
then they'll get serious-mad. Nothing will stop them, and I
shouldn't wonder if they're not crossing the river now."
"You're scared of them British; I'm not," said the American with an
oath. "If they cross on a night like this it'll be because they can
walk on the water."
Sells glided away, not many minutes before the forlorn hope--a
hundred men with scaling ladders, crept round to the back of the fort
where the grim eighteen pounders frowned. Percy led them, his
colonel knowing that in spite of his affected indolence, his
thoughtful kindness to his men made him a leader whom the warm
hearted Irish would have followed to certain death.
With the thought of burnt Newark firing his blood and steeling his
nerves, Ned followed Percy, climbing, scrambling, and slipping in the
ghostly snow light, up the ladders and across icy, snow-laden roofs.
The sentries were surprised at their posts, and captured or killed
before they could give the alarm. And there was no stir in the main
buildings of the fort, as the reckless assaulters dropped into the
dark courtyard.
Leonard, the commander, had his quarters at the village, but most of
the officers were in their mess-room playing whist. "What's trumps?"
one asked.
The room door swung open--"British bayonets, I think, gentlemen,"
said Percy, quietly, and the startled men knew they were prisoners.
The main body, led by their colonel, and with Ferguson among them,
had seized the outer works before the main gate, capturing the
sentries, who gave them the password, which enabled them to reach the
gate of the inner fort without their presence being known. The
bitter cold of the night kept every one in their warm quarters, with
every door and window closed.
The minutes seemed endless hours as they waited then, for the signal
that would show their friends were within. Then a single shot rang
out, followed by a scattering musket fire, and a tumult of
noise--shouting men, English cheers, and the screams of the women in
the married quarters, mingling with the sound of running feet.
Like hounds unleashed the waiting men went forward, carrying the gate
with a rush--the leaders asking themselves if the little advance
guard had been able to capture the yard batteries. If not, in a
minute the deadly six pounders would open on the mass of the invaders
penned within the high yard walls.
But with their officers prisoners, the bewildered Americans had only
fired from their barrack windows at the redcoats running across the
snowy yard. Many of them fell, but a dozen were beside the coveted
guns, when the main force surged through the gate.
Ned, feeling strangely breathless and giddy with a bullet in his
side, sat on the ground behind the guns, as his wildly cheering
friends came in. They charged the barracks, where every window was
ablaze with rifle fire. And from somewhere behind, a score of blue
clad men dashed on the guns, fighting hand to hand with their
defenders.
"Hold the guns," said the young English lieutenant.
"Hold the guns, for five minutes," cried Ned springing up, forgetting
wounds. The pieces were covered with a tangle of fiercely fighting
men, but they were not fired.
Ned remembered being struck down with a clubbed rifle, and with a
last effort threw himself on the nearest gun, clinging desperately to
its breech. There was a blank, then some one was trying gently to
drag his arms apart. He resisted for the moment, and Tim's voice
said coaxingly, "If you're not killed entirely, leave go to oblige
me. I've got to carry you out of this, and it'll break my heart sure
if you want me to take that gun you seem so attached to as well."
Ned relaxed limply, and was carried in to where the wounded of both
armies lay, with Ferguson and a few helpers doing the little they
could for them, as the surgeons had not yet come up. The fort was in
quiet possession of the English. Only the women, to whom no one paid
any attention, still screamed dismally--"The British and the Indians!
They'll murder us! They'll scalp us all!"
A redcoated sentry stood by the gate, the color of his uniform not
visible to the man who galloped up. Leonard had heard the few shots
fired, and supposing there was a riot in the garrison rode up to see
to it. Challenged by the sentry, he gave the countersign, and was
instantly ordered to dismount.
"You thundering blockhead," cried the enraged American. "Can't you
see I am the commanding officer?"
"Dismount, sir," repeated the man as he levelled his musket, "I am a
British soldier."
The dumfounded officer obeyed, and was escorted to the slightly
wounded English colonel, to whom he formally surrendered the fort.
"Sure, and this is the lucky day of my life," exclaimed Tim as he
suddenly entered the hospital. "There'll be promotions for those who
are looking for them, and plunder for the lot of us. For the love of
Heaven somebody give me a sack. They've unlocked the stores, and we
can plunder till daylight. There's food enough for twenty armies,
and heaps of merchandise sorts of things, that'll sell for a lot in
Upper Canada now--needles and pins and everything. It's too bad that
even a heretic priest can't plunder."
Ferguson's helpers all followed Tim as he went off with his sack, and
Ned roused himself from the dull aching stupor that wrapped his
senses. "Don't stay here just for me," he said faintly to the
Methodist, "This isn't like plundering private property."
"You heard what Tim said," smiled Ferguson, "I must live up to my
priestly reputation, though I would like to take something, this
time, for I am a poor man, yet it wouldn't do."
Morning came; the quartermaster took possession of all the stores
that were not in the sacks of Tim and his comrades, and Dr. Tam was
at his ghastly work of probing and operating--for this was before the
mercy of chloroform. Ned, waiting his turn on the surgeon's terrible
table, heard Ferguson saying to the colonel--"We need, sir, to show
by our lives, our gratitude to God for the mercy of our victory last
night; for it was a most foolhardy venture."
The officer looked at the fortifications, as he answered, "Yes,
Ferguson, that's true. And I ought to be a better man than I am, I
know; so thank you kindly for your advice."
Then the colonel entered the hospital to ask Dr. Tam's permission to
speak to Ned before he passed under the surgeon's hands; and his
words were a tonic that helped the young soldier through the ordeal
of having his exhausted, fevered body probed for the ball in his
side. He had won his commission, and when he left hospital it would
be as an officer--an ensign.
Prisoners, plunder, wounded, and even the smaller guns, were all
carried across the river that day, and the most daring and successful
raid of the war was ended by serving out food and blankets to the
people of Newark.
But as soon as Canadian Niagara knew of the capture of the fort,
another raid had been made. The militia and Indians had crossed the
river and flung themselves furiously on the enemy's countryside.
Fortunately the people had all fled up to Buffalo, but Lewiston,
Youngstown, and three other villages below the Falls were fired, and
everything found was carried off. Very unwillingly the raiders
obeyed Murray's signal for their recall to their own side of the
river. He expected the force from Buffalo would be coming down to
cut them off, but the Americans made no attempt to cross the river.
After nearly two weeks of delirium and fever, Ned awoke in a
wonderfully comfortable bed, in Betty's house in Newark, which had
been requisitioned as a hospital, and the first thing he saw was
Ferguson being carried in, his drawn face showing that he was
suffering greatly.
"It is an answer to prayer," said the Methodist faintly, "God is very
good to me."
"Cook was carrying a kettle of boiling water across the yard, and
slipped down, and threw it all on a sentry's feet, which sentry was
Ferguson, sir," one of the bearers explained to Dr. Tam, as he
dressed the badly scalded feet.
"It was a special providence," murmured Ferguson, "We had orders to
go up the river, and crossing above the Falls, drive off the enemy's
troops, which our scouts say, are badly disorganized and with no
decent officers, and burn Black Rock and Buffalo. I had a struggle
in my mind as to what I should do. It was not Christian to commit
these greater enormities in retaliation for what we had suffered; so
I cast my burden on the Lord, and He opened this way of escape."
Ned made no response, and the Methodist added--"Did you quit
belonging to us, because you thought religion was too unfashionable
to profess, when you were called an officer and a gentleman?"
"You had no right to say that to me," Ned cried, adding instantly,
"No, no, but a man has wronged me, and I cannot forgive him, which
you will not think Christian."