A BRAVE WOMAN'S EXPLOIT.
Neville Trueman, found ample occupation in ministering to the sick
and wounded, and in visiting his scattered flock throughout the
invaded territory. He was enabled, incidentally, to render
important service to his adopted country. It was toward the end of
June, that one afternoon he was riding through the forest in the
neighbourhood of the Beaver Dams, near the town of Thorold,--a
place which received its name from the remarkable constructions of
the industrious animal which has been adopted as the national
emblem of Upper Canada,--where there was a small force of British
troops posted. In the twilight he observed a travel-worn woman
approaching upon the forest pathway, with an air of bodily
weariness, yet of mental alertness and anxiety. As she drew near,
he recognized a worthy Canadian matron, whom he had, more than
once, seen in his congregation in the school-house at the village
of Chippewa.
"Why, Mrs. Secord!" he exclaimed, reining up his horse as she
attempted to pass him, furtively trying to conceal her face, "are
not you afraid to be so far from home on foot, when the country is
so disturbed?"
"Thank God it is you, Mr. Trueman!" she eagerly replied. "I was
afraid it might be one of the American scouts. 'Home,' did you
say? I have no home," she added in a tone of bitterness.
"Can't I be of some service to you? Where is your husband?"
Neville asked, wondering at her distraught air.
"Haven't you heard?" she replied. "He was sore wounded at
Queenston Heights, and will never be a well man again; and our
house was pillaged and burned. But we're wasting time; what reck
my private wrongs when the country is overrun by the King's
enemies? How far is it to the camp?"
"Farther than you can walk without resting," he answered." You
seem almost worn out."
"Nineteen miles I've walked this day, through woods and thicket,
without a bit or sup, to warn the King's troops of their danger."
"What danger?" asked Neville, wondering if her grief had not
somewhat affected her mind.
"The enemy are on the move--hundreds of them--with cannon and
horses. I saw them marching past my cottage this very morning, and
I vowed to warn the King's soldiers or die in the attempt. I
slipped unseen into the woods and ran like a deer, through bypaths
and, 'cross lots, and I must press on or I may be too late."
Not for a moment did this American-born youth hesitate as to his
duty to his adopted country. Wheeling his horse he exclaimed, "You
brave woman, you've nobly done your part, let me take you to the
nearest house and then ride on and give the alarm."
"I hoped to have done it myself," she said. "But it is best as it
is. Never mind me. Every minute is precious."
Without waiting for more words, Neville waved his hand in
encouragement, and putting spurs to his horse was out of sigh in a
moment. In a few minutes he galloped up to the post held by the
British picket, and flung himself off his reeking steed--incurring
imminent risk of being bayoneted by the sentry, because he took no
notice of his peremptory challenge. Bursting into the guard-room,
he called for the officer of the day, Lieutenant Fitzgibbon. A few
words conveyed the startling intelligence--the alarm was promptly
given--the bugle sounded the "turn cut"--the guard promptly
responded--the men rushed to arms. Messengers were despatched to
an outpost where Captain Ker was posted with two hundred Indians,
and to Major de Heren, commanding a body of troops in the rear.
Neville, followed by two files of soldiers, returned to meet the
brave Canadian matron to whose patriotic heroism was due the
rescue of the little post from an unexpected attack by an
overwhelming force. They found her almost fainting from fatigue
and the reaction from the overstrung tension of her nerves.
Leaping from his horse, Neville adjusted his cloak so as to make a
temporary side-saddle, and placed the travel-worn woman thereon.
Walking by her side, he held the bridle-rein and carefully guarded
the horse over the rugged forest path, the two soldiers falling
behind as a rear-guard. As they approached the post at Beaver
Dams, the redcoats gave a hearty British cheer. The guard turned
out, and presented arms as though she were the Queen; and the
gallant Lieutenant Fitzgibbon assisted the lady to alight with as
dignified a courtesy as he could use to royalty itself. She was
committed to the care of the good wife of the farm-house which
formed the head-quarters of the post, and every means taken to
ensure her comfort. By such heroism as this did the stout-hearted
Canadian women of those stern war times serve their country at the
risk of their lives.
Vigorous efforts were now made for defence. Trees were hastily
felled to blockade the road. A breastwork of logs was thrown up at
a commanding position, in front of which was an abattis of young
trees and brush piled up to obstruct approach. Lieutenant
Fitzgibbon had only some forty-three regulars and two hundred
Indiana, to oppose a force of nearly six hundred men, including
fifty cavalry and two field-pieces. He must effect by stratagem
what he could not effect by force. Every man who could sound a,
bugle, and for whom a bugle could be found, was sent into the
woods, and these were posted at considerable distances apart. The
Indians and thirty-four red-coats, concealed behind trees, lined
the road. Before long was heard the tramp of cavalry and rumble of
the field-guns. As they came within range the buglers, with all
the vigour in their power, sounded a charge, the shrill notes
ringing through the leafy forest aisles. The Indians yelled their
fearful war-whoop, and the soldiers gave a gallant cheer and
opened a sharp fire.
The ruse was as successful as that of Gideon and his three hundred
men with their trumpets and pitchers, in the wars of the
Philistines. After a spirited attack, the advanced guard fell back
upon the main body of the enemy, which was thrown into confusion.
Some of the cavalry horses were wounded, and dashed wildly through
the ranks, increasing the disorder. The artillery horses caught
the infection, and, plunging wildly, overturned one of the gun-
carriages in the ditch. At this moment a body of twenty Canadian
militia arrived, and Fitzgibbon, to carry out his ruse of affected
superiority of numbers, boldly demanded the surrender of the
enemy. Colonel Boerstler, the American commander, thinking the
British must be strongly supported, to Lieutenant Fitzgibbon's
astonishment consented. The latter did not know what to do with
his prisoners, who were twice as many as his own force, including
the Indians. The opportune arrival of Major de Keren and Captain
Villiers, with two hundred men, furnished a sufficient force to
guard the prisoners. The chagrin of the latter, on hearing of
their deception and capture by a handful of red-coats and red-
skins, was intense. The name of the heroic Canadian wife, Mrs.
Laura Secord, to whose timely information this brilliant and
bloodless victory was due, was honourably mentioned in the
military despatches of the day; and her memory should be a
perpetual inspiration to patriotic daring to every son and
daughter of Canada. [Footnote: A portrait of Mrs. Secord, as a
venerable old lady of ninety-two, in a widow's cap and weeds, is
given in _Lossing's Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812_,
page 621; also her autograph and a letter describing her exploit.
The Prince of Wales, after his return from Canada in 1860, caused
the sum of L100 sterling to be presented her for her patriotic
service. Lieutenant Fitzgibbon was made a Knight of Windsor
Castle.]
This event was one of the turning points of the campaign.
Dearborn, whose forces were wasted away by disease, famine, and
the fortunes of war, to about four thousand men, was beleaguered
in Fort George by Vincent with less than half the number of
troops. The British now assumed the offensive, and on the morning
of the American national anniversary, the fourth of July, a small
force of Canadian militia, under Colonel Clark, crossed at day-
break from Chippewa to Fort Schlosser, captured the guard, and
carried off a large quantity of provisions and ammunition, of
which they were in much need.
A week later, Colonel Bishopp, with two hundred and forty regulars
and militia, crossed before day from Fort Erie to the important
American post of Black Rock. The enemy were completely taken by
surprise, and the block-houses, barracks, dockyard, and one
vessel, were destroyed; and seven guns, two hundred stand of arms,
and a large quantity of provisions captured.
One day, about the middle of July, a dust-begrimed, sunburnt, yet
soldierly-looking young fellow, notwithstanding the weather
stained and faded appearance of his dragoon uniform, rode up to
The Holms. He cantered familiarly up the lane and, throwing the
reins on the neck of his horse, which proceeded of its own accord
to the stable, entered, without knocking, the house.
Kate was in the dairy, moulding the golden nuggets of butter with
a wooden spatula. Stealing up on tip-toe, our dragoon threw his
arms around the girl and gave her a hearty kiss, whose report was
as loud as the smack which he instantly received on his cheek from
the open palm of the astonished Katharine.
"A pretty reception you give your brother," exclaimed the young
man.
"Why, Zenas!" cried Katharine, throwing her arms ground him, and
giving him a kiss that more than made amends for the slap, "how
you frightened me; you naughty boy. I thought it was one of those
Yankee soldiers. They often come begging for cream or cherries,
and get more impudent every day."
"They won't come again, very soon," said Zenas, with all his old
assurance. "We will lock them up safe enough in Fort George, and
soon drive them back to their own side of the river. But give us
something to eat. I'm hungry as a wolf. Where's father?"
"In the ten-acre wheat field. He has to work too hard for his
years, and can get no help for love or money," answered Kate, as
she set before her brother on the great kitchen table a loaf of
homemade bread, a pat of golden butter, a pitcher of rich cream,
and a heaped platter of fragrant strawberries just brought in from
the garden.
"Didn't I say I'd be back to get in the wheat? And you see I've
kept my word," said the lad. "This _is_ better than
campfare," he went on, as the strawberries and cream rapidly
disappeared with the bread and butter. "I have a message for you,
Kate. Who do you suppose it is from?" said the rather raw youth,
with a look that was intended to be very knowing.
"If it's from the camp," replied Kate, calmly, "I know no one
there except Captain Villiers and Mr. Trueman. Is it from either
of them?"
"Trueman is a first-rate fellow--a regular brick, you know, even
if he _is_ a preacher. You ought to have seen how he stood up
for them Yankee prisoners, and got our fellows to share their
rations with them, although he had helped to bag the game himself.
But the message is not from him, but from the captain. He says you
saved his life twice,--once nursing him when he was sick, and once
by keeping those Yankee scouts here, while we got away. We heard
all about your adventure. Well, he's gone to help Proctor in
Michigan, and might never come back, he said, and he asked me
would I give you this, in case he fell, to show that he was not
ungrateful; but I had better give it to you now, or I will be sure
to lose it. I can't carry such trumpery in my saddle-bags;" and he
handed his sister a small jewel-case. Katharine opened it, and saw
an elegant cross, set with gems, lying on a purple velvet cushion.
"He said his mother gave it to him when he was leaving home,"
continued Zenas. "She was kind of High Church, I guess, and
they're most the same as Catholics. He said he had a sort of
presentiment that he'd get killed in the war, and he didn't want
some wild Indian to snatch it from his body with his scalp, and
give to his dusky squaw."
Kate stood looking at the jewel, and knitting her brow in thought.
At length she said, "I'll keep it for him till he comes back, as I
am sure he will; and if he should not," and her voice quivered a
little, for her tender woman's heart could not but shudder at the
thought of a violent death,--"I will send it to his mother. I
wrote to her for him when he was wounded,--Melton Lodge,
Berkshire, is the address. But I will not anticipate his death in
battle. I feel certain that he will come back."
As the British lines were drawn firmly around Fort George, in
which, having repaired the damage caused by the explosion, the
Americans were closely beleaguered, Zenas had no difficulty in
obtaining leave of absence to help to harvest the wheat. Other
militiamen were also available for that service, which was as
important as fighting, Colonel Vincent averred, as he gave
permission to considerable numbers of his yeoman soldiery to
return to their farms, while the others maintained the leaguer of
the fort. Soon after the ingathering of the harvest, however,
Vincent was compelled, by the re-enforcement of the enemy, to
raise the blockade of Fort George, and again to return to his old
position at Burlington Heights.