fallen_.” On the day of the engagement at Montgomery’s Captain Poore
and his men left Guelph, and Lamphrey, by now a colonel, with Colonel
Young was left in charge of the portion which was to protect Guelph.
The knowledge that Galt and Eramosa were strongly disaffected did not
tend to reassure the home-guard. It was feared that Guelph, too, might
“fall.” For days men busied themselves running bullets, and it was
soothing to know that a quantity of powder lay in the octagon house
should they keep possession of it--such stores, no doubt, would be
seized by the rebelliously inclined once they were in action. In the
town of Guelph itself it was proudly claimed that only one man was
disloyal, and that he, poor fellow, was only driven so by too long
and silent study of grievances, “an honest, decent man otherwise.” As
the chief evidence against him was that he went through Preston and
other outlying hamlets to buy up all the lead he could find, it seems
rather hard that when this was reported he should be apprehended, taken
to Hamilton, and lie there in gaol for six or eight months without
trial. Mr. James Peters, maliciously termed Captain Peters and said
to be at the head of fifty men who were on their way to burn Guelph,
was awakened before daylight on the morning of December 13th by the
entry of sixteen armed men; the leader drew his glittering sword by Mr.
Peters’ bedside and ordered him to get at once into one of the sleighs
waiting at the door. After leaving the Peters’ farm these valiant
special constables stopped at the house of a farmer magistrate, who
not only bade them welcome, put up their horses, and gave the entire
party a good breakfast, but delivered an encouraging homily to the
magistrate in charge--an officiously zealous Irishman--saying he was
glad to see the latter perform his duty so faithfully. When they were
well refreshed and ready for the balance of the journey they took their
departure, after arresting the host’s son. After that this farmer was
not quite so loyal, nor had he such exalted views of a magistrate’s
duty; moreover, he wished that he had saved that breakfast. The
document upon which the arrests were founded set forth: “That (those
enumerated) not having the fear of God in their hearts, but being moved
and seduced by the instigation of the devil, and entirely withdrawing
the love, and true and due obedience, which every subject of our said
lady the Queen should, and of right ought to, bear towards our said
present lady the Queen, and wickedly devising and intending to disturb
the peace and public tranquillity of this Province ... on divers other
days and times, with force and arms at the township of Eramosa, in the
said district, unlawfully, maliciously and traitorously, did compass,
imagine, and intend to bring and put our said lady the Queen to death.”
In spite of efforts of judge and Crown, a jury took eight minutes to
return a verdict of “Not guilty.” But in the meantime the building
in which the prisoners were confined at Hamilton had been used by
Government to store fifty kegs of gunpowder, protected by sand. Early
in the morning the seven men, asleep in their two narrow cells, were
roused to the fact that the tinder-wood building was on fire. They
shouted until they were hoarse, pounded with all their strength, but
failed to wake the sleeping guards. Exhausted, they threw themselves
on the floor to await the horrible fate which seemed inevitable. But
an alarm from without at last roused the guards, who at once set about
saving the gunpowder, and gave no thought to the anxiety and terror of
those within the cells. For long there was a popular idea that the fire
was malicious incendiarism, but there appears to be no definite ground
for such a belief.
To ensure safety, a night-watch was set on the Eramosa bridge, as
well as at one other point. One night a son of the too well-fed Irish
magistrate was on duty. It so happened that at the witching hour a
Scotch miller came across the bridge with a wee drap in his ’ee--a
strong, muscular fellow, and muscular in his language. His answer to
whither was he going and what his errand, was, without preliminary
words, to seize the guard by his coat collar and a convenient handful
of his trousers, remove him from his path, and, with some oaths,
declare that if interfered with he would pitch him into the river.
It did not take much to frighten either guard or pedestrian at such
times. Not far from the Galt bridge an old Highlander, who was a bit of
a character, successfully tried for a few “treats” from the regulars
whom he saw one night in the cosy brightness of the village inn. He
also made away with a regular’s red coat. Some of the home corps were
on guard that night, and as in the clear atmosphere they saw him coming
toward the bridge they guessed his double sin. They demanded his
business and the countersign, and fired into the air. He fell flat,
vowing he was killed, and never afterwards had he peace in the streets
of Galt.
There are some ludicrous magistrate stories in all districts. As in the
first days of Franco-Anglo-Canada it had not been thought requisite
that officials should know both languages, so in these early provincial
days it was not a _sine qua non_ that magistrates should read and
write. A “dockyment” was brought before one, a blacksmith by trade. He
sat down on his anvil to “execute,” looking ineffably wise while he
held the paper head down. “But, your worship, the document is upside
down,” said the humble bailiff. “By the virtue of my office, I hold
it whichever way I d--- please,” said his worship, stamping his foot,
and convinced he was as well in his wits as any man in Middlesex. On
the other hand, one western bailiff never lost a chance to display his
knowledge of whatever language, dead or living, he might opportunely
happen to think. When questioned by his magistrate as to the
non-appearance of an expected prisoner, the bailiff proudly replied,
“Non est comeatibus, c’est in an awful mess, parceque cum swampibus.”
* * * * *
In Huron proper, while the people were devising means to secure
recognition of what they deemed their rights locally, not one man
rebel to his country was to be found; indeed, no one who knew his
circumstances will apply that term even to the unfortunate Van Egmond.
“Blame Van Egmond? I blame the Family Compact a devilish sight more
than I blame him,” says one. Sir Francis Bond Head ought to be
considered an authority, and he affirms the Queen to be the head of
this Family. “And what are we going to fight for?” asked one western
man, with his draft-slip in his hand. “Against Mackenzie? Never!--the
only man who dared to speak for us--never!” These true reformers
considered that they were most loyal to their Queen when loyal to her
and themselves too, and the remembrance of the day which called them to
arms carries with it a regretful thought for Van Egmond.
In Goderich the arms consisted mainly of pitchforks, scythes and pikes,
the latter made for the occasion by George Vivian, of that place. Each
had a cruel crosspiece, with all points sharpened, to be used either as
bayonet or battle-axe. A few lucky warriors had flintlocks.
One great source of complaint was the class of firearms supplied. Some
relics of one lot of “useless lumber” sent up under the charge of the
present Mr. Justice Robertson’s father are still about the Goderich
gaol, and the specimens extant show the complaint to have been a just
one.
There was also “a plentiful crop of captains and colonels.” Drill was
held in the large room at Read’s hotel, and the boys who looked on
were much edified by such display of valour and clanking of metal.
This regiment has been handed down to local fame as “The Invincibles,”
“Huron’s True Blues,” “The Huron Braves” and “The Bloody Useless.” When
the call to arms came all turned out with good-will, and the fact that
lone fishermen, pigs and ponies proved to be their only visible enemies
can cast no discredit on the valour of their intention. Their hardships
were many, and the complaints heard few.
Somewhere on the lake border, where the juniper and tamarack made the
best undergrowth, wandered Ryan, a fugitive from Gallows Hill, the man
made famous by the death of Colonel Moodie. Many miseries were his
until the opening of navigation, and by the time he was taken off by a
friendly American schooner he was reduced to a skeleton.
It was on Christmas Day, in the rain, that Captain Hyndman and his
followers set out for Walpole Island, a journey which meant the extreme
of roughing it. Captain Gooding and his Rifles left on the 7th of
January, and were fortunate in being able to return all together when
their service was over; but those who were with Captain Luard at Navy
Island had to get back just as their strength would allow. Captain
Lizars and Lieutenant Bescoby took their men to Rattenbury’s Corners,
where they spent most of the winter, thus being saved many hardships
suffered by their townsmen. Edouard Van Egmond was a most unwilling
volunteer, for his ill-advised father, brave soldier and good pioneer
as he had been proved, was by that time with Mackenzie in Toronto.
Edouard resisted the press; but his horses were pressed into service,
and their young owner said that wherever they were he must follow.
The Invincibles were evidently at liberty to display individual taste
in uniform, and Major Pryor took his way to the frontier picturesque
in blanket-coat, sugar-loaf toque and sword; nor was the line drawn
at the combination of blanket-coat, epaulets and spurs. The regulars
among them did not disdain to be gorgeous, too, and one tall, handsome
Irishman looked particularly magnificent in a uniform specially
procured from England. He was a truly warlike and awe-inspiring sight,
and having served through the Spanish campaign, and at Waterloo,
had the usual regular’s contempt for militia. His charge was the
commissariat from Niagara to Hamilton and London, and on one occasion,
at a certain point on the Governor’s Road, was challenged by a guard,
Private McFadden. His Magnificence merely vouchsafed, “Get out of my
way, you young whippersnapper!” disgust and indignation making a strong
brogue stronger. McFadden lifted his musket and was just about to fire,
when a mutual acquaintance opportunely arrived to save the regular from
the volunteer.
Some of the distressing events which centred in the Windsor
neighbourhood had a direct or indirect connection with Huron names.
Peter Green, of Goderich, the garrison tailor, who lived in a house
almost adjoining the barracks, with his family was shut up in it by
the patriots, who intended to roast them to death. Green, a staunch
Mason, but who nevertheless had given up his Goderich lodge through
his distaste towards a brother Mason (Thomas Mercer Jones, the Huron
exponent of the Family Compact), put his trust in Providence, and
thrusting out his hand made a Masonic sign. He was understood by one
of the enemy and allowed to leave his burning house. As he went he was
carrying his youngest child; in spite of masonry a stab was made at
his burden, which Green warded off at the expense of his own hand. Bad
as matters were, his membership saved him and his from death. Ronald
MacGregor and his family, who had moved from Goderich to Windsor in
’36, were burned out at the same time, escaping in their night-clothes.
When the Bloody Useless were at the front they saw no active service;
but their sufferings were not inconsiderable. Some of them had
quarters in a church, where the narrowness of the pews and benches and
the scantiness of the blankets led to much discomfort. But the real
hardship fell to those whose lot took them to some deserted Indian
shanties where filth of all kinds and melted snow on a clay floor were
poor inducements to rest. The snow shovelled out to the depth of a foot
still left enough behind to be melted by the warmth of the wearied
bodies, which, stretched side by side, were by morning held fast by
the snow-water again frozen. The hearty, cheery spirit of Dunlop, who
doubled the rations, was better than medicine, or even than his liberal
allowance of grog. When they moped he would order them out for a march,
leading them in his homespun checkered dress and Tam o’ Shanter,
closely followed by the Fords (“the sons of Anak,” because they were
all six feet six), the Youngs, the Annands, and other stalwart township
pioneers, not forgetting some sailors who had been pressed into the
service, each man shouldering a pike ten feet in length. “Ah me, what
perils do environ the man that meddles with cold iron,” quoted the
Doctor; “in the British army it was understood that the only use of a
musket was supposed to be that it could carry a bayonet at the end of
it.” But his own armament was chiefly that supplied by George Vivian.
The Doctor’s hardy frame knew nothing of the sufferings of his men.
On one occasion when he took a company of sixty from Bayfield, he
expected to make Brewster’s Mills easily; but the men were half tired,
and he appropriated for their rest two shanties by the way. Next day
they went on to the Sable, but the men were completely done by the
time Kettle Point (Ipperwash) was reached. Get on they must, as many
as might; so the Doctor proposed, “All of you as are fit, come with
me.” Of the sixty, twenty-six went on with him, and one survivor tells
that that march was the hardest work he ever did; “but the Doctor stood
it finely.” About the same time Dunlop and his men found themselves
dependent for shelter on two women who had no comforts to offer such a
company. Some of the men grumbled, but the Doctor asked for whiskey.
The women showed him a barrel newly opened; whereupon he put a man in
charge, and ordered horns all round. The hostesses were anxious to give
a bed to the Doctor, but he would have nothing that his men had not.
Calling to Jim Young to bring him a beech log, he disposed himself
in his blanket on the floor; when the log came he put one end of his
blanket over it for a pillow and slept soundly until morning. “Our
fathers ... have lain full oft ... with a good round under their heads
instead of a pillow. Pillows, said they, were thought meet only for
women.”
The hopes and the fears, the occasional feasts and many involuntary
fasts, hardened all consciences when a search for supplies was on hand.
In these times even the future first sheriff of Huron did not consider
house-breaking criminal nor a raid upon a potato-pit larceny. Once
Colonel Hyndman and some others had three-weeks’ leave and started on
their homeward trip by the lake-shore, some seventy-five miles at the
least, and unnecessarily added to by a false calculation which caused
them to retrace their steps and increase their already long walk by
ten miles. Sergeant Healy was twice nearly lost on the way; first by
falling in a creek, and afterwards through exposure to cold--for their
tramp led them through a country covered with two feet of snow. Healy
begged them to leave him to his fate, saying that although he was an
old soldier, and had served his sovereign in all parts of the world
for twenty-one years, he had never suffered as he was suffering then.
Needless to say they did not desert him, and they got him to Goderich
as best they could; but he served no more on the Canadian frontier.
The men were much interested in the droves of half-wild cattle and
horses to be seen on both sides of the Detroit and St. Clair Rivers.
The horses were so numerous that it is said strings of them could be
seen each way as far as the eye could reach, and as late as ’46 fifty
dollars would buy a good one. In various “Legends of the Detroit” many
interesting stories are told of these hardy, clever little animals,
the direct descendants of one of the most celebrated of the stock
of 1665--the French horses called by the Indians the Moose Deer of
Europe. The French river settlers cut their fodder in the summer,
stacked it, and turned it over to the ponies in the winter for them to
feed from at will. Water-holes in the ice were made for the wise little
animals, and beyond these two items they received little attention from
their owners. One of the Invincibles thus describes a raid on our men
by the enemy:
“Skimmings, of Goderich, was on guard, and reported that he heard the
rebels galloping through the bush. Young told him that that was an
impossibility, as they would have to come from the opposite direction.
Skimmings was sure he heard the tread and gallop, and was loaded to the
muzzle to receive them. Presently a drove of ponies appeared, making
for their water-holes--and there was another scare over, and Skimmings
never heard the last of it.”
At Colonel Hyndman’s quarters on Walpole Island a challenge was given
to three of these inoffensive Indian ponies, by a sentry who had an
infirmity of stuttering. Fearing that he had not been understood, he
repeated his challenge; and still once again, unwilling that any should
perish through his poor speech. Determined to be merciful in spite of
this contemptuous silence he called out the guard, who were some time
in arriving at a knowledge of the matter, for between the sentry’s
fright and his stutter he was unintelligible. The lanterns of the
guard revealed the homeless trio, supplementing their scanty supper by
picking up stray bits of fodder which lay about the camp.
Of the practical jokes most of them were played on officers, either
by their subordinates or brother officers. Major Pryor was at Sarnia
with Colonel Hyndman, and the latter was very anxious indeed to break
the monotony of the times. His chance came one evening when there was
exchange of sentries, and Pryor had gone off to spend a convivial hour.
Hyndman gave very strict orders as to the enforcing of the password,
and then waited results. Major Pryor staggered back to the line, very
drunk indeed. When challenged he stuttered that he was the f-f-fellow’s
major.
“I don’t care who you are--what’s the password?”
“Don’t know, b-b-but I’m your Major!”
“Into the guardhouse with you then, if you don’t know the pass,” and
the major was ignominiously hurried off. When he got there he was clear
enough to see that the men knew him.
“Very well, then,” said one; “if you give us an order on the Commissary
for a gallon of grog we’ll let you go.”
“Give me a p-p-pen then,” said Pryor, “and you can have your g-g-grog.”
He duly wrote the order, which one of the men altered from one to two
gallons, and was thereupon set at liberty.
There was little ceremony spent on the furnishing of the commissariat.
When a beast was noticed by an officer it was decided that that animal
must at once be annexed; but as far as can be learned now there was
always a fair remuneration made to the owner. It was claimed by the
rival messes that equal fairness was not observed in the distribution
of a suddenly acquired dainty. Dunlop had become possessed of a sheep,
and great was the rage of Pryor when it was found that the former
had requisitioned for the whole animal, for they had all been living
on pork for weeks. The Doctor could not resist such opportunity for
jokes, and mutton _versus_ pork caused Pryor many an irritation.
Nicknames, too, grew from the work and doings of ’37 as easily as they
were coined by Dunlop at other times. “Toddy Tam” was the head of the
Commissariat, and Robert Young, of Glasgow, who was butcher to the
Huron militia, was in consequence called Killit-and-Curit. Thereafter
he was best known as Killie Young.
A grand dinner had been the cause of Major Pryor’s guard-house
experience. A baker and a butcher had been sent to ransack the
countryside for provisions for it, and extraordinary success had
crowned their efforts. Colonel Hyndman asked “Toddy Tam” not to serve
the major with any of the new-gotten delicacies until he, Hyndman,
had entertained his fellow-officers at a dinner. And such a dinner,
to men who had been half starved! Mutton and turkey boiled and roast,
fowls, and pastry of all sorts and descriptions. “Good God, Hyndman!”
exclaimed Pryor, “where did you get all that?”
Hyndman gravely replied that these were his rations. Toddy Tam arrived
at the head of the stairway just in time to hear Pryor heaping abuse
upon him, saying that “that d---- fellow, the Commissary, had served
_him_ with nothing but salt pork ever since he came to Sarnia.” The
irate major just then caught sight of the offender, and would have
thrown him down the stairway but for the interference of Captains
Gooding and Lizars. Careful management and pre-arrangement on the
part of his tormentors lodged the gallant and stuttering major in
guard-house.
On another occasion, when Hyndman was in advance of Pryor by a day’s
march, the former halted his men for rest at Mrs. Westlake’s, where
comforts and food were in plenty. Reckoning on the major’s usual
blustering manner to bear him out, Colonel Hyndman advised Mrs.
Westlake that Major Pryor would arrive next day, and that she had best
be on her guard. When Pryor and his men arrived he at once ordered this
and shouted for that, desiring the household to bring him every thing
at once. To his amazement in marched Mrs. Westlake, a huge pistol in
her hand, who without more ado began the work of converting a bully
into the most civil and astonished of officers. But with all his faults
of manner Pryor had his good points, and only two days previous to this
had sent home his man-servant and horses, determined to march with his
men and share their hardships.