Autumn had passed away, and winter, the stern invigorating
winter of Canada, had already covered the earth with
enduring snows, and the waters with bridges of seemingly
eternal ice, and yet no effort had been made by the
Americans to repossess themselves of the country they
had so recently lost. The several garrisons of Detroit
and Amherstburgh, reposing under the laurels they had so
easily won, made holiday of their conquest; and, secure
in the distance that separated them from the more populous
districts of the Union, seemed to have taken it for
granted that they had played their final part in the
active operations of the war, and would be suffered to
remain in undisturbed possession. But the storm was
already brewing in the far distance which, advancing
progressively like the waves of the coming tempest, was
destined first to shake them in their security, and
finally to overwhelm them in its vortex. With the natural
enterprize of their character, the Americans had no sooner
ascertained the fall of Detroit, than means, slow but
certain, were taken for the recovery of a post, with
which, their national glory was in no slight degree
identified. The country whence they drew their resources
for the occasion, were the new states of Ohio and Kentucky,
and one who had previously travelled through those immense
tracts of forests, where the dwelling of the backwoodsman
is met with at long intervals, would have marvelled at
the zeal and promptitude with which these adventurous
people, abandoning their homes, and disregarding their
personal interests, flocked to the several rallying
points. Armed and accoutred at their own expence, with
the unerring rifle that provided them with game, and the
faithful hatchet that had brought down the dark forest
into ready subjection, their claim upon the public was
for the mere sustenance they required on service. It is
true that this partial independence of the Government
whom they served rather in the character of volunteers,
than of conscripts, was in a great measure fatal to their
discipline; but in the peculiar warfare of the country,
absence of discipline was rather an advantage than a
demerit, since when checked, or thrown into confusion,
they looked not for a remedy in the resumption of order,
but in the exercise each of his own individual exertions,
facilitated as he was by his general knowledge of
localities, and his confidence in his own personal
resources.
But, although new armies were speedily organized--if
organized, may be termed those who brought with them into
the contest much courage and devotedness, yet, little
discipline, the Americans, in this instance, proceeded
with a caution that proved their respect for the British
garrison, strongly supported as it was by a numerous
force of Indians. Within two months after the capitulation
of Detroit, a considerable army, Ohioans and Kentuckians,
with some regular Infantry, had been pushed forward as
with a view to feel their way; but these having been
checked by the sudden appearance of a detachment from
Amherstburgh, had limited their advance to the Miami
River, on the banks of which, and on the ruins of one of
the old English forts of Pontiac's days, they had
constructed new fortifications, and otherwise strongly
entrenched themselves. It was a mistake, however, to
imagine that the enemy would be content with establishing
himself here. The new fort merely served as a nucleus
for the concentration of such resources of men and warlike
equipment, as were necessary to the subjection, firstly
of Detroit, and afterwards of Amherstburgh. Deprived of
the means of transport, the shallow bed of the Miami
aiding them but little, it was a matter of no mean
difficulty with the Americans to convey through several
hundred miles of forest, the heavy guns they required
for battering, and as it was only at intervals this could
be effected; the most patient endurance and unrelaxing
perseverance being necessary to the end. From the inactivity
of this force, or rather the confinement of its operations
to objects of defence, the English garrison had calculated
on undisturbed security, at least throughout the winter,
if not for a longer period; but although it was not until
this latter season was far advanced, that the enemy broke
up from his entrenchments on the Miami, and pushed himself
forward for the attainment of his final view, the error
of imputing inactivity to him was discovered at a moment
when it was least expected.
It was during a public ball given at Amherstburgh on the
18th of January 1813, that the first intelligence was
brought of the advance of a strong American force, whose
object it was supposed was to push rapidly on to Detroit,
leaving Amherstburgh behind to be disposed of later. The
officer who brought this intelligence was the fat Lieutenant
Raymond, who commanding an outpost at the distance of
some leagues had been surprised, and after a resistance
very creditable under the circumstances, driven in by
the American advanced guard with a loss of nearly half
his command.
Thus, "parva componere magnis," was the same consternation
produced in the ball-room at Amherstburg, that, at a
later period, occurred in a similar place of amusement
at Brussels, and although not followed by the same
momentous public results, producing the same host of
flattering fears and anxieties in the bosoms of the female
votaries of Terpsichore. We believe, however, that there
existed some dissimilarity in the several modes of
communication--the Duke of Wellington receiving his with
some appearance of regard, on the part of the communicator,
for the nerves of the ladies, while to Colonel St. Julian,
commanding at Amherstburg, and engaged at the moment at
the whist table, the news was imparted in stentorian
tones, which were audible to every one in the adjoining
ball-room.
But even if his voice had not been heard, the appearance
of Lieutenant Raymond would have justified the apprehension
of any reasonable person, for, in the importance of the
moment, he had not deemed it necessary to make any change
in the dress in which he had been surprised and driven
back. Let the reader figure to himself a remarkably fat,
ruddy faced man, of middle age, dressed in a pair of
tightly fitting dread-nought trowsers, and a shell jacket,
that had once been scarlet, but now, from use and exposure,
rather resembled the colour of brickdust; boots from
which all polish had been taken by the grease employed
to render them snow-proof; a brace of pistols thrust into
the black waist belt that encircled his huge circumference,
and from which depended a sword, whose steel scabbard
shewed the rust of the rudest bivouac. Let him, moreover,
figure to himself that ruddy carbuncled face, and nearly
as ruddy brow, suffused with perspiration, although in
a desperately cold winter's night, and the unwashed hands,
and mouth, and lips black from the frequent biting of
the ends of cartridges, while ever and anon the puffed
cheeks, in the effort to procure air and relieve the
panting chest, recal the idea of a Bacchus, after one of
his most lengthened orgies--let him figure all this, and
if he will add short, curling, wiry, damp hair, surmounting
a head as round as a turnip, a snubby, red, retrousse
nose, and light gray eyes; he will have a tolerable idea
of the startling figure that thus abruptly made its
appearance in the person of Lieutenant Raymond, first
among the dancers, and bustlingly thence into the adjoining
card room.
At the moment of his entrance, every eye had been turned
upon this strange apparition, while an almost instinctive
sense of the cause of his presence pervaded every breast.
Indeed it was impossible to behold him arrayed in the
bivouac garb in which we have described him, contrasted
as it was with the elegant ball dresses of his brother
officers, and not attribute his presence to some
extraordinary motive; and as almost every one in the room
was aware of his having been absent on detachment, his
mission had been half divined even before he had opened
his lips to Colonel St. Julian, for whom, on entering,
he had hurriedly inquired.
But when the latter officer was seen soon afterwards to
rise from and leave the card table, and, after communicating
hurriedly with the several heads of Departments, quit
altogether the scene of festivity, there could be no
longer a doubt; and, as in all cases of the sort, the
danger was magnified, as it flew from lip to lip, even
as the tiny snow ball becometh a mountain by the accession
it receives in its rolling course. Suddenly the dance
was discontinued, and indeed in time, for the lingers of
the non-combatant musicians, sharing in the general
nervousness, had already given notice, by numerous
falsettos, of their inability to proceed much longer.
Bonnets, cloaks, muffs, tippets, shawls, snow shoes, and
all the paraphernalia of female winter equipment peculiar
to the country, were brought unceremoniously in, and
thrown en masse upon the deserted benches of the ball
room. Then was there a scramble among the fair dancers,
who, having secured their respective property, quitted
the house, not however, without a secret fear on the part
of many, that the first object they should encounter, on
sallying forth, would be a corps of American sharp-shooters.
To the confusion within was added, the clamour without,
arising from swearing drivers, neighing horses, jingling
bells, and jostling sledges. Finally the only remaining
ladies of the party were the D'Egvilles, whose sledge
had not yet arrived, and with these lingered Captain
Molineux, Middlemore, and Henry Grantham, all of whom,
having obtained leave of absence for the occasion, had
accompanied them from Detroit. The two former, who had
just terminated one of the old fashioned cotillons, then
peculiar to the Canadas, stood leaning over the chairs
of their partners, indulging in no very charitable comments
on the unfortunate Raymond, to whose "ugly" presence at
that unseasonable hour they ascribed a host of most
important momentary evils; as, for example, the early
breaking up of the pleasantest ball of the season, the
loss of an excellent anticipated supper that had been
prepared for a later hour, and, although last not least,
the necessity it imposed upon them of an immediate return,
that bitter cold night, to Detroit. Near the blazing wood
fire, at their side, stood Henry Grantham, and Captain
St. Clair of the Engineers. The former with his thoughts
evidently far away from the passing scene, the latter
joining in the criticisms on Raymond.
"I always said," observed Molineux, shrugging his shoulders,
"that he resembled one of the ground hogs of his old
command of Bois Blanc, more than any thing human; and
hang me if he does not tonight look like a hog in armour."
"There certainly is something of the ARMAdilla about
him," said Middlemore; "if we may judge from the formidable
weapons he brought into the room."
"And, notwithstanding his alert retreat, few officers
can have made such HEAD against, and shewn such FACE to
the enemy," added St. Clair.
"True," retorted Middlemore, "there were certainly some
extraordinary FEATURES in the affair."
"If," remarked Molineux, "he faced the enemy, I am certain
he must have kept the boldest at bay; but if he shewed
them his back, as from his heated appearance I strongly
suspect that he did, he must have afforded the Yankee
riflemen as much fun as if they had been in pursuit of
a fat old raccoon."
"Shall I ask him that he may answer for himself?" inquired
Henry Grantham, whose attention had been aroused by the
ironical remarks of his companions.
"By no means," replied Middlemore, "we have ANSER enough
in his mere look."
"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Molineux and St. Clair in concert.
"Nay, nay," interposed Julia D'Egville, who had listened
impatiently to the comments passed upon the unfortunate
and unconscious officer, "this keen exercise of your
powers on poor Mr. Raymond is hardly fair. Recollect
(turning to Middlemore,) it is not given to all to possess
the refinement of wit, nor, (addressing St. Clair) the
advantages of personal attraction, therefore is it more
incumbent on those, to whom such gifts are given, to be
merciful unto the wanting in both." This was uttered with
marked expression.
"Brava, my most excellent and spirited partner," whispered
Molineux, secretly delighted that the lash of the reprover
had not immediately embraced him in its circuit.
"Thank you, my good, kind hearted, considerate cousin,"
looked Henry Grantham.
"Oh, the devil," muttered Middlemore to St. Clair, "we
shall have her next exclaiming, in the words of Monk
Lewis' Bleeding Nun,
'Raymond, Raymond, I am thine
'Raymond, Raymond, them art mine.'"
St. Clair shrugged his shoulders, bit his lip, threw up
his large blue eyes, shewed his white teeth, slightly
reddened, and looked altogether exceedingly at a loss
whether to feel complimented or reproved.
"But here comes Mr. Raymond, to fight his own battles,"
continued Miss D'Egville with vivacity.
"Hush," whispered Molineux.
"Honor among thieves," added Middlemore, in the same low
tone.
"Egad," said Raymond, wiping the yet lingering dews from
his red forehead, as he advanced from the card room where
he had been detained, talking over his adventure with
one or two of the anxious townspeople; "I have, within
the last twenty four hours, had so much running and
fighting for my country, that strength is scarcely left
me to fight my own battles. But what is it, Miss D'Egville?"
as he saluted Julia and her sister, "what battle am I to
fight now--some fresh quizzing of these wags, I suppose--
ah, Middlemore, how do you do; Molineux, St. Clair, Henry
Grantham, how do you all do?"
"Ah, Raymond, my dear fellow, how do you do?" greeted
Captain Molineux, with the air of one who really rejoices
in the reappearance of a long absent friend.
"Raymond, I am delighted to see you," exclaimed St.
Clair.
"Your bivouac has done you good," joined Middlemore,
following the example of the others, and extending his
hand, "I never saw you looking to greater advantage."
"Pretty well, pretty well thank you," returned the good
humoured, but not too acute subaltern, as he passed his
hand over his Falstaffian stomach; "only a little fatigued
with the last six hours, retreating. Egad! I began to
think I never should get away, the fellows pursued us so
hotly."
"And hotly you fled, it would appear," returned Middlemore.
"I dare be sworn, there was not a six foot Kentuckian of
the whole American army active enough to come within a
mile of him," added Molineux.
"And yet, considering the speed he made, he seems to have
lost but little of his flesh," said St. Clair.
"Of course," chuckled Middlemore, "these long fellows
come from Troy county in Ohio."
"Egad, I don't know; why do you ask?"
"Because you know it is not for the men of TROY to reduce
the men of GREASE--hence your escape."
"Are the enemy then so near, Mr. Raymond?" inquired Julia
D'Egville, anxious to turn the conversation.
"I should think not very far, Miss D'Egville, since, as
you see they have not given me time to change my dress."
At that moment the noise of horses' bells were heard
without; and they were soon distinguished to be those of
Colonel D'Egville's berlin.
A few moments afterwards, that officer entered the room
now wholly deserted save by the little coterie near the
fire place. Like Lieutenant Raymond's, his dress was more
suited to the bivouac than the ball room, and his
countenance otherwise bore traces of fatigue.
His daughters flew to meet him. The officers also grouped
around, desirous to hear what tidings he brought of the
enemy, to corroborate the statement of Raymond. To the
great mortification of the latter, it was now found that
he and his little detachment had had all the running to
themselves, and that while they fancied the whole of the
American army to be close at their heels, the latter had
been so kept in check by the force of Indians, under
Colonel D'Egville in person, as to be compelled to retire
upon the point whence the original attack had been made.
They had not followed the broken English outpost more
than a mile, and yet, so convinced of close pursuit had
been the latter, that for the space of six leagues they
had scarce relaxed in their retreat. The information now
brought by Colonel D'Egville, was that the Americans had
not advanced a single foot beyond the outpost in question,
but on the contrary had commenced constructing a stockade,
and throwing up entrenchments. He added, moreover, that
he had just dispatched an express to Sandwich, to General
Proctor, (who had, since the departure of General Brock,
succeeded to the command of the district,) communicating
the intelligence, and suggesting the propriety of an
attack before they could advance farther, and favor any
movement on the part of the inhabitants of Detroit. As
this counter-movement on our part would require every
man that could be spared from the latter fortress, Colonel
D'Egville seemed to think that before the officers could
reach it, its garrison would be already on the way to
join the expedition, which would doubtless be ordered to
move from Amherstburg; and as the same impression appeared
to exist in the mind of Colonel St. Julian, whom he had
only just parted from to proceed in search of his daughters,
the latter had taken it upon himself to determine that
they should remain where they were until the answer,
communicating the final decision of General Proctor,
should arrive.
If the young officers were delighted at the idea of
escaping the horror of an eighteen miles drive, on one
of the bitterest nights of the season, supperless, and
at the moment of issuing from a comfortable hall room,
their annoyance at (what they termed) the pusillanimity
of Raymond, who had come thus unnecessarily in, to the
utter annihilation of their evening's amusement, was in
equal proportion. For this, on their way home, they
revenged themselves by every sort of persiflage their
humour could adapt to the occasion, until in the end,
they completely succeeded in destroying the good humor
of Raymond, who eventually quitted them under feelings
of mortified pride, which excited all the generous sympathy
of the younger Grantham, while it created in his breast
a sentiment of almost wrath against his inconsiderate
companions. Even these latter were at length sensible
that they had gone too far, and, as their better feelings
returned, they sought to assure the offended object of
their pleasantry that what they had uttered was merely
in jest; but finding he received these disclaimers in
moody silence, they renewed their attack, nor discontinued
it until they separated for their mutual quarters for
the night.
Poor Raymond was, it will be perceived, one of those
unfortunates termed "butts," which are to be met with in
almost all societies, and but too often in a regiment.
Conscious of his great corpulence, and its disadvantages
to him as a soldier, he not only made every allowance
for the sallies of his lively and more favored brother
officers, but often good-naturedly joined in the laugh
against himself--all the badinage uttered against his
personal appearance, he had, on this occasion, borne with
the most perfect temper; but when, presuming on his
forbearance, they proceeded to reflect on the hurried,
and, under all circumstances, justifiable manner of his
retreat, after having sustained an unequal conflict
against an overpowering enemy for upwards of two hours,
his honest heart was wounded to the core; and, although
he uttered not one word, the unkindness sank deeply into
his memory.
The following dawn broke in, decked with all the sad and
sober gray, peculiar to a Canadian sky in the depth of
winter, and, with the first rising of the almost rayless
sun, commenced numerous warlike preparations that gave
promise to the inhabitants of some approaching crisis.
The event justified their expectation, the suggestion of
Colonel D'Egville had been adopted, and the same express,
which carried to General Proctor the information of the
advance of the enemy, and, the expulsion of Lieutenant
Raymond from his post, was pushed on to Detroit, with an
order for every man who could be spared from that fortress,
to be marched, without a moment's delay, to Amherstburg.
At noon the detachment had arrived, and, the General
making his appearance soon after, the expedition, composed
of the strength of the two garrisons, with a few light
guns, and a considerable body of Indians, under the Chief
Roundhead, were pushed rapidly across the lake, and the
same night occupied the only road by which the enemy
could advance.
It was a picturesque sight, to those who lingered on the
banks of the Detroit, to watch the movement of that mass
of guns, ammunition cars, sledges, &c. preceding the
regular march of the troops, as the whole crossed the
firm yet rumbling ice, at the head of the now deserted
Island of Bois-Blanc. Nor was this at all lessened in
effect by the wild and irregular movements of the Indians,
who advancing by twos and threes, but more often singly,
and bounding nimbly, yet tortuously, along the vast white
field with which the outline of their swarthy forms
contrasted, called up, at the outset, the idea of a legion
of devils.
But there was more than the mere indulgence of curiosity
in the contemplation of this scene, so highly characteristic
of the country. On the result of the efforts of those
now scarcely discernable atoms, depended the fate, not
merely of the town and garrison of Amherstburgh, but of
the whole adjoining country. If successful, then would
the repose of the anxious inhabitants once more be secured,
and the horrors of invasion again averted from their
soil; but if on the contrary, they should be defeated,
then must every hope be extinguished, and the so recently
conquered completely change sides with their conquerors.
Such were the thoughts that filled the breasts of many
of the townspeople of Amherstburg, and considering that
in the present instance they had much to lose, nothing
to gain, they may fairly enough be pardoned for having
entertained some little nervousness as to the result.
It was during one of the coldest mornings of January,
that this little army bivouacked on the banks of a small
rivulet, distant, little more than a league from the
position which had been taken up by the Americans. So
unexpected and rapid had been the advance of the expedition,
that not the slightest suspicion appeared to have been
entertained by the Americans even of its departure; and
from information, brought at a late hour by the Indian
scouts, who had been dispatched at nightfall to observe
their motions, it was gathered that, so far from
apprehending or being prepared for an attack, all was
quiet in their camp, in which the customary night fires
were then burning. Thus favored by the false security of
their enemies, the British force, after partaking of
their rude, but substantial meal, and preparing their
arms, laid themselves down to rest in their accoutrements
and greatcoats; their heads reclining on whatever elevation,
however small, presented itself, and their feet half
buried in the embers of the fires they had with difficulty
kindled on the frozen ground, from which the snow had
been removed--all, sanguine of success, and all, more or
less endeavouring to snatch, even amid the nipping frost
to which their upper persons were exposed, a few hours
of sleep prior to the final advance, which was to take
place an hour before dawn.
In the midst of the general desolateness of aspect which
encompassed all, there were few privations, endured by
the men, that were not equally shared by their officers.
A solitary and deserted log hut, was the only thing in
the shape of a human habitation to be seen within the
bivouac, and this had been secured as the head quarters
of the General and his staff--all besides had no other
canopy than the clear starry heavens, or, here and there,
the leafless and unsheltering branches of some forest
tree, and yet, around one large and blazing fire, which
continued to be fed at intervals by masses of half decayed
wood, that, divested of their snow, lay simmering and
dying before it, was frequently to be heard the joyous
yet suppressed laugh, and piquant sally, as of men whose
spirits no temporary hardship or concern for the eventful
future could effectually depress. These issued from the
immediate bivouac of the officers, who, seated squatted
around their fire after the manner of the Indians, instead
of courting a sleep which the intense cold rendered as
difficult of attainment, as unrefreshing when attained,
rather sought solace in humorous conversation, while the
animal warmth was kept alive by frequent puffings from
that campaigners' first resource the cigar, seasoned by
short and occasional libations from the well filled
canteen. Most of them wore over their regimentals, the
grey great coat then peculiar to the service, and had
made these in the highest possible degree available by
fur trimmings on the cuffs and collar, which latter was
tightly buttoned round the chin, while their heads were
protected by furred caps, made like those of the men, of
the raccoon skin. To this uniformity of costume, there
was, as far as regarded the outward clothing, one exception
in the person of Captain Cranstoun, who had wisely inducted
himself in the bear skin coat so frequently quizzed by
his companions, and in which he now sat as undisturbed
by the cold, so sensibly felt by his associates, as
unmoved by the criticisms they passed on its grotesque
appearance, and unprovoked by the recurrence to the
history of his former ludicrous adventure. Finding that
Cranstoun was inaccessible, they again, with the waywardness
of their years and humour, adverted to the retreat of
Raymond, to whom Molineux, Middlemore, and St. Clair
--the latter a volunteer in the expedition--attributed
the unpardonable fact of the breaking up of a most
delightful party, and the deprivation of a capital supper.
Such was the conversation--such were the serious complaints
of men, who, before another sun should rise, might see
cause to upbraid themselves, and bitterly, for the levity
in which they were so inconsiderately indulging.
During the whole of the march, Raymond had evinced a
seriousness of demeanor by no means common to him, and,
although he had made one of the party in the general
bivouac, he had scarcely opened his lips, except to reply
to the most direct questions. The renewed attack, at
first, drew from him no comment, although it was evident
he felt greatly pained; but when he had finished smoking
his cigar, he raised himself, not without difficulty,
from the ground, (a circumstance, which, by the way,
provoked a fresh burst of humour from the young men,)
and began, with a seriousness of manner, that, being
unusual, not a little surprised them: "Gentlemen, you
have long been pleased to select me as your butt."
"Of course," hastily interrupted Molineux, hazarding his
pun, "we naturally select you for what you most resemble."
"Captain Molineux--gentlemen!" resumed Raymond with
greater emphasis.
"He is getting warm on the subject," observed Middlemore.
"Have a care Molineux, that the butt does not CHURN until
in the end it becomes the BUTTER."
"Ha! ha! ha!" vociferated St. Clair, "good, excellent,
the best you ever made, Middlemore."
"Gentlemen," persevered Raymond, in a tone, and with a
gesture, of impatience, "this trifling will be deeply
regretted by you all tomorrow; I repeat," he pursued,
when he found he had at length succeeded in procuring
silence, "you have long been pleased to select me as your
butt, and while this was confined to my personal appearance,
painful as I have sometimes found your humour, I could
still endure it; but when I perceive those whom I have
looked upon as friends and brothers, casting imputations
upon my courage, I may be excused for feeling offended.
You have succeeded in wounding my heart, and some of you
will regret the hour when you did so. Another perhaps,
would adopt a different course, but I am not disposed to
return evil for evil. I wish to believe, that in all your
taunts upon this subject, you have merely indulged your
bantering humour--but not the less have you pained an
honest heart. Tomorrow will prove that you have grievously
wronged me, and I am mistaken, if you will not deeply
regret it."
"Noonsense, noonsense, Raymoond, ma deer fallow; do na'
heed the queeps of the hair-breened deevils. Ye see a
neever tak any nootice o' them, but joost leet them ha'
their way."
But Raymond stayed not--he hurried away across the snow
towards a distant fire, which lighted the ruder bivouac
of the adjutant and quarter master, and was there seen
to seat himself, with the air of one who has composed
himself for the night.
"What a silly fellow, to take the thing so seriously,"
said Molineux, half vexed at himself, half moved by the
reproachful tone of Raymond's address.
"For God's sake, Grantham, call him back. Tell him we
are ready to make any--every atonement for our offence,"
urged St. Clair.
"And I will promise never to utter another pun at his
expense as long as I live," added Middlemore.
But before Henry Grantham, who had been a pained and
silent witness of the scene, and who had already risen
with a view to follow the wounded Raymond, could take a
single step on his mission of peace, the low roll of the
drum, summoning to fall in, warned them that the hour of
action had already arrived, and each, quitting his fire,
hastened to the more immediate and pressing duties of
assembling his men, and carefully examining into the
state of their appointments.
In ten minutes from the beating of the reveille--
considerably shorn of its wonted proportions, as the
occasion demanded--the bivouac had been abandoned, and
the little army again upon their march. What remained to
be traversed of the space that separated them from the
enemy, was an alternation of plain and open forest, but
so completely in juxtaposition, that the head of the
column had time to clear one wood and enter a second
before its rear could disengage itself from the first.
The effect of this, by the dim and peculiar light reflected
from the snow across which they moved, was picturesque
in the extreme, nor was the interest diminished by the
utter silence that had pervaded every part of the little
army, the measured tramp of whose march, mingled with
the hollow and unavoidable rumbling of the light guns,
being the only sounds to be heard amid that mass of living
matter. The Indians, with the exception of a party of
scouts, had been the last to quit their rude encampment,
and as they now, in their eagerness to get to the front,
glided stealthily by in the deep snows on either side of
the more beaten track by which the troops advanced, and
so utterly without sound in their foot-fall, that they
might rather have been compared to spirits of the wilds,
than to human beings.
The regiment having been told off into divisions, it so
happened that Raymond and Henry Grantham, although
belonging to different companies, now found themselves
near each other. The latter had been most anxious to
approach his really good hearted companion, with a view
to soothe his wounded feelings, and to convey, in the
fullest and most convincing terms, the utter disclaimer
of his inconsiderate brother officers, to reflect seriously
on his conduct in the recent retreat--or, indeed, to
intend their observations for any thing beyond a mere
pleasantry. As, however, the strictest order had been
commanded to be observed in the march, and Raymond and
he happened to be at opposite extremities of the division,
this had been for some time impracticable. A temporary
halt having occurred, just as the head of the column
came, within sight of the enemy's fires, Grantham quitted
his station on the flank, and hastened to the head of
his division, where he found Raymond with his arms folded
across his chest, and apparently absorbed in deep thought.
He tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and inquired in
a tone of much kindness the subject of his musing.
Touched by the manner in which he was addressed, Raymond
dropped his arms, and grasping the hand of the youth,
observed in his usual voice; "Ah, is it you Henry--Egad,
my dear boy, I was just thinking of you--and how very
kind you have always been; never quizzing me as those
thoughtless fellows have done--and certainly never
insinuating any thing against my courage--that was too
bad Henry, too bad, I could have forgiven anything but
that."
"Nay, nay, Raymond," answered his companion, soothingly;
"believe me, neither Molineux, nor Middlemore, nor St.
Clair, meant anything beyond a jest. I can assure you
they did not, for when you quitted us they asked me to
go in search of you, but the assembly then commencing to
beat, I was compelled to hasten to my company, nor have
I had an opportunity of seeing you until now."
"Very well, Henry, I forgive them, for it is not in my
nature to keep anger long; but tell them that they should
not wantonly wound the feelings of an unoffending comrade.
As I told them, they may regret their unkindness to me
before another sun has set. If so, I wish them no other
punishment."
"What mean you, my dear Raymond?"
"Egad! I scarcely know myself, but something tells me
very forcibly my hour is come."
"Nonsense, this is but the effect of the depression,
produced by fatigue and over excitement, added to the
recent annoyance of your feelings."
"Whatever it proceed from, I had made up my mind to it
before we set out. Henry, my kind good Henry, I have
neither friend nor relative on earth--no one to inherit
the little property I possess. In the event of my falling,
you will find the key of my desk in the breast pocket of
my coat. A paper in that desk appoints you my executor.
Will you accept the trust?"
"Most sacredly, Raymond, will I fulfil every instruction
it contains; should I myself survive; but I cannot, will
not, bring myself to anticipate your fall."
"Move on, move on," passed quickly in a whisper from
front to rear of the column."
"God bless you, Henry" exclaimed Raymond, again pressing
the hand of the youth--"remember the key."
"We shall talk of that to night," was the light reply.
"Meanwhile, dear Raymond, God bless you," and again
Grantham fell back to his place in the rear of the
division.
Five minutes later, and the troops were silently drawn
up in front of the enemy. A long line of fires marked
the extent of the encampment, from which, even then, the
"all's well" of the sentinels could be occasionally heard.
Except these, all profoundly slept, nor was there anything
to indicate they had the slightest suspicion of an enemy
being within twenty miles of them--not a picket had been
thrown out, not an outpost established. It was evident
the Americans were yet young in the art of self defence.
"What glorious bayonet work we shall have presently,"
whispered Villiers to Cranstoun, as they were brought
together by their stations at the adjacent extremities
of their respective division. "Only mark how the fellows
sleep."
"The deevil a beet," responded Cranstoun, "a joost noo
heerd Coolonel St Julian propoose and even enseest upoon
it. But the Geeneral seems to theenk that coold steel
and a coold froosty morning do not asseemelate togeether."
"What! does he not mean to attack them with the bayonet,
when two minutes would suffice to bring us into the very
heart of the encampment, and that before they could well
have time to arm themselves?"
"Hoot mon" coolly pursued the Grenadier, with something
very like satire in his expression. "Would ye ha' the
Geeneral so uncheevalrous as to poonce upoon a set of
poor unarmed and unprepared creeturs. Depeend upon it he
would na sleep coomfortably on his peelow, after having
put coold steel into the geezzard of each of yon sleeping
loons."
"The devil take his consideration," muttered Villiers;
"but you are right, for see, there go the guns to the
front--hark there is a shot; the sentinels have discovered
us at last; and now the sluggards are starting from before
their fires, and hastening to snatch their arms.
"True enoof, Veelliers, and pleenty o' brooken heeds they
will gi' us soon, in retoorn for sparing their goots.
There oopen too those stooped leetle three poonders. Tha
might joost as weel be used for brass warming pons, to tak
the cheel off the damp beeds some of us will be pressing
preesently."
Whist, whist, whist, flew three balls successively between
their heads. "Ha, here they begin to talk to us in earnest,
and now to our duty."
The next moment all was roar, and bustle, and confusion,
and death.
We will not stop to inquire why the British General,
Proctor, lost an advantage which had made itself apparent
to the meanest soldier of his army, by opening a
desultory and aimless fire of his light guns upon an
enemy to whom he thus afforded every possible opportunity
for preparation and defence; when, like Colonel, (now Sir
John) Harvey, not long subsequently at Stoney Creek, he
might have annihilated that enemy with the bayonet, and
with little comparative loss to himself. We will merely
observe that having failed to do so, nothing but the
determination and courage of his troops brought him
through the difficulties he himself had created, and to
the final attainment of the general order, complimenting
him on the highly judicious arrangements he had made on
the occasion; although, (as Cranstoun had predicted) not
before a damp bed had been pressed for the last time by
more than one of those who had so gallantly followed--or,
more strictly, preceded him.
The sun was in the meridian; all sounds of combat had
ceased, and such of the American Army as had survived
the total defeat, were to be seen disarmed and guarded,
wending their way sullenly in the direction by which the
victors had advanced in the morning. From the field, in
which the troops had commenced the action, numerous
sledges were seen departing, laden with the dead--the
wounded having previously been sent off. One of these
sledges remained stationary at some distance within the
line, where the ravages of death were marked by pools of
blood upon the snow, and at this point were grouped
several individuals, assembled round a body which was
about to be conveyed away.
"By Heavens, I would give the world never to have said
an unkind word to him," observed one, whose arm, suspended
from a sling, attested he had not come scatheless out of
the action. It was St. Clair, whose great ambition it
had always been to have his name borne among the list of
wounded--provided there were no broken bones in the
question.
"As brave as he was honest hearted," added a second, "you
say Grantham, that he forgave us all our nonsense."
"He did, Molineux. He declared he could not bear resentment
against you long. But still, I fear, he could not so
easily forget. He observed to me, jestingly, just before
deploying into line, that he felt his time was come, but
there can be no doubt, from what we all witnessed, that
he was determined from the outset to court his death."
Captain Molineux turned away, apparently much affected
--Middlemore spoke not, but it was evident he also was
deeply pained. Each seemed to feel that he had been in
some degree accessory to the catastrophe, but the past
could not be recalled. The body, covered with blood,
exuding from several wounds, was now placed with that of
Ensign Langley, (who had also fallen, and lay at a little
distance beyond), on the sledge which was drawn off to
join several others just departed, and the lingering
officers hastened to overtake their several companies.
When the action was at the hottest, one of the small guns
in front (all of which had been fearfully exposed), was
left without a single artilleryman. Availing themselves
of this circumstance, the enemy, who were unprovided with
artillery of any description, made a movement as if to
possess themselves of, and turn it against the attacking
force, then closing rapidly to dispute the possession of
the breast work which covered their riflemen. Colonel
St. Julian, who had continued to ride along the line with
as much coolness as if he had been assisting at a field
day, and who was literally covered with wounds, having
received no less than five balls, in various parts of
his body, seeing this movement, called out for volunteers
to rescue the gun from its perilous situation. Scarcely
had the words passed his lips when an individual moved
forward from the line, in the direction indicated.--It
was Lieutenant Raymond--Exposed to the fire, both of
friends and foes, the unfortunate officer advanced calmly
and unconcernedly, in the presence of the whole line,
and before the Americans, (kept in check by a hot and
incessant musketry), could succeed in even crossing their
defences, had seized the gun by the drag rope, and
withdrawn it under cover of the English fire. But this
gallant act of self-devotedness was not without its
terrible price. Pierced by many balls, which the American
rifleman had immediately directed at him, he fell dying
within ten feet of the British line, brandishing his
sword and faintly shouting a "huzza," that was answered
by his companions with the fierce spirit of men stung to
new exertion, and determined to avenge his fall.
Thus perished the fat, the plain, the carbuncled, but
really gallant-hearted Raymond--whose intrinsic worth
was never estimated until he had ceased to exist. His
fall, and all connected therewith, forms a sort of episode
in our story, yet is it one not altogether without its
moral. A private monument, on which was inscribed all
that may soothe and flatter after death, was erected to
his memory by those very officers whose persiflage,
attacking in this instance even his honor as a soldier,
had driven him to seek the fate he found. Of this there
could he no question--for, brave as he unquestionably
was, Raymond would not have acted as if courting death
throughout, had he not fully made up his mind either to
gain great distinction or to die under the eyes of those
who had, he conceived, so greatly injured him. It is but
justice to add that, for three days from his death--
Middlemore did not utter a single pun--neither did St.
Clair, or Molineux, indulge in a satirical observation.