The spring of 1813 had passed nearly away, yet without
producing any renewed effort on the part of the Americans.
From information obtained from the Indian scouts, it
however appeared that, far from being discouraged by
their recent disaster, they had moved forward a third
Army to the Miami, where they had strongly entrenched
themselves, until hitting opportunity should be found to
renew their attempt to recover the lost district. It was
also ascertained that, with a perseverance and industry
peculiar to themselves, they had been occupied throughout
the rigorous winter, in preparing a fleet of sufficient
force to compete with that of the British; and that,
abandoning the plan hitherto pursued by his predecessors,
the American leader of this third army of invasion,
purposed transporting his troops across the lake, instead
of running the risk of being harrassed and cut up in an
advance by land. To effect this, it was of course necessary
to have the command of the lake, and there were all the
sinews of exertion called into full exercise, to obtain
the desired ascendancy.
To defeat this intention, became now the chief object of
the British General. With the close of winter had ceased
the hunting pursuits of the warriors, so that each day
brought with it a considerable accession to the strength
of this wild people, vast numbers of whom had betaken
themselves to their hunting grounds, shortly after the
capture of Detroit. The chiefs of these several nations
were now summoned to a Council, in the course of which
it was decided that a formidable expedition, accompanied
by a heavy train of battering artillery, should embark
in batteaux, with a view to the reduction of the American
post established on the Miami;--a nucleus, around which
was fast gathering a spirit of activity that threatened
danger, if not annihilation, to the English influence in
the North Western districts. In the event of the
accomplishment of this design, Detroit and Amherstburg
would necessarily be released from all apprehension,
since, even admitting the Americans could acquire a
superiority of naval force on the lake, such superiority
could only be essentially injurious to us, as a means of
affording transport to, and covering the operations of
an invading army. If, however, that already on the Miami
could be defeated, and their fortress razed, it was not
probable that a fourth could be equipped and pushed
forward, with a view to offensive operations, in sufficient
time to accomplish any thing decisive before the winter
should set in. Tecumseh, who had just returned from
collecting new bodies of warriors, warmly approved the
project, and undertook to bring two thousand men into
the field, as his quota of the expedition, the departure
of which was decided for the seventh day from the Council.
Meanwhile, no exertions were wanting to place the little
fleet in a state of efficiency. During the winter, the
vessel described in our opening chapter of this tale, as
that on the completion of which numerous workmen were
intently engaged, had, after the fall of Detroit, and
the consequent capture of whatever barks the Americans
possessed, been utterly neglected; but now that it was
known the enemy were secretly and rapidly preparing an
overpowering force at the opposite extremity of the lake,
the toils of the preceding summer were renewed, and every
where, throughout the dock-yard, the same stirring industry
was perceptible. By all were these movements regarded
with an interest proportioned to the important consequences
at stake, but by none more than by Commodore Barclay
himself, whose watchful eye marked the progress, and
whose experience and judgment directed the organization
of the whole. The difficulties he had to contend with
were great, for not only were the artificers, employed
in the construction of the ship, men of limited knowledge
in their art, but even those who manned her, when completed,
were without the nautical experience and practice
indispensable to success; yet these disadvantages was he
prepared to overlook in the cheerfulness and ardor with
which each lent himself to exertion, and sought to supply
deficiency with zeal. The feelings of the gallant officer
in this position--on the one hand, sensible that to him
was confided the task of upholding the supremacy of his
country's flag, and on the other, compelled to confess
the inadequacy of the means placed at his disposal for
this object--may be easily understood. That his men were
brave he knew, but mere bravery would not suffice in a
contest where the skill of the seamen, not less than
brute courage, must be called into requisition. He had
reason to know that his enemy would not merely bring
stout hearts into the conflict, but active hands--men
whose lives had been passed on the restless waters of
ocean, and whose training had been perfected in the battle
and the tempest, while nine tenths of his own crews had
never planted foot beyond the limit of the lake on which
the merits and resources of both would be so shortly
tested. But "aut agere aut mori," was his motto, and of
the appropriateness of this his actions have formed the
most striking illustration.
The day on which the Council relative to the proposed
expedition to the Miami was held, was characterized by
one of those sudden outbursts of elemental war, so common
to the Canadas in early summer--and, which, in awful
grandeur of desolation, are frequently scarcely interior
to the hurricanes of the tropics. The morning had been
oppressively sultry, and there was that general and heavy
lethargy of nature that usually precedes a violent
reaction. About noon, a small dark speck was visible in
the hitherto cloudless horizon, and this presently grew
in size until the whole western sky was one dense mass
of threatening black, which eventually spread itself over
the entire surface of the heavens, leaving not a hand's
breadth any where visible. Presently, amid the sultry
stillness that prevailed, there came a slight breeze over
the face of the waters, and then, as if some vast battering
train had suddenly opened its hundred mouths of terror,
vomiting forth showers of grape and other missiles, came
astounding thunder-claps, and forked lightnings, and
rain, and hail, and whistling wind--all in such terrible
union, yet such fearful disorder, that man, the last to
take warning, or feel awed by the anger of the common
parent, Nature, bent his head in lowliness and silence
to her voice, and awaited tremblingly the passing away
of her wrath.
Henry Grantham, whose turn of duty had again brought him
to Amherstburg, was in the mess-room of the garrison when
the storm was at the fiercest. Notwithstanding the
excitement of the Council scene, at which he had been
present, he had experienced an unusual depression throughout
the day, originating partly in the languid state of the
atmosphere, but infinitely more in the anxiety under
which he labored in regard to his brother, of whom no
other intelligence had been received, since his departure
with his prisoners for Buffalo, than what vague rumour,
coupled with the fact of the continued absence of the
schooner, afforded. That the vessel had been captured by
the enemy there could be no doubt; but, knowing as he
did, the gallant spirit of Gerald, there was reason to
imagine that he had not yielded to his enemies, before
every means of resistance had been exhausted: and, if
so, what might not have been the effect of his obstinacy
(if such a term could be applied to unshaken intrepidity,)
on men exasperated by opposition, and eager for revenge.
In the outset he had admitted his gentle cousin Gertrude
to his confidence, as one most suited, by her docility,
to soothe without appearing to remark on his alarm, but
when, little suspecting the true motive of her agitation,
he saw her evince an emotion surpassing his own, and
admitting and giving way to fears beyond any he would
openly avow, he grew impatient and disappointed, and
preferring rather to hear the tocsin of alarm sounded
from his own heart than from the lips of another, he
suddenly, and much to the surprise of the affectionate
girl, discontinued all allusion to the subject. But
Henry's anxiety was not the less poignant from being
confined within his own breast, and although it gratified
him to find that flattering mention was frequently made
of his brother at the mess-table, coupled with regret
for his absence, it was reserved for his hours of privacy
and abstraction to dwell upon the fears which daily became
more harrassing and perplexing.
On the present occasion, even while his brother officers
had thought nor ear but for the terrible tempest that
raged without, and at one moment threatened to bury them
beneath the trembling roof, the mind of Henry was full
of his absent brother, whom, more than ever, he now seemed
to regret, from the association of the howling tempest
with the wild element on which he had last beheld him;
and so complete at length had become the ascendancy of
his melancholy, that when the storm had been in some
degree stilled, and the rain abated, he look an early
leave of his companions, with a view to indulge in privacy
the gloomy feelings by which be felt himself oppressed.
In passing through the gate of the Fort, on his way into
the town, his attention was arrested by several groups
of persons, consisting of soldiers, Indians, and
inhabitants, who, notwithstanding the inclemency of the
hour, were gathered on the high bank in front of the
demi-lune battery, eagerly bending their gaze upon the
riser. Half curious to know what could have attracted
them in such weather from shelter, Henry advanced and
mingled in the crowd, which gave way at his approach.
Although the fury of the tempest had spent itself, there
was still wind enough to render it a matter of necessary
precaution that the bystanders should secure a firm
footing on the bank, while the water, violently agitated
and covered with foam, resembled rather a pigmy sea than
an inland river--so unusual and so vast were its waves.
The current, moreover, increased in strength by the sudden
swelling of the waters, dashed furiously down, giving
its direction to the leaping billows that rode impatiently
upon its surface; and at the point of intersection by
the island of Bois Blanc, formed so violent an eddy within
twenty feet of the land, as to produce the effect of a
whirlpool, while again, between the island and the Canadian
shore, the current, always rapid and of great force, flew
boiling down its channel, and with a violence almost
quadrupled.
Amid this uproar of the usually placid river, there was
but one bark found bold enough to venture upon her angered
bosom, and this, although but an epitome of those that
have subdued the world of waters, and chained them in
subservience to the will of man, now danced gallantly,
almost terrifically, from billow to billow, and, with
the feathery lightness of her peculiar class, seemed
borne onward, less by the leaping waves themselves than
by the white and driving spray that fringed their summits.
This bark--a canoe evidently of the smallest description
--had been watched in its progress, from afar, by the
groups assembled on the bank, who had gathered at each
other's call, to witness and marvel at the gallant daring
of those who had committed it to the boiling element.
Two persons composed her crew--the one, seated in the
stern, and carefully guiding the bark so as to enable
her to breast the threatening waves, which, in quick
succession, rose as if to accomplish her overthrow--the
other, standing at her bows, the outline of his upper
figure designed against the snow-white sail, and, with
his arms folded across his chest, apparently gazing
without fear on the danger which surrounded him. It was
evident, from their manner of conducting the bark, that
the adventurers were not Indians, and yet there was
nothing to indicate to what class of the white family
they belonged. Both were closely wrapped in short, dark
coloured pea coats, and their heads were surmounted with
glazed hats--a species of costume that more than any
thing else, proved their familiarity with the element
whose brawling they appeared to brave with an indifference
bordering on madness.
Such was the position of the parties, at the moment when
Henry Grantham gained the bank. Hitherto the canoe, in
the broad reach that divided the island from the American
mainland, had had merely the turbulence of the short
heavy waves, and a comparatively modified current, to
contend against. Overwhelming even as these difficulties
would have proved to men less gifted with the power of
opposing and vanquishing them, they were but light in
comparison with what remained to be overcome. The canoe
was now fast gaining the head of the island, and pursuing
a direct course for the whirlpool already described. The
only means of avoiding this was by closely hugging the
shore, between which and the violent eddy without, the
water, broken in its impetuosity by the covering head
land, presented a more even and less agitated surface.
This head land once doubled, the safety of the adventurers
was ensured, since, although the tremendous current which
swept through the inner channel must have borne them
considerably downwards, still the canoe would have
accomplished the transit below the town in perfect safety.
The fact of this opportunity being neglected, led at once
to the inference that the adventurers were total strangers,
and distinct voices were now raised by those on the bank,
to warn them of their danger--but whether it was that
they heard not, or understood not, the warning was
unnoticed. Once indeed it seemed as if he who so ably
conducted the course of the bark, had comprehended and
would have followed the suggestion so earnestly given,
for his tiny sail was seen to flutter for the first time
in the wind, as with the intention to alter his course.
But an impatient gesture from his companion in the bow,
who was seen to turn suddenly round, and utter something,
(which was however inaudible to those onshore,) again
brought the head of the fragile vessel to her original
course, and onward she went leaping and bounding, apparently
with the design to clear the whirlpool at a higher point
of the river. Nothing short of a miracle could now possibly
enable them to escape being drawn into the boiling vortex,
and, during the moments that succeeded, every heart beat
high with fearful expectation as to the result. At length
the canoe came with a sudden plunge into the very centre
of the current, which, all the skill of the steersman
was insufficient to enable him to clear. Her bow yawed,
her little sail fluttered--and away she flew, broadside
foremost, down the stream with as little power of resistance
as a feather or a straw. Scarcely had the eye time to
follow her in this peculiar descent, when she was in the
very heart of the raging eddy. For a moment she reeled
like a top, then rolled two or three times over, and
finally disappeared altogether. Various expressions of
horror broke from the several groups of whites and Indians,
all of whom had anticipated the catastrophe without the
power of actively interposing. Beyond the advice that
was given, not a word was uttered, but every eye continued
fixed on the whirlpool, as though momentarily expecting
to see something issue from its bosom. After the lapse
of a minute, a dark object suddenly presented itself some
twenty yards below, between the island and the town. It
was the canoe which, bottom upwards, and deprived of its
little mast and sail, had again risen to the surface,
and was floating rapidly down with the current. Presently
afterwards two heads were seen nearly at the point where
the canoe had again emerged. They were the unfortunate
adventurers, one of whom appeared to be supporting his
companion with one arm, whilst with the other he dashed
away the waters that bore them impetuously along. The
hats of both had fallen off, and as he who exerted himself
so strenuously, rose once or twice in the vigour of his
efforts above the element with which he contended, he
seemed to present the grisly, woolly hair, and the sable
countenance of an aged negro. A vague surmise of the
truth now flashed upon the mind, of the excited officer,
but when, presently afterwards, he saw the powerful form
once more raised, and in a voice that made itself distinctly
heard above the howling of the wind, exclaim: "Help a
dare," there was no longer a doubt, and he rushed towards
the dock yard, to gain which the exertions of the negro
were now directed.
On reaching it, he found both Gerald and his faithful
attendant just touching the shore. Aroused by the cry
for help which Sambo had pealed forth, several of the
workmen had quitted the shelter of the block houses in
which they were lodged, and hastened to the rescue of
him whom they immediately afterwards saw struggling
furiously to free himself and companion from the violent
current. Stepping to the extremity on some loose timber
which lay secured to the shore, yet floating in the
river--they threw out poles, one of which Sambo seized
like an enraged mastiff in his teeth, and still supporting
the body, and repelling the water with his disengaged
arm, in this manner succeeded in gaining the land. The
crews of the little fleet, which lay armed a hundred
yards lower down, had also witnessed the rapid descent
of two apparently drowning men, and ropes had every where
been thrown out from the vessels. As for lowering a boat
it was out of the question, for no boat could have resisted
the violence of the current, even for some hours after
the storm had wholly ceased.
It may be easily conceived with what mingled emotions
the generous Henry, whose anxiety had been so long excited
in regard to his brother's fate, now beheld that brother
suddenly restored to him. Filled with an affection, that
was rendered the more intense by the very fact of the
danger from which he had just seen him rescued, he,
regardless of those around, and in defiance of his wet
and dripping clothes, sprang eagerly to his embrace, but
Gerald received him with a cold--almost averted air.
Suffering, rather than sharing, this mark of his fraternal
love, he turned the instant afterwards to his servant,
and in a tone of querulousness, said--"Sambo, give me
more wine."
Inexpressibly shocked, and not knowing what to make of
this conduct, Henry bent his glance upon the negro. The
old man shook his head mournfully, and even with the
dripping spray that continued to fall from his woollen
locks upon his cheeks, tears might be seen to mingle. A
dreadful misgiving came over the mind of the youth, and
he felt his very hair rise thrillingly, as he for a moment
admitted the horrible possibility, that the shock produced
by his recent accident had affected his brother's intellect.
Sambo replied to his master's demand, by saying "there
was no wine--the canoe and its contents had been utterly
lost."
All this passed during the first few moments of their
landing. The necessity for an immediate change of apparel
was obvious, and Gerald and his servant were led into
the nearest block house, where each of the honest fellows
occupying it was eager in producing whatever his rude
wardrobe afforded. The brothers then made the best of
their way, followed by the negro, to their own abode in
the town.
The evening being damp and chilly, a fire was kindled in
the apartment in which Gerald dined--the same in which
both had witnessed the dying moments of their mother,
and Henry those of their father. It had been chosen by
the former, in the height of her malady, for its
cheerfulness, and she had continued in it until the hour
of her decease; while Major Grantham had selected it for
his chamber of death, for the very reason, that it had
been that of his regretted wife. Henry, having already
dined, sat at the opposite extremity of the table, watching
his brother whose features he had so longed to behold
once more; yet, not without a deep and bitter feeling of
grief that those features should have undergone so complete
a change in their expression towards himself. Gerald had
thrown off the temporary and ill fitting vestments
exchanged for his own wet clothing, and now that he
appeared once more in his customary garb, an extraordinary
alteration was perceptible in his whole appearance.
Instead of the blooming cheek, and rounded and elegant
form, for which he had always been remarkable, he now
offered to the eye of his anxious brother an emaciated
figure, and a countenance pale even unto wanness--while
evidence of much care, and inward suffering, might be
traced in the stern contraction of his hitherto open
brow. There was also a dryness in his speech that startled
and perplexed even more than the change in his person.
The latter might be the effect of imprisonment, and its
anxiety and privation, coupled with the exhaustion arising
from his recent accident, but how was the first to be
accounted for, and wherefore was he, after so long a
separation, and under such circumstances, thus
uncommunicative and unaffectionate? All these reflections
occurred to the mind of the sensitive Henry, as he sat
watching, and occasionally addressing a remark to, his
taciturn brother, until he became fairly bewildered in
his efforts to find a clue to his conduct. The horrible
dread which had first suggested itself, of the partial
overthrow of intellect, had passed away, but to this had
succeeded a discovery, attended by quite as much concern
--although creating less positive alarm. He had seen,
with inexpressible pain, that Gerald ate but little,
seeming rather to loathe his food, while on the other
hand, he had recourse more frequently to wine, drinking
off bumpers with greedy avidity, until, yielding at length
to the excess of his potations, he fell fast asleep in
the arm chair he had drawn to the fire, overcome by the
mingled influence of wine, fatigue, and drowsiness.
Bitter were the feelings of Henry Grantham, as thus he
gazed upon his sleeping brother. Fain would he have
persuaded himself, that the effect he now witnessed was
an isolated instance, and occurring only under the peculiar
circumstances of the moment. It was impossible to recal
the manner in which he had demanded "wine," from their
faithful old servant and friend, and not feel satisfied,
that the tone proclaimed him one who had been in the
frequent habit of repeating that demand, as the prepared,
yet painful manner of the black, indicated a sense of
having been too frequently called upon to administer to
it. Alas, thought the heart-stricken Henry, can it really
be, that he whom I have cherished in my heart of hearts,
with more than brother's love has thus fallen? Has Gerald,
formerly as remarkable for sobriety, as for every honorable
principle, acquired even during the months I have so
wretchedly mourned his absence, the fearful propensities
of the drunkard. The bare idea overpowered him, and with
difficulty restraining his tears, he rose from his seat,
and paced the room for some time, in a state of
indescribable agitation. Then again he stopped, and when
he looked in the sleeping face of his unconscious brother,
he was more than ever struck by the strange change which
had been wrought in his appearance. Finding that Gerald
still slept profoundly, he took the resolution of instantly
questioning Sambo, as to all that had befallen them during
their absence, and ascertaining, if possible, to what
circumstance the mystery which perplexed him was
attributable. Opening and reclosing the door with caution,
he hastened to the room, which, owing to his years and
long and faithful services, had been set apart for the
accommodation of the old man when on shore. Here he found
Sambo, who had dispatched his substantial meal, busily
occupied in drying his master's wet dress, before a large
blazing wood fire--and laying out, with, the same view,
certain papers, the contents of a pocket book, which had
been completely saturated with water. A ray of satisfaction
lighted the dark, but intelligent face of the negro,
which the instant before, had worn an expression of
suffering, as the young officer, pressing his hand with
warmth, thanked him deeply and fervently, for the noble,
almost superhuman exertions he had made that day, to
preserve his brother's life.
"Oh Massa Henry," was all the poor creature could say in
reply, as he retained the pressure with an emphasis that
spoke his profound attachment to both. Then leaning his
white head upon his hand against the chimney, and bursting
into tears; "berry much change, he poor broder Geral, he
not a same at all."
Here was a sad opening indeed to the subject. The heart
of the youth sank within him, yet feeling the necessity
of knowing all connected with his brother's unhappiness,
he succeeded in drawing the old man into conversation,
and finally into a narration of all their adventures, as
far, at least, as he had personal knowledge, from the
moment of their leaving Detroit in the preceding autumn.
When, after the expiration of an hour, he returned to
the drawing room, Gerald was awake, and so far restored
by the effect of his sound sleep, as to be, not only more
communicative, but more cordial towards his brother. He
even reverted to past scenes, and spoke of the mutual
frolics of their youth, with a cheerfulness bordering on
levity; but this pained Henry the more, for he saw in it
but the fruit of a forced excitement--as melancholy in
adoption as pernicious in effect--and his own heart
repugned all participation in so unnatural a gaiety,
although, he enforced himself to share it to the outward
eye. Fatigue at length compelled Gerald to court the
quiet of his pillow, and, overcome as his senses were
with wine, he slept profoundly until morning.