Had General O’Neill not entertained strong hopes he should be
re-inforced, knowing, as he did, that a large body of Fenian troops were
scattered along the American frontier, under the command of brave and
true men, he would have broken camp with a sad heart on the night of
the first. No man in existence was more thoroughly aware than he, that,
‘though brave as lions, the force at his command was altogether too
small to effect anything permanent upon the soil of the enemy. The
most he hoped to achieve, was a footing, until his command had acquired
sufficient strength to enable him to move upon some of the important
towns of the Upper Province. Of the dangers and perils that surrounded
him he was fully aware; but he knew, also, that, now that he had crossed
the Rubicon, how fatal it would be to the prestige of the cause of
Ireland, to retreat again to the American shore without measuring
swords with the foe, no matter what their numbers, and, if needs be,
illustrating, with a handful of men, the spirit resolve and bravery
which, long previously, fostered by the noble Roberts and Gibbons, etc.,
fired the whole Organization on this great continent, and placed the
ultimate independence of Ireland beyond any possible contingency.
O’Neill was just the man to make this impression, and to seize upon
every circumstance calculated to aid him in the attempt. Fresh from the
fields of the South, where his sword and name were a watchword and a
tower of strength when danger was to be met in the gap, he was used to
war in all its phases; while the fierce leaven of his patriotism and the
mighty promptings of his ancient name, now that he had made a descent
upon the enemy of his country and his race, rendered him almost
invincible. Though small his band, he knew that each man who had
accompanied him thus far was a host in himself, and ennobled by a spirit
identical with that which prompted him in the main. And now the hour had
arrived when he should show the enemy and the world that numbers were
as nothing in the sight of the God of battles. Besides, he felt it, as a
mere matter of generalship, incumbent upon him to maintain, if possible,
a foothold or rallying point for whatever reinforcements might follow
him, as well as keep open the line of communication with the shores he
had but just left. In short, critically as he was placed, and regarding
his little host as the vanguard of freedom, he determined to sacrifice
himself and them to a man, if necessary, in maintaining his ground until
thoroughly satisfied of the truth of his fears that President Roberts,
deceived, like the Organization generally, in the capacity of the
Secretary of War, was no longer able to send reinforcements or further
a movement calculated to sweep the Province from Sandwich to Quebec. In
this way matters stood with him on the night that he left his camp at
Newbiggin’s Farm. He was aware that two large bodies of the enemy’s
troops were marching upon him from two opposite points, and that to
permit them to form a junction would be to court utter annihilation. As
before observed, then, he set out at the hour already named, with a view
to getting between them and defeating the one before the other came up.
In his sublime enthusiasm he invested each individual of his command
with the purposes and attributes of a hero, and felt that a body so
constituted, so compact and so easily handled, could be slung with
fearful effect against almost any number of men who had no heart in the
fight, save that which was engendered by an uneasy and uncomfortable
sentiment of badly founded loyalty to the flag of a tyrant, or that
degrading spirit of hireling hostility, which changed its force
and direction, in accordance with the amount of gold offered by the
subsidizing party.
Moved by impulses so noble and disinterested, the whole camp now marched
away in the direction of Chippewa, burning the bridges behind them, to
a point some five or six miles distant, where the reconnoitering party,
under the command of Col. Hoy, had been ordered to wait until the main
body of the troops came up, and to the left of which Gen. O’Neill hoped
to intercept some one of the two hostile forces that were, as he was
perfectly convinced, moving against him from opposite points of the
compass.
In the rear of the moving camp followed Black Jack and Wilson, at a very
respectful distance; they being comfortably seated in the wagon of the
latter, that had been brought cautiously from its hiding place, when the
steady tramp of the rear guard of the army had died away.
“What a pity it is,” said Wilson, as the team crawled slowly along,
“that we have no chance to take the number of a few of those self-same
invaders from behind a tree or log; for I find the English blood
beginning to stir within me.”
“Vot’s to be gained by it,” returned Black Jack, “seein as ‘ow there’s
no use in cuttin a vizzen or scuttlin a nob, unless there’s some svag
at the end on it? For my own part,” he continued, “I’d rather that ve
should try our luck among some of the farmers or gentry about here;
although I’m certain they’re purty vide avake seem as vot’s afoot just
now.”
“Yes! yes!” returned the other, “that’s all well enough in its way; but
as we can’t hope to accomplish much until there’s a fight between the
invaders and the invaded, I should like, if an opportunity turned up,
to thin out a few of those green jackets while we hid the horses hard by
and waited the result of the conflict.”
“Vell! vell!” replied Jack, “there vouldn’t be much ‘arm in tryin our
‘and in that vay, as ven ve got a chance ve might step into the ranks of
the Hinglish and give them a lift; ven, if needs be, ve could slip out
again and take our luck in the trail of the fight, pickin hup votever
might drop in the vay.”
About midnight the troops came up with Col. Hoy’s party, and after
marching a considerable distance and then taking a couple of hours rest,
the whole force made a cautious detour towards the direct line leading
from Ridgeway to Chippewa; O’Neill being satisfied that he had already
intercepted the junction of the British, and should be able to engage
and defeat either one party or the other before they could both unite.
In this way the night was passed; every precaution being taken to guard
against ambush or surprise, until morning became well advanced, and
the invaders, after having emerged from a swamp through which they had
marched, found themselves within three or four miles of Ridgeway.
It was at this point and period that the Kid, after leaving Greaves,
had come up with, or rather encountered, the wagon with Black Jack and
Wilson, who, as usual, kept moving slowly in the rear of the troops and
sniffing, like blood-hounds or vultures, their prey in the distance.
As observed in a previous chapter, the two worthies had scarcely
welcomed their companion or seen him comfortably seated beside them,
before they were all aroused by the report of fire-arms, apparently
ahead of the main body of the troops, which, as near as they could
calculate, was about half a mile in advance. It was at this moment that
the brave Col. Starr, who commanded the advance, got the first glimpse
of the outposts of the enemy, which he at once charged and drove in
like so many sheep; and this was the music heard by Wilson and his
companions. Shortly afterwards, the main body of the enemy, commanded by
Lieut. Col. Booker, from Port Colborne, were discovered, and the battle
was opened by a speedy and judicious disposition of the Fenian forces,
and the hasty throwing up of a rail barricade from behind which some of
the Boys in Green commenced their work of destruction; while others of
them kept the British skirmishers in hand in the woods hard by, and in a
manner the most cool and artistic.
Any person who gets a view of Major Dennison’s map, in the work already
mentioned, representing the disposition of the two antagonistic forces
at Ridgeway, will at once be struck with the overwhelming numbers of
that under the command of Col. Booker, compared with the compactness
and fewness of the troops commanded by General O’Neill. In this chart
we have the whole field studded, on the British side, with Highlanders,
York Rifles, Trinity College Companies, University Rifles, the Queen’s
Own and the 13th Field Battery, etc.; while on the side of the Army of
the Irish Republic, as the diagram shows, we have but a handful of
men, without artillery, and with but very few mounted officers. The
circumstances under which the forces met, were favorable to Col. Booker,
also; for not only had the British the advantage of a great superiority
in numbers, stores and equipments, but they were engaged at their own
doors, in the midst of a passive or friendly element, and with unlimited
supplies and resources at their command; while, on the contrary, the
men under General O’Neill were but poorly equipped, without supplies or
proper ammunition--their bullets having, in some instances, to be
pared on the field with a knife before they fitted the bore of their
rifles--and were in the midst of an enemy’s country, surrounded on
all sides by hostile battalions, and with but a slight hope of being
reinforced before the enemy came down in overwhelming numbers upon them.
This was a critical position, and well calculated to dismay any man less
bold and courageous than O’Neill; but frightful as it was, he saw the
necessity of accepting the situation. He remembered having, on the
battle fields of the South, with but twenty men, defeated two hundred of
a force under Hamilton, and run them in helpless disorder for a
distance of thirteen miles; killing five of them with his own hand. He
remembered, in addition, having, with a command of but fifty, charged,
on the same fields, in defence of the American Union, two different
regiments of the enemy, routed them, and recaptured the officers
and guns of the Republic that had been previously taken by them; and
remembering all this, his heart rose within him, and he felt that with
his little band of Spartans, few as they were in number, he could work
a double miracle when he met the tyrant of his name, his country and his
race face to face. And so he did not stoop to measure the forces that
were surrounding him; well knowing that, if all came to all, and that,
if it were necessary for him to fall back upon the American shore,
he could cut his way through them; as he was inclined to regard their
numbers as but simple encumbrances to themselves; feeling, as he
did, that they could be neither disciplined nor actuated by any proud
impulses such as fired his own troops and his own bosom.
Buoyed with this spirit, and moved by the conviction that the eyes of
the world were upon him, the first glimpse of the enemy was as one of
sunshine to him; and as he looked around him and saw his brave officers
and men towering and immoveable as cliffs in the presence of the angry
deep, the strange fire so noticeable sometimes in his eye, blazed forth
as though his soul went out in flame through each glaring orb; and the
work of death had begun.
The battle of Ridgeway was commenced by skirmishers who were posted
on both sides, among the woods and orchards with which that locality
abounds; and although for some short period but little life was lost on
the part of either the British or the Fenians, the daring of the latter
had evidently confused and, in a degree, paralyzed the former from the
first. In the woods, they gave the Highlanders a dreadful overhauling,
and when pressed by numbers they steadily fell back upon the main body,
with advantage to themselves and with loss to their opponents. When
once aware of their position, and the great odds against them, in the
incredible space of ten minutes, they threw up a breastwork of rails,
from behind which they now began to deal the most deadly havoc amongst
the enemy. The men engaged in more exposed positions, performed absolute
miracles of valor, and charged the foe in the face of the most galling
fire, until they actually touched their bayonets, and then poured in the
murderous volley that shattered their ranks and strewed the field with
their wounded and dying. As we learn from Major Denison, of the British
forces, the Fenian officers were ever in front of their men, cheering
them on to death or victory, and evincing such instances of true bravery
as commanded the admiration of even those against whom they fought.
Individual acts of the most terrible daring were performed by them,
and so generally did the whole of O’Neil’s staff, including his gallant
Aid-de-Camp, Lieut. Rudolph Fitzpatrick, as well as all the officers of
the various companies, participate in the dreadful struggle, that
even to this hour no writer has attempted to give any one of them
pre-eminence over the other. And so of the rank and file, also. Scarce
a single man of them, at one period, but was spattered with the blood
of the enemy; and never did a solitary knot of them give way, for an
instant, before any force that they were ordered to withstand. Wherever
they moved the dead and wounded tumbled before them, until, fatigued
by the frightful heat of the weather, they were, from time to time,
constrained to pause in their dreadful work.
The engagement had continued for about an hour, when the brave Lieut.
Lonergan bit the dust, while a cheer for Ireland struggled through the
death rattle in his throat. He fell, a true hero and patriot, and well
was his death avenged; for no sooner had its intelligence spread through
his company, than its members became absolute tigers, and literally
glutted themselves with blood. Then it was, that the Sun-burst carried
through that hot field, from beginning to end, by Sergeant John Smith,
of the 7th I.R.A., company G, might be seen flying where the enemy was
thickest, surrounded by a struggling band, each of which was a host
himself. Then it was, that the wild cry of “Erin go bragh!” smote on
the ear of the foe like a death knell, paralyzed all their energies,
and froze the warm current in their heart. At that moment a dozen men in
green were worth a regiment of the material he fought against; and thus
it was, that the enemy determined to mass all their forces against
the gallant O’Neill, who stood like a rock amid the dreadful conflict,
giving his orders with as much coolness as if he were dictating a
letter; and, while the bullets whistled about him like hail, applauding
the noble deeds of his men and officers, the next moment to be whirled
into the dreadful _melee_ himself.
With the keen, quick eye of a soldier, O’Neill perceived the intention
of his adversary, who had, now, as he saw clearly, made up his mind to
mass all his force against the Fenian troops and flank them. At this
point the Boys in Green were ordered to fall steadily back and take up
a new position, some distance in the rear of their rail barricade. The
movement was performed in the most masterly manner; while the enemy
continued to extend his wings--both right and left. On perceiving it,
however, he construed it, as it was intended he should, into a retreat,
and paused for a moment to consider what was best to be done. While
deliberating, however, O’Neill, who had in vain been for some time
endeavoring to draw out his centre, perceiving that the moment had
arrived, sounded the charge, and, the next instant, the whole compact
body of the invaders, with himself and his officers at their head,
were thundering down, with the sweep of the Cyclone, upon the weak and
startled centre of the foe, crashing through it like a cavalcade of
thunder bolts, and scattering the whole of the English forces like chaff
before the wind!
In the twinkling of an eye the enemy was flying in every direction
before the victorious army of the Irish Republic! In their ignoble
flight they divested themselves of all the clothing they could decently
spare, and of everything that could tend to impede their progress! The
field was strown with their great coats, knapsacks, rifles, and musical
instruments belonging to their bands. Their dead and dying were left
unheeded, and in every direction lay the unmistakable evidences of
their sudden disaster and hopeless defeat. The compactness and dreadful
resolve of the force slung against them by O’Neill, and the masterly
way in which the bolt was hurled, at once bid defiance to all their
pre-conceived ideas of fighting, or of the wonders that could be
attained by a handful of brave men, commanded by a dauntless and
experienced soldier; so, that their rumored attempt at rallying is
supposed to have originated in a desire on the part of their historian,
to lessen the disgrace of their defeat in the eyes of the people of
Canada; for it is well known, that so hot and heavy was the pursuit,
that they not only had no time to rally, but so intent was each one of
them on effecting his own personal safety, that all discipline was at an
end; until the Fenians, on perceiving that they were not yet reinforced,
felt it advisable, notwithstanding their success, to fall back on Fort
Erie, for the purpose of keeping their line of communication open with
the American shore.
And yet until this disaster had overtaken them, the British troops
fought well, considering the incentives they had to stake their lives on
the field of battle. Nor were the Queen’s Own, who suffered so severely
in this tremendous charge, and who fled so panic-stricken before it,
a whit behind, in courage, some of the companies who appear to have
escaped with less censure from the Canadian public, in relation to the
loss of this important field. The Queen’s Own, as we are creditably
informed, came up well to the mark on more than one occasion; and only
gave way before such a charge as that which carried the day at Fontenoy,
and which was, at the period, absolutely irresistible.
Barry and his comrades of the Canadian Fort fought throughout the whole
morning with the most heroic courage. In several hand to hand encounters
he performed prodigies of valor, and once thought he perceived the Kid
and Black Jack, together with Wilson whom he saw in their company at
Newbiggin’s farm, fighting on the English side. In this he was not
mistaken; for these three worthies, on discovering the superior force
of the British, at once concealed their horses and wagon in a sheltered
hollow hard by the field, and making a detour through the woods on the
verge of which they were passing, joined in the engagement, against the
men who had treated them so well but a few hours previously. This they
accomplished immediately after Col. Starr had driven in the outposts
of the enemy, and when they had ascertained that the English forces
outnumbered the invaders to an extent which, as they supposed, rendered
the success of the latter totally out of the question.
While on one occasion, Nicholas was engaged with a Highlander whom
he was pressing hard, a ball grazed his shoulder, evidently fired
stealthily from behind a neighboring tree. A glance in the direction
revealed the form of the Kid retreating from the spot and seeking
shelter behind another, around which were gathered a few of the enemy
who were paying some attention to a wounded officer. This struck him
as strange; but as he had other work in hand, he permitted his cowardly
assailant to escape for the moment. Later in the day, however, he caught
yet another sight of him, and was satisfied that he had made a second
deadly attempt upon his life. In this way the matter stood touching
this peculiar case, until the total rout of the forces and their retreat
towards Ridgeway village; when Barry, left with a few men to look after
the dead and wounded while the main body pursued the fugitives, had yet
another opportunity of testing the kindly intentions of Smith; for while
he and four or five others were collecting the dead into one particular
spot beneath a huge elm, in the vicinity of a house near which the
greatest carnage had taken place, another ball whizzed by his ear; and
the next moment the door of the building opened and out rushed half a
dozen men, armed to the teeth, and laying one of his party dead at his
feet with the only bullet that had taken effect out of a volley that
had been fired as they rushed forward to overwhelm him in a hand to hand
struggle.
The assailants were now six to five, but Barry soon made the numbers
more equal, and the fight becoming desperate, two of his antagonists
closed with him, who appeared to be men of tremendous activity and great
personal courage. What seemed strangest, however, in the whole of
this sudden attack, was, all the party that rushed from the house were
masked, although he was satisfied that one of them, at least, was the
Kid. The contest had continued for about eight or ten minutes when one
of his assailants was stretched at his feet by an unseen hand; the other
taking immediate flight. He looked around,--a stranger stood by his
side. He was a handsome young man dressed in the plain garb of a farmer.
Anxious to learn how the rest of his comrades fared, while thanking his
new ally for his timely assistance, he glanced in the direction in which
they fought; all save one was wounded but their antagonists lay beside
them dead or dying. Begging the stranger to render him some assistance
in staunching the blood of those who still survived, and removing them
to a shed belonging to the house hard by, he discovered that his fallen
adversary, who lay quite senseless from the blow he had received, now
seemed to be bleeding profusely from some wound inflicted by himself;
although until that moment he had not noticed it. His enemy had fought
with a long, keen dagger after he had discharged his rifle and thrown it
away, while the fugitive used one of the ordinary rifle-bayonets in his
attack. The superb swordsmanship of their intended victim, however, was
more than a match for them, and would, in all probability have triumphed
of itself had not the contest been broken in upon in the manner already
described.
In the course of a very few moments, the sufferers were removed from out
the broiling sun to the shed just mentioned, where they were cared for
as well as circumstances would permit--the stranger passing to and from
the adjoining house with the necessary bandages, water, etc.
While removing the masks of two of the assailing party, who appeared to
be mortally wounded, for the purpose of giving them the draft of water
they had so earnestly though feebly implored, as Barry suspected, one of
them was the Kid. The other was Wilson, whose last midnight journey had
evidently been performed, as he was sinking fast, and that, too, without
having gratified his love of plunder in a single instance connected with
the invasion from which he and his two companions had anticipated so
much. Outside, beneath a huge elm, lay Black Jack stone dead, from a
frightful bayonet wound in his throat. His mask had fallen off in his
death struggles, which must have been frightful, judging from the manner
in which his clothes were covered with dust and the way in which the
earth was kicked up all around him. Never was a more horrible face
turned in such hideous blindness on the sun. His eyes were staring
wide open, and his huge mouth, fringed with blood-stained froth, seemed
stretched in demoniacal laughter at some horrid and unearthly orgy in
which he was about to join. The sight was actually appalling; and Barry
turned away from it in utter loathing to minister to those who were yet
within the reach of human aid.
Although, dangerously wounded, he found that, unlike the same number
of their comrades who lay stretched on the green sward without, his two
companions who had been brought to the earth without being killed, were
not beyond the reach of hope. With their antagonists, however, it was
different; and now that Barry perceived the Kid; or Smith as we shall
now call him, was fast approaching his end, in the great anxiety that
he felt concerning the fate of his beloved, he knelt beside him and
implored him to give him any information that he might possess regarding
her, and so atone, before he crossed the threshold of the grave, for
any wrong that he might have been instrumental in doing her through the
machinations of others.
The dying man raised his heavy eyelids for a moment and ere they dropped
again, managed, as if by one last effort, to point towards the prostrate
form of the principal antagonist of our hero, who still lay insensible a
short distance from him. His chest labored wildly for a few seconds, but
before he could ejaculate a single word, a sudden spirt of blood leaped
from his mouth and he was dead. Wilson had passed away more slowly and
less perceptibly. From the moment he had been removed to the shed he
spoke but once; and that was when he uttered a feeble cry for water. On
beholding the latter dead, the stranger, who had lent such timely aid
to our hero, regarded the silent form with a curious expression of
countenance, and then turned away towards the house. In the meantime,
the man who had for so far lain insensible, began to recover slowly.
Hitherto, his mask which hid but half his face, leaving his mouth and
chin uncovered, had not been removed; but now, as if in some uneasy
dream, his trembling hand tore it mechanically away, revealing, to the
utter astonishment of Barry, the hooked nose and ghastly countenance of
Greaves!