LITTLE YORK, NIAGARA, AMHERSTBURG.
In common with most great men, Brock found distraction in trifles. For
weeks prior to leaving Quebec all kinds of gayety prevailed. A visit
from Governor Gore of Upper Canada, and the arrival of the fleet from
Guernsey and two frigates from Portsmouth, gave a fillip to society.
Races, water-parties and country picnics were the order of the day. Our
hero's contribution consisted of a banquet and grand ball. He had his
own troubles, however, that even the versatile Dobson could not
overcome, and he roundly scolded his brother Irving for not sending him
a new cocked hat.[2]
"That cocked hat," he said, "has not been received; a most distressing
circumstance, as from the enormity of my head I find the utmost
difficulty in getting a substitute."
His departure for York weighed upon him. In Quebec he had the most
"delightful garden imaginable, with abundance of melons and other good
things"--these, together with his new bastions and forts, he had to
desert. Being somewhat of a philosopher, he said that since fate decreed
the best portion of his life was to be wasted in inaction, and as
President Jefferson, though he wanted war, was afraid to declare it, he
supposed he should have to be pleased with the prospect of moving
upwards.
Brock had been but a few weeks at Fort George--a "most lonesome place,"
as compared with Quebec, Montreal, Kingston, or even Little York, from
which latter place he was cut off by forty miles of lake, or more than a
hundred miles of dense forest and bridgeless streams--when he decided
upon a flying trip to Detroit, where, during the French _régime_, the
adventurous Cadillac had landed in 1701. He would inspect the western
limit of the frontier now under his care and obtain at first hand a
knowledge of the peninsula. "For," as he remarked to Glegg, his aide,
"if I can read the signs aright, the two nations are rushing headlong
into a military conflict."
Two routes were open to him, one overland, the other land and water. He
chose the latter. A vast quantity of freight now reached Queenston from
Kingston. Vessels of over fifty tons sailed up the river, bearing
merchandise for the North-West Company. Salt pork from Ireland and flour
from London, Britain being the real base of supply--the remote
North-West looking to Niagara for food and clothing--the return cargoes
being furs and grain. To portage these goods around Niagara Falls kept
fifty or more farmers' waggons busy every day during the summer. A team
of horses or oxen could haul twenty "pieces," of one hundred weight
each, for a load. The entire length of the portage from Lake Ontario to
Lake Erie was practically a street, full of all the bustle and activity
that a scattered country population of 12,000 conferred upon it. Two
churches, twenty stores, a printing house, six taverns and a scholastic
academy supplied the varied wants of Niagara's 500 citizens who
overfilled its one hundred dwellings.
From Lake Ontario, Newark, as it had been called, presented an inviting
appearance. The brick-and-stone court-house and jail and brightly
painted Indian council-house and cottages rose in strong contrast
against the green forest. On the river bank was Navy Hall, a log retreat
for seamen, and on Mississaga (Black Snake) Point a stone lighthouse
flashed its red signal of hope to belated mariners. Nearer the lake
shore, in isolated dignity across a mile of common, stood Fort George, a
dilapidated structure with wooden palisades and bastions. Half-acre lots
in the village were given gratis by the Government to anyone who would
build, and eight acres outside for inclosures, besides a large
"commonty" for the use of the people. A quite pretentious wharf lined
the river, and from this, on any summer afternoon, a string of soldiers
and idle citizens might be seen--among whom was Dobson--casting hook and
troll for bass, trout, pickerel and herring, with which the river
swarmed. On one occasion Brock helped to haul up a seine net in which
were counted 1,008 whitefish of an average weight of two pounds, 6,000
being netted in one day.
Side-wheel ferries, driven by horse-power, plied between the river's
mouth and the Queenston landing. The paddle-wheels of these were open
double-spoke affairs, without any circular rim. A stage-coach also ran
between Queenston and Fort Erie, the first in Upper Canada. For one
dollar the passenger could travel twenty-five miles.
At Fort Erie, at the head of the Niagara River, Brock embarked in
mid-August in a government schooner. He wished to familiarize himself
with the upper water-ways. He made the long trip from Quebec to York,
and thence to Niagara, Amherstburg, Detroit, Sandwich and return
overland to Fort George, within two months--record time. Dobson
accompanied his master. Brock was silent as to his impressions, but
admitted he was convinced that the water route for a military expedition
was the only practical one, and that Mackinaw, held by the United
States, was the portal and key to the western frontier in case of
invasion. He crossed overland through the "bad woods" and open plains to
the Point of Pines, where batteaux and canoes awaited him. From thence
he proceeded along the north shore of Lake Erie until abreast of the
Miami, a confluent of the Ohio River, on the south shore, then turned
northward up the Detroit River, twenty-five miles farther, reaching
Amherstburg--called Malden by the Americans--250 miles from Fort Erie.
Here, after consulting with Colonel St. George, he inspected the battery
at Sandwich, and with little ceremony visited Detroit--the old military
post of Pontchartrain--on the opposite side of the river, later
notorious as an emporium for "rum, tomahawks and gunpowder." From
Amherstburg, a small village with an uncompleted fort and shipyard, he
sent messengers to the remote post of St. Joseph, an island, fifty-five
miles from Mackinaw, below Sault Ste. Marie, and started homewards
overland.
In returning, he skirted the great tributary marshes, alive with
water-fowl of every description, whose gabble and flapping wings could
be heard at a long distance. He camped in the vast hardwood forests that
covered the western point of the peninsula that extends west from Lake
Ontario to the river connecting Lake Huron with Lake Erie. He shot big
bustards and wild turkeys in the bush, where wolves and deer were as
thick as rabbits in a warren, and tramped the uplands, teeming with
quail and prairie chicken. Continuing by Delaware and the Government
road at Oxford on the Thames, and by the "Long Woods" over the Burford
Plains to Brant's Ford, he reached the Grand River, and then by Ancaster
and the head of the lake to Burlington, when he followed the Lake
Ontario southern shore road to Niagara.
Many of the settlers whom he met were from the Eastern States. These
were the original Loyalists or their descendants, patriots to the core.
Other more recent arrivals--perhaps two-thirds of the whole--came from
Pennsylvania, New York and New Jersey, attracted by the fertility of the
soil and freedom from taxation, or to escape militia service. These
latter he quickly realized were not the class to rely upon in event of
war, but he gave no public sign of distrust. It was from the pick of the
first-mentioned stalwarts that Brock formed his loyal Canadian militia,
his gallant supporters in the war of 1812, who made a reputation at
Detroit and Queenston that will never die.
He was more than ever sensible of the resources of the country. This
glimpse of the west enamoured him. To his "beloved brothers"--our hero
always thus addressed them--he described it as a "delightful country,
far exceeding anything I have seen on this continent." The extent of
the Great Lakes amazed him, as did their fish. From these deep cisterns
he had seen the Indian fishermen take whitefish, the _ahtikameg_
(deer-of-the-water), twenty pounds in weight; maskinonge--
_matchi-kenonje_, the great pike--more than twice that size, and
sturgeon that weighed two hundred pounds and over, and in such
quantities that he hesitated to tell his experiences on his return.
Henry's stories of five hundred whitefish taken with a scoop net at the
rapids of Sault Ste. Marie in two hours were no longer questioned. The
size of the red-fleshed land-locked trout (the quail-of-the-water), of
pickerel and bass, astounded him. His travels had broadened his views.
The chatter of his Iroquois and Algonquin friends was now easier of
interpretation. The riddles of the wilderness were more easily read. He
now realized how possible it was, in this continent of unsurveyed
immensity, to journey for weeks, after leaving the white man's domain
hundreds of miles behind, and then reach only the rim of another kingdom
of even far greater fertility. He also realized that beyond these
laughing lands lay a rugged world of desolation, bounded in turn by the
rasping ice-floes of the Arctic.
If Brock's mind had expanded, so had his body. He was, as he expressed
it, as "hard as nails." The close of 1811 found "Master Isaac" a grand
specimen of manhood. Inclined to be a little portly, he was still
athletic. His face, though a trifle stern, had grown more attractive,
because of the benevolent look now stamped upon it. He was still fair
and florid, with a broad forehead, and eyes though somewhat small, yet
full and of a grayish blue, a charming smile and splendid white teeth.
Always the same kindly gentleman and always a soldier. His life at Fort
George had been one of great loneliness. He read much and rapidly, and
would memorize passages from the books that had left the deepest
impression. History, civil and military, especially ancient authors, was
his choice, and maps his weakness. Over these, with his devoted aides,
he would pore late into the night, until he knew the country almost as
well as his friend the Surveyor-General. For variety he feasted upon the
robust beauties of Pope's "Homer," ever regretting he never had a master
"to guide and encourage him in his tastes."
With Lieutenant-Governor Gore, formerly a soldier in Guernsey, our hero
was on intimate terms. When the grind of duty let him, he would travel
"the worst road in the country--fit only for an Indian mail-carrier--in
order to mix in the society of York." He periodically returned these
hospitalities by a grand ball at Niagara--always the event of the
season. Brock, while fond of women's society, preferred brain to beauty.
Had his old Guernsey friends been present on these occasions they would
not have recognized in the soldier, resplendent in a general's uniform,
now dancing a mazurka, the handsome stripling who only a few years since
had waltzed his way into the hearts of all the women of St. Peter's
Port.
The unrest of the Indians at Amherstburg troubled him. He had seen over
eight hundred in camp there, receiving rations for a month while waiting
presents of blankets, powder and shot from King George. They asked
British support if they took the warpath against the Americans--the
Long-knives--_Gitchi-mokohmahn_, their sworn enemies. Tecumseh, a
Shawanese chief, had demanded from the United States the restoration of
violated rights. This demand had not been complied with. The position
was critical. Great tact was required to retain the friendship of the
Indians, while not complying with their request.
In Lower Canada there was still discord among the French Canadians. The
Governor, Sir James Craig, in a dying condition, relinquished office. In
answer to Brock's application for leave, still hoping for a staff
appointment in Portugal, the Governor-General implored him to remain.
"I must," he told him, "leave the country in the best state of security
I can; your presence is needed here. I am sending you as a mark of my
sincere regard my favourite horse, Alfred." This was a high-bred animal,
and our hero's charger in the war that followed.
It was not, however, until war was regarded as unavoidable, and not
until after he was promoted to be a major-general and appointed
President and Administrator of Upper Canada, as successor to Governor
Gore, that Isaac Brock became reconciled to life in Canada, and with set
purpose assumed the duties of his high calling.
* * * * *
Our hero had passed his _third_ milestone.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] Miss Carnochan, as the Curator of the Niagara Historical Society the
custodian of many relics of the war of 1812, has in her keeping this
identical cocked hat. It arrived "shortly after Brock's death, and was
given by his nephew to Mr. George Ball, near whose residence the 49th
was stationed. The hat measures twenty-four inches inside, and was used
at the funeral obsequies of 1824 and 1853, when many old soldiers
requested, and were permitted, to try it on." The usage that the cocked
hat then received has not improved its appearance.