Matilda Montgomerie; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled

by Major Richardson

  CHAPTER XIX.

  Autumn had passed away, and winter, the stern invigorating winter ofbeautiful America had already covered the earth with enduring snows, andthe waters with bridges of seemingly eternal ice, and yet no effort hadbeen made by the Americans to repossess themselves of the country theyhad so recently lost. The several garrisons of Detroit and Malden,reposing under the laurels they had so easily won, made holiday of theirconquest; and, secure in the distance that separated them from the morepopulous districts of the Union, seemed to have taken it for grantedthat they had played their final part in the active operations of thewar, and would be suffered to remain in undisturbed possession. But thestorm was already brewing in the far distance which, advancingprogressively like the waves of the coming tempest, was destined firstto shake them in their security, and finally to overwhelm them in itsvortex. With the natural enterprise of their character, the Americanshad no sooner ascertained the fall of Detroit, than means slow butcertain, were taken for the recovery of a post, with which, theirnational glory was in no slight decree identified. The country whencethey drew their resources for the occasion, were the new states of Ohioand Kentucky, and one who had previously travelled through those immensetracts of forests, where the dwelling of the backwoodsman is met with atlong intervals, would have marvelled at the zeal and promptitude withwhich these adventurous people, abandoning their homes, and disregardingtheir personal interests, flocked to the several rallying points. Armedand accoutred at their own expense, with the unerring rifle thatprovided them with game, and the faithful hatchet that had brought downthe dark forest into ready subjection to their will, their claim uponthe public was for the mere sustenance they required on service. It istrue that this partial independence of the Government whom they servedrather in the character of volunteers, than of conscripts, was in agreat measure fatal to their discipline; but in the peculiar warfare ofthe country, absence of discipline was rather an advantage than ademerit, since when checked, or thrown into confusion, they looked notfor a remedy in the resumption of order, but in the exercise each of hisown individual exertions, facilitated as he was by his general knowledgeof localities, and his confidence in his own personal resources.

  But although new armies were speedily organized--if organized may betermed those who brought with them into the contest much courage anddevotedness, yet little discipline--the Americans, in this instance,proceeded with a caution that proved their respect for the Britishgarrison, strongly supported as it was by a numerous force of Indians.Within two months after the capitulation of Detroit, a considerablearmy, Ohioans and Kentuckians, with some regular infantry, had beenpushed forward as with a view to feel their way; but these having beenchecked by the sudden appearance of a detachment from Fort Malden, hadlimited their advance to the Miami River, on the banks of which, and onthe ruins of one of the old English forts of Pontiac's days, they hadconstructed new fortifications, and otherwise strongly entrenchedthemselves. It was a mistake, however, to imagine that the enemy wouldbe content with establishing himself here. The new fort merely served asa nucleus for the concentration of such resources of men and warlikeequipment, as were necessary to the subjection, firstly of Detroit, andafterwards of Fort Malden. Deprived of the means of transport, theshallow bed of the Miami aiding them but little, it was a matter of nomean difficulty with the Americans to convey, through several hundredmiles of forest, the heavy guns they required for battering, and as itwas only at intervals this could be effected--the most patient enduranceand unrelaxing perseverance being necessary to the end. From theinactivity of this force, or rather the confinement of its operations toobjects of defence, the English garrison had calculated on undisturbedsecurity, at least throughout the winter, if not for a longer period;but, although it was not until this latter season was far advanced thatthe enemy broke up from his entrenchments on the Miami, and pushedhimself forward for the attainment of his final view, the error ofimputing inactivity to him was discovered at a moment when it was leastexpected.

  It was during a public ball given at Amherstburg, on the 18th ofJanuary, 1813, that the first intelligence was brought of the advance ofa strong American force, whose object it was supposed was to pushrapidly on to Detroit, leaving Amherstburg behind to be disposed oflater. The officer who brought this intelligence was the fat LieutenantRaymond, who, commanding an outpost at the distance of some leagues, hadbeen surprised, and after a resistance very creditable under thecircumstances, driven in by the American advanced guard with a loss ofnearly half his command.

  Thus was the same consternation produced in the ball-room atAmherstburg, that at a later period occurred in a similar place ofamusement at Brussels; and although not followed by the same momentouspublic results, producing the same host of fluttering fears andanxieties in the bosoms of the female votaries of Terpsichore. Webelieve, however, that there existed some dissimilarity in the severalmodes of communication--the Duke of Wellington receiving his, with someappearance of regard on the part of the communicator for the nerves ofthe ladies, while to Colonel St. Julian, commanding at Amherstburg, andengaged at that moment at the whist-table, the news was imparted instentorian tones, which were audible to every one in the adjoiningball-room.

  But even if his voice had not been heard, the appearance of LieutenantRaymond would have justified the apprehension of any reasonable person,for, in the importance of the moment, he had not deemed it necessary tomake any change in the dress in which he had been surprised and drivenback. Let the reader figure to himself a remarkably fat, ruddy facedman, of middling age, dressed in a pair of tightly fitting, dread-naughttrowsers, and a shell jacket that had once been scarlet, but now, fromuse and exposure, rather resembled the color of brickdust; boots fromwhich all polish had been taken by the grease employed to render themsnow-proof; a brace of pistols thrust into the black waist belt thatencircled his huge circumference, and from which depended a sword, whosesteel scabbard showed 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'snight, and the unwashed hands, and mouth, and lips black from thefrequent biting of the ends of cartridges, while ever and anon thepuffed cheeks, in the effort to procure air and relieve the pantingchest, recal the idea of a Bacchus, after one of his most lengthenedorgies--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 grey eyes; he will have a tolerable idea ofthe startling figure that thus abruptly made its appearance in theperson of Lieutenant Raymond, first among the dancers, and bustlinglythence into the adjoining card-room.

  At the moment of his entrance, every eye had been turned upon thisstrange apparition, while an almost instinctive sense of the cause ofhis presence pervaded every breast. Indeed it was impossible to beholdhim arrayed in the bivouac garb in which we have described him,contrasted as it was with the elegant ball dresses of his brotherofficers and not attribute his presence to some extraordinary motive;and as almost every one in the room was aware of his having been absenton detachment, his mission had been half divined even before he hadopened his lips to Colonel St. Julian, for whom, on entering, he hadhurriedly inquired.

  But when the latter officer was seen soon afterwards to rise from andleave the card-table, and, after communicating hurriedly with theseveral heads of departments, quit altogether the scene of festivity,there could be no longer a doubt; and, as in all cases of the sort, thedanger was magnified, as it flew from lip to lip, even as the tinysnow-ball becomes a mountain by the accession it receives in its rollingcourse. Suddenly the dance was discontinued, and indeed in time, for thefingers of the non-combatant musicians, sharing in the generalnervousness, had already given notice, by numerous falsettos, of theirinability to proceed much longer. Bonnets, cloaks, muffs, tippets,shawls, snow-shoes, and all the paraphernalia of a female winterequipment peculiar to the country, were brought unceremoniously in, andthrown _en ma
sse_ upon the deserted benches of the ball-room. Then wasthere a scramble among the fair dancers, who, having secured theirrespective property, quitted the house; not, however, without a secretfear, on the part of many, that the first object they should encounter,on sallying forth, would be a corps of American sharpshooters. To theconfusion within was added the clamor without, arising from swearingdrivers, neighing horses, jingling bells, and jostling sledges. Finally,the only remaining ladies of the party were the D'Egvilles, whose sledgehad not yet arrived: with these lingered Captain Molineux, Middlemore,and Henry Grantham, all of whom, having obtained leave of absence forthe occasion, had accompanied them from Detroit. The two former, who hadjust terminated one of the old fashioned cotillions, then peculiar tothe Canadas, stood leaning over the chairs of their partners, indulgingin no very charitable comments on the unfortunate Raymond, to whoseinopportune presence at that unseasonable hour they ascribed a host ofmost important momentary evils; as, for example, the early breaking upof the pleasantest ball of the season, the loss of an excellentanticipated supper that had been prepared for a later hour, and,although last not least, the necessity it imposed upon them of animmediate return, that bitter cold night, to Detroit. Near the blazingwood fire, at their side, stood Henry Grantham, and Captain St. Clair ofthe Engineers. The former with his thoughts evidently far away from thepassing scene, the latter joining in the criticisms on Raymond.

  A few moments afterwards Colonel D'Egville entered the room, nowdeserted save by the little coterie near the fire-place. Like LieutenantRaymond'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 corroboratethe statement of Raymond. To the great mortification of the latter, itwas now found that he and his little detachment had had all the runningto themselves, and that, while they fancied the whole of the Americanarmy to be close at their heels, the latter had been so kept in check bythe force of Indians, under Colonel D'Egville in person, as to becompelled to retire upon the point whence the original attack had beenmade. 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 thespace of six leagues they had scarce relaxed in their retreat. Theinformation now brought by Colonel D'Egville was, that the Americans hadnot advanced a single foot beyond the outpost in question, but, on thecontrary, had commenced constructing a stockade and throwing upentrenchments. He added, moreover, that he had just dispatched anexpress to Sandwich, to General Proctor, communicating the intelligence,and suggesting the propriety of an attack before they could advancefarther, and favor any movement on the part of the inhabitants ofDetroit. As this counter-movement on our part would require every manthat could be spared from the latter fortress, Colonel D'Egville seemedto think that before the officers could reach it, its garrison would bealready on the way to join the expedition, which would doubtless beordered to move from Amherstburg; and as the same impression appeared toexist in the mind of Colonel St. Julian, whom he had only just partedfrom to proceed in search of his daughters, the latter had taken it uponhimself to determine that they should remain where they were until theanswer, communicating the final decision of General Proctor, shouldarrive.

  If the young officers were delighted at the idea of escaping the horrorof an eighteen miles drive, on one of the bitterest nights of theseason, supperless, and at the moment of issuing from a comfortableball-room, their annoyance at (what they termed) the pusillanimity ofRaymond, who had come thus unnecessarily in, to the utter annihilationof their evening's amusement--was in equal proportion. For this, ontheir way home, they revenged themselves by every sort of persiflagetheir humor could adapt to the occasion, until in the end theycompletely succeeded in destroying the good humor of Raymond, whoeventually quitted them under feelings of mortified pride, which excitedall the generous sympathy of the younger Grantham, while it created inhis breast a sentiment of almost wrath against his inconsideratecompanions. Even these latter were at length sensible that they had gonetoo far, and, as their better feelings returned, they sought to assurethe offended object of their pleasantry that what they had uttered wasmerely in jest; but finding he received these disclaimers in moodysilence, they renewed their attack, nor discontinued it until theyseparated for their mutual quarters for the night.

  The following dawn broke in, decked with all the sad and sober greypeculiar to an American sky in the depth of winter, and, with the firstrising of the almost rayless sun, commenced numerous warlikepreparations, that gave promise to the inhabitants of some approachingcrisis. The event justified their expectation; the suggestion of ColonelD'Egville had been adopted, and the same express which carried toGeneral Proctor the information of the advance of the enemy, and theexpulsion of Lieutenant Raymond from his post, was pushed on to Detroit,with an order for every man who could be spared from that fortress, tobe marched without a moment's delay to Malden. At noon the detachmenthad arrived, and the General making his appearance soon after, theexpedition, composed of the strength of the two garrisons, with a fewlight guns, and a considerable body of Indians, under the ChiefRound-head, were pushed rapidly across the lake, and the same nightoccupied the only road by which the enemy could advance.

  It was a picturesque sight to those who lingered on the banks of theDetroit, to watch the movement of that mass of guns, ammunition, carsand sledges, preceding the regular march of the troops, as the wholecrossed the firm but rumbling ice, at the head of the now desertedIsland of Bois Blanc. Nor was this at all lessened in effect by thewild and irregular movements of the Indians, who, advancing by twos andthrees, but more often singly, and bounding nimbly yet tortuously, alongthe vast white field with which the outline of their swarthy formscontrasted, called up at the outset, the idea of a legion of devils.

  It was during one of the coldest mornings in January, that this littlearmy bivouaced on the banks of a small rivulet, distant little more thana league from the position which had been taken up by the Americans. Sounexpected and rapid had been the advance of the expedition, that notthe slightest suspicion appeared to be entertained by the Americans evenof its departure; and from information brought at a late hour by theIndian scouts, who had been dispatched at nightfall to observe theirmotions, it was gathered that, so far from apprehending or beingprepared for an attack, all was quiet in their camp, in which thecustomary night-fires were then burning. Thus favored by the falsesecurity of their enemies, the British force, after partaking of theirrude but substantial meal, and preparing their arms, laid themselvesdown to rest in their accoutrements and great coats; their headsreclining on whatever elevation, however small, presented itself, andtheir feet half buried in the embers of the fires they had withdifficulty kindled on the frozen ground, from which the snow had beenremoved--all sanguine of success, and all more or less endeavoring tosnatch, amid the nipping frost to which their upper persons wereexposed, a few hours of sleep prior to the final advance, which was totake place an hour before dawn.

  In the midst of the general desolateness of aspect which encompassedall, there were few privations endured by the men that were not equallyshared by their officers. A solitary and deserted log hut was the onlything in the shape of a human habitation within the bivouac, and thishad been secured as the headquarters of the General and his staff--allbesides had no other canopy than the clear starry heavens, or, here andthere, the leafless and unsheltering branches of some forest tree--andyet, around one large and blazing fire, which continued to be fed atintervals by masses of half-decayed wood, that, divested of their snow,lay simmering and drying before it, was frequently to be heard thejoyous yet suppressed laugh, and piquant sally, as of men whose spiritsno temporary hardship or concern for the eventful future couldeffectually suppress.

  During the whole of the march, Raymond had evinced a seriousness ofdemeanor by no means common to him, and although he had made one of theparty i
n the general bivouac, he had scarcely opened his lips, except toreply to the most direct questions. A renewed attack at first drew fromhim no comment, although it was evident he felt greatly pained; but whenhe had finished smoking his cigar, he raised himself, not withoutdifficulty, from the ground, and began with a seriousness of mannerthat, being unusual, not a little surprised them, "Gentlemen, you havelong been pleased to select me as your butt."

  "Of course," hastily interrupted Captain 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 evermade, Middlemore."

  "Gentlemen!" persevered Raymond, in a tone, and with a gesture, ofimpatience, "this trifling will be deeply regretted by you allto-morrow; I repeat," he pursued, when he found he had at lengthsucceeded in procuring silence, "you have long been pleased to select meas your butt, and while this was confined to my personal appearance,painful as I have sometimes found your humor, I could still endure it;but when I perceive those whom I have looked upon as friends andbrothers, casting imputations upon my courage, I may be excused forfeeling offended. You have succeeded in wounding my heart, and some ofyou will regret the hour when you did so. Another, perhaps, would adopta different course, but I am not disposed to return evil for evil. Iwish to believe, that in all your taunts upon this subject you havemerely indulged your bantering humor--but not the less have you painedan honest heart. To-morrow will prove that you have grievously wrongedme, and I am mistaken if you will not deeply regret it."

  So saying, he hurried away across the snow towards a distant fire, whichlighted the ruder bivouac of the adjutant and quartermaster, and wasthere seen to seat himself with the air of one who has composed himselffor 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'saddress.

  "For God's sake, Grantham, call him back. Tell him we are ready to makeany--every atonement for our offence," urged St. Clair.

  "And I will promise never to utter another pun at his expense as long asI live," added Middlemore.

  But before Henry Grantham, who had been a pained and silent witness ofthe scene, and who had already risen with a view to follow the woundedRaymond, could take a single step on his mission of peace, the low rollof the drum, summoning to fall in, warned them that the hour of actionhad already arrived, and each, quitting his fire, hastened to the moreimmediate and pressing duties of assembling his men, and carefullyexamining into the state of their appointments.

  In ten minutes from the beating of the _reveille_--considerably shorn ofits wonted proportions, as the occasion demanded--the bivouac had beenabandoned, and the little army again upon their march. What remained tobe traversed of the space that separated them from the enemy, was analternation of plain and open forest, but so completely injuxtaposition, that the head of the column had time to clear one woodand enter a second before its rear could disengage itself from thefirst. The effect of this, by the dim and peculiar light reflected fromthe snow across which they moved, was picturesque in the extreme, norwas the interest diminished by the utter silence that had pervaded everypart of the little army, the measured tramp of whose march, mingled withthe hollow and unavoidable rumbling of the light guns, being the onlysounds to be heard amid that mass of living matter. The Indians, withthe exception of a party of scouts, had been the last to quit their rudeencampment, 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 beatentrack by which the troops advanced, and utterly without sound in theirfoot-fall 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 thatRaymond and Henry Grantham, although belonging to different companies,now found themselves near each other. The latter had been most anxiousto approach his really good-hearted companion, with a view to soothe hiswounded feelings, and to convey, in the fullest and most convincingterms, the utter disclaimer of his inconsiderate brother officers, toreflect seriously on his conduct in the recent retreat--or, indeed, tointend their observations for anything beyond a mere pleasantry. As,however, the strictest order had been commanded to be observed in themarch, and Raymond and he happened to be at opposite extremities of thedivision, this had been for some time impracticable. A temporary halthaving occurred, just as the head of the column came within sight of theenemy's fires, Grantham quitted his station on the flank, and hastenedto the head of his division, where he found Raymond with his arms foldedacross his chest, and apparently absorbed in deep thought. He tapped himlightly on the shoulder, and inquired in a tone of much kindness thesubject of his musing.

  Touched by the manner in which he was addressed, Raymond dropped hisarms 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--andhow very kind you have always been; never quizzing me as thosethoughtless fellows have done--and certainly never insinuating anythingagainst my courage--that was too bad, Henry, too bad, I could haveforgiven anything but that."

  "Nay, nay, Raymond," answered his companion, soothingly; "believe me,neither Molineux, nor Middlemore, nor St. Clair meant anything beyond ajest. I can assure you they did not, for when you quitted us they askedme to go in search of you, but the assembly then commencing to beat, Iwas compelled to hasten to my company, nor have I had an opportunity ofseeing you until now."

  "Very well, Henry, I forgive them, for it is not in my nature to keepanger long; but tell them that they should not wantonly wound thefeelings of an unoffending comrade. As I told them, they may regrettheir unkindness to me before another sun has set. If so, I wish them noother punishment."

  "What mean you, my dear Raymond?"

  "Egad! I scarcely know myself, but something tells me very forcibly myhour is come."

  "Nonsense, this is but the effect of the depression, produced by fatigueand over excitement, added to the recent annoyance of your feelings."

  "Whatever it proceed from, I had made up my mind to it before we setout. Henry, my kind good Henry, I have neither friend nor relative onearth--no one to inherit the little property I possess. In the event ofmy falling, you will find the key of my desk in the breast pocket of mycoat. A paper in that desk appoints you my executor. Will you accept thetrust?"

  "Most sacredly, Raymond, will I fulfil every instruction it containsshould I myself survive; but I cannot, will not, bring myself toanticipate your fall."

  "Move on, move on," passed quickly in a whisper from front to rear ofthe column.

  "God bless you, Henry," exclaimed Raymond, again pressing the hand ofthe youth--"remember the key."

  "We shall talk of that to-night," was the light reply. "Meanwhile, dearRaymond, God bless you," and again Grantham fell back to his place inthe rear of the division.

  Five minutes later, and the troops were finally brought up in front ofthe enemy. A long line of fires marked the extent of the encampment,from which even then, the "all's well" of the sentinels could beoccasionally heard. Except these, all profoundly slept, nor was thereanything to indicate they had the slightest suspicion of an enemy beingwithin twenty miles of them.

  "What glorious cannon work we shall have presently," whispered Villiersto Molineux, as they were brought together by their stations at theadjacent extremities of their respective division. "Only mark how thefellows sleep."

  "The devil take the cannon," muttered Villiers, "the bayonet for me, butyou are right, for see, there go the guns to the front--hark there is ashot; the sentinels have discovered us at last; and now they arestarting from before their fires, and hastening to snatch their arms."

  Whist, whis
t, 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.

  The sun was in the meridian; all sounds of combat had ceased. From thefield, in which the troops had commenced the action, numerous sledgeswere seen departing, laden with the dead--the wounded having previouslybeen sent off. One of these sledges remained stationary at some distancewithin the line, where the ravages of death were marked by pools ofblood 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 tohim," observed one, whose arm suspended from a sling, attested he hadnot come scatheless out of the action. It was St. Clair, whose greatambition it had always been to have his name borne among the list ofwounded--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 youlong. But still, I fear, he could not so easily forget. He observed tome, jestingly, just before deploying into line, that he felt his timewas come, but there can be no doubt, from what we all witnessed, that hewas determined from the outset to court his death."

  Captain Molineux turned away, apparently much affected--Middlemore spokenot, but it was evident he also was deeply pained. Each seemed to feelthat he had been in some degree accessory to the catastrophe, but thepast could not be recalled. The body, covered with blood, exuding fromseveral wounds, was now placed on the sledge which was drawn off to joinseveral others just departed, and the lingering officers hastened toovertake their several companies.

  When the action was at the hottest, one of the small guns in front (allof which had been fearfully exposed), was left without a singleartilleryman. Availing themselves of this circumstance, the enemy, whowere unprovided with artillery of any description, made a movement as ifto possess themselves of, and turn it against the attacking force, thenclosing rapidly to dispute the possession of the breast work whichcovered their riflemen. Colonel St. Julian seeing this movement, calledout for volunteers to rescue the gun from its perilous situation.Scarcely had the words passed his lips when an individual moved forwardfrom the line, in the direction indicated. It was LieutenantRaymond--Exposed to the fire, both of friends and foes, the unfortunateofficer advanced calmly and unconcernedly, in the presence of the wholeline, and before the Americans could succeed in even crossing theirdefences, had seized the gun by the drag rope, and withdrawn it undercover of the English fire. But this gallant act of self-devotedness, wasnot without its terrible price. Pierced by many balls, which theAmerican riflemen had immediately directed at him, he fell dying withinten feet of the British line, brandishing his sword and faintly shoutinga "huzza," that was answered by his companions with the fierce spirit ofmen stung to new exertion, and determined to avenge his fall.

  Thus perished the fat, the plain, the carbuncled, but reallygallant-hearted Raymond--whose intrinsic worth was never estimated untilhe had ceased to exist. His fall, and all connected therewith, forms asort of episode in our story, yet is it one not altogether without itsmoral. A private monument, on which was inscribed all that may sootheand flatter after death, was erected to his memory by those veryofficers whose persiflage, attacking in this instance even his honor asa soldier, had driven him to seek the fate he found. Of this there couldbe no question; for, brave as he unquestionably was, Raymond would nothave acted as if courting death throughout, had he not fully made up hismind either to gain great distinction or to die under the eyes of thosewho had, he conceived, so greatly injured him. It is but justice to addthat, for three days from his death, Middlemore did not utter a singlepun, neither did St. Clair or Molineux indulge in a satiricalobservation.