Matilda Montgomerie; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled

by Major Richardson

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  Seldom has there been witnessed a more romantic or picturesque sightthan that presented by a warlike expedition of batteaux moving acrossone of the American lakes, during a season of profound calm. The uniformand steady pull of the crew, directed in their time by the wild chauntof the steersman, with whom they ever and anon join in full chorus--themeasured plash of the oars into the calm surface of the water--thejoyous laugh and rude, but witty, jest of the more youthful and buoyantof the soldiery, from whom, at such moments, although in presence oftheir officers, the trammels of restraint are partially removed--allthese, added to the inspiriting sight of their gay scarlet uniforms, andthe dancing of the sunbeams upon their polished arms, have a tendency tocall up impressions of a wild interest, tempered only by therecollection that many of those who move gaily on, as if to afestival--bright in hope as though the season of existence were to lastfor ever--may never more set eye upon the scenes they are fast quitting,with the joyousness produced by the natural thirst of the human heartfor adventure, and a love of change.

  On the second day of its departure from Malden, the expedition, precededby the gun-boats, entered the narrow river of the Miami, and, the woodson either shore being scoured by the Indians, gained without oppositionthe point of debarkation. Batteries having, under great difficulties,been erected on the right bank, immediately opposite to and about sixhundred yards from the American fort, which had been recently andhurriedly constructed, a heavy and destructive fire was, on the morningof the third day, opened from them, supported by the gun-boats, one ofwhich, commanded by Gerald Grantham, had advanced so close to theenemy's position as to have diverted upon herself the fire which wouldelse have been directed to the demolition of a British battery, hastilythrown up on the left bank. The daring manifested by the gallant sailorwas subject of surprise and admiration at once to friends and foes; andyet, although his boat lay moored within musket shot of the defences, hesustained but trifling loss. The very recklessness and boldness of hisadvance had been the means of his preservation; for, as almost all theshots from the battery flew over him, it was evident he owed his safetyto the difficulty the Americans found in depressing their gunssufficiently to bear advantageously upon the boat, which, if anchoredfifty yards beyond, they might have blown out of the water.

  The limits of our story will not admit of a further detail of theoperations of this siege. The object was foiled, and the expedition wasre-embarked and directed against Fort Sandusky, a post of the Americanssituated on the river of that name, and running also into Lake Erie.

  Here, once more, was the British artillery landed, while, under a heavyfire from the fort, the troops advanced within range, to take possessionof an eminence whereon it was intended to erect the batteries. Two dayswere passed in incessant cannonading, but, as at the Miami, withoutmaking the slightest impression. Finding all idea of a practicablebreach hopeless, it was at length resolved that an attempt at assaultshould be made; and, with this view, the troops were, on the afternoonof the second day, ordered to hold themselves in immediate readiness.

  In consequence of the shallowness of the river, it had been foundnecessary to moor the gun-boats at a point considerably below, and outof sight of the fort. Gerald Grantham had obtained permission to leavehis command, and take charge of one of the batteries, which, however, herelinquished on the day of the assault, having successfully petitionedto be permitted to join the attack as a volunteer. In the dress of agrenadier soldier, disabled during the siege, he now joined the party ofanimated officers, who, delighted at the prospect of being brought oncemore in close contact with their enemies, after so many wearing days ofinaction--were seated at a rude but plentiful repast in CaptainCranstoun's tent, and indulging in remarks which, although often utteredwithout aim or ill-nature, are as often but too bitter subject of afterself-reproach to those who have uttered them. Of those who hadoriginally set out on the expedition, the only officer of theForty-first Regiment absent was Henry Grantham, who, having beenslightly wounded at the Miami, had, much against his inclination, beenordered back to Amherstburg, in charge of the sick and wounded of thedetachment, and this so suddenly, that he had not had an opportunity oftaking leave of his brother.

  "Ha! Gerald, my fine fellow," exclaimed Captain Molineux, as the youthnow joined their circle, "so you have clapped on the true harness atlast. I always said that your figure became a red jacket a devilish dealbetter than a blue. But what new freak is this? Had you not a closeenough berth to Jonathan in the Miami, without running the risk of abroken head with us to-day in his trenches?"

  "No such good luck is there in store for my juniors, I fancy," repliedGrantham, swallowing off a goblet of wine which had been presented tohim--"but if I do fall, it will be in good company. Although theAmerican seems to lie quietly within his defences, there is that abouthim which promises us rather a hot reception."

  "So much the better," said Villiers; "there will be broken heads forsome of us. Who do you think we have booked for a place to the otherworld?"

  Gerald made no answer, but his look and manner implied that heunderstood himself to be the party thus favored.

  "Not so," returned Villiers, "we can't afford to spare you yet--besides,the death of a blue jacket can in no way benefit us. What's theuse of 'a bloody war and a sickly season,' that standard toastat every West India mess, if the juniors are to go off, and not theseniors?--Cranstoun's the man we've booked."

  "Captain Cranstoun, I have the honor of wishing you a safe passage, andspeedy promotion in Heaven," said Middlemore, draining off his glass."Devilish good port this of yours! By the bye, as you have a better_port_ in view, you cannot do better than assign over what is left ofthis to me."

  "Thank you, Mr. Middlemore," returned Cranstoun, drily yetgood-humoredly, "yet as you are attached to my division, you willperhaps run just the same risk; and as, perhaps, you will not requiremore wine than we have taken to-day, I will pledge you in a last cup asafe passage to Heaven, where I trust you will find credit for betterqualities than you possess as a punster."

  "What," asked Gerald, with an unfeigned surprise, when the laugh againstMiddlemore had subsided, "and is it really in his own wine that you haveall been thus courteously pledging Captain Cranstoun's death?"

  "Even so," said Middlemore, rallying and returning to the attack, "heinvited us all to lunch in his tent, and how could we better repay himfor opening his hampers, than by returning his _spirit scot-free_ and_unhampered_ to Heaven?"

  "Oh, oh, oh!" ejaculated St. Clair, stopping his ears and throwing uphis eyes; "surely, Mr. Middlemore, if you are not shot this day, it mustbe that you were born to be hanged--no man can perpetrate so horrible apun, and expect to live."

  "I'm hanged if I am, then," returned the other; "but, talking of beingshot--is there another shot in the locker, Cranstoun---another bottle ofport?"

  "The shot that is reserved for you, will bring you acquainted withanother locker than Cranstoun's, I suspect," said Villiers, "one Mr.David Jones's locker--hit there, eh?"

  The low roll of a muffled drum suddenly recalled the party from theirtrifling to considerations of a graver interest. It was the signal forforming the columns of attack. In a moment the tone, the air ofribaldry, was exchanged for a seriousness that befitted theoccasion--and it seemed as if a momentary reproach passed over the mindsof those who had most amused themselves at the expense of Cranstoun, foreach, as he quitted the tent, gave his extended hand to his host, whopressed it in a manner to show all was forgiven.

  The English batteries had been constructed on the skirt of the woodsurrounding the fort, from which latter they were separated by a meadowcovered with long grass, about six hundred yards across at the narrowestpoint. Behind these the columns of attack, three in number, were nowrapidly and silently formed. To that commanded by Captain Cranstoun, onthe extreme left, and intended to assault the fort at the strongestpoint, Gerald Grantham had attached himself, in the simple dress, as wehave observed, of a private soldier, and armed wi
th a common musket. Inpassing, with the former officer, to take his position in front of thecolumn, he was struck by the utter want of means for executing withsuccess the duty assigned to the several divisions. Each column wasprovided with a certain number of axemen, selected to act as pioneers;but not one of the necessary implements was in a condition to be used:neither had a single fascine or ladder been provided, although it waswell known that a deep ditch remained to be passed before the axes,inefficient as they were, could be brought into use.

  "Such," said Captain Cranstoun, with a sneer of much bitterness, "arethe pitiful things on which hang the lives of our brave fellows. Nodoubt the despatches will say a great deal about the excellentarrangements for attack--but if you do not fall, Gerald, I hope you willmake a proper representation of the affair. As you belong to the otherservice, there is little fear the General can hurt your promotion formerely speaking the truth. A General, indeed!--who'll say Fortune is notblind to make a General of such as he?"

  It was not an usual thing for Cranstoun to express himself thus inregard to his superiors; but he was really vexed at the idea of thesacrifice of human life that must attend this wantonness of neglect andimbecility of arrangement. He had moreover taken wine enough, not in anyway to intoxicate, but sufficient to thaw his habitual caution andreserve. Fearless as his sword, he cared not for his own life; but,although a strict officer, he was ever attentive to the interests of hismen, who in their turn, admired him for his cool, unflinching courage,and would have dared anything under the direction of their captain.

  It was evident that the contempt of the sailor for the capacity of theleader, to whom it was well known all the minute arrangements weresubmitted, was not one whit inferior to what was entertained by thebrave and honest Cranstoun. He, however, merely answered, as they bothassumed their places in front, and with the air of one utterlyindifferent to these disadvantages.

  "No matter, Cranstoun, the greater the obstacles we have to contendagainst, the more glorious will be our victory. Where you lead, however,we shall not be long in following."

  "Hem! since it is to be a game of follow-my-leader," said Middlemore,who had now joined them, "I must not be far behind. A month's pay witheither of you I reach the stockade first."

  "Done, Middlemore, done," eagerly replied Cranstoun, and they joinedhands in confirmation of the bet.

  This conversation had taken place during the interval occupied by themovements of the right and centre columns along the skirt of the wood,to equidistant points in the half circle embraced in the plan of attack.A single blast of the bugle now announced that the furthermost hadreached its place of destination, when suddenly a gun--the first firedsince noon from the English batteries--gave the signal for which allwere now prepared.

  In the next minute the heads of the several columns debouched from thewoods, and, the whole advancing in double quick time, with their arms atthe trail, moved across the meadow in the several directions assignedthem. The space to be traversed by Captain Cranstoun's division wasconsiderably the shortest of the three; but, on the other hand, he wasopposed to that part of the enemy's defences where there was the leastcover afforded to an assailing force.

  Meanwhile there was an utter repose in the fort, which for some momentsinduced the belief that the Americans were preparing to surrender theirtrust without a struggle, and loud yells from the Indians, who, fromtheir cover in the rear, watched the progress of the troops withadmiration and surprise, were pealed forth as if in encouragement to thelatter to proceed. But the American Commander had planned his defencewith skill. No sooner had the several columns got within half musketshot, than a tremendous fire of musketry and rifles was opened upon themfrom two distinct faces of the stockade. Captain Cranstoun's division,being the nearest, was the first attacked, and suffered considerablywithout attempting to return a shot. At the first discharge, the twoleading sergeants, and many of the men, were knocked down; but neitherCranstoun, nor Middlemore, nor Grantham, were touched.

  "Forward men, forward," shouted the former, brandishing his sword, anddashing down a deep ravine, that separated them from the trenches.

  "On, my gallant fellows, on!--the left column for ever!" criedMiddlemore, imitating the example of his captain, and, in his eagernessto reach the ditch first, leaving his men to follow as they could.

  Few of these, however, needed the injunction. Although galled by thesevere fire of the enemy, they followed their leaders down the ravinewith a steadiness worthy of a better result; then climbing up theopposite ascent, under a shower of bullets, yet, without pulling atrigger themselves, made for the ditch their officer had already gained.

  Cranstoun, still continuing in advance, was the first who arrived on thebrink. For a moment he paused, as if uncertain what course to pursue,then, seeing Middlemore close behind him, he leaped in, and striking ablow of his sabre upon the stockade, called loudly upon the axemen tofollow. While he was yet shouting, a ball from a loop-hole not threefeet above his head, entered his brain, and he fell dead across thetrench.

  "Ha! well have you won your wager, my noble Captain," exclaimedMiddlemore, putting his hand to his chest, and staggering from theeffects of a shot he had that instant received. "You are indeed the_better_ man" (he continued, excited beyond his usual calm by thecircumstances in which he found himself placed, yet unable to resist hisdominating propensity, even at such a moment,) "and deserve the palm ofhonor this day. Forward, men, forward! axemen, do your duty.--Down withthe stockade, my lads, and give them a bellyful of steel."

  Scarcely had he spoken, when a second discharge from the same wall-piecethat had killed Cranstoun passed through his throat. "Forward!" he againbut more faintly shouted, with the gurgling tone of suffocation peculiarto a wound in that region, then falling headlong into the ditch, was inthe next instant trodden under by the advance of the column who rushedforward, though fruitlessly, to avenge the deaths of their officers.

  All was now confusion, noise and carnage. Obeying the command of theirleader, the axemen had sprung into the ditch, and, with efforts nervedby desperation, applied themselves vigorously to the task allotted them.But as well might they have attempted to raze the foundations of theglobe itself. Incapable from their bluntness of making the slightestimpression on the obstinate wood, the iron at each stroke rebounded off,leaving to the eye no vestige of where it had rested. Filled withdisappointment and rage, the brave and unfortunate fellows dashed theuseless metal to the earth, and endeavored to escape from the ditch backinto the ravine, where, at least, there was a prospect of supplyingthemselves with more serviceable weapons from among their slaincomrades; but the ditch was deep and slimy, and the difficulty of ascentgreat. Before they could accomplish it, the Americans opened a fire froma bastion, the guns of which, loaded with slugs and musket balls, rakedthe trench from end to end, and swept away all that came within itsrange. This was the first check given to the division of the unfortunateCranstoun. Many of the leading sections had leaped, regardless of allobstacles, into the trench, with a view of avenging their slaughteredofficers; but these, like the axemen, had been carried away by thedischarges from the bastion, and the incessant fire poured upon themfrom the loop-holes of the stockade. Despairing of success, withoutfascines to fill up the ditch, or a ladder to scale the picketing thatafforded cover to their enemies, there was no alternative, but to remainand be cut down to a man where they stood, or to retire into thebrushwood that lined the ravine. The latter was finally adopted; but notbefore one-third of the column had paid the penalty of their own daring,and what the brave Cranstoun had sneeringly termed the "General'sexcellent arrangements," with their lives. The firing at this time hadnow almost wholly ceased between the enemy and the columns on the rightand centre, neither of which had penetrated beyond the ravine, and at alate hour in the evening the whole were drawn off.

  Meanwhile, steady at his post at the head of the division, GeraldGrantham had continued to act with the men as though he had been one ofthemselves. During the whole course of the advance,
he neither joined inthe cheers of the officers, nor uttered word of encouragement to thosewho followed. But in his manner there was remarked a quietness ofdetermination, a sullen disregard of danger, that seemed to denote somedeeper rooted purpose than the mere desire of personal distinction. Hisambition seemed to consist, not in being the first to reach or scale thefort, but in placing himself wherever the balls of the enemy flewthickest. There was no enthusiasm in his mien, no excitement in his eye;neither had his step the buoyancy that marks the young heart wedded tovalorous achievement, but was, on the contrary, heavy, measured, yetfirm. His whole manner and actions, in short, as reported to hisbrother, on the return of the expedition, by those who had been near himthroughout the affair, was that of a man who courts not victory butdeath. Planted on the brow of the ditch at the moment when Middlemorefell, he had deliberately discharged his pistol into the loop-holewhence the shot had been fired; but although, as he seemed to expect,the next instant brought several barrels to play upon himself, not oneof these had taken effect. A moment after and he was in the ditch,followed by some twenty or thirty of the leading men of the column, andadvancing towards the bastion, then preparing to vomit forth its fireupon the devoted axemen. Even here, Fate, or Destiny, or whatever powerit be that wills the nature of the end of man, turned aside the deathwith which he already seemed to grapple. At the very moment when theflash rose from the havoc-dealing gun, he chanced to stumble over thedead body of a soldier, and fell flat upon his face. Scarcely had hetouched the ground when he was again upon his feet; but even in thatshort space of time, he alone, of those who had entered the ditch, hadbeen left unscathed. Before him came bellying along the damp trench, thedense smoke from the fatal bastion, as it were a funeral shroud for itsvictims; and behind him were to be seen the mangled and distorted formsof his companions, some dead, others writhing with acute agony, andfilling the air with shrieks, and groans, and prayers for water tosoothe their burning lips, that mingled fearfully yet characteristically,with the unsubdued roar of small arms.

  It was now, for the first time, that Gerald evinced anything likeexcitement, but it was the excitement of bitter disappointment. He sawthose to whom the preservation of life would have been a blessing, cutdown and slaughtered; while he, whose object it was to lay it down forever, was, by some strange fatality, wholly exempt.

  The reflections that passed with lightning quickness through his mind,only served to stimulate his determination the more. Scarcely had thesmoke which had hitherto kept him concealed from the battery, passedbeyond him, when, rushing forward and shouting, "To the bastion, men--tothe bastion!" he planted himself in front of the gun, and not threeyards from its muzzle. Prevented by the dense smoke that choked up thetrench, from ascertaining the extent of execution produced by theirdischarge, the American artillerymen, who had again loaded, were oncemore on the alert and preparing to repeat it. Already was the match inthe act of descending, which would have blown the unfortunate Gerald toatoms, when suddenly an officer, whose uniform bespoke him to be of somerank, and to whose quick eye it was apparent the rash assailant wasutterly unsupported, sprang upon the bastion, and dashing the fuze fromthe hand of the gunner, commanded that a small sally-port, which openedinto the trench a few yards beyond the point where he stood, should beopened, and the brave soldier taken prisoner without harm. So prompt wasthe execution of this order, that, before Gerald could succeed inclambering up the ditch, which, with the instinctive dread of captivity,he attempted, he was seized by half a dozen soldiers, and by these bornehurriedly back through the sally-port, which was again closed.