War 1812

by Michael Aye

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Colonel Johnson set a fast pace, determined to catch up with the stragglers before they knew something was amiss. He knew his point riders would give nothing away unless by chance they were spotted or attacked. Jonah couldn’t help but wonder if the colonel wasn’t trying to build on his war hawk reputation and show his willingness to bring the enemy to battle ahead of General Harrison’s arrival. Such a bold move could do nothing but bolster his political ambition and position. Major David Thompson was waiting on Johnson at the rear of his point guard. When Johnson spotted him, he held up his hand and the mounted rifles slowed to a walk.

  “What do we have Major?” Johnson asked, getting right to the point.

  “Rear guard most likely, sir. Wagons loaded down, a few Redcoats and Indians, along with a lot of women and children. Captain Sympson is trailing the group now, sir.”

  “Is there a clear separation or are they all scattered about?”

  “Scattered about mostly, sir.”

  “Hmmph,” Johnson sighed. This put an end to his thoughts of a quick charge with sabers rattling and guns blasting, A bunch of dead women and children would not help his political future at all. Butcher was not a name he could hope to succeed with. Turning to his aid, he ordered, “Pass the word for Captain Gesslin.”

  “I’m here, sir.”

  “Good,” Johnson replied. “Clay,” he said, using Gesslin’s first name, “I want you to take your company and swing around the edge of the marsh and see if you can’t get ahead of the British. When you are in position, let go with three shots one right after the other. That will be our signal to close. If you are sighted, go ahead and give the alarm. We’ll just have to do the best we can not to harm any woman or child.”

  The officer muttered his understanding and Jonah fell in beside Gesslin as the men rode off. Trying to keep out of sight and at the same time keep from getting bogged down along the edge of the marshy area proved trying. However, the steady downpour of rain helped. Several times Jonah thought they’d been seen but the buckskins most of the riders wore blended in with the woods better than Jonah could have hoped for.

  Most of the British column was on foot but even the few driving the wagons or those on horseback had their collars pulled up and their hats pulled down against the element.

  At one point, Gesslin sidled up to Jonah and chanced a whispered comment. “That’s a beaten lot if ever I saw one. Look at how they drag their feet. Not an ounce of life in the whole bunch.” Nodding, Jonah agreed.

  By the time they got ahead of the group, they had already passed four wagons. One appeared to be loaded down with sick or wounded men. The other three had supplies loaded in them and the last wagon was also pulling a small cannon.

  “Probably a six-pounder,” Jonah guessed.

  Women, both Indian and white, along with children walked behind the wagons. The odd Indian brave rode with the group. There were twenty riders, including Indians and Redcoats. A sergeant, who Gesslin had sent ahead, was waiting as the rest of the company rode into the road.

  “There’s a bend just yonder,” the sergeant said, pointing. “Past that there’s maybe three or four hundred yards of a narrow straight-away with thick woods and marsh on either side. We could ride ahead to the end of the straight, and when they get passed the bend, fire off the alarm. The folk might scatter, but those wagons ain’t going nowhere with the marsh on each side.”

  “Good idea, Hicks,” Gesslin replied, agreeing with the man’s plans. He deployed his men on either side of the road hoping they’d blend in with the forest until it was too late for the British to do much. Nervous horses pawed the wet ground. The Kentuckians had all checked their rifles, and the flints and priming pans were covered with coats and hats as the rain continued.

  The sound of jingling trace chains were soon heard as the first wagon rounded the bend. Beside and behind the wagon, the first riders were seen slouched over and obviously miserable. The second wagon rounded the bend and at the same time one of the Kentuckian’s horses whinnied. Heads of the Indian and British riders jerked up, suddenly alert.

  “That does it,” Gesslin hissed, then shouted his order to fire.

  What followed was not what had been planned. Upon the word fire, the Kentuckians, instead of firing off three shots in the air, fired at the riders emptying six saddles with the volley. The other horsemen tried to calm their animals as those whose rider had been shot wheeled around in a wild panic. One rider was thrown and hit the muddy ground with a thud, splashing muddy water as he landed. Some of the riders in the rear wheeled and headed back down the trial while a handful, mostly Indians charged at Gesslin’s men.

  Jonah had not fired his long rifle but as the Indians charged, he picked out a target and pulled the trigger. The damp powder flashed but not enough to fire his ball. By the time, Jonah realized he had a misfire; the Indian was almost on him. Dropping the rifle to the ground, Jonah quickly drew his sword all the time dreading the cleaning job that would have to be done on his fine weapon. The charging Indian was whooping and hollering, shaking a tomahawk in the air. The Indian let loose with the weapon, when the two men were no more than eight feet apart.

  Jonah almost fell from the saddle as he ducked, the tomahawk making a whooshing sound as it swept past his ear. He’d just regained his balance when the Indian brave was upon him. Instead of galloping off toward freedom, the Indian collided into Jonah’s horse and the two toppled to the muddy ground. The Indian’s momentum carried him over Jonah, landing several feet away. The Indian pulled his knife from its scabbard and charged. Jonah had not had time to put his sword’s lanyard around his wrist and the collision with the Indian had knocked it from his grip.

  Seeing the Indian up with his knife, Jonah frantically felt the muddy ground about him. He felt the blade and realizing he was on top of the hilt, rolled over to get a hold of the sword. The rolling man made the horse jump about, hooves stomping the ground almost at Jonah’s head. The jumping horse saved Jonah’s life as it swung around, its hindquarters knocked the Indian sprawling into the mud. Now, Jonah was on his feet with sword in his hand. As Jonah approached, the Indian now looked for his weapon which had been jarred loose when the horse tumbled him. Whether it was bad luck for the Indian or good luck for Jonah, the brave gave up his search for the lost knife.

  Jumping to his feet, the Indian gave Jonah a cold look, spat mud from his mouth and then turned, dashing off into the marsh. Heaving a deep sigh, Jonah wiped the muddy grit from his face, lifting it skyward so that the rain would help clean his face.

  In the distance, the sound of sporadic rifle fire was heard. Gesslin’s men had spread out, and the wagon drivers were standing with their hands up. Spotting his rifle lying in the mud, Jonah picked it up and looking down the barrel, it seemed clear. However, it would have to be thoroughly cleaned before it was fired.

  “Decide to play in the mud, did you?” Clay Gesslin said, as he rode up.

  “Not so’s you’d notice,” Jonah snarled.

  “Well, if you’re through,” Gesslin continued, ignoring Jonah’s reply. “You can mount up and we can see what plunder we’ve taken.”

  Jonah mounted and saw Colonel Johnson and General Harrison’s group looking at the wagons. The general must have ridden ahead of the infantry, Jonah decided. Moses rode up taking in Jonah’s appearance but not saying anything.

  “Anybody hurt?” Jonah asked.

  “None of ours. A few British, but when they saw us, most of them just threw up their hands.”

  “What about the women and children?”

  A grin came to Moses’ face. “They’re fine. As soon as we rode up, this woman says, ‘Well, Gov’nor, took you long enough. Got any food?’ The general appeared a little flustered by the woman’s approach. Nevertheless, he says, ‘I’m sure we can find something, Madame’. The woman then says, ‘Lord love you, doll, and if you be ne
eding a little company later just send word and Maggie will be right over to his lordship’s tent to give comfort.’ This caused the other generals and the commodore to laugh but Harrison grunts and says, ‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary.’ Determined to have the final say, the woman says, ‘Well, if you does, just remember it’s Maggie’.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  By sundown, the rain had ceased and Johnson’s mounted rifles had reached the mouth of the Thames River. The river was high from all the rain and flowing swiftly. Here, the land opened up to a large prairie. The narrow road with marshes was behind them.

  Looking at the extensive opening, Colonel Johnson addressed Jonah, “A pretty land, is it not, Mr. Lee?”

  “Yes, sir. That it is.”

  “Good farm land,” Johnson continued, “good pasture land as well. Cows, horses, and mules, good graze for all of them.” Then, speaking to everyone, he announced, “We’ll camp here tonight. There is plenty of room for us and the general’s group when they get here. Reckon we’ll have time to inventory the plunder.”

  Jonah didn’t say anything, but he’d bet there’d already been an unofficial inventory and anything worth taking, other than military supplies, had already been confiscated. As the word was passed, men began to unsaddle and rub down the weary horses. Then, in small groups, they were taken down to the river and watered. One area next to a line of hickory trees still had a stand of grass growing that had not been killed by the early morning frost.

  “Those trees kept most of the frost away,” Moses volunteered.

  The horses were hobbled and let loose to graze. Several men were assigned to picket the area. Once the horses were cared for, the men began to collect firewood and brush for their bedrolls to lie atop of. The fires were lit and going good by the time General Harrison’s main body arrived.

  Several men had rigged fishing poles and were pulling in fish almost as quick at they threw out their lines. Seeing the fish lying on the bank, the captive women began picking them up and cleaning them. Soon, frying pans were sizzling with lard and were ready for the fish to be fried. After the fish were cooked, a batter of corn meal was mixed up and a spoon at a time dropped into the sizzling grease. Almost as soon as the batter was dropped, it sunk to the bottom of the pan and then floated to the top. The women expertly tipped the corn dodgers, flipping them over and then in a minute or less, picked up a crispy, tasty corn dodger from the boiling grease.

  “I’ve had a lot of fish before,” General Harrison volunteered, “but nothing this tasty.”

  Seeing the commodore wiping his hands on his pants leg, Jonah said, “Is this as good as what you are accustomed to, Commodore?”

  Taking a sip of coffee, Perry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then after a small belch replied, “You may find this amazing, Mr. Lee, but it’s a rare occasion when we poor sailors eat fish. I don’t know the reason for it, but there seems to be an aversion to them.”

  This did surprise Jonah, but before he could discuss the matter further, a lieutenant from the infantry walked up and requested to speak to the general. While there were several gathered around, everyone knew he was talking about Harrison.

  Hearing the request, Harrison called out, “Bring the man forward, sir.”

  The officer left then quickly returned. As the lieutenant came closer to the fire, one of the British prisoners was with him. The lieutenant came to attention and quickly came to the point. “Sir, this is Sergeant Calloway. He is the senior British soldier. He wants to know if they are to be offered parole.”

  “Parole,” Harrison repeated.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Do you trust him, Lieutenant…?”

  “Anderson, Lieutenant Anderson, from Ohio.”

  “Yes, well, thank you for your service, Lieutenant. Now, do you trust the man to speak for all the British?”

  “Yes sir, I do. I think they were moving slowly expecting to be overtaken.”

  “I see,” Harrison said, and then gave his attention to the sergeant. “If I take your parole, Sergeant, can you guarantee your soldiers will abide by it?”

  “Yes, your Lordship. My soldiers and the women will abide by it. I can’t speak for the Indians.”

  “You may address me as General Harrison. We have no lords in this army.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Now tell me, Sergeant, why can’t you speak for the Indians?”

  “Well, your Lord… I mean, General, they ain’t under my command. They seem to come and go as they please; the braves that is. They mostly come when it’s time to eat. They will fight iffen they’s fightin’ to do. I don’t ‘magine they’d know or understand the meaning of parole. Iffen it was me, your Lordship… General, I’d post an extra guard on the horses and let ’em slip away tonight. Otherwise, they’ll be more trouble than they’re worth. Course, as well as you fed ’em they may decide they like being took and hang around. It’s been a time since we have eaten this good.”

  “Yes well, I’ll take your word of honor as to parole. Your women have already proved their worth with this fine meal.”

  “Thank you, sir, and they are mighty comforting on cool nights, too.”

  This caused Harrison to flush and Commodore Perry to chuckle.

  “Yes, Sergeant, but I don’t think that will be necessary,” Harrison replied. “Now your word, Sergeant.”

  “You have my word, my Lord…er, General.”

  Harrison thanked the sergeant and then dismissed him. He called to his adjutant. “Make sure to double the guard on the horses and ere, Major, pass the word I’ll discipline any man fighting with the British soldiers or otherwise engaged with the captive women.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Major, before you go, do you have the inventory from the wagons?”

  “Yes sir. There were ten cases of muskets, twelve barrels of gunpowder, a case of flints, the six-pounder as you saw but no shot for it. There was no food and nothing else of military significance.”

  “I see, Major, but exactly what do you mean of military significance?”

  The general has put the major on the spot, Jonah thought. He knows the men have pilfered the wagons but doesn’t want to tell.

  “I think what the major means, General, is the rest were personal belongings that the captives had. Cooking materials and stuff,” Jonah volunteered. This brought him two different looks; one of annoyance from Harrison while a look of gratitude filled the major’s face.

  “Is that what you mean, Major?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Well, dammit man, say so. Don’t depend on the man from Washington to do your talking.”

  Jonah felt the sting from Harrison’s barbed words and started to reply but knew it would only make it worse for the major.

  “I think Mr. Lee spoke from personal knowledge,” Colonel Johnson volunteered. “Being at the point, we had the opportunity to observe the wagons prior to the main body’s arrival.”

  Jonah was thankful of the colonel coming to his defense. He also noted two things: the colonel said observe, not inspect. Therefore, his statement had not been a lie. Also, he hadn’t missed the opportunity to drive home it was his men who were first on the scene. The general grunted something that Jonah couldn’t make out, but the group broke up and the generals went to their respective tents.

  When Jonah got back to his campsite Moses was drinking coffee. He poured a cup for Jonah, handed it to him, and picked up his friend’s long rifle. He oiled the weapon and then took a rag and wiped the excess oil from it.

  “You did a good job cleaning the mud off,” Moses said.

  “I had some gun oil and felt a light coat might help. Thank you,” Jonah said absently; his mind on Harrison once more.

  Was his presence and the knowledge he was from Washington any help? Colonel Johnson had commented how he appreciated Jona
h being there, as now he had someone to help motivate the general to seek out the British.

  “I don’t know that I’ve been much of a motivating force,” Jonah had replied.

  “Sure you have, sir, otherwise we would still be at Camp Seneca.”

  Jonah had taken solace in the colonel’s words. I must be a thorn in the general’s side, he decided. Not sure he liked the role, but if it would help win the war, he was glad to do it. Moses, Jonah realized, was packing a small sack and had his bedroll under his arm.

  “Where are you going?”

  Moses smiled then replied, “There’s a lot more squaws out there than there is braves. One or two have expressed the desire to have someone watch over them and protect them from these heathen Kentuckians.”

  Nodding his head in understanding, Jonah said, “I’m sure you have offered your services as protector for the remainder of our travels.”

  “As I should,” Moses answered.

  “Well, be careful, the general has promised to discipline any soldier getting in trouble over the women.”

  “There will be no trouble,” Moses said. “Besides I ain’t no soldier. I’m the scout for the president’s man.”

  This caused Jonah to laugh. “Well, there’s that.”

  Moses had no sooner disappeared than Clay Gesslin and James Hampton walked up. Hampton dropped a bottle in Jonah’s lap before he could speak.

  “Major Martin’s compliments.”

  Picking up the bottle, Jonah said, “This is French wine.”

  “That it is,” Hampton agreed. “Part of them non-military stores that were confiscated. Now, pop the cork so we can enjoy it, else we’ll take it to the general’s tent.”

  A ‘pop’ echoed above the crackle of the fire, and the men filled their cups.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The sky was full of ragged clouds, and there was still a bright moon as Harrison’s army rolled out of their blankets. Men walked into the shadows to answer nature’s call. One or two fires still had small flames that flickered about, but most had died down to embers. As the embers were stirred, small firefly-like sparks drifted up toward the night sky. More firewood was added and soon the landscape was dotted with fires.