“Still, I wish your brother David or someone else would happen along so I could tell them.”
“That won’t happen now. All our men have been evacuated. There’s no point in their risking coming into enemy territory.”
“I also heard Chapin and his men talking about a run-in two of their men had with FitzGibbon just today. It seems he beat them up at Deffield’s Inn, single-handedly. As far as I could tell, Chapin has a personal grudge against FitzGibbon.”
“Ah…” James frowned. “And if he does persuade Boerstler, all of Upper Canada is in danger. FitzGibbon and his men are the only soldiers left inland in the southern part of the Peninsula. They’ve set up now at the home of militia Captain John De Cew at Beaver Dams. The rumour is that De Haren’s men to the north and Bishop’s, stationed even farther north on the southern shore of Lake Ontario, are outnumbered by the enemy. If they take FitzGibbon, they’ve got the Peninsula—and they may soon have Upper Canada!”
“James, somebody ought to tell Lieutenant FitzGibbon they are coming.”
“Well, if I crawled on my hands and knees, I could not get there in time.”
“Well, suppose I go?”
“You go? With the country in so disturbed a state? I doubt a man could get through, let alone a woman.”
“You forget, James, that God will take care of me.”
James was silent then for some time.
Half an hour later, he was asleep, and Laura slipped out of the room. She went down to the kitchen to prepare for the next day’s breakfast. She thought of her children and her husband as she set out their porridge bowls. She didn’t really have a choice. She would carry her message to FitzGibbon.
TWENTY-ONE
In the darkness, Laura lay still against James’s shoulder. When dawn came, she sat up quietly on the edge of the bed, but James woke up and reached out to her. Wondering how to tell him her decision, she turned and grasped his hand and squeezed it.
But he knew.
“God go with you, Laura,” he whispered.
In a moment, she had pushed her feet into her shoes and slipped into an ankle-length petticoat and yellow-flowered short overgown. Before she left the room, she pulled the cradle nearer to the bed so her husband could rock the baby if he awakened.
Then Charles did wake up and cried in the darkness. She stopped and stroked his temples until she felt him relax into a quiet sleep again. She hoped it would be a cooler day.
Down in the kitchen, she hastily ate the bread and cheese she had set out the evening before, not knowing when she would eat again. Taking a lunch would certainly arouse suspicion if she were stopped by a sentry.
As she slipped out into the darkness, she prepared herself to answer any guard or scout who might question her. Neighbours had reported seeing enemy scouts from Fort George in the area lately.
She hurried along toward the cowpath that led to St. David’s, a route that was used less frequently than the main road. From St. David’s, she would go through the Black Swamp. She knew she would not need to fear the patrols there, for they would not risk encountering the dangerous rattlesnakes and the quicksand in the swamp. She trembled at the thought. It would take long hours to get through the swamp and to walk the trail to Twelve Mile Creek. From there, she would still have to find her way to the lieutenant.
“Halt!” a man shouted as she jumped down from the rail fence onto the cow trail. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She turned slowly to face him. In the half-light, she could not tell if he was one of Chapin’s guerrillas or an enemy scout from Fort George. She did not hesitate to answer. “I’m going to visit my brother, Charles Ingersoll, wounded and sick at the home of Mrs. Stephen Secord, a widow in St. David’s.”
“Why are you leaving so early? The sun is just rising.”
“It’s cooler now. I could faint along the way if I waited until the heat of the day. I’ve come this way because this path is cooler than the main road to St. David’s.”
The guard walked closer and scrutinized her carefully. He had no doubt that this pale, thin woman really did need to travel in the fresh morning air. He believed her story because he knew that her brother and other wounded men had been allowed to stay in St. David’s. He nodded her on.
The light was increasing as she hurried ahead. She could see a farm woman with her dog, rounding up some cows for the morning milking.
The sun had risen by six a.m. when Laura reached her sister-in-law’s home in St. David’s. She rapped lightly on the back door. A startled Hannah Secord opened it to see Laura standing on her back stoop. Her surprise soon turned to alarm as she said, “Whatever is it, Laura? What is the matter? Is it James?”
“No. My family’s well.”
“Come in, come in. Now, what is it?” she asked as Laura sat down in the nearest chair. No one else was in the room, but still Laura put her finger to her lips to show the need for secrecy.
Instantly Hannah knew her message concerned the war. In these times, walls were sometimes too thin. In the Peninsula, where there was such a mixture of people, Loyalists and American settlers, one just couldn’t be certain who was loyal to whom.
“May I see my brother?” Laura asked. “I have come before the heat gets too unbearable.”
“By all means, Laura, but first come with me for a bite of breakfast.” Inside the kitchen, Hannah closed the door and fastened the windows tightly.
Charles’s fiancée, Elizabeth, stood by the table, setting the dishes for the morning meal. She turned in surprise when Laura came into the room. “Oh, Laura—have you come to see Charles? He is improving.” She recovered herself. “It’s slow, but he is a little better.”
“I’m grateful for your care and devotion, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth blushed and turned away. She went to the cupboard for bread and butter to set before Laura.
“Now, Laura, you may speak,” Hannah whispered.
Laura quickly explained about Chapin’s plan of attack on FitzGibbon.
“My dear, you are attempting the impossible. The road from St. David’s to Beaver Dams is regularly patrolled by enemy scouts. You would not be allowed to pass through. It’s simply an impossible task.”
“But I don’t need to go by that road. I’ll travel a little north across country from here to Shipman’s Corners. That’ll take me through the Great Black Swamp. No soldier will be looking for anyone there.”
“What are you saying, Laura? You can’t go through that swamp. If you do avoid the quicksand, you may very well be bitten by a rattlesnake.”
“I have to get this message to them. James can’t go, and I can’t think of anyone else who can. I feel certain that fate has let me hear this message. I must go. I can only trust that God will direct me through the swamp and beyond.”
“Oh, Laura. I’m afraid for you.”
“I’m going with you,” Elizabeth volunteered. “If we come to quicksand, I can help. We’ll walk apart, and if one of us is sucked in, the other will be able to help. That swamp is just too dangerous for anyone alone.”
“It’s too dangerous for anyone at all,” Hannah mumbled. “You’re too frail to attempt it, Elizabeth.”
“May I go with you, Laura?” Elizabeth asked again.
“You and Hannah decide. But while you’re thinking about it, can you take me up to see Charles, Elizabeth? I’d like to see him for a minute. Is he awake?”
As they went up the stairs, they knew he was awake, for they could hear a low groaning. The sound stopped when they entered the room.
Charles was sitting on the edge of the bed, but he slumped back on the pillows as they came over to him. Perspiration stood out on his face.
“Oh, Charles!” said Laura.
“It only hurts when I move, but
I can’t go on lying here when my dragoons need me. I must be ready soon to return to the troops.”
“The fever comes back when he moves around much,” Elizabeth explained.
“I won’t stay long, Charles. I just came to check on you before the day was too hot.”
Laura squeezed her brother’s hand. They did not talk long, for Charles was obviously in great pain, and Laura was able to excuse herself soon without arousing his suspicion. She did not want him to carry the burden of her mission. She left the room quickly, with Elizabeth close behind.
When they reached the lower hall, Elizabeth said, “I’m going with you as far as Shipman’s Corners. I’ll tell Mother.”
Laura slowly started away from the house and down the lane alone, but Elizabeth caught up to her before she reached the road. There they turned and waved to Hannah, who stood in the doorway.
They scanned the horizon for any sign of an approaching horse or man. All was still as they reached the edge of the swamp. Laura tried to appear confident so the fear would leave Elizabeth’s eyes. But she found that difficult as they entered the dense undergrowth.
Elizabeth tried to smile. “It’s best we walk apart.”
“Yes, in case of quicksand. I think we should each get a sturdy stick to feel ahead of us,” Laura advised. She thought of another use for the sticks, but she didn’t mention that—the sticks would help fight wild animals or snakes.
Armed with an old branch, Laura led the way through the thick brush and undergrowth. Neither of them spoke. They were using all their energy to push ahead. The branches caught and tore at their petticoats as they fought their way through. They kept swatting at the mosquitoes and horse flies that attacked them in swarms.
Suddenly, Laura felt one foot sinking. Slowly and steadily, she pulled back while she leaned on her other leg and her stick. She gradually drew her foot from the mud, but her shoe was gone. When Elizabeth came up close behind her and saw Laura’s shoe was lost, she offered one of hers. “No, I can’t take it,” Laura said.
“I’m only going to Shipman’s Corners. You have to last much longer. Take it,” Elizabeth replied more forcefully.
Reluctantly, Laura accepted the shoe. It was too tight but it protected her foot well. They went on ahead. When they came to a thicket of thorny bushes, Elizabeth bravely kept from crying out as she stepped on a sharp stone.
Eventually the ground below them seemed less swampy. “I think it’s not far now,” Laura said. They could see a few huge rocks ahead, the ideal spot for a rattlesnake. They moved slowly, looking and listening for rattlers.
They had just passed the rocky outcropping when Elizabeth declared, “I’m sorry, I have to rest.” She lowered herself to a small rock at the side of the path.
As Laura turned back to her, she saw that her foot was bleeding where she had cut it on the stone. “I’ll not wear this any longer,” Laura said. She put the shoe in Elizabeth’s hand. The younger woman hesitated at first and then accepted it.
“We must continue on,” encouraged Laura, “if I’m to reach De Cew’s by tonight.”
It was then that they heard the distinct sound of a rattler about to strike. They froze like statues.
Laura instinctively held her breath and waited.
Then they heard a slithering in the bushes, and Laura knew they had been saved from disaster. Shaken, but strengthened in her resolve to complete the mission, she turned to the terrified Elizabeth.
“I can’t go farther…I can’t…” Elizabeth said with a scarcely audible sob.
“We’re almost there, Elizabeth. Look through the branches and trees. I can see clear sky…a blue patch…the end of the swamp.”
“Well, there’s no sound now,” Elizabeth responded. “I guess it’s better to go on.”
After another arduous slog that was farther than it looked, they emerged into the light again and out of the dangers in the swamp.
The full heat of the windless late June day hit them, and their eyes stung. Elizabeth staggered at first as she adjusted to the light and the intensity of the heat. Laura put out her hand and steadied her. Sweating heavily, they reached the main road that led to Shipman’s Corners. As the houses of the little settlement came into view, Laura said, “I’m going south now.”
“No, Laura. Come with me,” Elizabeth pleaded. “It’s too far and too dangerous. You’ll never make it.”
“No, Elizabeth, I’m going on,” Laura replied.
Elizabeth stooped and took off her shoe. “You must take this,” she said. “I’m almost there.”
Laura smiled at her friend, took the shoe, and headed down the road to the south.
TWENTY-TWO
Twelve Mile Creek didn’t usually flow fast in the month of June, but the spring rains had turned it into a torrent of rough waves that swirled out toward the banks and jackknifed back into the main current. The tree-trunk bridge that lay across the creek was completely under water in three places. Laura began to struggle over it, half stumbling, half crawling in the darkening dusk. Her cap was torn off by an overhanging branch, and her thick brown hair hung down in wet strings and lay flat against her back. She knew if she made it about two-thirds of the way across the creek, she could wade to the shore through the reeds that clustered up against the opposite bank.
About halfway across, a rush of water washed her shoe away and wrapped the hem of her petticoat around the stub of a branch. She tore the petticoat loose and pushed forward. The water was getting deeper. She inched along the trunk, testing each hold. She knew that she must not falter now. As she drew nearer to the opposite bank, she reached the thick marsh reeds that swayed in a gentler current along the edge of the creek. She tightened her hold on the tree trunk and lowered one leg down into the water until she could feel the mud oozing over the sides of Elizabeth’s shoe. Then she slipped off the trunk and started wading toward the bank, waist-deep in the swirling water. The remaining shoe refused to come out of the murky creek-bed. She was barefoot.
As she parted the last bunch of reeds, the total fatigue she’d been labouring under for the last two hours enveloped her like a dark cloud. She dropped heavily onto the grassy bank and fell into a half-sleep.
Crickets chirped gently in the quiet darkness, but they could not blot out the memory of the rough, vengeful voice: Now’s our chance to get rid of that green sliver and his Bloody Boys.
She was jolted awake by a rustling sound. Before she knew what she was doing, she jumped to her feet and stared ahead. A familiar choking smell assailed her. It was a skunk. She squinted through the darkness—she could see it sauntering up the hill in front of her. A false alarm, but she knew that she put herself in danger if she rested in the open.
She struggled up the rough ground. It was painful without shoes, and she felt almost too weak to climb the steep hill ahead. She was thankful, though, that she knew the area well. She and her husband and small children had picnicked here many times.
If she could just reach the top of the hill, she would only have to cross a couple of low, flat fields and one more hill. From there, on that second rise of land, she knew she would be able to see the De Cew family house, where the lieutenant had set up his headquarters.
As she pushed her tired body uphill, waves of doubt began to wash over her—the lieutenant might not believe her message. Perhaps, as James had suggested, Chapin had only been bragging to his guerrillas. After all, the only evidence of the planned attack she had was the snippet of conversation she had overheard through the window. FitzGibbon might just laugh at her or pity her, thinking she had become confused from the pressures of the war or the heat of the day. She could just imagine him saying, “Madam, I’m truly sorry; I’ll be needin’ hard facts.” Laura put these thoughts out of her mind and kept going up the hill.
The night was darker now. A thin wa
sh of moonlight was all that lit the way. Without slowing her pace, she reached ahead to part the tall grass and weeds. She flinched as she stepped on a sharp stone, but the throbbing of her foot was lost in the pain she felt all over her body. She had been running, stumbling, walking for sixteen hours. It seemed that every muscle was screaming in pain. She did not even stop to check the new wound.
When she reached the top of the hill, she stopped abruptly, trembling at an unexpected sight. Clusters of tents and groups of men around campfires were silhouetted against the sky.
At least a dozen men started to move toward her. As they came closer, she recognized the Mohawk leggings that some of them were wearing, but she could not guess the identity of the others. She wondered if they were on the side of the lieutenant. Whoever they were, they were now moving swiftly in her direction. As they come closer, she saw that they were staring at her with cold eyes and moving in to surround her. The two on the right pointed at her and began shouting to each other in a language she did not understand. She gasped in fear, but even as that terrible feeling of weakness came over her, she marched directly up to the one who appeared to be a chief and, pointing to the next hill, she said in a firm, sharp voice, “Lead me to Lieutenant FitzGibbon.” She knew the lieutenant and his men were camped in the direction she was pointing. Surely he would understand.
But the chief just stood and looked at her. She motioned and pointed to the chief, then to herself, and then to the camp over the hill. She repeated these motions and said the lieutenant’s name over and over. She kept the chief’s attention. Then she pointed to the distant northeast and shouted, “The enemy is coming!”
The chief studied her closely, and finally his brow relaxed a little and his eyes became softer. He nodded, then turned and spoke to his men, but they looked suspiciously at her and spoke to each other in low voices.
Acts of Courage Page 16