by Enid Mallory
Natives in the War of 1812
Tecumseh had 600 Natives with him when Brock captured Fort Detroit, but after that success as many as 3,000 Natives from many tribes aligned themselves with the British.
Mohawks on the Niagara Peninsula joined the British to defend home territory. In 1784, most of their lands in New York State had been lost to the American Revolution. Many of them moved north and were granted six miles on either side of the Grand River by the British government. In time, they would lose much of that land to White settlers and the remaining tract would become the Six Nations Indian Reserve.
Mohawks belong to the Six Nations League of Peace, or Iroquois Confederacy. This early experiment in democracy, with its council of 50 chiefs elected by female elders, would be copied by the governments of both the United States and the United Nations. Originally, five tribes made up the confederacy — Mohawk, Oneida, Seneca, Cayuga, and Onondaga. Tuscarora were admitted later. Mohawks who still lived in New York State were determined to remain neutral in the war.
At Queenston Heights, Mohawks, led by Chief John Brant, played a decisive role in pushing the wave of Americans back from the Heights to the river.
In June 1813, 180 Caughnawagas, under Dominique Ducharme, arrived from Lower Canada just in time for the Battle of Beaver Dams. Caughnawagas were Iroquois (mostly Mohawk and Oneida) who adopted the Catholic religion and separated from the Confederacy in the second half of the 17th century. They were sometimes referred to as “French Praying Indians.” Although there were 200 regular Mohawks and some western Natives at Beaver Dams, Caughnawagas did the fighting. John Norton, war chief of the Mohawks, summed up the situation: “The Cognawaga [sic] Indians fought the battle, the Mohawks or Six Nations got the plunder, and FitzGibbon got the credit.”[2]
Years later, in 1818, FitzGibbon put his testimony on paper:
With respect to the affair with Captain Boerstler, not a shot was fired on our side by any but the Indians. They beat the American detachment into a state of terror, and the only share I claim is taking advantage of a favourable moment to offer them protection from the tomahawk and scalping knife. The Indian department did all the rest.[3]
John Norton’s Mohawks played a major role in keeping the Americans imprisoned in Fort George that summer. Working with the Mohawks were smaller numbers of Delaware, Ottawa, Chippawa, and Mississauga.
When Tecumseh died that September, only 700 of his Natives followed Procter back to Burlington Heights. These disheartened Natives played little part in the remaining battles. Many returned to Ohio territory. Caughnawagas would fight again in the remaining battles of war, at Châteauguay and Chrysler’s Farm.
At the beginning of July, when the British attacked Black Rock, neutral New York Seneca decided to strike back. The result was members of the Confederacy fighting against each other at the Battle of Chippawa later that month. Eighty of them were killed. After this battle the Grand River Mohawks withdrew from the fighting to save their confederacy.
At Shipman’s Corners, Elizabeth could go no farther; she would stay at the home of a friend. She was unwell and had only a year to live. Laura, although she looked frail, was strong and tough. But as she went on alone, she was afraid. Every woman she had encountered along the way had warned her of the Natives. There were hundreds of them encamped in the woods, they had said, and no woman was safe among them. Laura, marching on, told herself the Natives were friends to the British and the stories of their atrocities much exaggerated. If only she’d known the territory better — the hills, ravines, and passes through the valleys confused her, and she kept taking the wrong trails. It was uphill, too, as she was actually climbing the escarpment. The day was wearing on to the edge of darkness. She was almost too tired to think, too exhausted to walk. Suddenly, she found herself surrounded by Natives.
All the sensible things she had kept telling herself about the Natives gave way to complete terror and she could not speak. But the authority of their chief in quieting the others reassured her. She was able to make him understand that the Americans were coming, that she had to talk to FitzGibbon. Finally, the chief volunteered to go with her to DeCew’s house.
When they arrived, James FitzGibbon was more than a little surprised to hear the story of this frail little woman who claimed to have walked from Queenston. Queenston was 32 kilometres distant by the Old Swamp Road. But her obvious fatigue, her bedraggled appearance, and the urgency in her voice made it impossible to doubt her. Native scouts may have already alerted Fitz that the Americans were on the move. What Laura had heard confirmed it.
“Mrs. Secord,” he wrote later, “was a person of slight and delicate frame and made this effort in weather excessively warm, and I dreaded at the time that she must suffer in health in consequence of fatigue and anxiety, she having been exposed to danger from the enemy, through whose line of communication she had to pass.”[4]
FitzGibbon sent her to Turney’s farm at the Crossroads beyond DeCew’s where, as she expressed it later, she “slept right off.”
Fitz could not tell how much time he had. He sent a message to Colonel Bisshopp and Major De Haren but knew he might have to act without them. There were 400 Natives at the Beaver Dams, about three kilometres east of DeCew’s house. One hundred eighty of them were Caughnawagas, newly arrived from Lower Canada under a militia captain, Dominique Ducharme. Captain William Kerr commanded 200 from the Six Nations, mostly Mohawks, and 80 men from various other tribes. By nightfall, Kerr had the Natives posted in good position to intercept the Americans and he stayed on guard during the night. In the morning, he sent Captain Ducharme to reconnoitre. Ducharme went all the way to the Niagara River, got into a battle with a small party of Americans, killed four and took seven prisoners. But he saw no sign of 500 marching men.
Laura Secord is delivering her message to Captain FitzGibbon at DeCew’s.
Jefferys, Vol. 2, 162.
On the following morning, June 24, Ducharme’s scouts did discover the Americans on the move. Boerstler’s little army had spent the night in Queenston, throwing out patrols and pickets to prevent any citizen carrying the news. Early the next morning they marched out, confident that surprise was on their side.
The Americans were near their destination, hot and weary from the march, when the beechwoods on either side of them exploded with savage yells and rifle fire. Cavalrymen riding rearguard fell from their horses. Natives appeared on the road behind them, cutting off the possibility of retreat. Near the front of the long column, Colonel Boerstler was shot in the thigh. Major Taylor, second-in-command, had his horse shot from under him. Captain Chapin ran to hide behind the ammunition wagons, to the intense fury of Boerstler. Not only had Chapin forced him into this desperate attempt, he had admitted en route that he did not know the roads so that Boerstler had to force a settler to guide his troops; now Cyrenius Chapin was hiding from the enemy.
The fire from the woods was incessant — the Americans could find no escape from it. They attempted to charge the Natives to drive them into an open field, but Boerstler found his men were not equal to the Natives in woodland warfare, and they had to fall back. FitzGibbon, who had watched from a high hill to the right of the road, kept careful calculation of the despair and panic in the American ranks. When he thought the moment was right, he rode up with a white handkerchief tied to his sword, while his bugler sounded a ceasefire to the Natives. The beechwoods became still.
Fitz had bluffed his way out of tricky situations before, but these were higher odds than he usually played. Could he make 500 regular soldiers surrender to his 50 Green Tigers and some Natives they could not see?
British reinforcements had arrived, Fitz said (wishing it was true), and the Natives were becoming hard to control, especially the western ones. In order to avoid bloodshed he must urge the Americans to surrender. Boerstler said he would not surrender to a force he had not even seen. Fitz swallowed hard and said he would ask his superior officer if he might allow one of Boerstler’s officers to insp
ect the British troops.
Fitz did not have any “superior officer.” The only British troops he had, apart from his own Green Tigers, were 20 Dragoons who had galloped up under Captain Hall of Chippawa. Maybe Hall would do. “You be my superior officer,” he told Hall, “receive the request and refuse it.”
Boerstler sent Lieutenant Goodwin to Hall, who refused the “humiliation” of having his troops inspected. Next, Boerstler sent Captain McDowell to ask that he be given until sundown to decide on surrender (it was then about noon).
FitzGibbons replied, “I cannot possibly grant such a request. I could not control the Natives for such a length of time. I cannot give your general more than five minutes in which to decide whether to surrender or not.”
Boerstler’s decision was to surrender. He was 27 kilometres from Fort George with no hope of reinforcements, and had no idea how many British troops or Natives opposed him. A 27-kilometre retreat with exhausted men at the mercy of the Natives was unthinkable. Fitz promised them protection from the Natives and personally spoke with each of the chiefs, extracting promises from them that they would not harm any Americans taken prisoner.
As FitzGibbon was about to accept the surrender of the troops, Major De Haren galloped up from Twenty Mile Creek, prepared to take over. FitzGibbon’s Irish temper flared. He knew the prize he had, and he had worked too hard for the British cause to have his glory snatched away. In an age when officers were usually wealthy men who could afford to purchase their commissions (Isaac Brock had paid $15,000 to rise from ensign to lieutenant-colonel in 13 years) James FitzGibbon had gone into debt to buy his commission as ensign in 1806 and not been out of debt since. Promotion would mean increased pay as well as a chance to rise farther in the ranks. He needed both.
Laura Secord’s monument is at Queenston Heights, not far from her house.
Gord Mallory.
Grabbing De Haren’s horse, Fitz said in an emphatic whisper, “Not another word, sir, not another word; these men are my prisoners.” Stepping back, he asked, “Shall I proceed to disarm the American troops?”
De Haren answered, “You may.”
Fitz formed the Americans in file to keep their ranks broken, fearing De Haren might reveal the scarcity of British troops. (He doesn’t say how far away De Haren’s companies were but they had not yet put in an appearance.) Keeping the Americans apart from his handful of British soldiers, Fitz asked De Haren, “Shall the American troops ground their arms here?”
“No, let them march through between our men and ground their arms on the other side.”
Fitz turned a wicked glare on De Haren. Did the man not realize that with a close look at their tiny British force, the Americans might not ground their arms at all? In desperation, he said, “Do you think it prudent to march them through with arms in their hands in the presence of the Indians?”
Boerstler saved the day for FitzGibbon. “For God’s sake, sir,” he exclaimed, “do what this officer bids you.”
“Do so,” said De Haren.
Laura’s image has appeared on thousands of chocolate boxes — this one is from the 1940s.
Gord Mallory.
But the moment the American soldiers put down their arms, Natives sprang forward. The terrified men began to seize their arms again. Fitz jumped upon a tree stump and shouted, “Americans, don’t touch your arms! Not a hair on your head shall be hurt. Remember, I am here.” A bombastic speech, he admitted afterward, but the chiefs had given him their promise and he believed them. The Natives helped themselves to pistols, swords, and jackets that pleased them, contrary to the terms of capitulation, but none of them inflicted physical harm. At last, Fitz could relax. De Haren requested that Fitz conduct Colonel Boerstler to DeCew’s house.
Laura Secord’s Legacy and the Chocolate Connection
In a certificate written in 1827, James FitzGibbon spoke of how much he (and indirectly we) owed to Laura Secord, saying that he had ever held himself personally indebted to her.
Laura was born in Massachusetts and came to Canada with her Loyalist family in 1795. In 1797, she married James Secord, another Loyalist, son of an officer in Butler’s Rangers. James, fighting with the militia, helped to carry Isaac Brock’s body from the field of battle on the morning of October 13, 1812.
Laura’s 32-kilometres walk received little recognition in her lifetime. In 1860, the Prince of Wales (later Edward VIII) visited Niagara Falls, heard her story, and awarded her a gift of $100. She was 85 years old at the time. She died in 1868, at 93. Her grave marker in Drummond Hill Cemetery tells the story of her walk.
In 1901, a monument to Laura was placed on Queenston Heights. In 1971, her homestead at 29 Queenston Street was restored and is now a museum portraying life in 1812.
In 1913, a chocolate company helped to make Laura famous when they named their candy after her. Their first store opened in Toronto. If she was not already a Canadian icon, she became one on the chocolate boxes.
After 1999, the production of Laura Secord chocolates was moved to Chicago, although the chocolate was still made in Canada. In 2011, the Laura Secord brand came home to Canada when Nutriart, a Quebec company, bought its 125 Canadian stores.
As they rode the three kilometres together, FitzGibbon discovered he liked Boerstler. The wound in his leg looked painful but he rode without complaining. He had been caught in a vicious trap, the victim of poor planning by his superior officers, poor guidance by Chapin, and the courage of a woman whose long walk FitzGibbon would keep secret to protect her throughout the remainder of the war.
Colonel Boerstler would go home to face a court of enquiry but its final verdict would be that his personal deportment “was that of a brave, zealous and deliberate officer, and the conduct of the regular officers and men under his command was equally honourable to themselves and to their country.”[5]
Chapin was a prisoner of the British at last, but he proved a hard man to hold. On July 12, he and 25 of his men were sent east to Kingston under a guard of sixteen soldiers in two boats. At a signal from Chapin, his men in the second boat drew alongside and boarded the boat Chapin was in. In the struggle, Chapin’s men overpowered their guard, turned their boats back, and landed the next day at Fort George. Chapin kept his freedom until the end of December, when he was again taken prisoner at Buffalo; that time the British managed to convey him, with no mistakes, to a Quebec jail.
Meanwhile, FitzGibbon’s performance caught the imagination of the Canadas and he became the “hero of Beaver Dams.”
Chapter 9
Fever, Cold Rain, and Grand Attacks upon the Onions
We are placed in a strange situation, from being invaders of a territory we are now preparing to meet an attack from the invaded and our limits are so circumscribed that we scarcely hold enough of Canada to rest our wearied limbs upon.
— New York Evening Post, August 3, 1813. Extract of a letter to a gentleman in this city, dated Fort George, Upper Canada, July 20, 1813[1]
As a result of the battle at Beaver Dams, FitzGibbon was promoted to captain in the Glengarry Light Infantry Fencibles. However, he stayed with the 49th for the rest of the 1813 campaign. His promotion may have been due to both Boerstler’s capture and his services with the Green Tigers. Baynes wrote to Prevost, recommending Fitz for his recent success but also for his distinguished service as an officer of a light corps. Vincent also wrote to Prevost pointing out that his actions brought about the surrender of the American attachment.
The Montreal Gazette relished Fitz’s latest adventure. They had the story by the 6th of July: “We have much satisfaction in communicating to the public the particulars of a campaign not of a General with his thousands but of a lieutenant with his tens only.” The story went on to talk of “the cool determination and the hardy presence of mind evinced by this highly meritorious officer,” and to suggest that “the brilliant result which crowned these exertions will, while they make known to the world the name of Lieutenant FitzGibbon, reflect new lustre if possible, on
the well-earned reputation of the gallant 49th Regt., and class that event with the most extraordinary occurrences of the present accursed war.”[2]
The real significance of the affair was its effect on the Americans. President Madison ordered General Dearborn to resign shortly after the Boerstler fiasco, and the command of the army went to Generals Boyd and Lewis. For the rest of the summer, the Americans kept 4,000 men cooped up inside Fort George. James J. Fulton, aide-de-camp to Sir George Prevost, wrote on June 28, “Indeed, from anything we learn since Colonel Boerstler’s disaster, they have not dared to send a patrol more than one mile from Fort George in any direction.”
The British, infused with new spirit, pressed closer. At the end of June, Vincent moved his whole army (about 1,800 men) up to the Twelve Mile Creek. On the first of July the advanced posts of the army were pushed on to St. David’s. Soldiers, militiamen, and Natives were all in a mood to take the offensive. No one was more eager to get on with the action than Captain Fitz. On July 4, he had Ensign Winder organize a party of seven Green Tigers, 34 militiamen, and one volunteer to cross the Niagara in three boats and attack Fort Schlosser, opposite Chippawa. It was the night of Independence Day and FitzGibbon had calculated to catch the Americans off guard. Winder took the guard by surprise and, in less than one hour, came away with a gunboat, two bateaux, anchors, 120 barrels of salt, eight barrels of pork, whiskey, and tobacco. No one on either side was hurt.
Fitz had intended a simultaneous raid on Black Rock, an important post opposite Fort Erie, downriver from Buffalo. Black Rock would be heavily guarded so he had reserved the rest of his band for this attack. But it proved impossible to get enough boats for his 40 men, so he had to postpone the raid.