1862

by Robert Conroy

  Thus, they were together in his office when news of Grant's victory at the Battle of Dundas Street came in. There was wild celebration in Washington. The Union cause had been starved for a major victory. Shiloh had been too near a thing to fill the bill, but a victory over the vaunted army of Great Britain was a marvelous tonic. The Imperial British had been bloodied and they had deserved it. Despite some fears for Nathan's safety, which made her want to wait for more information. Rebecca took a carriage ride with Scott, who, in full uniform, received the cheers of the crowd, which appeared to rejuvenate him. Old Fuss and Feathers loved the crowd and they loved him.

  They drove through the throngs by the White House and were admitted briefly to Lincoln's office. As with everyone who met the man for the first time, Rebecca was astounded by how tall the president was. It was incredible that he was even taller than General Scott.

  “It appears I shall have to listen to you more often.” Lincoln said to Scott. “Tell me what you think will happen now.” Scott smiled. He clearly loved being asked for his opinion. “Are the British yet bottled in Hamilton?”

  “General Halleck has informed me that they are penned in and unable to move to Toronto. He also told me that the British have evacuated the Niagara forts in anticipation of a long siege at Hamilton, and that General Cleburne's Irish Legion has crossed the border at Niagara and joined with Grant.”

  “Does that mean the Welland Canal is ours as well?”

  Lincoln was surprised. “I believe it does. Why?”

  Scott smiled more broadly. “I do recall that General Grant operates well in conjunction with naval forces.”

  Lord Cardigan had been evacuated by ship. He had suffered a complete emotional collapse and been sent across Lake Ontario to Kingston. He would then go to a hospital in either Ottawa or Montreal, and later back to England whether better or not. Regardless of what would transpire, his long career was over and had ended in disgrace.

  General Colin Campbell now commanded by virtue of seniority over General Gough. Governor Monck had made it through the lines to Toronto, which the British still held, however feebly. He, too, departed by ship to Kingston to avoid the growing Union cavalry presence. There were no British regulars in Toronto, and only a few hundred militia and police constituted the city's entire defensive force. Toronto's city government had already opened negotiations with Grant to declare Toronto an open city. Grant had concurred. He would take the city if and when he wished, and there would be no resistance.

  The Americans were more than content to surround the entrenched British at Hamilton, and bombard their works with their field guns. In particular they used three-inch rifled cannon that could fire a ten-pound shell accurately for more than a mile.

  American cavalry ranged past Toronto and as far as Oshawa on Lake Ontario. Communications and resupply, therefore, were entirely by ship, which was the city of Hamilton's only connection with the rest of the world and the British Empire.

  “Thank God Britannia rules the waves,” Wolsey said with sarcasm. General Gough chuckled. The Royal Navy's entire Lake Ontario Squadron, a trio of armed schooners and a paddle wheeler with cannon mounted on it, stood about a mile offshore. Two of the schooners had come through the Welland from Lake Erie, which meant there were no British ships on that Great Lake.

  “How long do you think our naval superiority will last?” Gough queried. “If I recall, the Americans have a nasty habit of building their own fleets on the Great Lakes. God only knows what's going on at Rochester and Oswego. I can only hope that no American ships will arrive until the relief column from Montreal breaks through.”

  Wolsey thought Gough was being very optimistic. Cardigan had lost a third of his army dead, wounded, or missing, and the remainder was under siege. Both knew there weren't enough soldiers in Montreal to counter Grant's force, which they now estimated at fifty thousand thanks to reinforcements that had poured in from Niagara. The fact that thousands of them were damned Irishmen was galling as well.

  American cannon had begun smashing British works, and the British didn't have the guns to counter them. Most had been lost in the battle, and it was presumed that some were in use against them by the Americans, which made a bad situation even worse, particularly since some of them were the large cannon from the Niagara forts. These had been damaged by the retreating Canadians, but the clever Americans had quickly fixed them.

  Life in Hamilton meant going from place to place by trench and staying in basements and bunkers for as long as possible. Sticking one's head up invited disaster, and the city was being pounded to rubble by the American guns. Only by the waterfront was it even somewhat safe.

  They had only been under siege for a few days, but it seemed like forever, and it also seemed like the thunder of cannon would never stop.

  It would be a very long time before any relief column made it to Hamilton. Meanwhile, they had to defend themselves against the Americans, who were watching every move they made and every trench they dug thanks to their damned balloon, which, as they spoke, swayed with the breezes high above the Union lines.

  The sound of a signal cannon echoed in from the lake. “What now?” said Gough.

  They left the safety of their shelter and rushed through the trenches towards the harbor, where they saw the quartet of Royal Navy ships heading farther outward. Three dark fingers of smoke were visible in the distance. In a short while the shapes of three paddle wheelers were evident. Through their telescopes, Wolsey and Gough could see that the strangers flew the American flag and were surprisingly low in the water. Then it dawned on Wolsey.

  “They're ironclads, by God. Goddamn, Grant's made ironclads out of steamships and sent them through the Welland.”

  The Welland Canal could not accommodate extremely large ships, but could handle lake steamers with shallow enough drafts. Obviously, these qualified.

  The British ships opened fire at long range with no apparent effect. As the cannon fire rumbled, the Americans closed the distance until, at very close range, they opened fire. Even though each ironclad only had a pair of guns, they were large caliber and the effect was devastating. The unarmored schooners seemed to disintegrate before their eyes as the shells crushed their hulls and began fires that devoured the wooden ships. A steamer took a hit in her boiler and blew up, showering the ironclads with debris.

  Within a few moments, it was over. There were no British ships on the Great Lakes.

  The American warships made no attempt to keep the British lifeboats from picking up survivors. Instead, the three Union ironclads moved close to shore with studied insolence. Except for a few dents, they were unharmed by their encounter with the British ships.

  For the next hour, they ranged the waterfront and fired at anything they wished. They smashed buildings and shattered bunkers. Fires were started, and no one could get out of their trenches to stop them. Since most buildings contained soldiers, there were numerous casualties.

  Wolsey lay on his belly in a ditch as dirt and debris rained down on him. General Gough was beside him. There were only a handful of guns on the American ships, but the British could not oppose them. It was execution, not battle.

  Finally it was over and the three American ironclads steamed away, doubtless short of ammunition. Wolsey got up from the ditch and shook mud off his uniform. Gough was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, shaken, but otherwise unharmed. The Union ships were heading towards St. Catherines, which the Americans had taken several days before. They would be back and would commence a blockade.

  There would be no more supplies from Montreal and no relief column was going to save them. It was a bitter truth: but one that had to be confronted. That evening, it was almost with relief that Wolsey got the summons from General Campbell to attend a council of war. Campbell could call it what he wished. Wolsey thought, but he doubted there would be very much war for him any longer

  Brevet Colonel Nathan Hunter once again rode under flag of truce towards the enemy lines. He paused as a lone
rider emerged from behind an earthen embankment. Nathan stifled a grin when he realized it was Brigadier General Wolsey.

  Nathan gave Wolsey a courtesy salute. “I can't say I'm delighted to see you again, Colonel,” Wolsey said, “but I'm damn glad to be talking to someone who is reasonable.” That remains to be seen, Nathan thought. “I. too, had hoped to meet you again under more pleasant circumstances. However, fate has decreed otherwise.”

  “I rather think General Grant and his army had more to do with it than fate,” Wolsey said drily. “Be that as it may, it is, as General Grant's note said, time to halt the bloodshed. What does he propose?”

  “Unconditional surrender,” said Nathan and saw Wolsey wince. “Unacceptable,” Wolsey said. “We must negotiate an honorable settlement.”

  “Consider your position, General. You have scant food and little ammunition. You are outnumbered and surrounded, with no relief available from anywhere in the hemisphere. Soon your men will be pounded to pieces just like the men you saved at London would have been had they continued their folly. Surrender and save lives, sir.”

  “At London you did not hold the Canadians prisoner,” Wolsey said in rebuttal. “I am not proposing that we be released, but surely we can come to some accommodation regarding parole and exchange.”

  “Too much blood has been spilled for there to be complete absolution. Surrender, and both you and your men will be treated honorably. Continue the fighting and confront destruction. As to parole or exchange, that is for our governments to work out. However, as we now hold and will hold many more British soldiers than you do Americans, exchange is not a likely option under any circumstances. The possibility of parole for senior officers is an open item.”

  “Will it be possible for my soldiers to be imprisoned in Canada?” Wolsey asked. “There are rumors of terrible conditions in Union prisons.”

  “Unfortunately, the rumors are true, although I hasten to add that they are just as miserable, if not more so, in Confederate prisons. This is not to justify it. Simply put, neither side expected the war to last this long or to be so all-encompassing. We are paying for that miscalculation. Therefore, I am empowered to tell you that your soldiers will be held in American-occupied Canada, where they can receive sustenance and moral support from the local population.”

  That it also relieved Grant and the U.S. government of the responsibility of feeding so large a host was a factor in the decision. It almost didn't matter if any of the imprisoned British tried to escape. Where would they go? A few might be hidden by British sympathizers, but the nearest British army base would be hundreds of miles away. Grant had even suggested that the British be quartered in Sarnia, which was even farther away from Ottawa.

  “Please agree that we will not be guarded by the Irish.”

  Nathan almost laughed, then thought better of it. As jailers, the Irish would take a fearful vengeance. “They will be kept away from your men. They are far more interested in fighting you English than in guarding prisoners.”

  “I have no choice but to accept your proposal,” Wolsey said. “As before, you are totally right in everything you say. Please continue the truce while we arrange the particulars of disarmament and so forth.”

  “Agreed,” said Nathan. He knew full well that the time would be spent by the British in destroying what supplies and equipment they didn't want the Americans to get. “Tell me, Colonel, where did you get the warships?”

  Nathan saw no point in hiding what was already common knowledge in the States. 'They are the steamers that transported Grant's army across the Detroit River to Windsor. Immediately after, they were sent to Cleveland, where they were wrapped in iron plating or railroad tracks that were heated and bent to sheath the ships. They were modeled on the 'Pook Turtles' designed by an engineer named Edmond Pook. They drafted only six feet fully loaded, which meant there was plenty of room in the Welland, which, by the way, you people did not destroy. I suppose we should thank you.”

  In the haste of the retreat, no one had given a moment's thought to blowing up the locks and the mechanism of the Welland. The Americans could have repaired it in due course, but that would have taken time. Then another thought chilled Wolsey. The Rideau Canal connecting Kingston with Ottawa, and thence to Montreal, was five feet deep. Might a lighter Pook Turtle make it through to those cities?

  “Do you know what galls me the most Colonel Hunter?”

  “No.'^:

  “That this will be trumpeted by your country as just as big a victory as Saratoga or Yorktown. Even worse,” he sighed, “they may be right.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  General Cornelis Napier was fifty-two years old and had spent most of his military career in India. He had no experience against a European or white army, as he had totally missed Britain's experience in the Crimea. Like many of his peers, he had been very reluctant to take an assignment in North America, in particular one that would require him to serve alongside slave owners. He had reluctantly acquiesced to command only when pressed by Palmerston in person. Still, he was most uncomfortable with his new assignment.

  Napier, however, was a thoroughly professional, tactful, intelligent, and genial man who was not at all put out by the fact that the only other British officer in Richmond with whom he could talk military matters was a lowly brevet major, John Knollys.

  Despite the heat, the two men had eaten a full dinner and were drinking brandy in the quarters Napier had acquired just outside Richmond. The situation was informal and, with just the two of them present, the differences in rank were, for the most part, disposed of. It would be two men talking frankly.

  “Enough small talk, Knollys,” Napier said. They'd spent a pleasant hour reminiscing about England, the army in India, and mutual acquaintances. “Your reports have been somewhat circumspect and less than candid, I fear. I understand. After all, if such a man as Lord Lyons can be rebuked by Palmerston for intimating that the Confederacy could lose the war, just what can a recently promoted brevet major hope to gain by being equally indiscreet?”

  Knollys flushed. “You are correct, sir. I had absolutely no wish to lay my head on the chopping block. But there are problems here that I did not wish to put down in writing.”

  “Then you must be glad to see me.”

  “Indeed, sir,” Knollys said truthfully.

  They were in their shirtsleeves, but it was still damnably hot. Nothing like India, but there they would have servants fanning them. In Virginia, they could have had slaves perform the same task, but their orders from England were to avoid the usage of slaves. It suited both men. Napier had made it clear to Knollys that he despised the thought of slavery.

  They finished their brandy and lit cigars. Knollys would have preferred an iced tea without cigars, but one did what a general did when dining with a general. He was amused that Richmond had plenty of ice that had been brought down from Canada during the winter and was stored underground. This used to be the case in Washington, and he wondered if their ice supply still existed. If not, the poor dears in the Union's capital must feel terribly deprived and out of sorts.

  “In your opinion, Major, what is the problem with the Confederacy? Why has their military support been less than total? I can understand their deferring to us in naval matters, but their army has been almost totally inactive. This was not what we thought would occur when we took them on as a partner.”

  Knollys took a deep pull on his cigar and released the smoke to the ceiling. “The problem is fundamental, General. In terms of their white population, the South began the war outnumbered about four to one, and this disparity in military-age manpower has grown worse, and not only as a result of casualties, which have been as severe as the North's. The Union continues to encourage immigration from Europe, while, as before the war, virtually no immigrants come to the South; thus, the North's population is growing while the South's is stagnant at best. The manufacturing jobs are in the North, not the South, and even the rude farm jobs are taken by slaves in the C
onfederacy, and not by immigrant whites. The Union is arming Negroes, which will further add to their numerical advantage. Many in the Confederacy still think people of color can't or won't fight white men.”

  “We know better than that,” Napier said.

  Great Britain had used colonials of all colors in her armies for generations. Although none of the nonwhite colonials had yet fought and defeated a major European force, there was no reason to doubt their ability to do so. As a result, it was also a given that England did not particularly wish non-whites to fight white troops. A victory by colored soldiers over white troops could lead to pretensions on the part of natives that would be hard to disprove. Fortunately, the recently finished Sepoy Rebellion in India had ended with an overwhelming British victory, and those incidents in which the Sepoys had prevailed were always against vastly outnumbered British regulars.

  “Of course,” Napier continued, “the Confederacy won't even consider arming her own Negroes, will they?”

  “Pigs will sprout wings and fly before that happens, sir. In my opinion, General Cleburne was driven out of the South on that issue, and not on the allegations that he was dealing with Union sympathizers. I might add that Cleburne's defection has the Confederate army looking with suspicion at anyone with an Irish name, whether Catholic or not.”

  “Damned Irish,” Napier said with a smile. Many of the British army's top generals were Irish, although Protestant.

  Knollys shrugged. “The result, however, is that the Confederacy has a small, efficient, and sometimes well-led army that will function very well on the defensive, but does not have the manpower or the inclination to go on the offensive for a war of conquest. Raids, yes, but not a conquest of lands, which she would not be able to hold. We want her to go on the offensive, but that is something both Jefferson Davis and General Lee are reluctant to do. Davis is deeply sympathetic with our problem in Canada, perhaps even dismayed, but that is about it at this time. I might add that the dismay we feel over our loss is mirrored here in Richmond. No one thought we would fail so dismally in Canada.”