For Honour's Sake

by Mark Zuehlke

  But the British could not entirely avoid the contest. Supplies were desperately short, a point Procter impressed upon Barclay with monotonous regularity. The only way supplies and reinforcement troops reached them was by the lake. On September 6, Barclay gloomily spelled out his dilemma in a letter to Yeo. Something “must be attempted by me to enable us to get Supplies …. I shall sail and risk every thing.”18 Three days later, Barclay sailed forth aboard Detroit. Queen Charlotte, Lady Prevost, and three schooners, Chippawa, Hunter, and Little Belt, followed. Detroit was fit for sea, but barely for combat. Lacking naval guns, Barclay had manhandled a mixed array of cannon from the ramparts of Fort Malden and lashed them to her deck. Seventeen of her nineteen cannon were long guns, ranging from two 24-pounders to eight 9-pounders, the remaining two medium-weight carronades.

  The next day, a Thursday, the British squadron sighted Perry’s ships off Put-in-Bay. Knowing he was outnumbered, Barclay formed his squadron so Chippawa with her single 9-pounder long gun led, followed by Detroit, General Hunter, Queen Charlotte, Little Belt, and Lady Prevost. General Hunter mounted six lightweight long guns and two carronades, Queen Charlotte three 12-pounder longs and, making her formidable in a close fight, fourteen 24-pounder carronades. Lady Prevost had three 9-pounders and ten 12-pounder carronades, while Little Belt had one 9-pounder and two 6-pounder longs. By interspersing schooners between his brigs, Barclay hoped to increase the squadron’s overall firepower directly against the two ships in the American squadron that were of concern—Lawrence and Niagara. His approach was from leeward of the Americans, riding slowly on an advantageous wind. It was 11:45 a.m.

  Aboard Lawrence, Perry hoisted a fighting flag bearing its namesake’s dying entreaty, “Don’t give up the ship.” His squadron was strung out in a long column with two schooners, Scorpion and Ariel, in the van, then his flagship followed by Caledonia, Niagara, and the remaining four schooners in trail. Scorpion, Ariel, and Caledonia all mounted long guns, which Perry hoped would make up for the deficiency of guns aboard his bigger ships.

  The wind was light, but fickle. At the pivotal moment the breeze turned, giving the Americans the weather gauge. Perry ordered his ships to close on the British. Barclay opened with the long guns, firing at Lawrence. Ten minutes passed before Perry was able to reply with his two 12-pounder long guns. This interlude dragged fearfully for the American crew as British shot from Detroit’s three longer-ranged guns tore into their ship with surprising accuracy. Finally the two ships stood just 250 feet apart. Canister range, but just. Perry could get no closer, his rigging almost entirely shot away. Behind, Niagara and Queen Charlotte ineffectually banged away at each other with carronades, the shot falling harmlessly into the water. Then Commander Robert Finnis, aboard Queen Charlotte, gave the order to make sail and a few minutes later joined Detroit’s attack on Lawrence.

  By 2:30 both flagships were in a bad way. Only one of the ten guns mounted on the broadside of Lawrence facing Detroit still fired. Eighty-three of her 142 men were dead or wounded. Blood ran like water across her deck, staining the canvas of the fallen sails. Men lay crushed under tangles of rigging, others had been torn asunder by canister. Yet Perry, remarkably untouched, refused to strike the colours.19

  Detroit was little better off, Barclay later describing her as “a perfect wreck.” The squadron commander was weak from loss of blood, one thigh ripped open. On Queen Charlotte, Finnis lay dead. Lt. Robert Irvine of the Provincial Marine, too inexperienced to competently manoeuvre such a large ship, was in command. The wind was so weak that barely any of the vessels could make way. The three larger vessels locked in their deadly firefight had sails so badly rent that what breeze there was passed uselessly through the many holes.20 Farther back in the line, Lady Prevost drifted helplessly leeward with a damaged rudder, her captain rendered senseless and near insane by a splinter that had pierced his skull.21

  Throughout the fight Lt. Jesse Elliott, commander of Niagara, kept his ship alternately out of line or range of any serious fire from the British. Bad blood existed between Perry and Elliott, who believed command of the Lake Erie squadron had been unfairly passed to the other man despite the lieutenant’s having captured Caledonia and burned the first Detroit the year before.

  Finally, recognizing that Lawrence was finished, Perry took to a boat with four sailors after ordering the colours struck and the ship surrendered. Covered by the thick blankets of gunsmoke drifting on the lake surface, Perry was rowed to Niagara. Soon his personal flag was hoisted and he ordered Niagara to bear directly on a suddenly rising fresh breeze toward the British line so as to cut across Detroit’s bow.

  Barclay, his leg wound wrapped in a thick bandage, stood on his bridge watching the approaching American ship with angry frustration. If Niagara crossed in front of Detroit he faced a raking broadside. Desperately, he ordered Detroit brought around, trying to bring the guns on his undamaged side into broadside position. But suddenly a volley of loosed canister shrieked across the deck. An iron ball ripped the shoulder blade of Barclay’s surviving arm open, blood gushed from a large open wound, and the captain collapsed. Nearby, his second-in-command, Lt. John Garland, lay dying. Lt. George Inglis tried to carry out the captain’s order, but just as the ship began to come about disaster struck. Queen Charlotte, blundering about under the uncertain hand of Lieutenant Irvine, strayed too close to the flagship, and the masts and bowsprits of both ships became entangled.

  At this moment Perry achieved his purpose, crossing in front of the bows of the two ships. All the facing cannon aboard Niagara were double-shotted. The guns belched flame and smoke, causing carnage aboard the two ships. Some of the broadside struck General Hunter as well. On Niagara’s port side the guns also spoke, tearing into the tiny Chippawa and disabled Lady Prevost.

  Detroit’s masts were gone, Queen Charlotte’s mizzen down. An officer aboard Detroit hoisted a white handkerchief on a pike to signal the ship’s surrender. Queen Charlotte, General Hunter, and Lady Prevost all struck their colours. Chippawa and Little Belt attempted to flee but were soon overtaken and rounded up. Perry, exultant, scribbled a signal to Harrison. “We have met the enemy and they are ours.”22

  American losses were almost entirely confined to the Lawrence. Twenty-two of the 27 killed in the engagement fell aboard the flagship, as did 61 of the 96 wounded. British casualties were fewer, 41 dead and 94 wounded, but this was almost half the squadron’s entire strength.

  A year after the battle, Barclay appeared before a court martial required whenever a naval officer lost an entire squadron. His ruined shoulder was still wrapped in bandage. He was absolved.

  When rumours persisted that Elliott had shown cowardice and failed to come to Perry’s support, he demanded a court of inquiry be held in 1815. The court found no basis for the claims. Then in 1818 Perry rekindled the controversy by bringing formal charges against the officer. Perry’s death within a year of the charges being laid resulted in the matter not being pursued, but the question lingered on long after both officers had been laid in their graves.

  The effect of what would be known as either the Battle of Lake Erie or the Battle of Put-in-Bay was immediate. Two days after the fateful engagement, Major General Procter wrote his superior, Major General de Rottenburg, proposing an immediate retreat east to the Thames River, which flowed into Lake St. Clair north of Amherstburg. About seventy miles up the river was Moravian Town, a small village where a stand against the Americans might be possible. But his heart was more into a further retreat that would take him overland to the British lines established by recently promoted Maj. Gen. John Vincent on the Niagara Peninsula. While awaiting an answer, Procter declared martial law to enable his commissary officers to confiscate cattle and other supplies sufficient to supply his garrison of about 900 men on an almost 200-mile-long trek through dense wilderness. Procter’s letter reached de Rottenburg the evening of September 16 and caused great consternation. First there was the disastrous loss of the Lake Erie squadron, but the gene
ral could not believe that cause for “precipitate retrograde movement,” as he called it in a hurried reply the next morning. Procter was ordered to consult with Tecumseh to gauge the effect of the naval defeat on the confederacy and meanwhile concentrate his remaining force in such a way as to “prove to them the sincerity of the British Government, in its intention not to abandon them.”23

  But Procter was panicked. He feared the Americans would soon be nipping at his heels. There was no time to await further instruction from de Rottenburg. The only course was obvious. On September 18, Procter called a meeting at the council house in Fort Malden and explained to Tecumseh and his chiefs the need to retreat.

  When the British officer finished, all eyes turned to Tecumseh, who stood holding a wampum belt in his hands marked with symbols to remind him of the points he wished to make. Sixteen-year-old John Richardson, the volunteer with the 41st Regiment of Foot, described him as wearing leather jerkin and pants, “while a large plume of white ostrich feathers, by which he was generally distinguished, overshadowing his brown, and contrasting with the darkness of his complexion and the brilliancy of his black and piercing eye, gave a singularly wild and terrific expression to his features.”

  Through an interpreter Tecumseh spoke. After recapping the events of battles fought since the war’s outbreak, he turned to the British promises. “Listen! When war was declared, our father stood up and gave us the tomahawk, and told us that he was now ready to strike the Americans—that he wanted our assistance; and that he would certainly get us our lands back, which the Americans had taken from us.” The entire history of British guarantees was trotted before an embarrassed Procter. “You always told us to remain here and take care of our lands; it made our hearts glad to hear that was your wish. Our great father, the king, is the head, and you represent him. You always told us you would never draw your foot off British ground; but now, father, we see you are drawing back, and we are sorry to see our father doing so without seeing the enemy. We must compare our father’s conduct to a fat animal, that carries its tail upon its back, but when affrighted, it drops it between its legs and runs off.

  “Listen, father! The Americans have not yet defeated us by land … we therefore wish to remain here, and fight our enemy, should they make their appearance. If they defeat us, we will then retreat with our father.”24

  But Procter was in no mood to be bullied by Tecumseh into standing and fighting. Even though he still had 900 men and a formidable defensive bastion in Fort Malden, as well as about 1,500 confederacy warriors, Procter viewed the situation as already lost. He soon realized, however, that the support of Tecumseh’s Indians upon which the British government staked such importance would be lost if he fled to Vincent’s lines. So he proposed a compromise. The withdrawal would be only to the lower Thames. There they would turn and fight. Would Tecumseh come with him?

  After some discussion with his chiefs Tecumseh assented to the plan. Supplies for the Indians and soldiers were extremely short. Together they consumed fourteen head of cattle and 7,000 pounds of flour daily, which was more than could be collected locally.25 There was the real possibility that the retreating force would starve, but Procter thought that prospect even more likely if they stayed. And he could easily imagine being surrounded in Fort Malden. All the Americans had to do was wait them out. Eventually there would be no food and surrender inevitable. Better to retreat and save his army.

  Once the decision was made, an exodus slowly began taking place. Over the next few days, as the British destroyed the Lake Erie fortifications, hundreds of Indians moved into the forests. Most headed for the Thames, others simply went their own way. About 1,200 warriors and their families announced their intention to go with the British. They represented the diversity of Tecumseh’s great confederacy of tribes—Shawnee, Winnebago, Kickapoo, Wyandot, Sac, Miami, Munsee Delaware, Potawatomi, Ojibwa, Ottawa, Seneca, and Creek.26Also accompanying the British were many of the Canadian settlers, fearful of being left to the questionable mercy of the Americans. A great line of carts, wagons, cattle, and horses was gathered together by all these people.

  On September 24, Detroit was torched, and two days later Fort Malden was set alight. That same day Perry’s squadron was sighted probing carefully up the Detroit River. The morning of September 27 the retreat began in earnest. It was a miserable day. A continual, heavy rain soaked everyone. The downpour combined with the advance of wagons, people, and animals churned up the narrow track, so that the farther back in the line one was, the harder the going. Wagon and cart wheels sunk to the axles and had to be wrestled free. The dresses of the women were sopping with mud as they struggled through knee-deep bogs. Men cursed and swore and pulled and shoved, sweating and shivering at the same time.

  Each day that followed only increased the misery of the straggling column. Many civilians had insisted on bringing with them vast amounts of personal belongings. One family alone had thirty horses straining to pull nine heavily laden wagons that carried among other things 1,500 pounds of silver plate. For ten days the retreat went on until the vanguard reached Moravian Town, about seventy miles from Detroit, and Procter decided to make his stand against the Americans. At the opposite end of the long column, a rearguard of soldiers had become so disorganized and demoralized that it failed to carry out the primary assignment of destroying the bridges to slow the American pursuit.

  That the Americans would pursue was never in doubt, and Procter was amazed not to be overrun while on the march. The last pickets to abandon Fort Malden had reported troops coming ashore just as dusk fell. Expecting a fight, Harrison had landed 3,000 regulars and Kentucky Volunteers, and been surprised to find the fort a smouldering ruin. Although Procter had no more than a few hour.’ head start, the American general did not immediately pursue him despite his estimation that no more than 580 redcoats remained and that Tecumseh’s warriors could be easily scattered. Instead, that night he wrote to Secretary of War John Armstrong: “I will pursue the enemy to-morrow, although there is no probability of my overtaking him, as he has upwards of 1,000 horses, and we have not one in the army.”27

  This was gross exaggeration, of course. Harrison faced mostly infantry, who had neither the ability to master horsemanship on short notice nor the inclination. Most would rather walk than try saddling a horse. There were also far fewer horses than oxen and cattle, and the number of heavily burdened carts moved slower than a man taking a leisurely stroll. This was a gruelling retreat that mimicked the flight of Napoleon from Moscow. And Procter led his people toward a semblance of the same tragedy that had befallen the Grande Armée.

  SEVENTEEN

  Fields of Victory, Fields of Shame

  OCTOBER 1813

  Maj. Gen. William Henry Harrison’s lack of enthusiasm for a quick pursuit of Maj. Gen. Henry Procter’s retreating army was as nothing compared to the state of torpor that had settled over the rest of the American northern command as the campaign season of 1813 entered its final months. In early August, Secretary of War John Armstrong had derided operations so far conducted west of Kingston as having left “the strength of the enemy unbroken.” Kingston was “the great depot of his resources,” he advised the new commander of the north, Maj. Gen. James Wilkinson, on August 8. “So long as he retains this, and keeps open his communications with the sea, he will not want the means of multiplying his naval and other defences, and of reinforcing or renewing the war in the West.” Kingston should be either captured directly or cut off from Montreal by an army driving up each side of the wide St. Lawrence River to blockade this vital link in the British communication lines. Once the blocking position was secure, the army could march east to join a second army coming toward Montreal from the south via Lake Champlain and seize the important trading centre. Success in this venture would well position the Americans to drive the British out of Upper Canada and all of Lower Canada west of Quebec in the spring of 1814. With luck even the fortress city itself might be taken and the conquest of Canada completed. “In c
onducting the present campaign,” Armstrong ordered, “you will make Kingston your primary object, and that you will choose (as circumstances may warrant), between a direct and indirect attack upon that post.”1

  Wilkinson, who had only recently concluded his Odyssean banquet-hall journey from New Orleans to Washington, virtually scurried toward his new command after this meeting—arriving at Sackets Harbor on August 25. On paper his was a formidable army consisting of 14,357 regulars. But that included 2,528 unfit for duty. And the rest were spread out into three separate forces. On Lake Champlain there were 4,053 men, on the Niagara Peninsula at Fort George he had 3,668, and on the Erie frontier another 6,636.2 The latter were with Harrison at Lake Erie and so of no use in the coming campaign.

  More problematic was the fact that almost every officer under his command either hated Wilkinson or held him in contempt. In addition to his role in the conspiracy against George Washington, there was an open and bitter quarrel with the popular “Mad Anthony” Wayne, his former collusion in the Aaron Burr scheme that had sought to carve Louisiana away from the United States to create an independent nation, and various lesser intrigues for which he had faced courts martial only to be exonerated for lack of evidence. As well, Wilkinson’s health was poor; he was plagued by fevers that he remedied with a regularly consumed self-prescribed mixture of laudanum and whisky.3

  The commanding general with whom Wilkinson must cooperate to realize Armstrong’s objective was also his archrival. Maj. Gen. Wade Hampton, commander of the army at Lake Champlain, was a big, stiff-necked Virginian of sixty years. Hampton’s temper was as legendary as his impatience with those who got in his way. Orphaned by a Cherokee raid, Hampton scrabbled his way through a mixture of cunning, good fortune, and bloody-minded determination up from poverty to become one of America’s wealthiest plantation owners. His holdings encompassed thousands of acres and were worked by even more slaves.4 A tough disciplinarian, Hampton imposed a strict training regimen on the Champlain command. Nile.’ Weekly Register reported that even officers were “given to understand that they must and shall ascertain and perform their several duties.”5