Books: Neville Trueman the Pioneer Preacher

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This event was one of the turning points of the campaign.
Dearborn, whose forces were wasted away by disease, famine, and
the fortunes of war, to about four thousand men, was beleaguered
in Fort George by Vincent with less than half the number of
troops. The British now assumed the offensive, and on the morning
of the American national anniversary, the fourth of July, a small
force of Canadian militia, under Colonel Clark, crossed at day-
break from Chippewa to Fort Schlosser, captured the guard, and
carried off a large quantity of provisions and ammunition, of
which they were in much need.

A week later, Colonel Bishopp, with two hundred and forty regulars
and militia, crossed before day from Fort Erie to the important
American post of Black Rock. The enemy were completely taken by
surprise, and the block-houses, barracks, dockyard, and one
vessel, were destroyed; and seven guns, two hundred stand of arms,
and a large quantity of provisions captured.

One day, about the middle of July, a dust-begrimed, sunburnt, yet
soldierly-looking young fellow, notwithstanding the weather
stained and faded appearance of his dragoon uniform, rode up to
The Holms. He cantered familiarly up the lane and, throwing the
reins on the neck of his horse, which proceeded of its own accord
to the stable, entered, without knocking, the house.

Kate was in the dairy, moulding the golden nuggets of butter with
a wooden spatula. Stealing up on tip-toe, our dragoon threw his
arms around the girl and gave her a hearty kiss, whose report was
as loud as the smack which he instantly received on his cheek from
the open palm of the astonished Katharine.

"A pretty reception you give your brother," exclaimed the young
man.

"Why, Zenas!" cried Katharine, throwing her arms ground him, and
giving him a kiss that more than made amends for the slap, "how
you frightened me; you naughty boy. I thought it was one of those
Yankee soldiers. They often come begging for cream or cherries,
and get more impudent every day."

"They won't come again, very soon," said Zenas, with all his old
assurance. "We will lock them up safe enough in Fort George, and
soon drive them back to their own side of the river. But give us
something to eat. I'm hungry as a wolf. Where's father?"

"In the ten-acre wheat field. He has to work too hard for his
years, and can get no help for love or money," answered Kate, as
she set before her brother on the great kitchen table a loaf of
homemade bread, a pat of golden butter, a pitcher of rich cream,
and a heaped platter of fragrant strawberries just brought in from
the garden.

"Didn't I say I'd be back to get in the wheat? And you see I've
kept my word," said the lad. "This _is_ better than
campfare," he went on, as the strawberries and cream rapidly
disappeared with the bread and butter. "I have a message for you,
Kate. Who do you suppose it is from?" said the rather raw youth,
with a look that was intended to be very knowing.

"If it's from the camp," replied Kate, calmly, "I know no one
there except Captain Villiers and Mr. Trueman. Is it from either
of them?"

"Trueman is a first-rate fellow--a regular brick, you know, even
if he _is_ a preacher. You ought to have seen how he stood up
for them Yankee prisoners, and got our fellows to share their
rations with them, although he had helped to bag the game himself.
But the message is not from him, but from the captain. He says you
saved his life twice,--once nursing him when he was sick, and once
by keeping those Yankee scouts here, while we got away. We heard
all about your adventure. Well, he's gone to help Proctor in
Michigan, and might never come back, he said, and he asked me
would I give you this, in case he fell, to show that he was not
ungrateful; but I had better give it to you now, or I will be sure
to lose it. I can't carry such trumpery in my saddle-bags;" and he
handed his sister a small jewel-case. Katharine opened it, and saw
an elegant cross, set with gems, lying on a purple velvet cushion.

"He said his mother gave it to him when he was leaving home,"
continued Zenas. "She was kind of High Church, I guess, and
they're most the same as Catholics. He said he had a sort of
presentiment that he'd get killed in the war, and he didn't want
some wild Indian to snatch it from his body with his scalp, and
give to his dusky squaw."

Kate stood looking at the jewel, and knitting her brow in thought.
At length she said, "I'll keep it for him till he comes back, as I
am sure he will; and if he should not," and her voice quivered a
little, for her tender woman's heart could not but shudder at the
thought of a violent death,--"I will send it to his mother. I
wrote to her for him when he was wounded,--Melton Lodge,
Berkshire, is the address. But I will not anticipate his death in
battle. I feel certain that he will come back."

As the British lines were drawn firmly around Fort George, in
which, having repaired the damage caused by the explosion, the
Americans were closely beleaguered, Zenas had no difficulty in
obtaining leave of absence to help to harvest the wheat. Other
militiamen were also available for that service, which was as
important as fighting, Colonel Vincent averred, as he gave
permission to considerable numbers of his yeoman soldiery to
return to their farms, while the others maintained the leaguer of
the fort. Soon after the ingathering of the harvest, however,
Vincent was compelled, by the re-enforcement of the enemy, to
raise the blockade of Fort George, and again to return to his old
position at Burlington Heights.

CHAPTER X.

DISASTERS AND TRIUMPHS.

But we must return to trace briefly the general progress of public
events. Sir James Yeo and Sir George Prevost, with seven vessels
and a thousand men had, early in the season, sailed from Kingston
to destroy the American shipping and stores at Sackett's Harbour.
This object was only partly achieved in consequence of the
impromptitude, not to say incompetence of the commander-in-chief.
It was felt that the gallant Brock had not yet found his
successor.

In the month of July, Commodore Chauncey again appeared on Lake
Ontario, with a largely augmented American fleet. With Colonel
Scott and a force of infantry and artillery, he sailed for
Burlington Heights, to destroy a quantity of British stores at
that place, which was the principal depot of Vincent's army. A
body of Glengury Fencibles had been sent from York to protect the
depot, thus leaving the capital defenceless. Chauncey therefore
sailed for York, and Scott, landing without opposition on the 23rd
of July, burned the barracks, and such public buildings as had
previously escaped, broke open the jail, and plundered both
private and public stores. Chauncey then sailed for the Niagara.
On the 8th of August, he came out of the river to give battle to
Yeo's fleet of six vessels--less than half his own number. A
running fight of two days' duration ensued. In endeavouring to
escape from the British, two American vessels, the "Scourge," of
eight, and the "Hamilton," of nine guns, capsized under press of
sail, and went to the bottom with all on board, except sixteen
men, who were rescued by the boats of the British fleet. Chauncey
lost two other vessels by capture, and was glad again to seek
refuge in Sackett's Harbour.

Stirring events were also transpiring in the West. General
Harrison, notwithstanding the disastrous defeat of Winchester, was
determined, if possible, to drive the British out of Michigan. For
this purpose he had, early in the spring, established a rendezvous
at Fort Meigs, on the Miami River, near the western extremity of
Lake Erie, and formed a depot of stores and provisions. The
expense of victualling his army was enormous. It is estimated that
every barrel of flour cost the American Government a hundred
dollars. Stores of all kinds had to be carried on the backs of
pack-horses through an almost pathless wilderness, and few of the
animals survived more than one journey. It is estimated that the
transport of each cannon to the lakes cost a thousand dollars.

Meanwhile, two squadrons were preparing to contest the supremacy
of Lake Erie. Perry, the American commodore, had nine vessels
well-manned with experienced seamen, to the number of nearly six
hundred, from the now idle merchant marine of the United States.
Barclay, the British captain, had only fifty sailors to six
vessels, the rest of the crew being made up of two hundred and
forty soldiers and eighty Canadians. After alternately blockading
each other in the harbours of Presqu' Isle and Amherstburg, the
hostile fleets met on the 10th of September in the shock of
battle, off Put-in Bay, at the western end of Lake Erie. Perry's
flagship soon struck her colours, but Barclay, his own ship a
wreck, could not even secure the prize. Through the lack of naval
skill of the inexperienced landsmen, the British ships fouled, and
were helplessly exposed to the broadside of the enemy. The heavier
metal of Perry's guns soon reduced them to unmanageable hulks. The
carnage was dreadful. In three hours, all their officers and half
of their crews were killed or wounded. Perry dispatched to
Washington the sententious message: "We have met the enemy. They
are ours."

The result of this defeat was most disastrous. All the advantages
resulting from Brock's victory over Hull in the previous year were
forfeited, Michigan was lost to the British, not again to be
recovered. Proctor, short of provisions, cut off from supplies,
exposed in flank and rear, and attacked in force in front, could
only retreat. He dismantled the forts at Detroit and Amherstburg,
destroyed the stores and public buildings, and fell back along the
Thames with eight hundred and thirty white men, and five hundred
Indians under Tecumseh. Harrison followed rapidly with three
thousand five hundred men, several hundred of whom were cavalry,
of which Proctor had none. He fell upon the British rear-guard at
Moraviantown, October 4th, and captured over a hundred prisoners,
and all the stores and ammunition. Proctor was forced the
following day to fight at a disadvantage, on ill-chosen ground. He
had also neglected to break down the bridges behind him, or to
defend his position with breastworks, and only six hundred men
were brought into action against sixfold odds. The mounted
Kentucky riflemen rode through and through the British ranks,
dealing, death on every side. The brave Tecumseh was slain at the
head of his warriors. He had fought desperately, even against the
mounted riflemen. Springing at their leader. Colonel Johnson, he
dragged him to the earth. The dragoons rallied around their chief,
and Tecumseh fell, pierced with bullets. The rout was complete.
Proctor, with a shattered remnant of his troops, retreated through
the forest to

Burlington Heights, where, with two hundred and forty war-wasted
men, he effected a junction with Vincent's command, which had been
compelled for a time to raise the siege of Fort George, and lake
up its old position. Harrison, the American general, assumed the
nominal government of the western part of Upper Canada. [Footnote:
See Withrow's History of Canada, pp. 318-322.]

In these stirring scenes, Captain Villiers and Zenas Drayton bore
an active part. After the harvest Zenas, eager for active service,
had volunteered to join Proctor in the west, and had shared his
disastrous retreat and defeat. From the camp at Burlington, he
forwarded by Neville Trueman a letter to his sister Kate. The
writing, grammar, and spelling were not quite as good as they
might have been; but the schoolmaster was not abroad in Upper
Canada in the early part of the century as he is now. The
following is a copy of the letter, _vertatim et literatim_:--

IN CAMP AT BURLINGTON HEIGHTS,
October 10.

"I take my pen in hand, leastways the quartermaster's, which he
lent me, to let you know that I am well and hope you are enjoying
the same blessing, also father and the sorel colt, about which I
am mighty particular, as my roan has fallen lame. You will have
heard about the fight at Moraviantown. It was a bad bizness. We
was dead-beat with marching day after day, from Fort Maiden; and
Harrison,--that's the Yankee general,--had a strong body of
cavalry and captured nearly all our stores and amunishun. Our
kurnel seemed to have kind of lost his head, too; (leastways,
that's what I heared Captain Villiers say) and never broke down a
single bridge, nor blockaded the road behind us. A few of us
Niagara boys could soon have felled some trees that would stop
their big guns pretty quick, but we had no axes. Backwoods
fighting has to be done in backwoods way, with the axe and spade
as much as with the musket. But some of these red coats fit in
Spain with Wellington, and think what they don't know about
fighting ain't worth knowing.

"Well, at Moraviantown was an Indian church, built by a Dutch
missionary from Pennsylvany, and a few houses, and our kurnel gave
the word to halt and make a stand against the enemy. But the
ground along the River Thames was black and mucky, almost like a
swamp, and we was soon fagged out. Afore we knowed it almost, the
Kentucky mounted rifles was on us a-shouting like mad. They rid
right through our lines, cutting and hacking with their heavy
sabres, and then they formed behind us and began firing with their
muskets. Our line was completely broken, and badly cut up, and
most of our fellows threw down their arms and surrendered on the
spot. They could'nt do much else.

"But Tecumseh never showed the white feather a bit. He and his
braves was all painted and plumed, and he wore on his naked breast
the King George's medal Crock gave him, and they emptied a good
many saddles from behind the trees. When they saw it going so hard
with our fellows, they yelled their war-whoop and rushed at the
dragoons. Tecumseh pulled their kurnel off his horse, and was
fighting like a wild cat when a dozen mounted rifles spurred to
the spot, and riddled him with bullets. We'll never see his like
again, Kate. No white man or red-skin ever was a better soldier.
He died for his country like a hero, as he was. He should long be
remembered, Captain Villiers says, by every Canadian as the
bravest of the brave. [Footnote: An attempt was made in 1877, to
identify his grave in order to pay fitting honours to his bones,
but without success. His chief memorial has been the giving of his
name to a township of that Canada for which he gave his life.

An American poet has thus commemorated Tecumseh's last conflict
with Colonel Johnson;

"The moment was fearful; a mightier foe
Had ne'er swung his battle-axe o'er him;
But hope nerved his arm for a desperate blow.
And Tecumseh fell prostrate before him.
He fought in defending his kindred and
With a spirit most loving and loyal,
And long shall the Indian, warrior sing
The deeds of Tecumseh the royal."]

"Captain Villiers rallied a couple of companies and brought us off
after a smart skermish. You'd think the Captain was in love with
death, he was so reckless of his life. We made forced marches
almost day and night, till we got to Ancaster; and, I tell you,
glad men we was when we saw Vincent's lines. We're kind of rested
now. Trueman was as good as a surgeon at dressing wounds and the
like, and he had enough of it to do, besides his preaching and
praying, and writing letters for the men. I got a scratch myself,
but I thought I'd try and write to you. But I have to sit on the
ground and write on a drum head, and its kind of tiresome.

"No more at present from your loving brother,

"Zenas.

"Captain Villiers has asked me to add a post-scriptum, sending his
polite regards."

This was the first letter Kate had ever received in her life, for
in these days His Majesty's mails were not heavily burdened with
private correspondence; and she had never been further from home
than to York once with her father in a schooner, to see the
opening of the Parliament. She read her letter eagerly in her
room, and then rushed back to the parlour exclaiming,

"O Mr. Trueman, is he badly hurt?"

"Zenas, do you mean?" asked the young preacher. "Well nothing
dangerous if he keeps quiet; but he has a pretty severe sabre cut
on his sword arm. But he's well cared for. Captain Villiers looks
after him like a brother."

"How kind of him," said Kate, with tears of gratitude in her eyes.

"It is only paying a debt he owes you, I am sure," replied
Neville; but as if unwilling to detract a particle from his merit,
he added, "He behaved very bravely in the late action, and his
praise is in every body's mouth at Vincent's camp."

"Who? Zenas? I am sure of that," replied Kate proudly.

"Zenas played a gallant part too. His wound is proof of that,"
answered Mr. Trueman, "but I was speaking of the Captain."

"Of course," said Kate, somewhat coldly, "but he is not my brother
you know," and the conversation turned in another channel.

We now proceed to notice briefly the progress of the war
elsewhere. The Americans having overrun so large a part of Upper
Canada, were free to concentrate their efforts on the reduction of
Kingston and Montreal. Wilkinson, Commander-in-Chief of the forces
on the Niagara and Upper St. Lawrence frontiers, received
instructions to effect a junction with the "Army of the North"
about to advance from Lake Champlain for the subjugation of Lower
Canada. There were comparatively few British troops in the lower
province, and only three thousand active militia, under General
Sheaffe, for the protection of a thousand miles of frontier.

In pursuance of the American plan of invasion, on the 24th of
October, an army of nine thousand men, with ample artillery, under
General Wilkinson, rendezvoused at Grenadier Island, near
Sackett's Harbour; but the stone forts of Kingston, garrisoned by
two thousand men under De Rottenburg, protected that important
naval station from attack even by a fourfold force. Wilkinson,
therefore, embarking his army in three hundred batteaux, protected
by twelve gun-boats, in the bleak November weather threaded the
watery mazes of the Thousand Islands in his menacing advance on
Montreal. A British "corps of observation," eight hundred strong,
under Colonel Morrison, followed the enemy along the river bank. A
number of gun-boats also hung on the rear of the American
flotilla, and kept up a teasing fire, to their great annoyance and
injury. Wilkinson slowly made his way down the St. Lawrence,
halting his army from time to time, to repel attack. Near
Prescott, his flotilla of batteaux suffered considerably by a
cannonade from the British batteries, as they were passing that
place on a moonlight night. The molestation that he received from
Morrison's corps and from the loyal local militia was so great
that he was forced to land strong brigades on the Canadian shore
in order to secure a passage for his boats. At the head of the
Long Sault Rapids, Wilkinson detached General Boyd with a force of
over two thousand men, to crush the opposing British corps. The
collision took place at Chrysler's Farm,--a name thenceforth of
potent memory. The battle-ground was an open field, with the river
on the right, the woods on the left. For two hours the conflict
raged. But Canadian valour and discipline prevailed over twofold
odds, and the Americans retreated to their boats, leaving behind
one of their guns captured by the British. Their loss in this
engagement was over three hundred killed and wounded,--more than
twice that of their opponents. Wilkinson's disorganized force
precipitately descended the Long Sault Rapids, and awaited at St.
Regis the approach of Hampton's army. It was destined to wait in
vain.

The invasion of Lower Canada by way of Lake Champlain had also
been attended with serious disasters. Early in September, General
Hampton, with a well appointed army of five thousand men, advanced
from Plattsburg on that lake, with a view to a junction with
Wilkinson's army, and a combined attack on Montreal. On the 21st
of October he crossed the border, and pushed forward his forces
along both sides of the Chateauguay River. Sir George Prevost
called for a levy of the sedentary militia, who rallied loyally
for the defence of their country. Colonel De Salaberry, with four
hundred Voltigeurs,--sharpshooters every one,--took up a strong
position at the junction of the Chateanguay with the Outarde,
defended by a breastwork of logs and abattis. General Izzard, with
a column three thousand five hundred strong, attempted to dislodge
him. The Voltigeurs held the enemy well in check till they were in
danger of being surrounded by sheer force of numbers. By a clever
ruse, De Salaberry distributed his buglers widely through the
woods in his rear, and ordered them to sound the charge. The
enemy, thinking themselves assailed in force, everywhere gave way,
and retreated precipitately from the field. Hampton soon retired
across the borders to his entrenched camp at Plattsburg.
Wilkinson, sick in body and chagrined in mind, learning the
shameful defeat of the "Grand Army of the North," abandoned the
idea of further advance on Montreal, scuttled his boats and
batteaux, and retired into winter quarters on the Salmon River,
within the United States boundary. Here he formed an entrenched
camp, and sheltered his defeated army in wooden huts all the
following spring.

Thus the patriotism and valour of some fifteen hundred Canadian
troops hurled hack from our country's soil two invading armies of
tenfold strength, and made the names of Chrysler's Farm and
Chateanguay memories of thrilling power, and pledges of the
inviolable liberty of our land. [Footnote: See Withrow's History of
Canada, 8vo. ed, pp. 322-325.]

CHAPTER XI.

ELDER CASE IN WAR TIME.

We now return to trace the progress of events in Upper Canada.
After the British disasters on Lake Erie, and at Moravian Town,
Sir George Prevost instructed Vincent to fall back on Kingston,
abandoning the western peninsula to the enemy--a desperate
resolve, only to be adopted in the last extremity. At a council of
war held at Burlington Heights, however, it was wisely decided by
Vincent and his officers to stand their ground as long as
possible. Colonel McClure, the commandant of the American force,
was strongly posted at Twenty Mile Creek, and his foraging parties
ravaged the country, and pillaged the inhabitants.

The season for active operations in the field having now passed,
the Canadian militia were dismissed to their homes with
instructions to hold themselves in readiness for immediate action
should necessity demand their aid. Zenas Drayton had returned to
The Holms, quite recovered of his wound and covered with glory by
the distinction it had conferred upon him. He strode about with a
martial air, to the undisguised admiration of the maids of the
household and of all the damsels of the neighbourhood. His
father's eyes followed him sometimes with a look of pride, but
oftener with one of glistening wistfulness, for in these troublous
times pre-eminence of merit was pre-eminence of peril. But Kate
lavished all the love and homage of her woman's heart upon her
brother, as the ideal hero of her dreams. The lad was in a fair
way to be spoiled, if he was not also pretty sure to have the
conceit taken, out of him in the stern school of adversity.

One evening, early in December, the family were sitting around
their kitchen fire, which snapped and roared up the wide chimney
throat as merrily as though such a thing as war had never been
known. The squire and Zenas sat on opposite sides of the hearth
comparing the old soldier's reminiscences of the Revolutionary War
with the boy's recent military experiences. Between them sat Kate
as she had sat on that memorable evening, more than a year before,
on the eve of the fatal fight of Queenston Heights. How much she
had lived in that short time! The outbreak of the war had found
her a light-hearted girl; she had now the graver mien and
sometimes the thought-weighted expression of a woman. But to-
night, a look of happy contentment rested on her face an she gazed
musingly on the glowing embers, or occasionally took part in the
conversation of her father and brother.

Suddenly was heard without the fierce harking of the mastiff
watch-dog, which as suddenly subsided and was followed by a quick,
joyous yelp of recognition. Shuffling feet were then heard in the
outer kitchen, stamping off the snow.

"Who can that he?" asked the squire.

"Some of the neighbours, I suppose," said Kate, for the hospitable
hearth presented rare attractions to the rustic swains of the
vicinity.

"Some of Kate's admirers I should say," laughed Zenas, as he rose
to open the door, "only they don't hunt in couples."

Two snow-besprinkled, travel-stained men, came in out of the
darkness and stood revealed in the glowing fire-light as Sandy
McKay and Tom Loker.

"Welcome home! However did you get here?" asked the squire warmly
shaking their hands, and making room for them at the fire. "We
thought you were prisoners in the hulks at Sackett's Harbour."

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