The War With the United States by William Wood

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Precisely at noon Brock took his stand beneath a giant
oak at Amherstburg surrounded by his officers. Before
him sat Tecumseh. Behind Tecumseh sat the chiefs; and
behind the chiefs a thousand Indians in their war-paint.
Brock then stepped forward to address them. Erect, alert,
broad-shouldered, and magnificently tall; blue-eyed,
fair-haired, with frank and handsome countenance; he
looked every inch the champion of a great and righteous
cause. He said the Long Knives had come to take away the
land from both the Indians and the British whites, and
that now he would not be content merely to repulse them,
but would follow and beat them on their own side of the
Detroit. After the pause that was usual on grave occasions,
Tecumseh rose and answered for all his followers. He
stood there the ideal of an Indian chief: tall, stately,
and commanding; yet tense, lithe, observant, and always
ready for his spring. He the tiger, Brock the lion; and
both unflinchingly at bay.

Next morning, August 15, an early start was made for
Sandwich, some twelve miles north, where a five-gun
battery was waiting to be unmasked against Detroit across
the river. Arrived at Sandwich, Brock immediately sent
across his aide-de-camp, Colonel Macdonell, with a letter
summoning Hull to surrender. Hull wrote back to say he
was prepared to stand his ground. Brock at once unmasked
his battery and made ready to attack next day. With the
men on detachment Hull still had a total of twenty-five
hundred. Brock had only fifteen hundred, including the
Provincial Marine. But Hull's men were losing what
discipline they had and were becoming distrustful both
of their leaders and of themselves; while Brock's men
were gaining discipline, zeal, and inspiring confidence
with every hour. Besides, the British were all effectives;
while Hull had over five hundred absent from Detroit and
as many more ineffective on the spot; which left him only
fifteen hundred actual combatants. He also had a thousand
non-combatants--men, women, and children--all cowering
for shelter from the dangers of battle, and half dead
with the far more terrifying apprehension of an Indian
massacre.

Brock's five-gun battery made excellent practice during
the afternoon without suffering any material damage in
return. One chance shell produced a most dismaying effect
in Detroit by killing Hanks, the late commandant of
Mackinaw, and three other officers with him. At twilight
the firing ceased on both sides.

Immediately after dark Tecumseh led six hundred eager
followers down to their canoes a little way below Sandwich.
These Indians were told off by tribes, as battalions are
by companies. There, in silent, dusky groups, moving
soft-foot on their moccasins through the gloom, were
Shawnees and Miamis from Tecumseh's own lost home beside
the Wabash, Foxes and Sacs from the Iowan valley, Ottawas
and Wyandots, Chippewas and Potawatomis, some braves from
the middle prairies between the Illinois and the
Mississippi, and even Winnebagoes and Dakotahs from the
far North-West. The flotilla of crowded canoes moved
stealthily across the river, with no louder noise than
the rippling current made. As secretly, the Indians crept
ashore, stole inland through the quiet night, and, circling
north, cut off Hull's army from the woods. Little did
Hull's anxious sentries think that some of the familiar
cries of night-birds round the fort were signals being
passed along from scout to scout.

As the beautiful summer dawn began to break at four
o'clock that fateful Sunday morning, the British force
fell in, only seven hundred strong, and more than half
militia. The thirty gunners who had served the Sandwich
battery so well the day before also fell in, with five
little field-pieces, in case Brock could force a battle
in the open. Their places in the battery were ably filled
by every man of the Provincial Marine whom Captain Hall
could spare from the _Queen Charlotte_, the flagship of
the tiny Canadian flotilla. Brock's men and his light
artillery were soon afloat and making for Spring Wells,
more than three miles below Detroit. Then, as the _Queen
Charlotte_ ran up her sunrise flag, she and the Sandwich
battery roared out a challenge to which the Americans
replied with random aim. Brock leaped ashore, formed
front towards Hull, got into touch with Tecumseh's Indians
on his left, and saw that the British land and water
batteries were protecting his right, as prearranged with
Captain Hall.

He had intended to wait in this position, hoping that
Hull would march out to the attack. But, even before his
men had finished taking post, the whole problem was
suddenly changed by the arrival of an Indian to say that
McArthur's four hundred picked men, whom Hull had sent
south to bring in the convoy, were returning to Detroit
at once. There was now only a moment to decide whether
to retreat across the river, form front against McArthur,
or rush Detroit immediately. But, within that fleeting
moment, Brock divined the true solution and decided to
march straight on. With Tecumseh riding a grey mustang
by his side, he led the way in person. He wore his
full-dress gold-and-scarlet uniform and rode his charger
Alfred, the splendid grey which Governor Craig had given
him the year before, with the recommendation that 'the
whole continent of America could not furnish you with so
safe and excellent a horse,' and for the good reason that
'I wish to secure for my old favourite a kind and careful
master.'

The seven hundred redcoats made a gallant show, all the
more imposing because the militia were wearing some spare
uniforms borrowed from the regulars and because the
confident appearance of the whole body led the discouraged
Americans to think that these few could only be the
vanguard of much greater numbers. So strong was this
belief that Hull, in sudden panic, sent over to Sandwich
to treat for terms, and was astounded to learn that Brock
and Tecumseh were the two men on the big grey horses
straight in front of him. While Hull's envoys were crossing
the river and returning, the Indians were beginning to
raise their war-whoops in the woods and Brock was
reconnoitring within a mile of the fort. This looked
formidable enough, if properly defended, as the ditch
was six feet deep and twelve feet wide, the parapet rose
twenty feet, the palisades were of twenty-inch cedar,
and thirty-three guns were pointed through the embrasures.
But Brock correctly estimated the human element inside,
and was just on the point of advancing to the assault
when Hull's white flag went up.

The terms were soon agreed upon. Hull's whole army,
including all detachments, surrendered as prisoners of
war, while the territory of Michigan passed into the
military possession of King George. Abundance of food
and military stores fell into British hands, together
with the _Adams_, a fine new brig that had just been
completed. She was soon rechristened the _Detroit_. The
Americans sullenly trooped out. The British elatedly
marched in. The Stars and Stripes came down defeated.
The Union Jack went up victorious and was received with
a royal salute from all the British ordnance, afloat and
ashore. The Indians came out of the woods, yelling with
delight and firing their muskets in the air. But, grouped
by tribes, they remained outside the fort and settlement,
and not a single outrage was committed. Tecumseh himself
rode in with Brock; and the two great leaders stood out
in front of the British line while the colours were being
changed. Then Brock, in view of all his soldiers, presented
his sash and pistols to Tecumseh. Tecumseh, in turn, gave
his many-coloured Indian sash to Brock, who wore it till
the day he died.

The effect of the British success at Detroit far exceeded
that which had followed the capture of Mackinaw and the
evacuation of Fort Dearborn. Those, however important to
the West, were regarded as mainly Indian affairs. This
was a white man's victory and a white man's defeat. Hull's
proclamation thenceforth became a laughing-stock. The
American invasion had proved a fiasco. The first American
army to take the field had failed at every point. More
significant still, the Americans were shown to be feeble
in organization and egregiously mistaken in their
expectations. Canada, on the other hand, had already
found her champion and men quite fit to follow him.

Brock left Procter in charge of the West and hurried back
to the Niagara frontier. Arrived at Fort Erie on August
23 he was dismayed to hear of a dangerously one-sided
armistice that had been arranged with the enemy. This
had been first proposed, on even terms, by Prevost, and
then eagerly accepted by Dearborn, after being modified
in favour of the Americans. In proposing an armistice
Prevost had rightly interpreted the wishes of the Imperial
government. It was wise to see whether further hostilities
could not be averted altogether; for the obnoxious
Orders-in-Council had been repealed. But Prevost was
criminally weak in assenting to the condition that all
movements of men and material should continue on the
American side, when he knew that corresponding movements
were impossible on the British side for lack of transport.
Dearborn, the American commander-in-chief, was only a
second-rate general. But he was more than a match for
Prevost at making bargains.

Prevost was one of those men who succeed half-way up and
fail at the top. Pure Swiss by blood, he had, like his
father, spent his life in the British Army, and had risen
to the rank of lieutenant-general. He had served with
some distinction in the West Indies, and had been made
a baronet for defending Dominica in 1805. In 1808 he
became governor of Nova Scotia, and in 1811, at the age
of forty-four, governor-general and commander-in-chief
of Canada. He and his wife were popular both in the West
Indies and in Canada; and he undoubtedly deserved well
of the Empire for having conciliated the French Canadians,
who had been irritated by his predecessor, the abrupt
and masterful Craig. The very important Army Bill Act
was greatly due to his diplomatic handling of the French
Canadians, who found him so congenial that they stood by
him to the end. His native tongue was French. He understood
French ways and manners to perfection; and he consequently
had far more than the usual sympathy with a people whose
nature and circumstances made them particularly sensitive
to real or fancied slights. All this is more to his credit
than his enemies were willing to admit, either then or
afterwards. But, in spite of all these good qualities,
Prevost was not the man to safeguard British honour during
the supreme ordeal of a war; and if he had lived in
earlier times, when nicknames were more apt to become
historic, he might well have gone down to posterity as
Prevost the Pusillanimous.

Day after day Prevost's armistice kept the British
helpless, while supplies and reinforcements for the
Americans poured in at every advantageous point. Brock
was held back from taking either Sackett's Harbour, which
was meanwhile being strongly reinforced from Ogdensburg,
or Fort Niagara, which was being reinforced from Oswego,
Procter was held back from taking Fort Wayne, at the
point of the salient angle south of Lake Michigan and
west of Lake Erie--a quite irretrievable loss. For the
moment the British had the command of all the Lakes. But
their golden opportunity passed, never to return. By
land their chances were also quickly disappearing. On
September 1, a week before the armistice ended, there
were less than seven hundred Americans directly opposed
to Brock, who commanded in person at Queenston and Fort
George. On the day of the battle in October there were
nearly ten times as many along the Niagara frontier.

The very day Brock heard that the disastrous armistice
was over he proposed an immediate attack on Sackett's
Harbour. But Prevost refused to sanction it. Brock then
turned his whole attention to the Niagara frontier, where
the Americans were assembling in such numbers that to
attack them was out of the question. The British began
to receive a few supplies and reinforcements. But the
Americans had now got such a long start that, on the
fateful 13th of October, they outnumbered Brock's men
four to one--4,000 to 1,000 along the critical fifteen
miles between the Falls and Lake Ontario; and 6,800 to
1,700 along the whole Niagara river, from lake to lake,
a distance of thirty-three miles. The factors which helped
to redress the adverse balance of these odds were Brock
himself, his disciplined regulars, the intense loyalty
of the militia, and the 'telegraph.' This 'telegraph'
was a system of visual signalling by semaphore, much the
same as that which Wellington had used along the lines
of Torres Vedras.

The immediate moral effects, however, were even more
favourable to the Americans than the mere physical odds;
for Prevost's armistice both galled and chilled the
British, who were eager to strike a blow. American
confidence had been much shaken in September by the sight
of the prisoners from Detroit, who had been marched along
the river road in full view of the other side. But it
increased rapidly in October as reinforcements poured
in. On the 8th a council of war decided to attack Fort
George and Queenston Heights simultaneously with every
available man. But Smyth, the American general commanding
above the Falls, refused to co-operate. This compelled
the adoption of a new plan in which only a feint was to
be made against Fort George, while Queenston Heights were
to be carried by storm. The change entailed a good deal
of extra preparation. But when Lieutenant Elliott, of
the American Navy, cut out two British vessels at Fort
Erie on the 9th, the news made the American troops so
clamorous for an immediate invasion that their general,
Van Rensselaer, was afraid either to resist them or to
let their ardour cool.

In the American camp opposite Queenston all was bustle
on the 10th of October; and at three the next morning
the whole army was again astir, waiting till the vanguard
had seized the landing on the British side. But a wrong
leader had been chosen; mistakes were plentiful; and
confusion followed. Nearly all the oars had been put into
the first boat, which, having overshot the mark, was made
fast on the British side; whereupon its commander
disappeared. The troops on the American shore shivered
in the drenching autumn rain till after daylight. Then
they went back to their sodden camp, wet, angry, and
disgusted.

While the rain came down in torrents the principal officers
were busy revising their plans. Smyth was evidently not
to be depended on; but it was thought that, with all the
advantages of the initiative, the four thousand other
Americans could overpower the one thousand British and
secure a permanent hold on the Queenston Heights just
above the village. These heights ran back from the Niagara
river along Lake Ontario for sixty miles west, curving
north-eastwards round Burlington Bay to Dundas Street,
which was the one regular land line of communication
running west from York. Therefore, if the Americans could
hold both the Niagara and the Heights, they would cut
Upper Canada in two. This was, of course, quite evident
to both sides. The only doubtful questions were, How
should the first American attack be made and how should
it be met?

The American general, Stephen Van Rensselaer, was a
civilian who had been placed at the head of the New York
State militia by Governor Tompkins, both to emphasize
the fact that expert regulars were only wanted as
subordinates and to win a cunning move in the game of
party politics. Van Rensselaer was not only one of the
greatest of the old 'patroons' who formed the landed
aristocracy of Dutch New York, but he was also a Federalist.
Tompkins, who was a Democrat, therefore hoped to gain
his party ends whatever the result might be. Victory
would mean that Van Rensselaer had been compelled to
advance the cause of a war to which he objected; while
defeat would discredit both him and his party, besides
providing Tompkins with the excuse that it would all have
happened very differently if a Democrat had been in charge.

Van Rensselaer, a man of sense and honour, took the expert
advice of his cousin, Colonel Solomon Van Rensselaer,
who was a regular and the chief of the staff. It was
Solomon Van Rensselaer who had made both plans, the one
of the 8th, for attacking Fort George and the Heights
together, and the one of the 10th, for feinting against
Fort George while attacking the Heights. Brock was puzzled
about what was going to happen next. He knew that the
enemy were four to one and that they could certainly
attack both places if Smyth would co-operate. He also
knew that they had boats and men ready to circle round
Fort George from the American 'Four Mile Creek' on the
lake shore behind Fort Niagara. Moreover, he was naturally
inclined to think that when the boats prepared for the
11th were left opposite Queenston all day long, and all
the next day too, they were probably intended to distract
his attention from Fort George, where he had fixed his
own headquarters.

On the 12th the American plan was matured and concentration
begun at Lewiston, opposite Queenston. Large detachments
came in, under perfect cover, from Four Mile Creek behind
Fort Niagara. A smaller number marched down from the
Falls and from Smyth's command still higher up. The camps
at Lewiston and the neighbouring Tuscarora Village were
partly concealed from every point on the opposite bank,
so that the British could form no safe idea of what the
Americans were about. Solomon Van Rensselaer was determined
that the advance-guard should do its duty this time; so
he took charge of it himself and picked out 40 gunners,
300 regular infantry, and 300 of the best militia to make
the first attack. These were to be supported by seven
hundred regulars. The rest of the four thousand men
available were to cross over afterwards. The current was
strong; but the river was little more than two hundred
yards wide at Queenston and it could be crossed in less
than ten minutes. The Queenston Heights themselves were
a more formidable obstacle, even if defended by only a
few men, as they rose 345 feet above the landing-place.

There were only three hundred British in Queenston to
meet the first attack of over thirteen hundred Americans;
but they consisted of the two flank companies of Brock's
old regiment, the 49th, supported by some excellent
militia. A single gun stood on the Heights. Another was
at Vrooman's Point a mile below. Two miles farther, at
Brown's Point, stood another gun with another detachment
of militia. Four miles farther still was Fort George,
with Brock and his second-in-command, Colonel Sheaffe of
the 49th. About nine miles above the Heights was the
little camp at Chippawa, which, as we shall see, managed
to spare 150 men for the second phase of the battle. The
few hundred British above this had to stand by their own
posts, in case Smyth should try an attack on his own
account, somewhere between the Falls and Lake Erie.

At half-past three in the dark morning of the 13th of
October, Solomon Van Rensselaer with 225 regulars sprang
ashore at the Queenston ferry landing and began to climb
the bank. But hardly had they shown their heads above
the edge before the grenadier company of the 49th, under
Captain Dennis, poured in a stinging volley which sent
them back to cover. Van Rensselaer was badly wounded and
was immediately ferried back. The American supports,
under Colonel Christie, had trouble in getting across;
and the immediate command of the invaders devolved upon
another regular, Captain Wool.

As soon as the rest of the first detachment had landed,
Wool took some three hundred infantry and a few gunners,
half of all who were then present, and led them up-stream,
in single file, by a fisherman's path which curved round
and came out on top of the Heights behind the single
British gun there. Progress was very slow in this direction,
though the distance was less than a mile, as it was still
pitch-dark and the path was narrow and dangerous. The
three hundred left at the landing were soon reinforced,
and the crossing went on successfully, though some of
the American boats were carried down-stream to the British
post at Vrooman's, where all the men in them were made
prisoners and marched off to Fort George.

Meanwhile, down at Fort George, Brock had been roused by
the cannonade only three hours after he had finished his
dispatches. Twenty-four American guns were firing hard
at Queenston from the opposite shore and two British guns
were replying. Fort Niagara, across the river from Fort
George, then began to speak; whereupon Fort George answered
back. Thus the sound of musketry, five to seven miles
away, was drowned; and Brock waited anxiously to learn
whether the real attack was being driven home at Queenston,
or whether the Americans were circling round from their
Four Mile Creek against his own position at Fort George.
Four o'clock passed. The roar of battle still came down
from Queenston. But this might be a feint. Not even Dennis
at Queenston could tell as yet whether the main American
army was coming against him or not. But he knew they must
be crossing in considerable force, so he sent a dragoon
galloping down to Brock, who was already in the saddle
giving orders to Sheaffe and to the next senior officer,
Evans, when this messenger arrived. Sheaffe was to follow
towards Queenston the very instant the Americans had
shown their hand decisively in that direction; while
Evans was to stay at Fort George and keep down the fire
from Fort Niagara.

Then Brock set spurs to Alfred and raced for Queenston
Heights. It was a race for more than his life, for more,
even, than his own and his army's honour: it was a race
for the honour, integrity, and very life of Canada. Miles
ahead he could see the spurting flashes of the guns, the
British two against the American twenty-four. Presently
his quick eye caught the fitful running flicker of the
opposing lines of musketry above the landing-place at
Queenston. As he dashed on he met a second messenger,
Lieutenant Jarvis, who was riding down full-speed to
confirm the news first brought by the dragoon. Brock did
not dare draw rein; so he beckoned Jarvis to gallop back
beside him. A couple of minutes sufficed for Brock to
understand the whole situation and make his plan
accordingly. Then Jarvis wheeled back with orders for
Sheaffe to bring up every available man, circle round
inland, and get into touch with the Indians. A few strides
more, and Brock was ordering the men on from Brown's
Point. He paused another moment at Vrooman's, to note
the practice made by the single gun there. Then, urging
his gallant grey to one last turn of speed, he burst into
Queenston through the misty dawn just where the grenadiers
of his own old regiment stood at bay.

In his full-dress red and gold, with the arrow-patterned
sash Tecumseh had given him as a badge of honour at
Detroit, he looked, from plume to spur, a hero who could
turn the tide of battle against any odds. A ringing cheer
broke out in greeting. But he paused no longer than just
enough to wave a greeting back and take a quick look
round before scaling the Heights to where eight gunners
with their single eighteen-pounder were making a desperate
effort to check the Americans at the landing-place. Here
he dismounted to survey the whole scene of action. The
Americans attacking Queenston seemed to be at least twice
as strong as the British. The artillery odds were twelve
to one. And over two thousand Americans were drawn up on
the farther side of the narrow Niagara waiting their turn
for the boats. Nevertheless, the British seemed to be
holding their own. The crucial question was: could they
hold it till Sheaffe came up from Fort George, till
Bullock came down from Chippawa, till both had formed
front on the Heights, with Indians on their flanks and
artillery support from below?

Suddenly a loud, exultant cheer sounded straight behind
him, a crackling fire broke out, and he saw Wool's
Americans coming over the crest and making straight for
the gun. He was astounded; and well he might be, since
the fisherman's path had been reported impassable by
troops. But he instantly changed the order he happened
to be giving from 'Try a longer fuse!' to 'Spike the gun
and follow me!' With a sharp clang the spike went home,
and the gunners followed Brock downhill towards Queenston.
There was no time to mount, and Alfred trotted down beside
his swiftly running master. The elated Americans fired
hard; but their bullets all flew high. Wool's three
hundred then got into position on the Heights; while
Brock in the village below was collecting the nearest
hundred men that could be spared for an assault on the
invaders.

Brock rapidly formed his men and led them out of the
village at a fast run to a low stone wall, where he halted
and said, 'Take breath, boys; you'll need it presently!'
on which they cheered. He then dismounted and patted
Alfred, whose flanks still heaved from his exertions.
The men felt the sockets of their bayonets; took breath;
and then followed Brock, who presently climbed the wall
and drew his sword. He first led them a short distance
inland, with the intention of gaining the Heights at the
enemy's own level before turning riverwards for the final
charge. Wool immediately formed front with his back to
the river; and Brock led the one hundred British straight
at the American centre, which gave way before him. Still
he pressed on, waving his sword as an encouragement for
the rush that was to drive the enemy down the cliff. The
spiked eighteen-pounder was recaptured and success seemed
certain. But, just as his men were closing in, an American
stepped out of the trees, only thirty yards away, took
deliberate aim, and shot him dead. The nearest men at
once clustered round to help him, and one of the 49th
fell dead across his body. The Americans made the most
of this target and hit several more. Then the remaining
British broke their ranks and retired, carrying Brock's
body into a house at Queenston, where it remained throughout
the day, while the battle raged all round.

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