University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.
THE BATTLE OF WINDMILL POINT.

The invaders were not left long in suspense as to the designs of
the enemy. Early in the morning after their arrival, a cannonade
was opened upon them, which was returned with spirit by their
battery upon the shore, and at “about eight o'clock,” says an eyewitness,
“a line of fire blazed along the summit of the hill in the
rear of the windmill, for about eighty or a hundred rods, and the
crack of the rifle and the musket made one continuous roar.”
This, however, was but the prelude to a more serious attack, which
was made by a body of five or six hundred regulars and volunteers,
when all the courage and mettle of the little band were in requisition
to meet the determined assault of the foe.

Well and bravely did they vindicate their claims to courage in
a hotly contested battle of about an hour's duration, which resulted
in driving back the enemy to their fort with large loss, while only
five of their own men were killed, and about thrice that number
wounded.

This striking success, of course, produced the most exhilarating
effect upon the patriots, who congratulated themselves upon their
triumph with ecstasy, and indulged in a proud presentiment of
increasing numbers, and a career of victory. The tidings would
reach the interior in a few hours, and summon thousands of the
doubtful and the undecided to their side. It would reach the
States still quicker, flashing hope, like electric light, through all

ranks of their timid friends, and bringing multitudes, eager for
the fray, to their victorious banners. Such were the bright hopes
and anticipations of the invaders on the second evening of their
encampment on foreign soil.

Both the Vrails had acquitted themselves creditably in this
engagement, but Harry's coolness and activity had won the especial
encomiums of his comrades and his commanding officer. His
perfect presence of mind, and his dauntless demeanor, had
produced a marked effect upon others, especially upon the inferior
soldiers, which contributed greatly to the fortunate result of the
day, and he became at once exceedingly popular. Brom, also,
won his laurels, acting his part not only with perfect intrepidity,
but with a glee which, although unsuited to so serious an hour,
had its effect in inspiriting others who might have been inclined
to fright in this, their first experience of war. He stood at his
master's side, loading and firing with great regularity and rapidity,
and keeping up an undertone of ludicrous comment, which more
than once elicited an audible laugh from his nearest companions.
“Now you've got it!” he would say, as he fired off his piece, and
watched for a second to try to distinguish its effects upon the
opposing ranks; “tink I saw him drop that time!” he muttered,
as he proceeded to ram down another cartridge.

“Now for another red-coat! Golly, if it ain't just like shootin'
the Christmas turkeys with their red-heads. Jingo!” he shouted,
as a ball passed, whistling, close to his head, “but the turkeys are
shootin' back!”

The succeeding day was one of inaction. The intimidated
enemy did not renew the attack, and the invaders, who might now
be called the besieged party, while holding themselves in readiness
for a vigorous repulse of any assault, looked all day long,
anxiously and earnestly, for their anticipated succors. Every
vessel upon the river, however distant, was closely scanned, and
many longing eyes were fastened upon the American shores,

which were plainly visible from the camp, with the hope of seeing
some signs of their approaching auxiliaries. Others watched the
highways which led into the heart of the invaded province, confident
of the bannered hosts which were soon to emerge from distant
forests, and advance with defiant tread, timed to the martial
airs of freedom. Alas! they did not come. The day waned, the
sun went down, and all was doubt, uncertainty and irresolution as
to the morrow.

“One thing is sure,” said Colonel Van Shoultz, to Lieutenant
Vrail, on the evening of that day of dread suspense; “although we
may not receive reinforcements, the enemy certainly will, and probably
by to-morrow, at the farthest.”

“Ours may yet come,” replied Harry; “indeed, our friends
from the other side would be most likely to cross in the night,
when they could most safely effect a landing.”

“It is possible, but I am learning not to hope too much. After
witnessing desertion in the highest quarters, and faint hearts where
the loudest boasts of valor have been made, it is natural rather to
fear than hope. This night may diminish rather than increase our
numbers.”

“There is little chance for desertion. The ferry at Prescott is,
of course, strictly watched, and we have no small boats, excepting
Johnson's, which he has carefully secured. You do not fear that
he will fly?”

“He will fly when this fort does,” replied Van Shoultz, looking
around at the stone walls of the mill. “Ah! if all were such as
he, we should have no cause of disquietude to-night.”

The Polander's predictions and presentiments proved alike true.
The enemy were reinforced on the morrow, and the patriots were
left to struggle alone against the hourly increasing numbers of a
foe which threatened their utter extermination.

Attacked both by land and water, cannonaded from steamboats
and from field batteries, they maintained the unequal struggle,

dauntlessly and hopefully, for nearly two days, still looking for the
approaching banners, and listening for the charging shouts of their
promised allies.

On the afternoon of the second day, a large force of the enemy
drew near the forts (if such they might be called), by land, and
were met with a hot and galling fire from the several divisions of
the patriot army, stationed in the windmill and the other stone
buildings which had been fortified. It would have been madness
in the bravest to have met them in the open field while such strong
defences were in their possession, almost compensating for the
great disparity of numbers between the belligerents.

But this advantage was too great to be left long in their possession,
if it were possible to dislodge them from their fastnesses,
and it soon became evident that the British had determined to
attempt to carry the forts by storm.

The building in which Col. Allen's command was stationed was
somewhat remote from the windmill, and was attacked, as was
each of the camps, by a separate body of the enemy. The attempt
to storm it was twice repelled by that valiant officer and his men,
who were stationed in a large apartment in the second story, extending
the whole depth of the building, and commanding both
the lower entrances, which were strongly barricaded; but a new
calamity awaited them in the failure of their ammunition. The
slackening of their fire became so necessary, and its cause so apparent
to the enemy, that the third attempt to enter the building
was sure to be successful whenever it should be made.

The game was too evidently lost to admit of a moment's hope
on the part of the most sanguine, and nothing remained to be done,
excepting to surrender unconditionally, or to throw away their
lives in an obstinate, but useless conflict. Allen was doubtless a
brave man, and perhaps his own choice would have been to render

But he doubted his control over his little band, now thoroughly
panic-stricken, nor could he make up his mind to devote so many
men to immediate and certain destruction.

While he hesitated, the tumult increased below, another volley
of bullets poured into the windows, finding a few more victims
among those who were unable to avoid a full exposure, and then,
with an impetuous rush, the enemy gained the main entrance to
the building, bursting down its barricades, and pouring tumultuously
into the lower hall. Their steady tramp was next heard by
the besieged upon the very stairway of their citadel, and many a
face became blanched with fear. In another moment the large
door was burst open with great violence, and thirty muskets,
levelled for immediate discharge, were protruding into the room,
commanding every part of the apartment, while simultaneously
with their appearance a demand was made, in a stentorian voice,
for surrender.

It was impossible longer to maintain strict discipline, and
although the majority of the men preserved a soldier-like composure,
and awaited the orders of their leader, there were a few others
who had boasted largely of their valor when danger was distant,
who now manifested the most abject and craven fear. Shrieks and
cries of “Don't fire!” “Yes, we surrender!” were heard from two
or three of these, who were seen scrambling to get in the rear, and
farthest from the expected volley. One who carried a commission
in his pocket, and who having always had his courage at his
tongue's end, had probably allowed it to escape, was seen shrinking
close to the wall, crouched down behind a fat private, who
was too stupid to stir, or to understand that his body was serving
the purpose of a shield. From this shelter he called out, in a
tremulous voice,

“Shall we be treated as prisoners of war, if we surrender?”

“You will be treated as you deserve,” was the answer, in a

trumpet-like voice; “you must surrender unconditionally—you
are entirely in our power.”

“Well, here's my musket—so don't shoot me,” he said, pushing
past his protector, and stooping as he advanced to avoid danger
from the bristling array of guns which confronted him. In
another instant he was hauled outside, and was placed under
guard. His example was speedily followed by others, and for
some minutes the victors were engaged in receiving the arms, and
securing the persons of a portion of the patriots, while the majority
yet awaited the reluctant orders of their leader to lay down
their arms.

At that critical juncture, when the enemy appeared at the door,
Harry Vrail missed the faithful Brom from his side; but so great
was the confusion, and so general was the rush for self-preservation,
that he did not deem his disappearance a matter of surprise.
But the negro had by no means deserted him—on the contrary,
all his thoughts were given to devising means for his rescue
Ever since he had made his solemn engagement to Gertrude to
watch over the protect his master, his mind had been devising
expedients to deliver him from whatever danger seemed to threaten,
and from the hour they had set foot together upon the enemy's
soil, he had calculated the possibility of disaster, and had planned
impossible modes of relief.

Ever vigilant and watchful, while others were confident and
careless, he had overlooked no remote or minute circumstance
which an hour of extremity might render serviceable to one whom
he loved so well, and whom he had sworn to befriend. His lodgings,
for several preceding nights, had been in a dark corner of
the large room in which the scenes last described were enacted,
where, with several others, he had occupied the interior of a large,
open bin, for a sleeping apartment. On crawling out of this
strange dormitory the preceding day, he had accidently dropped
his knife behind it, and it became necessary, in order to recover

his lost property, to move the huge chest farther from the wall
against which it stood. It required great effort to do this, even
with the aid of a lever, but when, having succeeded in removing
it a few inches, he stooped to regain his knife, he caught sight of
another metallic object beside it, which on close inspection he
found to be a hinge in the floor. Further examination produced
its fellow, and being convinced he had found a trap-door leading to
a lower apartment, he hastily shoved back the bin, and sat down
to reflect on the discovery, and the possibility of its being in some
way turned to account. Circumstances, he knew, might arise
which would render it in the highest degree useful to his master,
but in order to make it more certainly so he believed it important
to keep it secret from all others. When a more favorable opportunity
occurred for pursuing his investigation, he removed the bin
and, raising the door, ascertained that it communicated with a
small store-room beneath, from which a back window, seemingly
the only one in the apartment, opened upon the river. Hastily
making these observations, he replaced the door and the chest,
and quietly resumed his duties.