University of Virginia Library

28. CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE PRISONER OF PRESCOTT.

Our narrative returns to that memorable morning when Lieutenant
Vrail was taken from his Prescott prison to be transferred,
in company with eight or ten others, to Kingston, where the principal
portion of the captured patriots had already been sent, and
whence many of them were soon to depart on a longer journey,
some to Van Dieman's land, and some to that land “from whose
bourne no traveller returns.”

Manacled, and tied together in pairs, they were attended to the
place of embarkation, not only by a military guard, but by a
rabble of men and boys, who jeered and derided the hapless band
as they passed, and scarcely refrained from acts of violence towards
them. It was probably intended as an indignity to Harry,
who was suspected of being an officer, and who was, at least,
known to be a gentleman, that the negro who had been taken in
his company was pinioned to his side, instead of being mated with
one of a lower class of the prisoners; but Harry did not regret
this circumstance, nor manifest the least repugnance to it. The
patience and good-nature with which he submitted himself in
this, and in all respects, to the disposal of his captors, gained him
some sympathy at their hands, but did not exempt him from the
ridicule of the mob, to whom his position proved peculiarly attractive,
and afforded a rich theme for derision.

Brom bore the scoffs of the crowd less patiently, and he did

not feel the fetters upon his limbs as much as the restraint which
his master had imposed upon his tongue. His large eyes glared
fiercely, and he longed to give back taunt for taunt, and to dare
his deriders to a three to one combat—nay, he would have singly
assailed the whole rabble, if he had been unbound, so great was
his rage against them.

The journey was performed by steamboat upon the same river
(belonging to and dividing the two nations), which had so recently
borne the invading band, full of hope and courage, to the place of
their anticipated triumph. Over the same route, and in view of
the same scenes which they had then beheld, did they now pass,
bound and helpless, to partake of whatever doom their incensed
conquerors might see fit to award. The shores of their native
land stretched before them many a league as they were borne upon
their sorrowful way; they could see its green fields and its
waving forests; its quiet frontier towns came successively into
view, and at times the sound of its village bells reached their ears.
Alas! for them, they had forfeited their citizenship in that happy
land—they had lost the protection of that powerful government,
under whose benign and calm strength they had so long reposed
in safety, and there was none to interpose for their rescue or relief.

As the day wore away, another and less welcome sight became
visible to them in the distant spires and domes of that dreaded city
in which their prison homes awaited them, and that afterdoom,
the horrors of which they could only imagine. It was evening
before they landed; but as the news of the arrival of a new lot of
prisoners was soon disseminated throughout the town, they did
not fail of another rabble escort, as they were marched in procession
through the streets, to the music of drum and fife, and the
more discordant sounds of fiendish merriment and exultation.

So galling was this exposure, and these continual insults, that
the wearied and disheartened prisoners were glad when the grim
walls of Fort Henry interposed between them and the mob, and

received them within its dreadful shelter. They were all confined
in one large room, which had already a number of occupants, undistinguished
among whom Vrail was astonished and grieved to
find his late commander, Colonel Van Shoultz, of whose escape he
had until then ventured to indulge a faint hope.

Their instantaneous and mutual recognition was unfortunately
followed by an unguarded utterance by the Polander of both the
name and title of the young officer, and although Harry instantly
checked his friend's words, it was too late to prevent the dreaded
exposure.

“Lieutenant Vrail!” repeated a sergeant of the guard, who had
conducted the prisoners to their quarters, at the same time taking
out a pencil and paper from his pocket; “that's it, is it? We
supposed he was a captain, at least, and probably something higher,
but lieutenant is enough to hang him.”

“Shay thought he was one of their sham generals, because he
had a servant with him, and he expects a large reward for taking
him,” replied another.

These remarks were made in an undertone, which was not intended
to reach the prisoner's ears, but Harry, who had been
startled by his friend's salutation, and had watched to see if it had
been observed, caught every word of a conversation which boded
him so much evil.

The Polander, when at length the withdrawal of the soldiers
permitted free conversation, bitterly reproached himself for his
imprudence, but Harry fully exonerated him from censure, and
reminded him that since suspicion had evidently been so strong
against him as an officer, other means would doubtless have been
found, and would still be found to prove it.

“Your words will not be evidence against me,” he said; “other
testimony will be needed to show that I was the bearer of a commission.”

“You may be convicted as a private, yet without a private's

chance for mercy, if government believes you to have been an
officer.”

“That my captors have fully believed from the moment of my
arrest; so I shall be in no additional jeopardy by reason of what
you have said. But tell me now, my friend, about yourself, and
what you can learn of your prospects.”

“There is no hope for me,” replied Col. Van Shoultz, solemnly.
“Everything betokens that, too decidedly to admit of a doubt.
The government is resolved on severe measures. They utterly
ignore the existence of any war, revolutionary or otherwise, and
while they will punish as traitors that portion of the prisoners
who are their own subjects, they will prosecute us, who are foreigners,
as brigands or murderers. So says their organ, and such, I
learn from other quarters, is their determination.”

“Let us hope for better things.”

“I cannot hope. The defection of our original leaders has devolved
the chief responsibility of this movement on me, and I
must bear it. I assure you I feel a presentiment of my coming
doom. But do not think I shall shrink from it. I have courted
death too often on the battle-fields of my own country to quail
before it, even on a British scaffold.”

“If you will not hope, my dear friend, I will at least hope for
you. Your foreign birth and education, and your more excusable
misconception of the true state of the revolution in Canada (on
which point we have all been deluded), entitle you to leniency,
even more than others. Doubtless you will be allowed counsel on
your trial.”

“Oh, yes; we are to be furnished with a copy of our indictment
a few days before the trial, and we are at liberty to employ
counsel, if we can induce any one to defend us, which, considering
the state of public sentiment, is not like to be an easy task.
Failing in this, counsel will be assigned us by the court, who will
be sure to defend us with decorum, and who will do nothing in

our behalf which can offend his lordship, the judge, or which
shall displease the prosecuting attorney.”

“How do you learn all this?”

“From one here who knows the full history of trials that have
already taken place.”

The picture which the Polander had drawn of their prospects
was dismal enough, and, as Harry could not fail to perceive, was
probably correct. Van Schoultz, he could scarcely doubt, would
suffer death, and his own peril, imminent enough before, he knew
would be increased by his intimate relations with that officer.
The brave colonel was the first to point out this danger to his
friend, and to urge a cessation of all intercourse between them;
but Harry would not listen a moment to this proposition. He
could not forget that his companion was a foreigner, without interest,
or hope of influence from any quarter in his behalf, and he
would not withdraw from him the slight chance of benefit, or, at
least, of solace, which his friendship could bestow. Whenever or
wherever his voice could be heard in his advocacy, he resolved he
would not be silent, and in thus contemplating his efforts for another,
he at times lost sight of his own danger.

But in this oblivion he was not long allowed to rest. When
Colonel Van Schoultz was furnished with a copy of the indictment
found against him, a similar document was served on Harry Vrail,
and he was notified that his trial would take place, either jointly
with that of his commanding officer, or immediately after its termination.
This association of his case with that of the leader of
the expedition was ominous enough to leave him little hope of
escaping the same fate which was so evidently in store for the
former.

Yet, desperate as their cases seemed, neither of the young men
were willing to relinquish life without making as vigorous an
effort for escape as circumstances would permit, and they resolved
to employ counsel, if it were possible to procure a man of ability

and standing in the province to undertake their cause. He might
at least do something for them, if it were only, by his ingenuity
or influence, to obtain time, until possibly milder counsels might
prevail in high places. England was powerful enough to afford
to be merciful, if she would, and they were even willing to ask for
mercy. They learned, on inquiry, that an eminent lawyer of
Kingston had been employed for the accused in several of the
State trials which had taken place during the preceding summer,
and that he had conducted his defences in a masterly manner, and
in one instance to the entire acquittal of his client.

But this solitary instance of success in resisting the powerful
influence of government had caused him to be besieged by applications
from the unfortunate prisoners, not one in ten of whom he
could defend, and not one in twenty of whom could remunerate
him for his services. The natural result was, that Counsellor
Strong was retained by the few only whose means would enable
them to place a large retaining fee in his hands, and all others
found the necessity of relying on less distinguished aid. To
obtain this man's assistance had become an object of earnest
desire, both on the part of Van Schoultz and Harry, but when
they learned the formidable extent of his charges, they were
forced to abandon their purpose.

But from the moment their project was seen to be impracticable,
it became the more desirable in their estimation, until, as
they discussed with increasing regret the lost opportunity, they
became almost persuaded that it would have restored them to
liberty.

To one of these conversations, Brom became an interested listener,
and he heard with astonishment that so much might be
hoped for, from the efforts of one man.

“Let's hab him for you, Massa Harry, of course,” he said;
“mebbe he'll get you off.”

“I can't pay him, Brom. He won't defend any one for less

than forty pounds in advance, and a promise of I don't know how
much more in case of success.”

“Forty pounds of what?” asked the negro, in amazement.

“Forty pounds sterling, or two hundred dollars of our currency.”

“Oh, is that all?” replied Brom, contemptuously; “send him
along then—I'll hire him, and I'll pay him something extra, too,
for puttin' in the fine touches.”

“What do you mean, Brom? You certainly have not two
hundred dollars with you?”

“Never you mind. You just send your big lawyer along to
me; I'll 'tain him for you—but I don't believe he can make sich
a speech as Squire Gray's clerk, Barney Blait, did in Jake Smith's
pig suit last summer. You mout a heard him bellow half a mile
for a whole hour, and he got his case, too, and only charged Jake
half a dollar for it. Howsomever, I dare say this Mr. Strong is
smart enough for a Britisher.”

“But, Brom, if you really have so much money, I cannot consent
to take it from you.”

“I don't mean you shall, Massa Harry. I'll give it to Massa
Strong.”

“But it might do no good after all; I cannot let you throw
away so much of your hard earnings, which I may never be able
to repay you.”

“It isn't hard earnings; I earned it mighty easy I 'clare to
you. Besides, you can't stop me! I shall hire lawyer Strong.”

“But you will want to be defended yourself, and you will want
all your money for that.”

“Nebber mind. Maybe I got money enough for that too; but
they haven't summonsed me yet, and there'll be time enough to
think of that by and by. One of them soldier fellows said I
should have to be tried all alone, 'cause my case was darker than
the rest. I don't see what he meant by that.”

Harry smiled, but he did not explain the enigmatical words.
He decided, after some hesitation, to accept the mysterious funds
which were thus fairly forced upon him, believing that whatever
might be his own fate, he could make provision for repayment to
his sable benefactor, if the latter should be ever allowed to return
to his native village.

Brom retired, as on a former occasion, to an obscure corner of
his prison, to withdraw his golden store unobserved from its place
of concealment, and he soon reappeared with each hand closed
over more than it could conceal of the glittering coin, which
peeped from between the insterstices of his fingers, like the yellow
corn bursting from its husks. Whispering for Harry to hold his
hat, he buried his hands within it before disgorging them of their
precious contents, which were deposited as silently as possible, in
order to avoid attracting the attention of their fellow prisoners.
Vrail and Col. Van Shoultz looked on with astonishment, both
being utterly ignorant of the source of supply; although the former
had once before had a proof on a much smaller scale, of the
negro's financial resources. They were amazed not only at the
amount of treasure produced, but at the very apparent fact that
its owner was entirely unable to compute its value.

“How much is dare, Massa Harry?” he asked, in a whisper.
“Is dat enough to pay de big lawyer?”

“Yes, twice over, Brom.”

“Den you get him for you and Colonel Van Shoots too—
mebbe he clear you both,” said the negro, rubbing his hands.

“But you, Brom, will have to be tried too, by and by.”

“Nebber mind; they habn't summonsed me yet; and”—sinking
his voice to a whisper, and pointing to the coin—“dere's a few
more left.”

Harry, after thanking the negro, and assuring him that he
should make no arrangements with counsel which did not include
him also in its provisions, pocketed the treasure, and at once

applied for permission, which was readily accorded, to send a
messenger to the legal Goliah from whom so much was hoped.

A fee of sufficient magnitude to ensure attention was enclosed
in the application to the counsellor, and the return of their envoy
brought them the gratifying assurance that the great man would
wait upon them some time in the course of the ensuing evening.

How much will the angel Hope do for the human heart in every
strait to which it can be reduced! How busily in the brief interval
which elapsed before meeting their legal adviser, did the
unfortunate prisoners imagine and discuss the ingenious theories
of defences which were to be maintained in their behalf, perhaps
to their triumphant and honorable acquittal.

But, alas! the arrival of their counsel rather dissipated than
strengthened these bright anticipations. Mr. Strong was a matter-of-fact
man, who knew what it was to oppose a prosecution
which would be sustained by irrefragable proof, by the whole
weight of popular sentiment, and by governmental sanction.

Having learned from the prisoners the particulars of their
arrest, he at once advised Colonel Van Shoultz, when arraigned, to
plead guilty to the charge of having been found in arms against the
Canadian government, inasmuch as, having been taken in actual
combat, there was no possibility of his evading a conviction.

“We will make the best use we can of the extenuating circumstances
in your case, and we shall find both the court and the
governor more ready to listen to these, if we make no useless
contest on points which cannot be defended. I do not mean to
say,” he continued, “that there is much probability of mercy being
shown; I fear there is not. But I think a slight chance of
pardon would result from such a course.”

The Polander's strong presentiment of his coming fate, of which
his mind had become temporarily divested, returned to him with
increased force on hearing the undisguised opinion of the lawyer,
with whose views he fully concurred; but he chose to deliberate a

day or two before deciding a matter of so great moment as that
of pleading guilty to a capital crime.

“As to Mr. Vrail,” continued the counsellor, “his case is somewhat
different. His arrest was subsequent to the battle, several
miles distant from its scene, and the proof of his having been
engaged in it may possibly not be so certain as to ensure conviction.
I would advise a defence in his case, although I must caution
you against any sanguine hopes of acquittal. The prospect,
I grieve to say, is all the other way. Proof will be raked from all
possible quarters, and both court and jurors will be against
you.”

“The most formidable witness against me,” said Harry, “will
doubtless be the man Shay, who arrested me, and to whom I had
made the unguarded avowal of which I have told you.”

“Yet that is testimony that may be shaken,” replied the counsellor,
with a sudden flashing of his dark eyes, as if he felt himself
already in the forensic arena, with some material for successful
effort. “The man will be infamous by his own showing, besides
which, the fact that your conviction will entitle him to a
reward, will throw discredit upon his evidence of your confessions.
I think the prosecution will have to produce other proof of your
having been in the battle. Can they do it?”

“I think not, unless they can use my comrades as witnesses
against me. Can this be done?”

“They cannot be compelled, of course, to testify against you;
but may not some of them be induced to do so by a promise of
pardon for themselves.”

“Yes, if the prosecuting attorney will stoop to such means to
procure my conviction, he will doubtless find some wretch willing
to save his life at the expense of mine. There can be no hope
for me, Mr. Strong, if such a course is to be pursued.”

“Not so fast. There may not be much hope, and yet there
may be some. Are there not extenuating circumstances in your

case, even if your participation in this war should be clearly made
out?”

“I do not know of any.”

“Think again—you are very young.”

“Yes; I am but twenty-three, but that is two years past the
legal age of manhood, and it is a time of life when a man is fully
accountable for his actions.”

“Do not argue the case so strongly against yourself. Is there
not something else that may be shown or said in your favor?

“No.”

“Yes,” replied Colonel Van Shoultz; “something very important,
if it can be proved.”

“What is it?” asked the lawyer, eagerly.

“He was for a long time unwilling to engage in this war,
strenuously resisting all arguments in its favor, until a younger
brother's enlistment influenced him to join us, more for the protection
of that brother, than for any other cause.”

“Is this true?” asked the legal adviser.

“Yes, substantially. I did, however, become a convert to the
cause, before joining it, and I have frequently avowed and
advocated the doctrines of the patriots and revolutionists since.”

“Never mind—we don't want to prove that, and if you go on
in this way, you will be rising and making a speech against yourself
in court, when your trial comes on. The facts mentioned by
your friend may have some weight, if we can prove them.”

“Which we certainly cannot do; I have not a witness to produce.”

“Where is this brother?”

“Alas, I know nothing of his fate. If he has escaped, which
may Heaven grant, I would not for worlds that he should come
here to testify in my behalf, for his danger would be even greater
than mine.”

Counsellor Strong was perplexed. He had become deeply interested

in both his unfortunate clients, and he thought he saw a
glimmer of hope for the younger of the two, which influenced
him to vigorous efforts in his behalf. As to the leader of the
expedition, he clearly foresaw his fate, and though he tried to
argue himself into the belief that there was a remote chance of
his escape from death, a contrary conviction clung to his mind.
He resolved, however, to do all that was in his power for both
parties, and after making a few memoranda of the leading facts
which had been furnished him by the prisoners, he departed with
a promise of seeing them on the ensuing day.

Within the few days which elapsed before the sitting of the
court, the prisoners were visited daily by their zealous advocate,
but alas, with an increased air of concern as the time passed away
without bringing any accession of strength to his cause, and without,
as far as he could read the signs of the hour, diminishing the
ferocity of pursuit with which it had too evidently been decided
that his clients were to be hunted down.

The Polander observed his generous grief, and begged him not
to be distressed on his behalf.

“I see it all,” he said; “they cannot spare me, if they intend
to convict any. The principal must be punished, or the accessories
must all be acquitted, and England is not generous enough
for that.”

“I fear you are right; but we will try.”

“Try, but do not fear; at least, not for me. I shall not
tremble before my judges, and if they send me to the scaffold, I
do not think I shall tremble there.”

It would be a painful task, and one which the progress of our
history doos not demand, to dwell upon the details of a trial
which was destined to result, as the most hopeful could not fail to
foresee, in a sentence of death. Trial it could scarcely be called,
for the defendant had pleaded guilty to being found in arms against
the government, leaving it to his counsel to establish if possible

his position, that the contest was of such a character as to entitle
any foreigners who had been engaged in it to all the immunities
of prisoners of war, or that, if any crime had been committed, it
was not of a capital nature. In all this, of course, he failed, and
in every appeal, either to court or jury, for a recommendation to
the mercy of the sovereign.

Stony hearts decided his doom, and stony eyes, from which no
pity gleamed, rested on the friendless foreigner, as his dreadful
sentence was pronounced. How nobly he bore it all, how manfully
he met his fate when the dreadful day of doom arrived; what
countless tears fell on Freedom's shores at the recital of his sad
story, history has told, and future ages will know.

He was executed in Fort Henry soon after his trial, at the age
of thirty-one, leaving, say his historians, “a proud name to be
handed down to posterity with those of Steuben, De Kalb and
Kosciusko.”