University of Virginia Library

46. CHAPTER XLVI.
SUCCESSFUL INVASION.

The approach of the American fleet had been
discovered by the watchful enemy, and at day-light
the shore was lined with armed troops (British
and Indians) to receive their invaders. The
wind was so high that the fleet could not assume
such a position as to cover the landing, and the
Americans had to approach the shore in boats,
exposed to a shower of musket-balls and leaden
slugs, which fell like hail around them, lashing
the lake into a frightful foam. The youthful hero
who had so long been the scourage of the Canadian
border, the daring Forsyth, with his well-tried
corps of riflemen, led the advance, in batteaux.
They pulled vigorously towards the
“point proposed,” but were forced by the wind
to a considerable distance above it. The enemy
were masked by a thick copse, within a few feet
of the water, and their fire was galling and incessant.
Forsyth, therefore, desired his men to rest
a moment on their oars, while his riflemen returned
the shot.

Pike was at this moment standing on the ship's
deck, hurrying the infantry into the boats; when
observing the pause in the advance, he leaped

into his barge, accompanied by Fraser, Willoughby,
and the officers of his staff; and ordering
three companies to follow him instantly, under
major King,[1] was himself rowed into the thickest
of the fire, from which Willoughby received a
slight wound in the hand. Reuben was ordered
to remain on board, and stood watching the departure
of his friend with the most painful solicitude.

Before Pike could reach the shore, Forsyth had
effected a landing, and was hotly engaged with
a host of British and Indians, (under the immediate
command of general Sheaffe) who were disputing
the possession of a high bank a short distance
from the beach, which the Americans were
determined to ascend, in the face of a torrent of
death which was poured down upon them from
muskets and rifles. The remainder of the Americans
now landed in rapid succession, and, as
soon as they were formed in order of battle, were
gallantly led to the charge by Pike himself. The
shock was not to be withstood—the British grenadiers
gave way, and retired in disorder, while
the Americans gained the summit of the bank, and
were soon masters of the field. The bugles of
Forsyth sounded the signal of victory, and the
Indians, sending forth a horrid yell of dismay,

fled in every direction. The British, however,
with their accustomed bravery and cool intrepidity,
again rallied, and presented a new front;
but, after an obstinate resistance, were compelled
to retire within their fortifications.

These fortifications were to be taken by storm,
and for this purpose the column advanced towards
them with as much velocity as the streams and
ravines (which intersected the road) would permit.
After a slight resistance, the English abandoned
their first battery, and retired to the second,
and soon after retreated to the citadel or
garrison.

Pike had ordered Fraser to proceed to the
right of the battery, in order to discover how many
men were in the works. He had performed
this service, and now reported the number to his
general, and that they were spiking their guns.
Pike immediately ordered captain Walworth,
with his company of grenadiers, to make the assault,
when the enemy fled in the utmost confusion,
leaving several of their wounded comrades on the
ground.

The firing had now ceased on all sides, and the
victors were momentarily expecting a flag of surrender
from the citadel, when its magazine was
blown into the air with an explosion so stupendous
and awful, as appalled the stoutest heart!
The earth apparently shook to its centre, and the
air was darkened with the flying fragments of
earth, stone, and broken iron, descending in
dreadful ruin on the devoted heads of the victorious
column.

Pike had just aided in removing a wounded
man to a safer position, and was at this moment
questioning a British sergeant, (who had been

captured) on the position and strength of the
enemy.[2] He was seated on a stump, with the
prisoner before him, Fraser on one side, and captain
Nicholson (his volunteer aid) on the other,
when the explosion took place, and the group
were precipitated like lightning to the earth.
The English sergeant breathed no more, a large
stone having struck him on the head, and his corpulent
body was so forcibly thrown upon Fraser,
that the latter lay crushed beneath him, severely
bruised, and for a time unable to move. Pike
and Nicholson were mortally wounded.

Sensible that he should survive but a short
time, Pike faintly exclaimed, “Push on my brave
fellows, and avenge your general!” The troops
replied with three cheers, and rushed like bloodhounds
upon their prey. Pike and his wounded
aids were immediately removed from the field,
but had not proceeded far towards the shore,
when their ears were saluted by a tremendous
shout. Pike turned an inquiring look to one of

his supporters, who replied—“The British unionjack
is coming down, general; the stars are going
up!” He heaved a sigh of extacy, and smiled
amidst the anguish of his wounds. Shortly after
he had arrived on board the commodore's ship,
the trophy of his victory, the British flag, was
brought into his cabin, when he made a sign to
have it placed under his head, and expired without
a groan—literally reposing on the pillow of victory.

In the mean time, the command on shore devolved
on colonel Pearce, who was pushing rapidly
forward from the ruins of the citadel, (on
which the American banner was now flying) towards
the town, when he was met by several British
officers, with terms of capitulation. During
the discussion of these terms, (which was purposely
prolonged by the proposers) general
Sheaffe was employed in destroying all the military
stores, and the new ship on the stocks, which
was nearly ready for launching—removed whatever
could be easily transported, and then effected
his escape with all his regulars, contrary to
the articles of capitulation, which considered them
and him prisoners of war. At four o'clock in the
afternoon the Americans were in possession of the
town, and reviewed by Dearborn, who had landed
immediately after the unfortunate explosion.

It was now fully ascertained that the explosion
at the citadel was not the result of accident, as
many had at first imagined. It was a deep-laid
plan (contrived by an enemy who had shrunk
from an inferior force in the open field) to destroy
the army he had vainly though bravely opposed.
Had not Pike fortunately halted at the second
battery, the horrid contrivance would have succeeded

to the extent of its projector's wishes; the
whole column must have been destroyed.

Five hundred barrels of powder, a vast number
of large stones, an immense quantity of iron shells
and shot, and a great variety of destructive combustibles,
were arranged for the purpose; the
train was skilfully laid, and the whole so contrived
as to produce the most dreadful effect.
Two hundred and sixty Americans were either
killed or wounded by the explosion, among whom
were many officers of high rank and exalted
worth. About sixty of the enemy were also involved
in the same terrible fate.

Fraser had been severely bruised in the general
crash, and was probably preserved by the corpulency
of the British sergeant, whose body was
thrown upon him, and became a shield to screen
him from the deluge of ruin which was poured upon
the whole group. Such was the instrumental
cause by which was preserved an existence so
useful to his country—so dear to patriotism—so
precious to friendship.

Lieutenant Willoughby had not escaped, but
received a severe contusion in the breast, which
disabled him for the rest of the action, and he was
conveyed on board the fleet, when the sight of his
wound almost deprived the tender-hearted Reuben
of all sensation. His affection, however, enabled
him to subdue his terrors, and officiate as
nurse; his tender assiduities and unwearied attention
were finally crowned with success, and he
again beheld in health the master he loved—the
friend he almost adored.