University of Virginia Library

49. CHAPTER XLIX.
A DUEL—TALKED OF.

Among several officers who had lately become
attached to the American army in Canada, was
captain Sandford. At the commencement of
the war he was stationed on the Niagara frontier,
and was at Black Rock when the gallant Elliott
surprised and captured the Detroit and Caledonia,
by which event young Willoughby was restored
to liberty. Our hero's sudden departure for
Lewiston, however, at that time, prevented an interview
with Sandford, who soon after obtained a
furlough to visit Boston and take possession of a
considerable fortune to which he had become heir
by the recent death of his mother. By various

plausible excuses he had contrived to extend this
furlough to above nine months, which he had passed
in the most profligate extravagance and dissipation;
till having expended all his ready cash,
and drawn largely on the credit of his real estate,
he began to dread the clamor of his creditors
more than the thunder of the enemy's artillery,
and therefore took a hasty leave of Boston, and
proceeded to join the army.

Willoughby and Sandford first recognised each
other on parade, and the embarrassment of the
latter was so visible that it did not escape the notice
of several officers, who were, of course, ignorant
of the cause. George informed him by a
look that he knew him; Sandford had heard of
his courage—he had felt his prowess—he knew
that he had injured him, or at least attempted it.
His reflections, during the day, were far from being
enviable; and in the evening, when he received
a letter from the hand of Reuben, who informed
him that it was from lieutenant Willoughby,
he had scarcely resolution to break the seal.
What effect its contents produced on his mind will
appear hereafter. He read as follows:

The first sensation which Sandford experienced
on reading the foregoing letter, was pleasure for
the dissipation of his personal fears; the next was
rage at its cavilier and contemptuous style; the
last was determined hatred and revenge. He
well knew our hero's deep-rooted abhorrence of
that species of cool-blooded murder called duelling

—they had debated the subject largeIy at
college, where George had often declared that he
would never hesitate a moment in the choice—
to be engaged in a duel, or to be posted for a coward.
It was always his maxim, that in choosing
between a sin and a shame, the latter was a lesser
evil of the two. Sandford remembered all this,
and was now convinced that George had not
changed his opinion. He therefore resolved to
establish his own reputation for courage, by challenging
lieutenant Willoughby to single combat;
and satisfy his revenge, by proclaiming him a
coward.

It may be recollected, that when Sandford entered
the church at Cleveland, as recorded in the
twenty-fifth chapter of this history,[1] he was accompanied
by another officer with whom the
reader was not then made acquainted. This man
(whose name was Smith) was Sandford's most
particular friend, had always been his companion
in profligacy, his partner at the gaming table, and
his associate in debauchery. In one respect,
however, he was greatly Sandford's superior—
he possessed courage, and had repeatedly distinguished
himself in the field of battle. But,
with the exception of Sandford, there was scarcely
an officer in the army whom Smith could call his
friend; he was considered a bully, and his society
was rather avoided than courted.

Our hero had a slight acquaintance with Smith,
but had shown no disposition to increase it; he
was, consequently, not a little surprised at receiving
an early visit from that officer, on the morning
following his communication to Sandford. Smith

haughtily announced the nature of his embassy,
and delivered a note from Sandford, demanding
of lieutenant Willoughby immediate satisfaction
for the unwarrantable insults contained in his letter
of last evening.

Our hero read the note with a smile, then coolly
returned it to the bearer, with this verbal message—“Tell
captain Sandford, that if he wishes
to try the strength of his nerves, the enemy will
probably soon afford him an opportunity. I have
sufficient confidence in my own, already.”

Smith. This is no answer, sir.

George. This is my answer, sir.

Smith. And you refuse to give captain Sandford
the satisfaction due to a gentleman?

George. I refuse to give captain Sandford an
opportunity of making himself appear ridiculous,
which I know would be the case did I accede to
his mad proposal. He would sooner beg my pardon,
sir, on parade, than meet me as an enemy.
Such a humiliation he richly merits, but I will not
violate my duty even to inflict that.

Smith. Where your ungenerous insinuations
against the honor of my friend, founded on fact,
sir, would he have thus invited a meeting? Let
me request you, sir, to be consistent. This note
was written by captain Sandford.

George. And captain Sandford, sir, would
sooner have eaten his fingers than written that
note to me, did he not hold my written pledge that
I would take no step hostile to his personal safety.
It is upon that pledge alone that he thus presumes.

Smith. I am not authorised, sir, to receive any
explanations, nor do I ask any. I wish to return
my friend a definitive answer. Will you, or will
you not, meet captain Sandford?

George. Never, as an enemy—never as a friend,
until he reforms his morals.

Smith. Then, sir, I am authorised to inform
you that my friend Sandford will find himself reduced
to the necessity, not only of proclaiming
you to the army and the world for a cowardly
paltroon, but of treating you as such whenever he
meets you.

George. Your friend Sandford, sir, loves himself
too well to put his threat in execution; and I
hope his friends will not so jeopardize their reputation
as to become his agents.

Smith. What, sir, if I do?

George. You will proclaim yourself a liar,
and forfeit the confidence of all honest men.

Smith. This language is very singular, sir,
and such as I did not expect from an officer of
your standing and reputation. You cannot, surely,
be ignorant of the customary course to be pursued
in such cases? Captain Sandford feels himself
injured by you, and demands redress—an
honorable reparation. What can be more reasonable
than such a demand on his part, or more
just than a compliance on yours?

George. I never injured any man. If any man
thinks, or like your friend Sandford, affects to
think that I have wronged him, let him invite a
meeting of accommodation in presence of a certain
number of gentlemen whom he himself may
choose, and whatever be their decision, on hearing
both sides of the question, I will willingly
abide by. Ask your friend to submit his cause to
such a test, and he will blush—if he be yet susceptible
of shame. He dare not thus expose the
meanness and duplicity of his past conduct—he
dare not exhibit the letter on which his present

insolence is predicated—he would almost as soon
fight. Tell him, however, that I retain a copy of it.

Smith. Although I act as the friend of captain
Sandford in this affair, I know nothing of the
merits of the case. He seeks the meeting, and
has commissioned me to see that it be conducted
on fair and honorable principles. It is not my business
to inquire whether his injuries are real or
imaginary. The pledge you mention—

George. (Rising with dignity) Does not extend
to his friends, sir; and I wish no further communion
with a man who can so far forget the dignity
of his nature as to espouse a cause in any controversy,
while he confesses he is ignorant of its
merits. You have heard my answer to your principal—my
time is too valuable to be thus dissipated.
Good morning, sir.

Smith. You will hear again from me, sir.

George. It will give me no pleasure, sir, unless
I hear that you have adopted sentiments more
congenial with virtue and genuine honor. Once
more, good morning.

Sandford had been awaiting his friend's return
in the most anxious suspense. More than once
he wished to recal the note of defiance he had
written, lest it should be accepted, and he be
compelled to fight, or become an object of contempt
and ridicule. The solemn promise of
Willoughby, however, added to his established
and undisguished principles, had set his mind at
rest on that score, and he was contemplating the
triumph which awaited him, when Smith entered
his quarters, and related verbatim his conversation
with Willoughby.

Sandford did blush, and bite his lips, too, till
they bled, during the recital. He began to feel

that he did indeed “love himself too well” to
proclaim lieutenant Willoughby a coward to an
army that almost adored him for his generous gallantry—to
officers who (of every grade) were
ambitious of his society and conversation, and
zealous in emulating his courage, manners, and
fascinating accomplishments. Sandford was well
aware that Willoughby had numerous friends in
the camp who were brave as himself, and not
bound by those correct principles of reason and
religion, by which George was governed; he
therefore reasonably concluded, that to announce
himself as the enemy of lieutenant Willoughby,
would be to expose himself to the indignation of
too many rash spirits. He finally determined to
let the matter drop, content with having proved
his spirit, in the eyes of Smith at least, whom he
requested to pursue the affair no further, nor expose
either of them to an arrest for having violated
an order of the war department, forbidding the
sending or bearing a challenge.

But with respect to Smith's opinion of his
courage, Sandford was mistaken. The hints of
Willoughby, and the present conduct of Sandford,
created suspicions in the mind of Smith not
very honorable to his friend; he therefore replied
with this observation:

“Then I am to understand, sir, that you are
satisfied?”

Sandford. Yes—no, sir—not satisfied; but if
the scoundrel refuses to meet me, what step can
be taken?

Smith. Cane him, kick him, pull his nose.

Sandford. Why, to be sure—but would not
that be descending to the level of a blackguard?
I think, sir, we had better let it drop, at least for

the present. I shall find some opportunity of
taking satisfaction.

Smith. Now, sir, show me the letter mentioned
by Willoughby and alluded to in this note. I
wish to see the nature of an insult that you can
so easily pocket.

Sandford. That letter—O, that letter, sir, is
mislaid; but it is not worth your inspection: it is
a low piece of studied insolence, amounting in
its nature to a challenge, and as such he no doubt
intended it; but finding me ready to meet him,
he consults his own safety, and declines.

Smith. Beware, captain Sandford, how you
trifle with me! If my suspicions be well founded,
and you have presumed to make me an actor in a
farce—eternal woes rest upon you! Better had
you been dashed down the falls of Niagara than
thus incur my resentment!

At this moment, before Sandford could sufficiently
recover from his astonishment to reply, a sudden
alarm was spread through the encampment,
the bugles rang, and the drums beat to arms. An
outpost of the army was attacked, by a large
body of British and Indians, and Scott was ordered
out with a detachment to oppose them.

“I shall volunteer;” cried Smith—“If you
have courage, Sandford, do the same.” So saying
he rushed out, and the detachment with many
volunteers, were soon on the march. The enemy
were numerous, and the conflict obstinate. Willoughby
and Smith fought side by side, and their
conduct was particularly applauded by the gallant
Scott. In less than an hour the assailants
were dispersed with considerable loss, while that
of the Americans was comparatively trifling. This
affair, though small, served to test the merits of

the officers engaged, and more ardor was never
displayed on a similar occasion. Vandeusen,
Madison, Cummins, Birdsall, and Towson, all
distinguished themselves in the performance of
their several duties. The brave Towson was
wounded in the hand, while voluntarily bearing
Scott's orders to officers of detachments.

As the victors were returning to camp, Smith
seized our hero by the hand, and with an oath
threatened to make that man eat his words who
should hereafter in his hearing express a doubt
of Willoughby's courage. George begged him,
with a goodnatured smile, to give himself no
trouble on his account, assuring him that he was
ever ready to forgive any man for merely expressing
an erroneous opinion.