University of Virginia Library

53. CHAPTER LIII.
A FURLOUGH.

The army at Fort George was now in a state
of inactivity, (excepting some trifling affairs of
outposts) and George had much time for reflection;
but his reflections were not always of the
most pleasing kind. The counterfeit Reuben
had disappeared, and no one knew what had become
of him. Anxious to save from deeper ruin
this infatuated victim of a criminal passion, our
hero was indefatigable in his enquiries; and, at
length, began to fear that the waves of Niagara
had received the self-devoted wretch, whose parting
words, he recollected, were, “I know my instrument,
and shall have my revenge.”

Had George deliberately studied, planned,
and executed a scheme of seduction—had he, by
specious promises, obtained the affections and
confidence of an artless girl, and basely violated
her honor---had he initiated her into the paths of
vice, and then cruelly withdrawn his protection,
abandoning her to shame and poverty—had this
been the case, the self-immolation of his unhappy
victim would have been revenge indeed---the severest
wound in her power to inflict; a wound
that could hardly fail

But this was not the case; George had not been
thus deeply guilty; and yet the bare idea that
such might be the fate of the frail Sophia, filled
his bosom with no very enviable sensations. He
had sufficient cause for self-reproach; he consented
to her ruin, without making an attempt to
save her. Had he manfully resisted temptation,
and set her a pattern of heroic virtue, she might
have lived to thank him for the lesson. But, instead
of supporting, he, alas! had fallen with her!

In order, if possible, to divert such unpleasant
reflections, he obtained a short furlough, to visit
his father at Erie. I will not positively assert,
that, in taking this step, he thought only of his
father; of this, the reader is at liberty to judge
for himself. I only know that he travelled to
Erie with an expedition that would have done
honor to an express courier.

It would be difficult to determine which exhibited
the greatest degree of surprise at the meeting,
the major, at seeing his son—or his son at not
seeing Catharine. The latter had departed several
hours before, in company with her aunt and
cousin, and was now far distant, on the road
to Mayville, in the state of New-York. Our
hero's velocity in travelling had actually prevented
the interview he so ardently desired; he having
passed the carriage which contained Catharine,
too precipitately for either party to recognise
each other. He was now almost tempted to
pursue them, and accompany them to Ithaca; but
the half-formed resolution was soon dissipated by
reflection, and his chagrin quickly yielded to the
native gentleness of his disposition.

The major now proceeded to inform our hero,
that as soon as his letter had reached Ithaca, Mrs.
Woodcock, (accompanied by her son in his own
carriage) set out immediately for Erie, and arrived

but three days later than the major himself.
As their carriage was much more comfortable
than that in which he had travelled from Cleveland,
he cheerfully resigned his fair charge to such
protectors, and concluded to tarry a week longer
in Erie. “Catharine (he added) is much improved
in health and spirits since the date of my
last letter. Could she again embrace her father,
she would be comparatively happy. Nothing, my
son, but genuine piety could have supported her
under trials so peculiarly severe.”

Perry's squadron was now lying in the harbor,
having returned from a short cruise to receive reinforcements.
Major Willoughby had received
an invitation to dine with the commodore, on
board the Lawrence, and his son resolved to accompany
him. This was an unexpected pleasure
to Perry, as it was also to the gallant Elliot, who
had just arrived from Sacket's Harbor with one
hundred volunteers for the squadron. Elliot had
been appointed to the command of the Niagara,
a vessel of equal force with the Lawrence; and
besides these two brigs, which carried twenty
guns each, there were in the harbor six others of
inferior force. The whole were now completely
manned and equipped, and every soul on board
was panting to meet the enemy.

After the cloth was removed, and the wine had
begun to circulate, several toasts were given by
different officers present. The major was solicited
for a sentiment, and gave the following:—
“The hero who voluntarily risks his own life, to
preserve that of an individual, would think it no
sacrifice to die for his country.” George knew
not how to understand this sentiment, but the
scarlet blush that mantled on the cheek of one

young officer at table, evinced to the whole company
that it was not unintelligible to him. No
notice, however, was taken of the circumstance,
and the modest midshipman soon after retired.

On reaching their lodgings, (to which they
were accompanied by O'Hara) George requested
an explanation of his father's toast, which was
given by the major in the following words:

“Yesterday evening, towards sunset, the weather
being remarkably fine, Mrs. Latamore and
myself prevailed on Catharine to accompany me
in a little excursion on horseback, an exercise of
which she is extremely fond, and which we now
recommended as beneficial to her health. Her
aunt approved the motion, and Catharine consented.
We proceeded, at a gentle pace, on the
Erie turnpike, about three miles. On our return,
the report of a fowling-piece in an adjacent field,
so frightened the animal on which Catharine was
seated, that he became totally unmanageable, and
after rearing and plunging a moment, set off towards
the town with a speed truly alarming, and
which the feeble Catharine was unable to check.
Almost distracted for her safety, I urged on my
more tardy beast, but was at some distance in the
rear, when I observed a foot-passenger dart into
the middle of the road, and, at the imminent hazard
of his life or limbs, seize the bridle of her steed
with one hand, while he caught the precipitated
Catharine in the other arm—free from injury, save
the effects of her fright. This was the noble
youth alluded to in my toast, and he was present
at table.”

“That young midshipman?”

“The same.”

“May he become admiral of the whole American
navy!” cried O'Hara, with an oath.

“What would I not give to be that midshipman!”
exclaimed George—and then blushed, as
he met his father's smile.

“Come, come, my son,” said the major—“do
not compel me to chide you for selfishness. You
have already had the privilege of saving Miss
Fleming once, from even greater danger. Will
not that suffice?”

“Who is the happy fellow?”

“All in good time, my son. On coming up to
them, I sprang from my horse, and assisted in
supporting the trembling girl, who assured me
that she was perfectly safe and unhurt. She then
turned to her deliverer, and thanked him with a
grace peculiar to herself—possibly you may conceive
of it, if she has ever thanked you for being
the instrument of her deliverance at Richmond.”

George again blushed.

“I eagerly united with her,” continued the major,
“in expressing our grateful sense of the obligation
under which his gallantry had laid us;
but he modestly declined every idea of merit in
the achievement, said he could claim no gratitude
for merely performing his duty, and begged us to
inform him in what manner he could be of farther
service. Catharine would not again trust herself
on horseback, and, as the distance was small, she
chose to proceed on foot. The young stranger
then requested her to accept his right arm, while
I supported her with my left, and throwing my
bridle over the other shoulder, we commenced our
march, with Catharine in the centre. As for her
horse, he had not the politeness to await the result
of his mad frolic, but was by this time, at his

owner's stable in the borough. In this manner
we reached our quarters, where the gallant officer
took his leave.”

“I must become acquainted with him,” exclaimed
George. “Who is he?”

“He merely informed me that his name was
Webster; and I have learned from others, that he
is a nephew of Noah Webster, esq. the celebrated
etymologist of New-England. But if the
squadron should not sail to-morrow, you may yet
be introduced to him.”

The conversation now turned upon the affairs
of O'Hara, and his unfortunate relatives. The
brave Irishman could hardly command his feelings
while the subject was spoken of.

“You recollect our conversation in Boston?”
said O'Hara to George; “you then attempted to
convince me that my resentment against Great
Britain was wrong; and, in conformity to your
advice, (which, I have no doubt, was well intended)
I have endeavored to soften and suppress it.
What is the consequence? `To whet my almost
blunted purpose,' Heaven found it necessary to
inflict another blow. That cruel blow has now
been struck by the agents of England, and if I
ever forgive her, may Heaven never forgive me!
We shall soon meet them on Lake Erie, and then
my motto shall be—“Revenge or Death.” Should
my courage faulter, or my ardor flag, one glance at
our family picture will rekindle both into a blaze
of fury. The shades of a murdered sister—a
heart-broken father—a martyred brother—shall
pass in succession before my mental view, and
nerve my bosom with a tiger's rage!”

Finding him “in a humour to chide the thunder,
if at him it grumbled,” our hero made no attempts

to restrain the violence of his feelings, by any arguments
or observations, but sought to change the
subject. When the indignant sailor had given
free vent to the fulness of his heart, he became
more calm, and shortly after took his leave.

The squadron sailed on the following day, and
George was consequently deprived of the anticipated
introduction to Webster. Early the next
morning the major and his son departed for Buffalo,
where they safely arrived on the third day of
their journey.

Major Willoughby spent several days with his
son, which they occupied in visiting the different
military works on the borders of Niagara; George
pointed out to his father the various scenes of attack
and defence, in the several skirmishes which
had occurred during the obstinate contention for
the possession of this river; explained the positions
and manœuvres of the two vessels which
Elliot surprised under the guns of Fort Erie, and
the operations of the gallant Scott in affording
them protection. George then directed his father's
attention to the opposite shore, where the
brave Boerstler, King, and Angus, effected their
landing, on the twenty-eighth of November preceding,
with a small body of sailors and soldiers.[1]

“This intrepid, but unfortunate little party,”
continued George, “crossed the river under the
impression that the main body of Smyth's army
was to follow, as soon as the enemy's batteries
were carried. They landed, yonder, at about
three o'clock in the morning, under a severe fire
of musketry and grape. Lieutenant Angus headed
the gallant tars, who were armed with pikes
and cutlasses, and he was assisted by captain

Craig, lieutenant Dudley, midshipman Graham,
and sailing-master Watts; the latter, you recollect,
distinguished himself in re-capturing the
Caledonia.[2] Samuel Swartwout, esq. of New-York,
who happened to be here at the time, volunteered
his services on that occasion, and behaved
like a soldier. Sixty regulars and fifty
sailors, composed the whole of the American
force; but bravery supplied the deficiency of
numbers; and, after an obstinate contest, they
succeeded in dispersing the enemy, storming his
works, spiking the cannon, and making about
fifty prisoners.

“Every battery between Chippewa and Fort
Erie, was now silent, and the Canadian shore, for
more than fifteen miles, completely open for the
reception of the American army, and yet they
were not permitted to cross!—the boats therefore
returned with the wounded and the prisoners,
leaving the victorious King and twelve men, who
would not be persuaded that the army were to be
prohibited from coming over to their support, and
they were consequently made prisoners by the
enemy.

“Out of twelve naval officers who were engaged
in this enterprise, nine of them, with more
than half their brave sailors, were killed or
wounded. Watts fell at the head of his division,
as he was gallantly leading them on. Captain
Dox, who took a distinguished part in this affair,
was severely wounded; as was, also, captains
Morgan and Sproull, and lieutenant Lisson. Angus
now commands the United States flotilla in
the river Delaware.

“My friend Graham, (a brave young midshipman,
whose private virtues have secured him the
love of all that know him) was so severely wounded
in the leg as to render amputation necessary,
which painful operation he endured with the
calmness of a stoic. Indeed, sir, you must excuse
me, if the love and admiration I express for my
amiable friend, amount to enthusiasm; did you
know him as I do, this apology were unnecessary.”

“Who is the father of this brave youth?”

“Colonel John A. Graham, of the city of New-York;
a gentleman well known as a scholar and
a patriot. Some time last winter, the George
Clinton Society of New-York, resolved, by a
unanimous vote, to present midshipman John A.
Graham with an elegant SWORD, as a testimony of
their high respect for his gallant conduct on the
occasion I have mentioned; and this resolution
was carried into effect on the fifth of April last.
I will, if you please, read part of a letter on the
subject, which I received from a correspondent
who is a member of that Society, on the day before
we sailed for Little York. The writer thus
expresses himself:

“Monday evening last had been previously
appointed by our Society, for presenting an elegant
sword to our mutual friend Graham, in honor
of his gallant conduct, on the night of the twenty-seventh
of November last, in spiking the enemy's
cannon, &c. on the shore opposite Black Rock.
The meeting was, consequently, uncommonly numerous,
and honored with the presence of most of
the principal characters in the city. The sword
was accompanied by a complimentary address
from the president, (Osgood) to which our friend

made an appropriate reply—modest, but dignified
and patriotic. It was, indeed a most interesting
spectacle—a subject worthy the pencil of West.
Figure to yourself the venerable father, with a
youthful son on each side, one of them (supported
on crutches from the loss of a limb in his country's
service) receiving from the hands of his fellow-citizens,
a memorial of their approbation of
his valor. The goddess of Liberty might be very
aptly introduced, decorating with laurels the
brow of her favorite votary. Every person present
evinced the most lively sentiments of respect
for the young hero, mingled with emotions of pity
for his misfortune. The presence of his patriotic
father, added not a little to the dignity of the
scene. The mingled emotions of patriotism and
paternal pride, were visibly depicted in his countenance,
and I could scarcely help exclaiming
aloud—“Who would not be a father!” I hope,
my dear Willoughby, to see yourself the hero of
a scene exactly similar—with the exception of
the crutches. Instead of such appendages, be
attended by your heroic father with but one hand;
this would be an excellent substitute in the picture,
and equally interesting. Adieu,

“D. H. REINS.”

On the following day George accompanied his
father to visit the celebrated falls of Niagara.
Thence they proceeded to Lewiston, about nine
miles below, just at the foot of the northern terrace,
as those sudden declivities are called which
descend towards Lake Ontario. Some authors
are of opinion that the great fall must, in former
ages, have been at this place, and has since gradually
worn away the rocky precipice down which

it rushes, until it has travelled eight miles further
south. A pleasant ride of six miles north of
Lewiston, brought them to the village of Niagara,
over which frown the battlements of a fortress
bearing the same name. The river now only
separated them from the American encampment
at Fort George, and the village of Newark,
of which they enjoyed a full view.

“This fort (observed George, as they were
viewing the outworks of Niagara) is perhaps one
of the most important military posts in our country;
and nothing but cowardice or treachery will
ever change its flag. While we were embarking
at Lewiston to attack Queenston, last October,
the British opened a tremendous fire upon this
place, from the opposite batteries, and continued
to throw red-hot shot into these works for several
hours. The compliment was, I assure you,
returned with interest, although the garrison here
was, at that time, but a handful of men. Several
houses in Newark were set on fire by our shot,
some of which were entirely consumed. The
south battery (which you perceive is a very commanding
one) was then commanded by captain
M`Keon, who distinguished himself by his skill
and firmness during the bombardment. The enemy,
however, soon commenced throwing shells,
and there being no defences against such intruders,
and one of the principal batteries being
nearly destroyed by the bursting of a cannon,
which killed two men, the commandant (captain
Leonard) ordered a retreat. But the garrison had
scarcely left the fort, when the movements of the
enemy indicated an intention to cross the river,
and take possession; upon which the brave
M`Keon immediately returned, with about twenty

men, determined to defend or perish in the fort.
The enemy, however, remained under the protection
of their own batteries, and the next morning
the remainder of our garrison rejoined their
undaunted countrymen within the works.

“A private belonging to this garrison, named
Doyle, was made a prisoner with the rest of us at
Queenston. His wife had in vain petitioned to have
him paroled, and being incensed at the refusal of
the British, she determined to perform her husband's
duty against them, the next time these
works should be assailed. An occasion soon offered,
for at six o'clock on the morning of the
twenty-first of November following, they commenced
a bombardment of this fort from five detached
batteries, two of them mounting twenty-four
pounders. The garrison here had been reinforced,
but was not sufficiently supplied with artillery
and ammunition. Colonel M`Feely had the
command, and acquired great honor by his conduct
on the occasion. Our Amazon was as good
as her word, and attended the six-pounder on the
mess-house, yonder, (which was commanded by
Dr. Hooper) with hot shot from the furnace, regardless
of the shells which were falling around
her, and did not once quit her station during the
whole affair.

“In the course of the day the enemy threw two
thousand red hot balls, and one hundred and
eighty shells. Several of those buildings about
the works were fired, but soon extinguished by
the vigilance of the officers and men. Several
houses were also fired on the opposite shore, and
a British schooner was sunk at the wharf. Both
officers and men, on this occasion, acquitted
themselves with honor, but the distinguished

ardor of a few will never be forgotten. I particularly
allude to colonel M`Feely, colonel Gray,
major Armistead, captains Mulligan, M`Keon, and
Leonard; lieutenants Wendal, Gansevoort, Harris,
Thomas, and Rees—the two last of whom
were wounded.”

When they had finished their survey, our hero
accompanied his father to their lodgings in the
village, within a few paces of which they passed
an officer walking with a lady. A second look
almost petrified George with astonishment—for
it was Sophia, supported by the arm of Sandford!
The recognition was mutual, but silent, and
George entered his lodgings deeply ruminating
on so singular an incident.

On the following morning, major Willoughby
took leave of his son, and departed for Albany,
while George crossed the Niagara, entered the
American encampment, and reported himself to
the commandant.