University of Virginia Library

56. CHAPTER LVI.
THE FORAGING PARTY.

Among the few noble spirits to whom our hero
had become strongly attached during his service
on the peninsula, was an officer named Cummins,
who had several times rendered himself conspicuous
for his heroism and military skill,[1] and who
was at once admired for his bravery, respected
for his talents, and beloved for his virtues. His
morals were exemplary, his deportment dignified,
and his address insinuating. Although lieutenant
Willoughby was a general favorite in the army,
yet he had but few friends—and Cummins was
one of the chosen few.

Affairs between pickets, of greater or lesser
magnitude, were daily occurring, and foreging
could only be accomplished within the limits of
the enemy's line, and at the hazard of continual
contests; for the force which invested Fort
George, was at this time greatly superior to that
of its defenders.

In one of these foraging excursions, our hero
and his friend Cummins, being closely engaged
in an interesting conversation, imperceptibly
drew off from their party into the woods, and suddenly
found themselves near a farm-house, before
they were fully aware of their aberration. No

enemy was in view, and as our adventurers were
well armed, they were determined to dismount,
and, if possible, obtain some refreshment in the
cottage. Having fastened their horses to a tree,
and carefully reconnoitred the passes which led
from the house, they advanced to the door, and
knocked for admittance; but no one appearing
to answer the summons, they lifted the latch, and
entered the rustic mansion sans ceremonie.

They now found themselves in a narrow hall,
at the farther extremity of which was a flight of
stairs to the garret, and on either hand a door
opening into a ground apartment. They entered
first one and then the other of these doors, without
discovering a human being; but as they were
about leaving the second, a low murmur of voices
saluted their ears from a room beyond; and what
they had at first taken for a curtained window,
they now conjectured to be a sash-door leading
to the apartment which contained the speakers.

“Be on your guard,” whispered Cummins, as
they softly approached the door; “there may be
too many for us.”

George made no reply, but advanced to the
door, and applied his ear to the key-hole to listen.
Several different voices could be distinguished,
but in so low a key, that the subject of their conversation
could not be gathered. He thought,
however, that the tone of one, (who mentioned
the words Niagara, De Rottenberg,[2] Kingston
and some others, loud enough to be understood
by the listener) were familiar to his ear. While
George was thus engaged, his friend gently removed
one corner of the curtain, and obtained a

distinct view of the room and the party within it.
He immediately touched our hero on the arm, and
drew him gently from the door.

“There is treason hatching,” whispered Cummins.
“A dozen British officers are tampering
with a deserter.”

“British officers!”

“Yes—in disguise; but the laced collar of one
of them is visible above his cloak, and I presume
that they are all of a kidney. Our cue is, to retreat.

“How know you that they have a deserter with
them?” asked George, in a whisper, as they
cautiously proceeded towards the hall.

“I saw him,” returned Cummins, “and knew
him instantly. It is your truant servant boy,
whose sudden and extraordinary disappearance
has excited so much surprise.”

“Who!”

“Reuben.”

“Impossible!” replied George. “I must have
a peep, if it costs my life.”

“It is rashness to venture,” whispered Cummins.
“Let us retreat while it is in our power.
I feel no disposition, just at this time, to be introduced
to the magnanimous gentlemen within.”

George was alike deaf to the advice of his
friend, and to the suggestions of prudence. His
curiosity was inflamed, and had there been no
other way of gratifying it, he would have pounced
into the room and trusted to fortune for the rest.
Fortunately, however, he gained a rapid survey
of the groupe, without being detected. A youth
was standing with his back towards the door,
holding a folded paper in his hand, and earnestly
addressing several gentlemen, whose persons

were enveloped in cloaks or great coats. The
manner of the speaker was earnest and his gestures
animated, while he gracefully turned to the
right and left as if appealing to his auditors for
the correctness of his sentiments. Suddenly he
ceased, and after delivering the folded paper, so
changed his position as to afford our hero a full
view of his face. It was Sophia, in the character
of Reuben.

George continued in this perilous situation so
long, that Cummins became seriously alarmed,
and returned to urge his departure. Completely
absorbed in wonder, he suffered himself to be led
to the hall in silence. The moment they entered
it, a hard featured middle-aged man was descending
the stairs, and he started with unaffected surprise
on thus unexpectedly encountering the
livery of his enemy. After a moment's hesitation,
he edged towards the door from which our adventurers
had just issued, who suspecting his intention
was to betray them, darted before him, and
presenting their pistols at his breast, assured him
that an audible breath should be his last.

The sturdy Englishman was not, however, to
be thus intimidated; he dashed the pistols from
him, right and left—broke through his opponents
with the strength of a giant, and flew towards the
interior apartment, calling loudly for assistance.

The alarm being given, no time was to be lost.
Our adventurers were on horseback in a moment;
and, after discharging their pistols in the faces of
the enemy, set off on a full gallop through the
woods, and soon rejoined their comrades in a field
beyond. The waggons were now loaded with
forage, and the party returned to camp unmolested.

But, the mysterious Reuben—what could be
the object of his interview with British officers,
and what could that folded paper contain? Was
there a treasonable plot on foot?—Could Sandford
be concerned in it?—How was the circumstance
to be reconciled with the well-known vigilance
of the American pickets? What was the
extent of the plot?—How many might be concerned
in it?—How could it be circumvented?
These, and a thousand other similar questions,
passed in rapid succession through the mind of
our hero, as he accompanied the party to camp;
but he could form no satisfactory conclusion on
the subject. For several days he thought of
nothing else, and the subject might have occupied
his mind for months, had not the busy arrangements
which were now making for an important
enterprise, diverted his attention to other objects.

The health of Wilkinson being now partially
restored, the most active preparations were on
foot for the execution of his projected expedition
against Montreal. Grenadier Island, a point between
Sacket's Harbor and Kingston, had been
determined upon as the most eligible place for a
rendezvous, to collect and concentrate the different
regiments, previous to embarking them in the
batteaux which were to convey them down the
St. Lawrence. For this place, therefore, the
general embarked on the second day of October,
with the main body of the northern army; leaving
a small garrison of regulars and militia to occupy
Fort George and its dependencies, under
the command of Scott, who had directions to
march them to Sacket's Harbor, and there unite
with the grand expedition, as soon as general

M`Clure should arrive with his volunteers to relieve
him on the peninsula.

In the mean time, the British army under De
Rottenberg retained its position, about four miles
from Fort George, and Scott had every reason to
apprehend an attack, as soon as the departure of
Wilkinson was known to the enemy. He therefore
made the greatest exertions to strengthen his
defences, which were very incomplete at the time
he was left in command.

Instead of attacking him, however, the enemy
suddenly broke up their encampment, burnt and
destroyed all their camp equipage and many
stand of arms, in order to facilitate their movements
towards Kingston, which was suspected to
be the first object of Wilkinson's expedition.
Scott's position was now perfectly safe, and his
duties consequently extremely light; but indolent
safety and inglorious ease, were not the objects
of his ambition. He was impatient to be relieved
at this post, that he might fly after Wilkinson and
share the dangers and glory which awaited the
American arms on the St. Lawrence.

In a few days his wishes were gratified. The
volunteers which had been raised by the patriotic
M`Clure, Porter, and Chapin, arrived at the garrison;
and, agreeably to his instructions, Scott
resigned his command to the former of these
heroes, and pressed forward with his brave followers
by forced marches, towards Sacket's Harbor.

In the army which Wilkinson was concentrating
for this expedition, the gallant Brown, (now a
brigadier in the regular service) held an important
command—as did, also, the intrepid Boyd;
the former being appointed to lead the van, and the

latter to command the rear guard. The ever-daring
Scott, the heroic Covington, and the brave
Swartwout, were to command their respective
brigades. Colonels Brearly, Porter, M`Comb,
and Preston, had proved themselves heroes on
the Niagara, and were now ready to confirm
their claim to the title on the St. Lawrence.
Pearce, who, after the fall of Pike, at Little York,
led on the Americans to victory and glory, was
now impatiently waiting to be led by Wilkinson
through the same perilous path to the same glittering
goal. Forsyth was early at the rendezvous,
with his valiant corps of riflemen, who were
eager, once more, to exercise their well-tried
arms against the enemy—those arms which had
been so successfully wielded at Gananoque, Ogdensburg,
Elizabethtown, Little York, and Fort
George. Cummins, Willoughby, Smith, Whiting,
Worth, and many other officers of distinguished
merit, whose names shall be recorded in
another chapter, were also engaged in this expedition.
The whole army consisted of about eight
thousand men, and was to move under the immediate
direction of Wilkinson, assisted by major-general
Lewis.

On the twenty-fifth day of October, the troops
at Grenadier Island began to embark in boats
prepared for the purpose; and although the
autumnal storms were now raging with great violence
on the lake, their gallant leader determined
to delay the enterprise no longer. Disease and
pain still hung about him, but the energy of his
mind rose superior to bodily infirmity, and he
superintended the embarkation most of the time,
exposed to the cold searching winds and drenching
rains. As the boats were filled, he bade them

take advantage of the first momentary pause in
the storm to slide into the St. Lawrence, and
gain the next appointed rendezvous, which was a
place called French Creek.

On the day before the embarkation was completed,
colonel Randolph arrived at Grenadier
Island with two hundred and thirty men. As
Scott had not yet reached Sacket's Harbor with
his column, orders were left for him to proceed on
by land through Brownsville[3] and Oxbow, to Ogdensburg,
and there join the army as it passed
down the St. Lawrence. The van, under Brown,
had already entered that majestic river, and the
commander in chief was hastening the departure
of the remaining brigades, whom he intended to
follow in his gig, accompanied by his passage
boat with his staff.

By the arrival of Randolph, our hero was furnished
with a letter from O'Hara, which the
reader will find recorded in the next chapter.