by Various
XIV
A DRUMMER OF WARBURTON'S
How a Boy Held Fort George at Cape Canso, in 1757
A few hours ago I found an odd-shaped bit of blackened brass. The thinglies before me now as I write. It is a drum-hook. I know this for thesimple reason that I was once a drummer-boy myself, and could not bemistaken regarding such a familiar object. I found this drum-hook amonga lot of other odds and ends at the bottom of a well in an old,long-abandoned fortification. The poor scrap of silent metal brings tomind the tale of Rupert Haydon, drummer-boy in one of the old lineregiments. His deed of heroism was performed at this same old fort whichI have to-day been ransacking. Perhaps this drum-hook was once used byhim! It is not at all unlikely.
By turning to your map of North America you can easily distinguish CapeCanso, at the eastern extremity of the mainland of Nova Scotia. Upon anisland, about a mile from the shore and forming with it the harbor ofCanso, is the grass-grown fortress which I have mentioned. The name ofthe island is George's; the fort has had several high-sounding titles.Why should it not? It is old--older perhaps than others with claims ofeasier proof. In 1518, over a century before the Pilgrims landed atPlymouth, legend says that Baron de Lery threw up the first embankmentsand claimed the country for the crown of France. Several times this forthas been besieged and captured, at heavy loss of life. New England sentexpeditions against it. The bloodthirsty Indians repeatedly raided theplace. In 1745 Pepperell and his valiant little army of Massachusetts,New Hampshire, and Connecticut militia remained here for some weeks, inorder to acquire drill and discipline before moving upon the boastedLouisburg. And many another martial display has this neglected old fortwitnessed, and personages celebrated in our history have walked withinits ramparts upon occasion.
In the year 1757 Fort George, as it was then called, had as its garrisona small detachment from Colonel Warburton's regiment of foot. Thistrifling force was compelled to watch over a wide extent of territory inaddition to the special place they occupied. France and England wereagain at war, and both regular expeditions and lawless guerillasabounded.
On a certain day in midsummer the garrison embarked upon a small vesseland sailed away to the relief of a threatened settlement. Rupert Haydon,the drummer-boy, was left in charge of the fort. With him were severalwomen, wives of soldiers, and their small children.
"We shall be gone but a week at most, drummer," Captain Peabody hadannounced. "It suits me not to leave women and stores so ill protected,but the commands of my superiors must be obeyed. However, it is scarcelikely that the enemy will have knowledge of the fort's weakness in timeto profit thereby."
The drummer-boy stood at attention and saluted as the soldiers marchedout through the covered way. With the aid of the women he hoisted thedrawbridge and closed the massive timber gates. Then, scrambling up ontop of the parapet, he watched the little sailing craft, her decks allbright with the scarlet-coated warriors, pass out through the narrowharbor entrance and disappear from view around the first headland.Scarcely had the transport so vanished, when Rupert's keen eyesdiscovered another vessel making for the harbor from the opposite side.
Mere supposition was useless. The newcomer might prove to be a friend.If an enemy, the chance of being let alone was problematical. It was nowtoo late to recall the recently departed garrison. Upon the drummer'syoung shoulders lay the whole burden of maintaining the dignity of theEnglish flag.
Rupert Haydon was only a poorly educated boy, but he must have had agreat deal of latent talent. Even while gazing in consternation at thefast-approaching vessel, he mentally mapped out a plan of campaign.Hastily gathering the women about him, he explained the matter to them,and secured their aid. They were all well used to the happening of theunexpected, and inured to danger and fatigue. The wife of a Britishsoldier has never had an easy lot. These rugged-looking thoughgolden-hearted women donned some uniforms left behind by their husbands,and became, in outward appearance at least, full-fledged soldiers. Thesix small cannon mounted in the fort's bastions were loaded, small-armsserved out, and ammunition placed conveniently to hand. One of thesoldier-women mounted guard upon the ramparts, and marched up and down,in plain view, with musket upon shoulder. The English ensign was, ofcourse, flying from the tall staff in the centre of the redoubt.
As the vessel drew nearer, the little garrison began to bustle withactivity, and continued in the same fashion for some while. Two of thesoldier-women would come out of the fort, stroll down to the shore,examine the stranger with an apparently mild curiosity, and then walkoff together over the hills. Meanwhile the others, including Rupert,would come and go, disappearing and reappearing in all directions withthe aid of the rocky ravines and clumps of trees upon the island. Theidea of all this was to convince the new-comers, whoever they might be,that the fort's garrison remained unimpaired, and took no special noticeof a single vessel. That the scheme had a certain effect was shown inthe fact that the stranger came to anchor far down the harbor, well outof range of Fort George's cannon. It looked very much as if theappearance of these redcoats coming and going about the island hadimpressed her commander unfavorably.
After some delay the ship hoisted a French ensign, and a small boat putoff from her side and headed for the fort landing. This boat containedthree men--two rowing, and one in the stern holding aloft a piece ofwhite cloth. It was evidently a flag of truce, coming to parley.
Although his worst fears were now realized, and they plainly had aformidable enemy to deal with, Rupert never wavered, but proceeded todispose of his forces in the best manner possible. Leaving only thesentry upon the parapet, he marched out of the fort at the head of theothers, as if they merely constituted a suitable escorting party. One ofthe squad he had equipped beforehand with a flag of truce similar tothat carried by the man in the boat. The drummer drew up his littlecompany in a single rank upon the glacis, about half-way between theintrenchments and the water's edge. At such a distance their disguisescould not be discovered. Alone he advanced to the border of thepebble-strewn strand, and there awaited the coming of the emissary.
The latter was wary of approaching too hastily. He bade his oarsmen backthe skiff stern first to within ten or fifteen yards of the shore. Thenhe stopped them, and, while they kept the boat in position with gentlestrokes, he held converse with the intrepid drummer by means of lustyshoutings.
"I wish to speak with your Commandant," began the stranger, using goodEnglish, yet with a decided Gallic accent. "You are only a child.... Adrummer-boy?... Am I not right?... I judged so by your small stature andpretty coat.... Inform the Commandant of your fort that I desire a fewwords with him."
"It is impossible," replied Rupert, coolly.
"What? Impossible?"
"Yes; I regret to say that the Commandant will not be able to see you atpresent. But I am his representative, and can also act as your messengerif you have something of importance to transmit."
"O-ho! We are very high and mighty, it seems!" retorted the stranger,angrily. "Like should have like for meals. I will not be so civil as Ifirst intended. Tell your Commandant that my name is Rabentine--CaptainRabentine. I have the honor of commanding _La Belle Cerise_, privateer,of St. Malo."
"A French privateer!" ejaculated Rupert.
"Just so," went on Captain Rabentine, looking from the drummer to hisescort, up at the fort, and back again to the drummer, with someappearance of suspicion.
"I had thought you were a navy frigate," rejoined Rupert, promptly. "Weare getting rusty for the want of a little fighting."
The other seemed slightly taken aback at this statement.
"Perhaps you may have such a chance even yet," he growled.
"Well, Captain Rabentine," cried the boy, courteously, "what else am Ito say to the Commandant? For surely you took not all this troublemerely to let us know whom our visitor might be?"
"Inform him," shouted the privateer Captain, waxing wroth, "that I hadintended simply to lay in harbor here and weather out the coming gale.That a good prize-ship is
more to my liking than an empty fort! Perhapsthere might even have been a case of rare wine sent ashore by way ofcompliment. But as he chooses to be so distant, and sends a drummer-boyas fitting ambassador to a French Captain, I shall give myself thepleasure of--But, pshaw! there is no money in this for my owners. Informyour Commandant that I have a mind to anchor farther up the harbor,where the shelter is good, for a few days. That I will not molest him ifhe leaves me alone. There you have it in a nutshell. Go, and hastequickly with the answer."
Gravely turning on his heel the drummer strode back up the hill, joinedhis waiting escort, and marched with them to the fort. He was gone uponthis pretended mission some little time; quite long enough further toexasperate the privateer Captain.
"Truly 'tis a matter of wonderful ceremony," he sneered, when Rupert,after repeating the former precautionary measures with his escort, wasonce more at speaking distance. "All this folderol is wearisome. YourCommandant may regret not having sent an officer before we are throughwith the thing. Did you sufficiently impress him with the fact that Iam not one to be trifled with? Does he realize that his garrison canscarcely outnumber my crew? _La Belle Cerise_ carries one hundred andfifty-four as natty sailors as ever swung boarding-pikes, and at a pinchwe can spare a round hundred for landing-party and still have enough onboard to work our biggest guns. He should be thankful that I show aninclination to leave his puny fort untouched. What has he to say?"
"Our two nations being at war at the present time," announced thedrummer, guardedly, "I am to tell you that we can offer no harbor unlessyou care to surrender yourself and crew as prisoners, and your ship aslawful prize. Failing this, you must--"
"What? Zounds!" howled the easily excited Frenchman. "Your Commandantmay think this good jesting, but I do not share his opinions. Tell himto look to his defences. The flag of France shall once more wave abovethem. We will attack at once, and for every poor fellow I lose in thisworthless assault, two of your survivors shall be strung up to die.Give way, my boys!" he cried, addressing his oarsmen.
The boat sped off to the vessel. The drummer and his little partyreturned within the fort, and prepared as best they could for what wasto follow.
Almost immediately after the arrival of the privateer Captain on boardhis ship, three great pinnaces were lowered to the water and filled withmen. The glitter from naked cutlasses, inlaid pistols, and carefullyheld muskets could easily be distinguished among them. This flotilla wassoon ready, and at once started for the fort landing. Luckily for thetrivial band of defenders the wind was increasing to such an extent thatCaptain Rabentine did not consider it wise to attempt manoeuvring hisship in an unbuoyed and dangerous harbor. Therefore the flotilla waswithout any aid from the guns of _La Belle Cerise_. Moreover, the waveswere commencing to run high, and the overloaded boats labored heavily.It was necessary to keep them headed to the seas as much as possible,and, in consequence, their progress towards the shore was renderedextremely slow.
Rupert Haydon and his improvised garrison were all ready. The loadedcannon were trained as nearly as could be upon the approaching boats.The women soldiers had kissed their children a fond good-bye, and shutthem up in the bomb-proof magazine, away from danger of flyingprojectiles.
When the flotilla had arrived within easy range, the young drummercommenced discharging the battery as fast as he could pull the lanyards.After him hurried the women, reloading the heated cannon. The roar ofthe discharge came re-echoing back from the rocky cliffs repeated overand over again, and the smoke-clouds temporarily hid the fort from view.
This unskilful volley went wide of the mark, as was to be expected underthe circumstances, and yet inflicted great damage upon theprivateersmen. The thing came about after the following fashion: Uponthe very beginning of the cannonade, the officer in command of theleading boat had bade his rowers swing their craft directly head on tothe fort, thus presenting as small a target as possible. Those in thesecond boat, however, more intent upon watching the course of theprojectiles than anything else, had not noticed this manoeuvre, andso, before anything could be done to prevent it, came smashing againstthe other's gunwale. In the heavy sea then running this was speciallydisastrous. The stricken boat had her side stove in, and the on-comerwas overturned. Both crews quickly found themselves struggling in thewater. Well convinced of the hopelessness of continuing their presentassault, the men in the remaining pinnace confined their efforts torescuing drowning comrades and getting out of range again as quickly aspossible.
The gale had now increased considerably, and its gathering force gavepromise of still fiercer might. By the time the survivors of the boatexpedition had returned to their ship the day was drawing close totwilight. Captain Rabentine well realized his double danger. Failingshelter, which could only be found farther up the harbor, and in rangeof the fort's cannon, he must put to sea. He was wild with anger at hisrepulse. What would have been his condition of mind if he had known thatthe defenders consisted merely of a boy and a few women dressed insoldier clothes?
Hastily ordering the cable slipped, Captain Rabentine saw to thespreading of some small storm-sails, and tried to beat out of theinhospitable harbor. But even here fortune seemed to be against him. Thefull flood-tide was running, and although _La Belle Cerise_ struttedbravely, she could make no perceptible offing. The only road to safetylay directly past the fort and out the other entrance. The privateerCaptain well knew that one lucky shot might disable his ship, and causehim to lose control over her. In such a wind and upon such a coast thismeant almost certain death and destruction. But it appeared to be hisonly chance, and he had to take it.
Down on the wind swept the privateer. Her decks were awash with foam.She rolled and pitched like a mad thing. Her guns were lashed fast tothe deck ring-bolts. It would have been suicidal to try to use them insuch a sea. The crew clung to shrouds and railings, gazing ruefully uponthe nearing battlements which they had so unsuccessfully attempted toassail. In a few minutes they were almost abreast of the green hill.Scarcely a hundred yards distant were the grinning embrasures, fromwhich protruded the muzzles of cannon in plain view.
SHE ROLLED AND PITCHED LIKE A MAD THING]
Within the fort Rupert Haydon stood ready, lanyard in hand. The guns hadbeen more carefully sighted this time, and he felt sure that they couldnot all miss such a monstrous mark. One pull upon the blackened cord andthe chances for a prosperous voyage of _La Belle Cerise_ of St. Malowould be small. For a second he hesitated. Then dropping the lanyard,cried:
"No, no. It would be murder, not battle."
Seizing the white flag of truce that had already been used in thepreliminary negotiations, and leaping upon the parapet, he waved it toand fro.
The meaning was instantly comprehended on board of the privateer. Not tobe outdone in courtesy, some sailors, at risk of life and limb,scrambled aft to their own halyards. As the ship swept by, the proudensign of France descended to the deck in salute to the drummer-boy ofWarburton's. Ere it was hoisted again, _La Belle Cerise_ was a recedingspeck upon the darkening, storm-swept ocean.
