by Michael Aye
Turning to Hunter, Croghan said, “Captain, have the men cease firing.”
The sun had gone down, and it had gotten dark. The only thing the men had to fire at now was flashes. The British had unloaded more guns from the gunboats and continued firing. Lieutenant Shipp had been standing on the rampart. Seeing Jonah and Moses approach, he walked over to where they came up the ladder. “I count at least five six-pounders in addition to the howitzer,” he volunteered. “You can tell the difference when they fire the howitzer compared to the six-pounders.” It appeared the young lieutenant had made a quick study of the British guns. “The big howitzer will fire, and then each of the six-pounders will follow in succession.” He’s had plenty of time to study the guns, Jonah thought.
The British started firing somewhere about five p.m. and had not let up. It was now almost seven p.m. and dark. Undoubtedly, they had no shortage of powder and ball.
“They don’t appear to be very good marksman,” Shipp stated. “You’d think by now we’d have gaping holes in the wall.”
“It’s too dark to do anything other than harass us,” Jonah answered. “I’m not an artillery man, but I wonder if the range might not be a bit much. They’ll likely try to get a couple of guns closer in under the cover of darkness.”
Taking a deep breath, Shipp said, “It was all a bunch of words about fighting to the last man today, but now, once the talking is over and the big guns are blazing away, I’ve realized we may actually have to die… here… fighting behind these walls.” After a pause, he asked, “Do you ever get scared, Jonah?”
“Lots of times; not right now though… but tomorrow. The British will throw all they have at us. So far, it’s just been a bunch of noise, but tomorrow when you can see them coming. That’s when you’ll get scared.”
Hearing footsteps, the men turned to see a sergeant. “Sir,” the sergeant said, speaking to Shipp. “The major said to get a detail of men and meet Captain Hunter at the middle block-house.”
That was on the north side, Jonah recalled. He had walked the area with Croghan and Hunter that afternoon. They had walked all the way around the fort, and that was where Croghan felt the main attack would come from.
“There would be a rush toward all sides, but this was where the main force will attack,” Croghan had said confidently.
Jonah had agreed with the major. Did he feel as sure now? Too late to second guess. You planned as best you could and adjusted accordingly. Jonah and Moses walked around the perimeter of the fort for something to do. At present they were mere spectators. Men were filling flour sacks to be used to reinforce any breaks in the palisade walls if that should happen.
“Think we should lend a hand?” Jonah asked.
“Wouldn’t hurt any,” Moses replied. “Besides, a little exercise will help you rest better.”
“Think we’ll be busy tomorrow?” Jonah asked his friend.
“Like as not, but you never know what the Lord has got planned.”
“Well, hopefully, he’ll be on our side tomorrow,” Jonah said picking up a shovel.
Moses picked up a flour bag so Jonah could fill it with dirt and said, “Tomorrow! I pray he’s on our side everyday.”
Chapter Seven
Jonah woke up at dawn. Moses was already up and about. As Jonah washed up and then dressed, he realized the cannon fire was still roaring. He felt it was amazing that he could sleep through the barrage. The British must not have let up all night. He had not been awakened, so thus far there was little urgency among the fort’s defenders.
The door to the room he’d been sleeping in opened and Moses came in. The two men had been together so long that when Jonah looked to Moses as if to say, are we in danger, Moses just shook his head. No words had passed.
After putting on his boots, Jonah asked, “Have you eaten?”
“No,” Moses answered. “It’ll be a slim breakfast, fatback and bread. All this cannon fire has scared the chickens, so they won’t lay.”
“There’s coffee?” Jonah asked.
“Plenty,” Moses replied. “Hot and black.”
“Well, I’ve got by on less.”
“That’s the truth,” Moses said in agreement.
As the two men walked across the edge of the parade ground to the kitchen, a roar and a crash was heard. Running toward the area where the crash had come from, they could see a part of the palisade had taken a hit, and a section about four feet wide and two feet high was stove in.
Captain Hunter was already directing men to pile bags of sand against the area to fortify and reinforce it. Seeing Jonah, Hunter walked over. “Sleep well?” he asked with a smile.
“It was like they were playing a lullaby,” Jonah replied.
“Well, it might get worse this morning,” Hunter volunteered. “They moved up their cannons during the night. They’re up on a rise at the edge of the woods. At first we thought they’d just slowed down their rate of fire, then an hour or so ago we saw the flashes when they fired, so it was obvious they had been moved.”
“Hoping for greater range by moving to higher ground,” Jonah thought aloud. “Has it helped?”
Hunter used his thumb to point over his shoulder to the damaged palisade. “Some but not much,” he said.
“Have we lost anyone yet?” Jonah asked.
“No… nothing more than a few with splinters so far.”
“Thank the Lord,” Moses interjected.
Major Croghan walked up. “I’m on my way to the officer’s mess,” he said, ignoring the cannon’s fire. “Have you men broke your fast?”
When they stated they hadn’t, Croghan said, “Well, join me. We may not have time for a leisurely lunch.” This brought a chuckle from the group. Jonah motioned for Moses to come along with the group.
As they headed to the officer’s mess, Hunter called to Sergeant Benson, “Send for me if need be.”
“Yes sir,” the sergeant replied.
“Sounds like a Kentuckian,” Jonah volunteered.
“Most of us are,” Croghan answered. “Doubt they could win this war without us.”
“Well, I won’t disagree since you’re buying breakfast,” Jonah joked but realized the major’s words were probably far truer than he realized. It appeared most of the men he’d met were either Kentucky or Ohio volunteers.
Entering the officer’s mess, Jonah was glad to see Clay Gesslin was already there sipping on a cup of coffee. As the officers sat down, Gesslin raised his cup in salute.
“I was beginning to think it was a holiday and you were sleeping in.” Moses laughed at Gesslin’s comments.
“Mosley,” Croghan called to the cook. “What have you got for us this morning?”
“Fatback, biscuits and oatmeal.”
“Is there any sugar?” Croghan asked.
“If the captain hasn’t taken it like he did the flour, we do.”
Croghan turned his head toward Hunter for an explanation.
“I’m about out of sandbags,” Hunter said. “So I had a couple carts loaded with the sacks of flour and rice, ready to be used if needed.”
“Good thinking, Captain. I hope you left a few in reserves in case we get hungry.”
When Hunter didn’t reply, Croghan sighed and said, “Well, eat hearty, men. Our menu may be limited later.” They all laughed, but the reality was that there may not be a need for the supplies and each of the men knew it.
After finishing their breakfast, the men lingered over a last cup of coffee. The incessant roar of the cannons continued without respite. To break the monotony, Jonah asked, “How did Fort Stephenson come to be?”
Croghan replied, “This used to be a Catholic mission and a trading post. Located right on the river as it was, General Harrison was quick to see the strategic importance of it. The general had already started on Fort Meigs. Once it was completed, we buil
t Fort Stephenson. Later, Fort Ball was built. General Harrison felt they would help protect the navigable waterways. By that, he was referring to the Maumee and Sandusky Rivers and the trail to the Scioto River. That’s called the Sandusky – Scioto Trail for obvious reasons.” Croghan continued. “Harrison felt protecting this was critical so that it could be used for our army in trying to defend the northwest portion of Ohio.”
Jonah was not surprised to hear that Harrison’s hand was in the planning. He’d always been a good strategist. “There aren’t any other trails?” Jonah asked.
“Not many,” Croghan acknowledged. “The rest of the land for the most part is swampy and so heavily wooded, traveling through it is almost impossible.”
“We got a taste of that didn’t we, Clay?” Jonah said recalling their travel to meet up with the army in Franklinton.
Croghan took a sip of coffee then continued his narrative of the fort’s origin. “The construction of the fort was done in 1812. When I took command in 1813, I could see the fort would never stand an attack of any size. We erected two more block-houses and built an embankment and dug the ditch. Anyone trying to assault the fort will find it hard going and at a heavy price.”
“I just hope General Proctor sees the difficulty,” Jonah said.
“I think he has, otherwise, why the twelve hours of bombardment?” Lieutenant Shipp volunteered.
“You’d think,” Gesslin interjected, “they would have heard it all the way to Washington and surely to Fort Meigs.”
“Yes, well, with Tecumseh and a few thousand warriors between us and Fort Meigs, there’s little General Clay can do,” Croghan answered.
No sooner had Croghan finished speaking than a soldier knocked on the mess hall door and entered. Saluting, he spoke, “Sergeant Benson said you’re needed, sir.”
No one was sure who the man was addressing, probably Captain Hunter, but they all got up and followed the man to the wall and climbed the ladder to the rampart. The British appeared to have moved more of their guns, and now they opened up with a brisk rate of fire.
“You’d think those guns would get too hot to work,” Lieutenant Shipp offered.
Watching the fall of the ball, Jonah wondered if the cannons’ barrels had gotten too hot to give an accurate shot. “I guess the Lord is on our side today,” he stated to Moses.
“Yes, but like I said, we need him with us today and everyday.” Jonah smiled. He didn’t disagree with Moses.
As the day progressed, breaks in the wall became far more numerous. Captain Hunter was now using the sacks of flour to shore up the wall. Seeing Jonah’s gaze, Hunter shrugged at the man. By five o’clock, the bellowing of a distant thunderstorm on the western horizon was heard above the cannons. The rumbling continued and dark storm clouds were building. Was this an ominous sign?
“Here they come,” someone shouted from the wall.
It appeared that with the foreboding thunderstorm, General Proctor’s patience had run out.
For what we are about to receive, let us be grateful, Jonah thought as Moses ran for their weapons.
Chapter Eight
They are attacking from the northwest and south,” Croghan shouted as he approached his officers after making a hurried reconnoiter of the fort’s walls. “Captain Hunter, take fifty men and go to the southern wall. Keep down until the redcoats are out of the woods in plain sight, and then give ’em hell. I will stay here, as I’m convinced this will be their main point of attack.”
As Hunter turned to do as bid, Croghan placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and called him by name. “James, keep your head down.” The two men shook hands then Hunter rushed off. Suddenly, the ground shook and the roar of the enemy’s guns was deafening.
“They’ve fired all their guns at once,” Gesslin volunteered.
Within a minute, another round was fired. Balls crashed into the palisade wall, the block-house, and some even landed on the parade ground. Surprisingly, Jonah didn’t see any casualties but the smoke from the cannons and howitzers was being carried toward them by the wind. Several men were already wiping their eyes, while others coughed from the smoke and the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder. Behind the smoke, the British made their move.
Seeing the distant advance, Croghan called to Sergeant Benson, “Who’s your best gunner?”
“That would be Private Brown with the Petersburg volunteers, Major.”
“Very well then, Sergeant. Since Private Brown is so skilled in gunnery, put him and his fellows in charge of the six-pounder.”
“Will do, Major.”
Within a few minutes, Private Brown was at Croghan’s side. A quick salute was given and the private said, “Major, I need a good supply of rifle balls.”
“Rifle balls?” Croghan asked, dismayed at the private’s request.
“Yes sir. If we are to fire on troops, they will be a lot better than the six-pound balls. It will be like the navy firing canister or grape.”
As Croghan hesitated, the private spoke again in a hurried voice. “Sir, it will be more like a shotgun than a musket.”
Understanding, Croghan said, “Get what you need from the magazine.”
Brown rushed off as the British guns fired again. The smoke was now so dense the fort’s defenders hunkered down on the ramparts to seek some protection for their eyes.
It was Moses, with a wet rag tied over his nose and hat pulled low, who peeked over the wall and bellowed, “It’s the British. They are on us.” Looking at his friend, Moses held out his hand. Jonah grasped it firmly. No words were spoken, none were needed.
The British had made it to within twenty paces of the fort before they were noticed. They were in two columns, each led by a British officer.
“I don’t see any Indians,” Jonah said.
“Probably attacking the other wall,” Croghan coughed his reply. As the British grenadiers closed to fifteen paces, he ordered, “Open fire.”
Every man inside the fort had been at his post. Their guns were primed and loaded. Each of these Kentuckians was known as sharpshooters. When the order to fire came, they rose from their cover and poured an intense shower of balls with such fatal precision that the British line broke as it was thrown into a mad confusion. While reloading his long rifle, Jonah could hear the British officers snapping orders and encouragement. The retreat faltered then the soldiers rallied. On the other side of the fort the sound of a pitched battle was heard. The sound of men shouting and cursing rose above the din of battle.
Hopefully, Captain Hunter and his men would be able to keep the British at bay. So far only the northwestern corner and the southern walls were being attacked. Croghan had put sixteen men on the eastern and western walls should they be attacked. That few men would not be able to hold off any sizable force, but they could hold off the enemy until reinforcements could be sent to help out.
The British now had axe-men working on the stakes driven into the ground of the embankment. It was hard not to admire the bravery of the soldiers as they hacked a path through the obstacles and under the constant fire of the fort’s defenders.
One of the British officers, a colonel, was at the head of his gallant party. “Cut away the pickets, my brave lads,” he yelled. “Show the damned Yankees no quarter.”
The men now had a path opened up and they jumped into the ditch, which was muddy after the recent storms. They only had to make it up the steep side of the ditch to be at the fort’s wall. That would still be difficult, Jonah realized, as in their haste the British had not thought to bring scaling ladders. As the number of British making their way into the ditch increased, Jonah wondered how much longer they would be able to hold off the British assault.
In the block-house, Brown and his men had loaded the six-pounder with rifle balls. He depressed the barrel so that it could fire into the ditch. He then ordered the cannons port to be opened and fired. The
gun spoke with a devastating effect. Slugs and rifle balls poured into the attackers like a swarm of deadly bees. The destructive havoc was instantly recognized, but the British mounted a second assault.
Wiping the grime and smoke from his face, Gesslin shouted to be heard. “They don’t know the word quit, do they?”
The riflemen kept up their rapid fire with such accuracy that redcoats fell in increasing numbers. How long would it be before the adrenaline gave out and the defenders would be too tired to continue? The second column of the storming party met with another volley from the six-pounder. The aftermath of the deadly discharge was sickening as Jonah peered down. The entire second column was down; most appeared dead including the two officers. Could the British commander not see the carnage, Jonah wondered.
Several from the forty-first regiment were climbing up the embankment in retreat. Some of the fort’s sharpshooters continued to fire until Major Croghan roared out the order to cease fire. Jonah couldn’t count the bodies as dead lay on top of fallen comrades. At least twenty-five had fallen with the last blast by the six-pounder.
The din of battle still filled the air on the other side of the fort, so Croghan dispatched another fifty men to assist those men. With the reinforcement, the British were assailed with such an onslaught of hot lead that the British officer broke off the attack and the redcoats fled for the protective shelter of the woods.
“It’s over,” Moses said as he handed a canteen to Jonah, who took a deep pull of the warm water. His mouth was dry and he had not realized how thirsty he had gotten.
“Lieutenant Shipp,” Croghan called.
“Yes sir.”
“Secure the men from their post except for a few sentries then assemble the men. Let me know what the cost has been.”
Jonah knew the major was asking how many had been killed. It seemed like the attack had gone on forever but seeing the sun starting to set, Jonah looked at his watch and was amazed. The battle had only lasted about thirty minutes, though it seemed much longer.
