by Ron Carter
Suddenly the magazine blew with a roar. Fire and rocks and stones and chunks and splinters of wood and a column of smoke were blasted three hundred feet into the air to rain down on everything within half a mile. Thirty-eight of the nearest American soldiers were blown back ten yards to hit the ground rolling and lay still, the life blown out of them. Two hundred twenty of those farther away were knocked off their feet, stunned, groaning, disoriented, bleeding where rocks and debris had ripped into them, crippling them, disabling them. The blast rattled windows as far away as Fort Niagara, across Lake Erie. The shock waves hit the American ships in the harbor to set them rocking and shiver their sails while chunks of stone twice the size of a man’s fist rained down on the decks.
The instant General Pike saw the flash he spun to take the shock on his back, and a rock the size of a cannonball hit him at the belt line to knock him ten feet, sprawling. Dazed, he tried to rise and realized he could not move his arms or legs. When they could, his troops gently laid him on a blanket and carried him to a longboat where waiting seamen rowed him back to the Madison. He died minutes later of a broken spine, with his head resting on a British flag his men had sent with him in tribute to his heroism and the victory that had cost him his life.
On the quarterdeck of the Margaret, the concussion of the blast hit Adam head-on and swept him back two full steps. In utter amazement he stared at the smoke and flame that leaped one hundred yards into the sky, and he hunched his shoulders and raised his arms above his head against the rocks and debris that came raining down. He raised his telescope to study the town and read the battle, and he saw the red-coated British gather at the east end of the village and then disappear on Kingston Road in full retreat with the Americans in hot pursuit. In the town, more smoke began to rise where Americans had set fires, first from the blockhouse at the east end of the dockyards and then at the governor’s residence facing the harbor. Then other smudges of smoke appeared among the homes, and Adam realized some of the soldiers were looting residences under any excuse they could invent, taking what they wanted and burning the buildings. The jails were raided and emptied and set afire. Amid the smoke and flames and the wreckage of much of the town left by the powder magazine explosion, Adam saw the British Union Jack hauled down from the battered flagpole, and moments later, the stars and stripes ascended to the top. The battle was over.
It was late in the day when Chauncey rapidly wrote and sealed a message describing the actions of the day, dramatically declaring a complete victory. York had fallen! The Americans had taken the capital of Canada! He sent the message by a special courier under instructions to sacrifice his horse if need be to reach Sacketts Harbor and the newspapers in New York before the polls closed two days later to end the politically critical election of the governor.
The exhausted messenger delivered the message in record time. The news spread as though carried on the wind. Euphoria seized the state of New York. We have taken the capital of Canada! We beat the British on Lake Ontario and on their own ground! Land and sea! We won! We won! The Republican administration has been vindicated. Vindicated!
The election ended, and the polls closed with a shaky President Madison awaiting the results. Two days later it was clear that Daniel Tompkins, the Republican candidate, had won the election by a resounding margin. Unending praises were heaped upon Chauncey and his squadron, and upon the brilliant leadership of President James Madison.
Chauncey sent written messages to each of the American ships anchored in the harbor.
“To be certain the British do not return with a counterattack to retake York, we will remain anchored for more than one week in York harbor. You will hold your gun crews at the ready while our forces on shore set up defenses at the blockhouses and at the battery west of the small village. Scouts and patrols will make daily reports on any British forces in the area.”
For more than a week the American ships remained at anchor, while patrols on both land and water maintained a continuous watch for the return of the British. None were seen. The British had accepted the loss of York.
On the sixth day of May, Chauncey lowered himself into a longboat, and his crew rowed him to the nearby Margaret, where he met with Adam behind the closed door of the captain’s quarters. With the two of them seated at the small desk inside the tiny room, Chauncey spoke quietly.
“I have sent a message to President Madison describing in detail the entire assault. Your name is prominent, as it should be. Your contribution was irreplaceable. You are not an officer in the United States Navy; however, I am recommending that you receive congressional acknowledgement of your action.”
Adam’s expression did not change. “Thank you, sir.”
Chauncey’s eyes dropped for a moment, then came back to Adam’s. “You have heard me speak of Captain Oliver Hazard Perry, a naval officer presently in command of our forces on Lake Erie, to the west of us.”
“I have, sir. I know something of the man.”
Chauncey went on. “The British have lately sent their Commodore Sir James Lucas Yeo to take command of their forces here on Lake Ontario, and I am under orders to remain here to prevent him and the British from controlling this lake. At the same time, it is clear the British mean to maintain their present control of Lake Erie. Our Captain Perry is to drive them out if he can. To do that, he will need all the assistance available.”
Adam saw it coming and remained silent.
Chauncey concluded. “This squadron is going to leave York in two days to return to Sacketts Harbor because I expect the British will attempt an all-out assault there to try to redeem their loss here at York. Now, Mister Dunson, I cannot order you, so I am asking you on behalf of the United States Navy and the American people. When I weigh anchor and make sail for Sacketts Harbor, would you take your ship and crew south across this lake, up the Niagara River, to Lake Erie. Find Captain Perry at Presque Isle and deliver this document to him?”
Adam took the sealed document and studied it for a few moments. “What is the document?”
“My orders to Perry to accept your services in helping to secure Lake Erie.”
Adam’s eyes narrowed. “You’re asking me and my ship and crew to volunteer to help hold Lake Erie? For how long?”
“Until there is no question that we are in control.”
“That might be next fall, or early winter.”
Chauncey bobbed his head. “It might well be.”
For several seconds Adam weighed it out in his mind. Food, ammunition, his obligation to Laura and his children, the obligations of his men to their families, and the terrible burden of taking them all into harm’s way.
“Yes, sir,” Adam replied quietly. “The Margaret will be ready. And her crew.”
For a long moment Chauncey stared into Adam’s eyes, and in the silence something passed between the two men that would remain with each of them forever. Chauncey nodded and reached to shake Adam’s hand, then turned and ducked out of the small door to return to his longboat.
Notes
The badly bungled military campaigns of 1812, under the command of the aging and inept General Henry Dearborn, brought serious political losses to Madison’s Republican Party in the national election of November, 1812: twelve percent in the House of Representatives, four percent in the Senate, and the loss of governorships in six states. Madison understood he must deliver some victories to the voters if he did not want to lose the pivotal Republican governorship of the state of New York in the state election of April 27, 1813.
As described herein, he appointed John Armstrong his secretary of war and requested him to create a plan that would succeed. Armstrong arrived in Washington, D.C., February 4, 1813, moved into the political scene with much energy, and had audience with President Madison on February 7 to receive his approval for a plan to be set before Madison’s cabinet February 8. The plan was as described. Captain Isaac Chauncey, a rising American naval officer, was selected to take command of the ships. The date set to commence
the campaign was April 1, 1813, and was totally dependent on the ice on the Great Lakes being gone by that date. At the same time, Armstrong had arranged for newspaper articles to be delivered to the prominent newspapers in the country on April 1, declaring victory for the Americans in the April campaign.
The ice did not recede until April 19. The attack was postponed until April 22, then postponed again when a great gale made it impossible to land troops at Kingston, and Chauncey had to override Dearborn’s specific instructions by ordering his squadron to return to Sacketts Harbor. The ships and bateaux, loaded double and triple the number of men the vessels were designed for, finally made sail on April 25. They were seen by British outposts at Scarborough Heights on the Canadian shores of Lake Ontario, and the message was sent on to Fort York by semaphore flags. British General Sir Roger Hale Sheaffe divided his command to defend York, placing one half on each side of the village, east and west.
The American ships arrived at the mouth of York harbor two days later, and the all-out attack was made April 27. The American ships carrying the troops set them ashore west of York harbor, on the shores of Lake Ontario. While the troops made a hard run for the village, the ships entered the harbor and immediately began shelling the British troops that were sent to meet them. The British troops had to move through an exposed field to meet the Americans, and the troops on the east side of the village had to move through the village to reinforce those on the west. But with the American cannon on the anchored ships raking the field with canister and solid shot, the British refused to move. However, as the lone British cannon emplacement began to return fire, a careless crewman accidentally touched off the powder barrel and it blew the British gun and crew out of commission. The Americans stormed the village of York. The British officer in command, Sheaffe, ordered his troops to set fire to the British ship Sir Issac Brock, all supplies in the ship dock area, and the huge powder magazine next to the governor’s residence, and then retreat by marching out on the Kingston Road. The Americans had followed them into the town, when the gigantic powder magazine exploded. The blast shook the ground for miles and rattled windows across the lake at Fort Niagara and rained rocks and debris on every American ship in the harbor. The explosion killed thirty-eight Americans outright and disabled and crippled 222 others.
Among the American dead was General Zebulon Pike, commander of the American land forces, who was fatally wounded when a huge rock broke his spine as reported by one authority, or a stone hit his forehead, as reported by another. He was taken to his ship, the Madison, where he died with a folded British flag beneath his head, a tribute by his men to his bravery and leadership.
The Americans raided the town, pillaging and burning some homes, emptying the jails, and taking property at will. The Americans remained at York until May 8, 1813, when they loaded the troops back onto the waiting ships and set sail for Sacketts Harbor, fearing the British would retaliate with an assault there. News of the victory was sent to Sacketts Harbor immediately and on to New York newspapers, where it played a significant role in the election of Republican Daniel Tompkins in the governor’s race.
See Malcomson, Lords of the Lake, pp. 103–08; Stagg, Mr. Madison’s War, pp. 282–333; Hickey, The War of 1812, pp. 127–30; Barbuto, Niagara 1814, pp. 71–75; Wills, James Madison, p. 123.
For a diagram of York harbor, or bay, as described herein, see Malcomson, Lords of the Lake, p. 102.
Adam Dunson, his ship the Margaret, and his crew are fictional.
Boston
Late August 1813
CHAPTER XX
* * *
The dead midafternoon air in Boston was hazy with humidity, and the pounding sun had turned the town into a sweltering oven. Only those who had need were in the streets; all others were inside the buildings—any building—sweating, working with fans, doing anything for relief.
On the waterfront, dockhands were stripped to the waist, sweat dripping as they loaded and unloaded the cargo that was the lifeblood of the town, onto and off of ships while gulls and grebes wheeled and squawked and paraded in the shade beneath the docks, snatching up bits of dead carrion washed up by the sea and garbage thrown overboard by the ship crews.
The office door of the shipping firm of Dunson & Weems stood open while those inside yearned for a breeze to stir the air, but none came. Inside, Billy Weems sat at his desk hunched over one of the large company ledgers making the never-ending business entries of payments received, billings sent out, contract balances, business costs, insurance, payroll, taxes, and the myriad smaller records that had to be kept current. He wiped at the sweat on his forehead, dipped his quill in the ink well, adjusted his bifocals on his nose, and continued transferring figures from the bills and invoices to the various sections of the ledger where they needed to be.
Behind Billy, Matthew sat at his desk, his shirt damp with perspiration, poring over insurance claims, sorting them out by company, type, and amount. To his right, across the aisle, against the far wall, Adam’s desk was vacant, and behind it, the desk used by John had stacks of records listing the crews of the eighteen commercial ships owned and operated by the company. Keeping the ships manned by competent seamen was an unending challenge. John’s chair was pushed back, vacant; it was his day to go to the tavern two hundred yards up the waterfront where the mail was delivered and sorted.
Billy heard the rapid footsteps approaching the front door and raised his head as John walked into the room, past the counter, and back to his desk, carrying the mail. He dropped it in a heap and slumped into his chair, wiping at the perspiration on his face with his shirtsleeve.
“Hottest day of the summer,” he complained.
“Anything in the mail?” Matthew asked.
“Yes. You have a letter from Adam, and Billy has one from Madison.”
Billy’s head snapped up. “Madison? President Madison?”
“President Madison.”
Both men came to John’s desk to get their letters while John began breaking the seals and opening the other business letters.
Billy was back at his desk before he broke the seal and spread the letter flat on his desk. He pushed his bifocals up his nose with one finger and concentrated as he read.
“ . . . and I have confirmation of the fact that Tecumseh is leading many of his Shawnee and also warriors from other tribes north . . . It is my conclusion he intends joining British forces somewhere at the west end of Lake Erie to drive out all Americans and reclaim lands previously ceded to the United States by treaty . . . I deem it imperative that we attempt to deter him from such a course of action . . . It is for that reason that I inquire if you can find Eli Stroud and persuade him to contact Tecumseh with the objective of preventing the bloodshed that will surely follow should he join the British in their attempt to recover their loss of control of Lake Ontario . . .”
Billy pushed the letter away and leaned back in his chair and rounded his mouth to blow air. Find Eli and ask him to walk into that nest of hornets up in Canada?
From behind, Matthew asked, “Bad news?”
Billy turned his chair. “Madison wants me to find Eli and ask him to go up to Lake Erie to talk Tecumseh out of a war.”
Matthew came to a focus. “Tecumseh! Is he up there? Does Madison know?”
“Says he does. Somewhere near the west end of the lake.”
Matthew leaned back in his chair. “Think you can find Eli?”
Billy shrugged. “That’s not the question. The question is do I want to try? What about my obligations here at the office? And at home—Brigitte and the children. Finding Eli could take weeks.”
Matthew wiped at his face with his handkerchief. “We can make do around here if you decide to go.”
Billy studied his quill for several moments before he responded. “Madison wouldn’t ask without need. I think I better go. I’ll talk to Brigitte.”
John stopped working with the mail to interrupt. “Anything to get out of work.” He shook his head. “Two old
men out there in the woods. You’ll get lost, certain. Maybe I better go along just to—”
Matthew cut him off. “You’re staying right here.”
John was grinning at his father. “What did Adam have to say?”
Matthew gestured to the letter. “He’ll be a while on the lake with Perry. He’s expecting a major engagement up there on the water. Wanted us to know. He’s written Laura about it.”
John continued. “You ever read that commendation Madison sent to him? For his part in the York harbor fight?”
“Laura showed me. Things got pretty lively in that battle. Adam did well.”
Billy cut in. “You’ll be all right here if I go?”
“We’ll get by.”
Billy began putting his desk in order. “I think I better go home and talk with Brigitte. If she agrees, I might leave tomorrow. No way to know how long it will take to find Eli, and the summer’s about gone.”
It was five minutes past six o’clock, and the sun was reaching for the western horizon when Matthew stood and stretched.
“Let’s lock up for the day. Been too hot. Going to storm soon.”
Billy called John to his desk and pointed at the stacked documents and ledgers as he spoke.
“There’s the shipping schedules for the next four weeks with the cargoes and the ports listed. There’s the contracts and insurance papers. There’s the ledgers with the customer accounts.” He pointed at the west wall, where a huge chart was fastened with the detail of customers, contracts, cargoes, pick up and delivery dates and destinations, ships assigned to each, captains, and number of crew members required. “Keep the ledgers and records current. Make sure they are consistent with the chart, and keep the chart updated every day.”
