Acts of Courage

by Connie Brummel Crook

  She turned and held the back of her chair to get control of herself again, but the room seemed to be going black. She sat down and rested her head on her arms.

  The feeling finally passed, and she got up to go downstairs to prepare food for herself and James. As she reached the foot of the stairs, she heard someone at the back door. She rushed out of kitchen into the hall and lifted the latch.

  Her brother, Charles, stood there in his uniform. She reached up and wrapped both arms around him. “Charles, you’re safe. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” he answered almost lightly.

  “I guess you weren’t in the battles yesterday.”

  “I was in the second one, on the Heights. My first battle, Laura.”

  “Charles, how awful for you.”

  “I thought it would be, but it wasn’t. I was with Major Thomas Merritt’s Niagara Light Dragoons. His son, William Hamilton Merritt, and I were together through it all. I can tell you, we were dreading it after the events of the morning. We were too late for the first battle. We had come galloping into Queenston from Fort George only to find out the terrible news that Brock had fallen and the Yanks had taken the Heights. We were told to wait for Major General Sheaffe.”

  “The waiting must have been hard.”

  “I’ll admit, Laura, I was fearful. We all were. It was as though the impossible had just happened. We thought that about two-thirds of the Canadian and British forces would be cut down, even if we did win the battle. Sheaffe led our troops the long way around from Fort George and out through the country. Then we crossed back again to attack from the west. It was the most tense ride of my life.”

  “Did you attack from the west?”

  “The infantry, the 41st Regiment, and the local militia went up the Heights from the west, along with a battery of guns drawn by farm horses. We rode on the right flank.”

  “Expecting the worst?”

  “Yes, but it was all over in ten minutes. We lost only fourteen men, and we’d expected to be slaughtered. We could hardly believe it when they surrendered. It was all over so fast, and we were still alive.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Well—the Mohawks on the right flank were ahead of us, along with Captain Runchey’s Company of black soldiers. Those two companies surprised the Americans from the southwest and kept interrupting them with skirmishes while they were trying to build fortifications. So, by the time we got there, the enemy was vulnerable to our attack. Thank God for the Mohawks and the black soldiers!”

  “I only hope the Americans stay home now.”

  “I doubt they will, but we’ve driven them out for now, and probably for the winter. Their casualties were high. We took over nine hundred prisoners, and they had over two hundred and fifty dead and several wounded. How is James?”

  “Come and see. I can’t leave him for long.”

  Charles followed her up the stairs.

  James’s eyes were open now, and he brightened a bit at the sight of Charles in uniform. James mumbled, “Are we holding the Heights?”

  “We sure are. I doubt they’ll ever try that again.”

  “But…General Brock…”

  “I know,” said Charles.

  James grimaced with the pain, though he tried not to show it, and Laura nodded to Charles as she held the door. “I’ll be right back, James,” said Laura, going out behind Charles.

  She followed Charles down the stairs. “Please try to get the doctor to come and see James again or at least get some pain medicine. He had so little before.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Laura prepared more herbal tea, then returned to her husband. She kept on bathing him and, as night approached, she cleaned his wounds again.

  When she was finished, James looked up at her and said in a whisper, “Laura, try to rest. I’ll call if I need you.”

  She looked across at Harriet’s bed.

  “Go ahead, Laura.”

  Fully dressed, she crawled onto the bed and did not even stretch out before her eyes closed. James’s face convulsed with pain, but he breathed deeply and did not cry out as he looked at his wife asleep across the room.

  ***

  The sound of cannon going off nearby shook the air. “It’s the gun salute…for General Brock,” James murmured to Laura. Then they heard a salute from across the river.

  “That sound came from Lewiston,” said Laura. “Even his enemy salutes General Brock.”

  “He would have ordered the same for an enemy general.”

  Laura did not answer. Instead she said, “I’ll go for more fresh water to clean your wounds, James.”

  “Laura, the pain has eased a little now. Can’t we just leave them alone?”

  “I suppose, but I’ll need water anyway to be ready for later.”

  Laura left him then. She knew he was thinking about the funeral and the other wounded men in his company who would be absent, too.

  The doctor finally called and said that James was out of immediate danger. He gave her special instructions for the knee wound.

  As Laura went out the back door, heading for the well, a brisk wind blew the leaves along the ground. The wind had blown away the leaves and left the trees looking bleak and lonely in the cold morning. Perhaps even the Heights mourned General Brock.

  Still, Upper Canada had remained under British control, and James was alive. She bowed her head for a moment and whispered thanks.

  Laura knew that most people were thinking the war would soon be over. No one had really wanted it in the first place, since many, like her, had close friends and relatives across the line. It was a political war that had been forced on the Americans and their government by the war hawks. Surely the American forces had been beaten so decisively at Queenston Heights that they would be called home. It would all be over before Christmas. She was thankful that neither she nor Mira had sons old enough to go to war. And Josh was so busy on his farm, she doubted he would ever be called into active duty, though she knew he had been called upon to train in a reserve force in case the States was invaded.

  As she pulled her bucket up over the low stone wall around the opening of the well, she heard children’s voices. Charlotte came running around the corner of the house and Harriet followed. Bob and Fan were behind with Charles.

  Laura put down her bucket and held out her arms, a wide smile spreading across her face. She hardly remembered what it felt like to smile. Charles threw his arms around her neck.

  “Mama, mama,” he cried as he hugged her.

  “We heard Papa was wounded,” Charlotte said. “How serious is it?”

  “He’s improving. He’s still very weak but not as feverish.”

  “They made us bring them back, Ma’am,” said Fan. “They just wouldn’t believe your brother Charles. He told us you and Mister James was all right.”

  “I’m so glad to be home.” Harriet twirled around with joy. “I’m glad this war is over. We thought it would never end!”

  “Yes, dear, it’s over—but you all need to be very quiet, for your father was badly wounded. He’s in your room and too weak to go back to his own yet. You girls may sleep in our room. Charlotte, you can watch Charles in the cradle. I must stay near your father; he still needs me. Now, come quietly and you may see him, but only for a minute.”

  EIGHTEEN

  It’s a bloody disgrace,” said James. “Sheaffe should have stood his ground and fought, instead of destroying his own ship and running with his troops.”

  Spring had finally come and with it the unexpected news that York had been invaded and captured. A Canadian frigate, the Isaac Brock, had been burned in the harbour by order of Major General Sheaffe before he withdrew his men. Within a day, the Americans had taken over. Now Jam
es was sitting in the armchair beside the kitchen window, fuming over what he felt was an act of great cowardice.

  “Thank God for Strachan up there at York. If he hadn’t taken over and negotiated with the enemy, it would have been even worse. Imagine an Anglican priest having to take charge instead of the military.”

  “The poor people,” Laura said as she thought of the looting.

  “The Reverend Doctor blames the plundering on our own leader, Sheaffe. When the fleeing British army blew up the York magazine, a huge boulder killed several Americans and their leader, General Pike, just as he was moving in to take York. The American soldiers were furious at the loss and spent their anger against the people and property of York.”

  “Please don’t concern yourself with it, James. Nothing can be done now.”

  “Strachan’s right, Laura. He’s right. The country will be ruined by Sheaffe’s defensive warfare. We need another Brock with the courage to lead his men. His offensive tactics worked. Sheaffe will not only bring us defeat, he’ll make us a laughingstock while he’s at it.”

  Laura was not sure who was right, but she was certain that James’s irritation wasn’t doing him any good. His shoulder wound had healed, but he was still unable to put his full weight on the leg with the wounded knee. Even after the long winter, it had not healed. In fact, just lately, the wound seemed to have become more infected. James had spent most of his time in their room with his leg stretched out on a fat feather pillow. The throbbing pain was unbearable when he stood.

  Laura helped James back up to his room and had just returned to the kitchen when she heard a heavy pounding on the front door. She set down the bread pans she was bringing out and reached for a cloth to wipe her hands. Who would be passing by so early in the morning?

  She pulled open the door and stood in surprise as three grey-coated American soldiers stared at her. Word had come to Queenston that the American forces were moving around the western tip of Lake Ontario to Burlington Bay and toward Newark, but she had not expected to see enemy soldiers at Queenston. Perhaps these were advance scouts.

  “May we have water and food, Missus?” one of the soldiers asked politely.

  She noticed how boyish they looked. They reminded Laura of her brother Charles. “Yes,” she replied.

  They were armed so she had to do as they said. She prayed that James would not call out for her. They might become alarmed if they heard a man’s voice and shoot her husband before they realized how weak he was. And if she volunteered to tell them about him, would they believe her or would they think it was a trick?

  They followed her directly into the kitchen. Laura was surprised to see them take their shakos from their heads and put them on the hall table as they passed through. Then the three young soldiers sat down quietly on the bench beside the kitchen table as she laid out dishes for their meal. She noticed that they were looking around the room with admiration. One nudged the other and pointed to her glassed-in cabinet in the corner. Most of the good dishes displayed there had come from Great Barrington and had belonged to her mother before her. She took in a deep breath and watched them as her anger grew. Yet she said nothing.

  “I must go out to the cellar to get meat,” she said quietly. She hoped they would not follow to see where she kept their food supply, so she added, “You might like to sit in the parlour while you wait.”

  They nodded and followed her as she led them into her best room. They smiled with satisfaction, and two of them slumped down on the sofa while the third sat in the large chair nearer the warmth of the fireplace. As he leaned back in comfort, he stretched out his long legs until they nearly reached the hearth.

  “Reminds me of home,” he said to the other two.

  Seeing them quietly settled, Laura ran out the back door to Bob and Fan, who were working at the large oven in the bakehouse. She told them about the soldiers and gave instructions for the meal.

  Laura saw Charlotte and her other children returning from the store. “Go back to our store,” she said, after explaining what had happened.

  “Shall I take Charles with us?” Charlotte asked.

  “No, he’ll be fine with me. You run along now. Go to the other side of the shed and don’t pass where they can see you from the parlour window.” Charlotte was now a beautiful girl of fifteen with curly dark hair. She looked very much like her cousin Phoebe.

  Laura took the fresh coffee pot from the hearth, put it on a tray with three cups, and took the tray in to the men in the front room.

  “Your meal will be ready soon,” she told them.

  “Thank you, Missus,” they said.

  “You’d think I’d invited them to dinner,” Laura grumbled to herself.

  She shut the door behind her as she came out of the parlour, then silently went up the stairs and across to James’s room. She held her finger to her lips, and James, alerted by her pale countenance, knew that all was not well. She quickly whispered into his ear and left.

  She brought a fresh apron down from the linen cupboard in case the men had seen her and wondered why she had gone upstairs. To her relief, the door to the parlour was still closed. They had probably not noticed anything.

  She had not been in her kitchen long when Bob and Fan came in with the steaming food. They had prepared fresh creamed potatoes and carrots, and pork fried in maple syrup. Some apple pies were baking now, to be ready by the time the Americans had finished their first course. Bob and Fan set the serving dishes on the table and went back out to the bakehouse.

  Laura took out some of her best dishes. Perhaps if she treated the soldiers well, they would leave her house without taking anything. She could not forget the stories she had heard of the plundering of York, even after a peace treaty was signed. The American officers had not been able to control their men, or had pretended they were not able.

  The three young soldiers ate as though they hadn’t had a good meal in weeks. When Fan came in with steaming apple pies, Laura added a large chunk of cheese to each plate.

  “It’s just like Ma’s pie,” the youngest one said when he ate his first bite. He smiled openly at Laura. “I’ll be glad, Missus, when this is all over, and we can go back home.”

  “Not me,” his older friend said. “When we come for good to this country, we’ll divide the land, and I’ll take this here for my share.” He looked around the room and rested his eyes on Laura’s built-in china cabinet.

  Suddenly, unable to contain her outrage, Laura burst out, “You scoundrel, all you’ll ever get here will be six feet of earth.”

  They were silent after that. She was no longer the hostess, and they her guests. They were the enemy. The soldiers looked at Laura suspiciously as they finished their last few mouthfuls of pie and left without losing any time.

  As Laura watched them go, she regretted her outburst.

  “I was wrong to be so vindictive,” she said to James when she had gone back upstairs. “They were mostly polite and took nothing from me except food, which I would gladly give to any hungry strangers. I had no right to speak to them the way I did, even if they were enemy scouts.” Laura was not sure that they really were scouts, and she could not leave James to find out.

  She heard soon enough. A few days later, on May 27, 1813, the Americans attacked and took Newark. The soldiers must have been advance scouts. Her brother Charles had been at Newark with the Provincial Dragoons, trying to defend the town. It had been a bloody battle, with heavy losses on both sides. The British had been outnumbered four to one.

  Two days after news of the battle reached her, Laura had gone to St. David’s to see if Charles’s fiancée, Elizabeth, or her mother, Hannah, had received any word from Charles. She was surprised to find Charles there himself. He had been injured and was resting in one of the bedrooms upstairs. He described the slaughter to Laura. “In one pl
ot of land no wider than fifteen feet and no longer than two hundred yards, there were at least four hundred wounded and dead men. If my friend William had not seen me lying there and dragged me to safety and taken me on the back of his horse, I’d have died.”

  “Rest now, Charles,” Laura had said.

  Glassy-eyed with fever, Charles insisted on continuing. “Brigadier-General Vincent—”

  “Who’s he?”

  “The commander of the Centre Division. He ordered us out. He said the fort was lost. He ordered the magazine blown up and started us on the road to Queenston. Then he directed us across by St. David’s. William brought me right here to the Secords. I’d never have made it on my own.”

  Elizabeth walked into the room with a bowl of water and clean towels.

  “I know you’ll take good care of him,” Laura said to Charles’s frail fiancée, who looked almost as pale as Charles.

  “He’ll be fine,” Elizabeth said, for Charles’s sake, as she tried to smile.

  ***

  Although the doctor had not been able to take the bullet out of her husband’s knee, his salves had been helping the wound lately, and James had been able to sit for a short time each day. Laura hurried home because he would be ready to get up. She wanted to tell him the news about Newark before someone else did. She hoped it would not set him back again.

  When she came to her backyard, Laura noticed two horses tied by the fence. She hurried toward her house, wondering who had come for a meal this time.

  From the hallway, Laura could hear the voice of the young enemy soldier who had liked her apple pie.

  “So, they’ve come back to claim this here property,” she thought.

  As she passed through the hall, Laura saw two shakos on the hall table. In the kitchen, Fan rushed around preparing food.

  As Laura approached the soldiers, she controlled her feelings and greeted them as if they had just come by on a visit. “So, you’ve come back for more of that pie like your ma’s,” she said to the younger one.

  He smiled and said a bit bashfully, “Thank you, Missus. We’d like that.” They were sitting on the bench beside the table.