Lake Erie Stories

by Chad Fraser

  It was no boys’ play now. Many of our men were wounded and considerable damage done to the rigging. Captain Davis, who was holding on to the anchor, was shot in the wrist and the groin, of which he afterwards died, and away went the anchor. The enemy aimed with fatal precision at the helmsman, and he fled below, leaving the boat to her own will, and as the down-hauls had been cut away by the shot, the sails could not be managed. Unskilled as mariners, confusion reigned among us; and the schooner drifting with the ice, we were a few moments aground on the main shore, presenting an inclined front to the irritated and triumphant marksmen of the enemy.

  Captain Davis, unfortunately, wasn’t the only one to lose his life in that night’s action. As Theller goes on to report: “A little boy, a Canadian refugee engaged in bringing us loaded muskets, was killed in the act, fell overboard, and his body found on shore the next morning.”

  To make matters worse for the rebels, U.S. President Martin Van Buren had been growing increasingly concerned about Patriot incursions pulling his country into yet another costly war with Great Britain, which was something that the U.S. army, which consisted of a mere 7,000 regulars at this point in its history, was in no way prepared for. In an attempt to cool things down on America’s northern border, Van Buren dispatched Major-General Winfield Scott, a hero of the War of 1812, to try to put a kink in the Patriots’ plans.

  In the face of mounting U.S. pressure and dwindling food and ammunition, Patriot commander Donald McLeod was sent out from Buffalo to Conneaut, Ohio, where he hastily convened a war council with the top western Patriot commanders. There, a strategy was decided upon: one force, comprising 450 rebels, would cross the ice from Sandusky and invade Pelee Island while another, smaller, force would attempt to take Fort Malden. Once the two armies prevailed, the plan went, they would meet on the Canadian mainland where, with the supposed help of the citizens of the Western District, they would push the British forces and Canadian militia back toward Toronto. The council also appointed three men to head up the Pelee invasion and designated them ranks in the rebel army. They were “Colonel” H.C. Seward, “Captain” George Van Rensselaer (a nephew of “General” Van Rensselaer), and “Major” Lester Hoadley.

  Why the Patriots opted to concentrate their strength on the sparsely populated Pelee Island and not the headquarters of the British army in the Western District is unclear, but such a decision shows a stunning lack of military strategy among the rebellion’s top commanders. It was a shortcoming that would cost them dearly.

  A Sixth Sense

  On the evening of February 25, 1838, the Pelee Island invasion force gathered at Sandusky Bay and prepared for the long march across the frozen surface of Lake Erie. The makeup of the party reflected the large degree to which the rebellion was now dependent on American manpower to keep it going. Of the 450 men gathered on that cold February night, only two could later be confirmed as British subjects — one Stevenson, who ended up staying behind due to an illness, and McGally, the raiding party’s drill sergeant.

  The severity of the winter also favoured the invasion force. The ice covering Lake Erie was estimated to be in excess of thirty-eight centimetres thick from shore to shore, more than suitable for the planned march.

  To the residents of Sandusky, the Patriots must have appeared a rather curious sight, indeed. Dressed in tattered overcoats and worn-out boots and arranged in a single column, some carried muskets, but most were forced to make do with pitchforks and swords. They brought no field artillery with them; instead, they towed wooden sledges loaded with ammunition for their muskets and pistols. At the head of the column, a young flagbearer wielded the Patriot banner: a red, white, and blue flag bearing the word “Liberty” set below two white stars set on a blue bar; the two stars representing Upper and Lower Canada (presently Ontario and Quebec, respectively). McGally would likely have called out the time as they marched.

  In addition to their scarcity of firearms, the force was also very poorly provisioned, carrying almost no food at all. Hoadley, Seward, and “Captain” Van Rensselaer, rightly counting on the islanders to be well-stocked for the winter, opted to increase the force’s mobility by travelling as light as possible. Plunder would be the order of the day.

  Once the party left the shelter of Sandusky Bay, however, they found the ice of the open lake to be thicker and more jagged than they expected, which slowed them down considerably. The raiders had hoped to land under the cover of the early morning darkness, but dawn had long since broken by the time they landed at the south end of the island near Fish Point. From there, they formed up again and plodded northward through Pelee’s thickly forested, snow-covered interior, ransacking the small cabins and farmsteads, and taking prisoners as they went.

  What became evident early on to the invaders, however, was that the majority of the island’s residents had already fled. Exactly how the islanders had been alerted to the approaching invaders is unclear, though it is likely they were aware long before that something dreadful was in the offing. Frightening rumours had swirled throughout the Western District throughout the winter of 1837. Vast numbers of Patriots and their bloodthirsty American allies, it was said, were gathering along the shores of Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Michigan, preparing to strike. The rebel raids of January 1838 at Fighting Island and Bois Blanc Island, and the capture of the Anne only added to the tension. As the rebellion had spilled westward and transformed into a largely American enterprise, many citizens previously sympathetic to Mackenzie’s cause began to change their minds. Instead of hoping for more political freedoms, these supporters, along with the rest of the population, now began to fear what now appeared to be a looming American invasion. Memories of the War of 1812 still lingered in the minds of many of the colonists. In the streets of many of the small border communities, women and children were afraid to go out alone.

  William McCormick would have been no less aware of the troubling political situation. Having served in the Upper Canadian parliament from 1812–24, he would have been familiar with Mackenzie, Duncombe, and the other Patriot leaders. It would also have been clear to McCormick that his own political leanings — his wife was of United Empire Loyalist stock and he was a staunch ally of the government — would have made his vulnerable island settlement a tempting target for Patriot rebels bent on revenge.

  In any case, when the rebels reached the McCormick homestead, they found that it, too, had been deserted. But it was not lost on them that the property made an excellent defensive position, overlooking Scudder Bay and offering a clear view of the Canadian mainland, from which any effort to reclaim the island would have to be launched. The homestead was also surrounded by dense forest, making it relatively easy to defend against a landing party. As they had done with the farmhouse on Navy Island, the rebel commanders chose to make the McCormick home their headquarters for as long as they chose to remain on the island.

  During the ensuing days, groups of rebels came and went from the shore, at some points swelling the invaders’ numbers to over a thousand men. And they cared little about the damage they caused, freely helping themselves to the settlers’ property and nearly destroying many of the settlements. As Thaddeus Smith writes: “When the rebels raided Pelee Island they wrought great damage not alone to the McCormicks, but to others of its inhabitants. The cabin owned by the father of Peter and Simon Fox — who later became residents of North Bass [Island] — was made a place of rendezvous. The raiders ate up all the potatoes and other supplies that the family had stored away, leaving them destitute of provisions.”

  The invaders also shot and ate much of the settlers’ livestock. And whatever they did not immediately need, they sent back to the Ohio shore with the constantly arriving and departing Patriot soldiers. In effect, Pelee Island was now American territory.

  Blood on the Ice

  William McCormick was nothing if not tough-minded, and he was not about to give up on the island community he had worked so hard to build without a fight. Shortly before the invaders had
arrived at his homestead, he had bundled up his large family, including the seventy-four-year-old matriarch, Elizabeth Turner, and set off across the frozen lake toward the Canadian mainland. A few hours after he arrived, a party of Pelee landowners, including three or four members of the local Essex militia, who were wintering near Leamington, crossed to Pelee in an attempt to reclaim their property, but were promptly fired upon by the rebels, who took some prisoner and forced the rest to turn back. It is not known whether William McCormick participated in this early effort at resistance, but two days later, a party of these men, led by McCormick, arrived at Fort Malden, fifty-six kilometres away, to inform the garrison’s commander, Colonel John Maitland, of the rebels’ presence on the island and of their apparent determination to stay.

  Maitland, a gifted tactician and a thirty-year veteran of the British army, had seen action in Spain and Portugal with the Duke of Wellington’s army before taking command of the 32nd Regiment of Foot, based at Fort Malden, in 1818. By all accounts, he was greatly admired by those under his command — a soldier’s soldier who valued his men’s well-being above all else. He was also decisive, and wasted no time going on the attack. Early on March 1, he dispatched Captain Glasgow of the Royal Artillery to see if the ice covering Lake Erie would support the weight of fully equipped troops and artillery. By noon, Glasgow had returned and informed Maitland that it was indeed strong enough for such a mission. The colonel then set to organizing his force, which consisted of one company of the 32nd Regiment of Foot, one company of the 83rd Regiment of Foot, one company of the Essex Volunteer Militia, thirty members of the St. Thomas and Sandwich Volunteer Cavalry, and a small party of Native warriors — nearly 500 men in all. They were well-armed and well-provisioned, and towed behind them two six-pound brass cannons. Maitland took command of the strike force himself.

  That same evening, the column set off from Amherstburg, with Maitland riding at its head, to repel the invaders. With a few of the Pelee men accompanying them, they marched along the lakeshore through the night as far as Colchester, arriving there at two o’clock in the morning. After resting their horses (and themselves) at the town’s small tavern, they stepped off the shore. After Maitland satisfied himself that the ice was indeed sound, he marched the force on toward Pelee Island, arriving about two kilometres off the north shore near dawn.

  Here, on the frozen ice north of Scudder Bay, Maitland began to set his plan to retake Pelee Island into motion. He ordered Captain George Browne, a veteran of the 1815 Waterloo campaign against Napoleonic France, and two companies of regulars and militia, along with about twenty-five volunteers from the Sandwich and St. Thomas Volunteer Cavalry (approximately 100 men in all) to wheel around to the south end of the island. Gambling that his main force could outgun the rebels encamped at the McCormick homestead, Maitland knew they would have no choice but to fall back to the south and attempt to cross back into the United States. When they did, Browne would be waiting to pounce.

  With Browne’s men on their way, Maitland and his remaining troops marched head-on toward the Patriot encampment on Scudder Bay. But when they reached the shore they were greeted not by the fierce resistance they had been expecting, but instead by a ghostly silence. The rebels, apparently, had already left the McCormick residence and run off into the woods. One soldier with Maitland’s force observed that the rebels had fled in such haste that potatoes had been left boiling on the fire. After making sure the homestead was secure, Maitland and his men set off in pursuit of the rebels, but, as Maitland describes in his after-action report: “The troops moved on in extended order, but as the wood was thick, and the snow extremely deep and heavy, the men were much retarded in their progress.”

  Meanwhile, Browne’s force had completed its march to the south end of the island and found the spot where the rebels had landed days earlier. Even though they had made relatively good time, the march had been challenging, as the ice along the shore was heavily buckled. Browne ordered a halt, and while the exhausted men ate breakfast he sent two Native scouts into the woods to bring back information on the Patriots’ movements. One of the scouts returned shortly after, informing an alarmed Browne that the main rebel column of between 300 and 400 men was, in fact, quickly bearing down on his position. He also reported that he had neither seen nor heard anything of Maitland’s force, but assumed that they were in hot pursuit of these “fellows.”

  James Ermatinger, who had accompanied Browne and commanded the St. Thomas Cavalry, attempted to send a Native scout through to Maitland with a message to send reinforcements as fast as possible, but the commander, still trailing far behind the rebels and bogged down in the deep snow, could not be reached. Browne, meanwhile, chose to believe the enemy numbers were exaggerated and ordered his men to form a skirmishing line across the escape route with their muskets held at the ready. Abandoning their breakfast, the soldiers took up their positions, aimed into the heavy forest — and waited. Trooper Samuel Williams, riding up on the rebels’ right side with the Sandwich and St. Thomas Volunteer Cavalry, describes what happened next in his account of the battle, which was published years later in Charles Oakes Ermatinger’s book, The Talbot Regime:

  [Browne’s men] were strung out in a long line across the ice like fence posts. The enemy were approaching them at a quick march. We could not see them just at first. They approached Captain Browne’s force in solid column, and then spread out in a line about the same length as that of the British infantry. There were about 500 of the enemy. Captain Browne had ninety and our troop [the Sandwich and St. Thomas Volunteer Cavalry] numbered but twenty-one. Both sides fired simultaneously. We got none of this volley. We were approaching at a gallop. We heard the enemy call out, “There comes the cavalry! Fire on them!” They did so and the bullets whistled around us. We were coming on their flank. We halted and fired. The infantry charged with fixed bayonets at that moment, in the face of a heavy fire from the enemy. When the infantry were within about six rods [thirty metres] of the enemy the latter retreated in disorder, running like wild turkeys every way, leaving five killed; while we had one soldier and one trooper, Thomas Parish, slain on the spot.

  Rebel leaders Hoadley, Rensselaer, and Seward, expecting that the British might try to cut off their escape, had decided to take Browne’s force head-on. Barging out of the forest and forming a skirmishing line on the ice, the rebels drove straight toward Browne’s men, unleashing a heavy musket volley as they went. Very quickly, British casualties began to mount.

  Browne, clearly taken off guard by the deadly effectiveness of the rebel assault, ordered a return volley, but this did little to halt the rebel advance. Running out of options, Browne, in desperation, ordered his men to fix their bayonets and charge into the rebel ranks. It was a last-ditch move that, in the end, would prove decisive.

  For the rebels, faced with the possibility of horrific bloodshed at the end of the British bayonets, shades of the failures of Montgomery’s Tavern and Navy Island began to re-emerge. With the roaring British regulars striding toward them, their shimmering bayonets aimed straight at the rebels’ chests, panic quickly set in. Having now witnessed death firsthand, these idealistic, but totally amateur, soldiers could stand no more. They quickly broke ranks and fled in complete disorganization. Worse, all three of the rebel commanders, Rensselaer, Hoadley, and Seward, lay dead on the ice, slain in the initial exchange of musket fire.

  Sensing a rout in the making, a relieved Browne now shifted tactics; instead of desperately trying to salvage as much of his force as he could from the strong Patriot advance, he went on offense, ordering Captain Ermatinger and the cavalry to run down the fleeing rebels. Ermatinger, “flourishing his sword,” according to Trooper Williams, led his horsemen in hot pursuit of the Patriots, chasing them away from shore and out onto thinner ice. When his horse’s hoof began to crack through, however, Ermatinger deemed the risk too great and wheeled back toward the island. The rebels, eager to escape the well-armed horsemen, continued to surge ahead. Some account
s mention rebels falling through the ice and drowning as they tried to flee, but if this is so, the historical record is unclear as to exactly how many; Thaddeus Smith cites an unnamed soldier who claimed that about a hundred died this way, but this account has been contradicted by numerous others, including that of Trooper Williams, who noticed only five rebels killed in the entire exchange. Edwin C. Guillet mentions in The Lives and Times of the Patriots that one witness later claimed that fourteen rebels were buried at Fish Point. Again, if this is true, the exact whereabouts of these graves is unknown. It is generally accepted that around eleven Patriots met their end on that bloody day.

  Illustration courtesy of Parks Canada Agency – Fort Malden NHSC

  The Battle of Pelee Island, as depicted by C.H. Forster. At least a dozen men died in the clash.

  A Grim Homecoming

  Maitland and the main British force finally emerged out of the forest and arrived on the scene about three hours after the battle had ended, having known nothing of its occurrence. His troops, following the rebels through the deep snow and dense forest of the island’s interior, had not heard the musket volleys. Maitland, in his official report, counted that eleven rebel prisoners, some of them badly wounded, were taken, as well as forty muskets and a “large tri-coloured flag with two stars and the word ‘Liberty’ worked upon it.”

  For the British, the price of liberating Pelee Island from the Patriots had been high. From Maitland’s official after-action report:

  I regret to say that the taking of this island has not been gained without considerable loss on our part, and I have to request that you report, for His Excellency’s information, that thirty soldiers of the 32nd Regiment fell in this affair, two of whom were killed, the others, some dangerously, some seriously wounded [two more would later die of their injuries, along with Thomas Parish of the Sandwich and St. Thomas Volunteer Cavalry]. I sincerely regret the loss of so many brave soldiers, and feel it the more, when I reflect they did not fall before an honourable enemy, but under the fire of a desperate gang of murderers and marauders.