CHAPTER III.

A full half hour had succeeded to these sounds of conflict,

and yet nothing could be seen of the contending boats.

Doubt and anxiety now took place of the confidence that

had hitherto animated the bosoms of the spectators, and

even Henry Grantham--his heart throbbing painfully with

emotions induced by suspense--knew not what inference to

draw from the fact of his brother's protracted absence.

Could it be that the American, defended as she was by a

force of armed men, had succeeded, not only in defeating

the aim of her pursuer, but also in capturing her? Such

a result was not impossible. The enemy against whom they

had to contend yielded to none in bravery; and as the

small bark which had quitted the gun boat was not one

third of the size of that which they pursued, it followed

of necessity, that the assailants must be infinitely

weaker in numbers than the assailed. Still no signal of

alarm was made by the gun boat, which continued to lie

to, apparently in expectation of the return of the detached

portion of her crew. Grantham knew enough of his brother's

character to feel satisfied that he was in the absent

boat, and yet it was impossible to suppose that one so

imbued with the spirit of generous enterprise should hare

succumbed to his enemy, after a contest of so short

duration, as, from the number of shots heard, this had

appeared to be. That it was terminated, there could be

no doubt. The cheers, which had been followed by an

universal silence, had given evidence of this fact; yet

why, in that case, if his brother had been victorious,

was he not already on his return? Appearances, on the

other hand, seemed to induce an impression of his defeat.

The obvious course of the enemy, if successful, was to

abandon their craft, cut off from escape by the gun boat

without, and to make the best of their way through the

woods, to their place of destination--the American fort

of Detroit,--and, as neither party was visible, it was

to be feared this object had been accomplished.

The minds of all were more or less influenced by these

doubts, bat that of Henry Grantham was especially disturbed.

From the first appearance of the gun boat, his spirits

had resumed their usual tone, for he had looked upon the

fleeing bark as the certain prize of his brother, whose

conquest was to afford the flattest denial to the

insinuation that had been breathed against him. Moreover,

his youthful pride bad exulted in the reflection that

the first halo of victory would play around the brow of

one for whom he could have made every personal sacrifice;

and now, to have those fair anticipations clouded at the

very moment when he was expecting their fullest

accomplishment, was almost unendurable. He felt, also,

that, although his resolution was thus made to stand

prominently forth, the prudence of his brother would

assuredly be called in question, for having given chase

with so inferior a force, when a single gun fired into

his enemy must have sunk her. In the impatience of his

feelings, the excited young soldier could not refrain

from adding his own censure of the imprudence, exclaiming

as he played hit foot nervously upon the ground: "Why

the devil did he not fire and sink her, instead of

following in that nutshell?"

While he was yet giving utterance to his disappointment,

a hasty exclamation met his ear, from the chieftain at

his side, who, placing one hand on the shoulder of the

officer with a familiar and meaning grasp, pointed, with

the forefinger of the other, in the direction in which

the boats had disappeared. Before Grantham's eye could

follow, an exulting yell from the distant masses of

Indians announced an advantage that was soon made obvious

to all. The small dark boat of the pursuing party was

now seen issuing from behind the point, and pulling slowly

towards the gun boat. In due course of a minute or two

afterwards appeared the American, evidently following in

the wake of the former, and attached by a tow line to

her stem. The yell pealed forth by the Indians, when the

second boat came in view, was deafening in the extreme;

and every thing became commotion along the bank, while

the little fleet of canoes, which still lay resting on

the beach, put off one after the other to the scene of

action.

Meanwhile, both objects had gained the side of the gun

boat, which, favored by a partial shifting of the wind,

now pursued her course down the river with expanded sails.

Attached to her stern, and following at quarter cable

distance, was to be seen her prize, from which the

prisoners had been removed, while above the American flag

was hoisted, in all the pride of a first conquest, the

Union-Jack of England.

Informed of the success which had crowned the enterprise

of their officer, the crews of the several vessels in

the harbour swelled the crowd assembled on the bank near

the fort, to which point curiosity and a feeling of

interest had moreover brought many of the town's people,

so that the scene finally became one of great animation.

The gun boat had now arrived opposite the fort, when the

small bark, which had recently been used in pursuit, was

again drawn up to the quarter. Into this, to the surprise

of all, was first lowered a female, hitherto unobserved;

next followed an officer in the blue uniform of the United

States regular army; then another individual, whose garb

announced him as being of the militia, and whose rank as

an officer was only distinguishable from the cockade

surmounting his round hat, and an ornamented dagger thrust

into a red morocco belt encircling his waist. After these

came the light and elegant form of one, habited in the

undress of a British naval officer, who, with one arm

supported by a black silk handkerchief, evidently taken

from his throat, and suspended from his neck, and with

the other grasping the tiller of the rudder, stood upright

in the boat, which, urged by six stout rowers, now flew

at his command towards the landing place, above which

lingered, surrounded by several officers of either service,

General Brock and Commodore Barclay.

"Well, Commodore, what think you of your Lieutenant now!"

observed the former to his friend; "the young Canadian,

you must admit, has nobly redeemed my pledge. On the

score of his fidelity there could exist no doubt, and as

for his courage, you see," pointing to the young man's

arm," his conquest has not been bloodless to himself, at

least."

"With all my soul do I disclaim the wrong I have done

him," was the emphatic and generous rejoinder." He is,

indeed, a spirited youth; and well worthy of the favorable

report which led me to entrust him with the command--

moreover he has an easy grace of carriage which pleased

and interested me in his favor, when first I saw him.

Even now, observe how courteously he bends himself to

the ear of his female prisoner, as if to encourage her

with words of assurance, that she may sustain the presence

and yells of these clamorous beings."

The boat had now reached the beach, but the difficulty

of effecting a passage, through the bands of wild Indians

that crowded, yelling, in every direction, to take a

nearer view of the prisoners, would, perhaps, have proved

insurmountable, had it not been for the interference of

one who alone possessed the secret of restraining their

lawlessness. Tecumseh had descended to the beach, eager

to be the first to congratulate his young friend. He

pressed the hand promptly extended to receive his, and

then, at a single word, made those give way whose presence

impeded the landing of the party.

Pursuing their way up the rude steps by which Lieutenant

Raymond had previously descended, the little band of

prisoners soon stood in the presence of the group assembled

to receive them. On alighting from the boat, the youthful

captor had been seen to make the tender of his uninjured

arm to the lady, who, however, had rejected it, with a

movement, seemingly of indignant surprise, clinging in the

same moment to her more elderly companion. A titter among

the younger officers, at Gerald Grantham's expense, had

followed this somewhat rode rejection of his proffered aim.

The young sailor was the first to gain the summit of the

bank. Respectfully touching his hat, and pointing to the

captives, who followed a few paces as in his rear:

"General--Commodore," he observed, his cheek flashing

with a consciousness of the gratifying position in which

he stood, "I have the honor to present to you the first

fruits of our good fortune. We hare taken thirty soldiers

of the American regular regiment, now in garrison at

Detroit, besides the boat's crew. This gentleman," pointing

to the elder officer, "is the commander of the party,

and the lady I believe is--"

"Certainly a non-combatant on this occasion," interrupted

the General, raising his plumed hat, and bowing to the

party alluded to; "Gentlemen," he pursued, addressing

the two officers," I am sorry we do not meet exactly on

the terms to which we hare so long been accustomed; but,

although the fortune of war has made you rather unwilling

guests in the present instance, the rites of hospitality

shall not be the less observed. But, Mr. Grantham, you

have forgotten to introduce these officers by name."

"I plead guilty, General, but the truth is I have neglected

to make the inquiry myself."

"Major Montgomerie, sir of the United States infantry,"

interposed the elderly officer, completely set at his

ease by the affable and attentive manner of the British

leader. "This young lady is my niece."

Again the general slightly, but courteously, bowed. "I

will not, Major Montgomerie, pay you the ill timed

compliment of expressing pleasure in seeing you on an

occasion like the present, since we must unquestionably

consider you a prisoner of war; but if the young lady

your niece, has any desire to continue her journey to

Detroit, I shall feel pleasure in forwarding her thither

under a flag of truce."

"I thank you much, General, for this mark of your

attention," returned the American;" but I think I may

venture to answer for my niece, that she will prefer

remaining with me."

"Not so, sir;" said a voice deep but femininely soft.

"General," she continued, throwing aside her veil, which

had hitherto concealed features pale even to wanness,"

I have the strongest--the most urgent reasons--for the

prosecution of my journey, and gladly do I accept your

offer."

The earnest manner of her address struck every hearer

with surprise, contrasting as it did, with the unchanging

coldness of her look; but the matter was a source of

serious concern to her uncle. He regarded her with an

air of astonishment, not unmixed with displeasure.

"How is this, Matilda," he asked; "after having travelled

thus far into the heart of this disturbed district would

you now leave me?"

"Major Montgomerie," she pursued, somewhat impatiently,

"we are in the presence of strangers, to whom this

discussion must be uninteresting--My mind is fully made

up, and I avail myself of the British General's offer."

"Certainly, certainly," observed that officer, somewhat

disconcerted by the scene; "and I can do it the more

readily, as it is my intention to send an instant summons

to the garrison of Detroit. Miss Montgomerie will, however,

do well to consider before she decides. If the summons

be not obeyed, another week will see our columns marching

to the assault, and she must be prepared for all the

horrors of such an extremity, aided, as I am compelled

to be, (and he glanced at the groups of Indians who were

standing around, but at some distance, looking silently

yet eagerly at the prisoners,) by these wild and

ungovernable warriors. Should she, on the contrary, decide

on remaining here with her uncle, she will be perfectly

safe."

"General," emphatically returned Miss Montgomerie, "were

I certain that the columns to which you allude would not

be repulsed whenever they may venture upon that assault,

and were I as certain of perishing beneath the tomahawk

and scalping knife of these savages"--and she looked

fearlessly towards them--"still would my determination

remain the same."

As she concluded a hectic spot rose to either cheek,

lingered there a moment, and then left it colorless as

before.

"Be it so, Miss Montgomerie, my word is pledged, and you

shall go--Grantham, I had intended sending one of my

personal staff with the summons, but, on reflection, you

shall be the bearer. As the captor of the lady, to you

should be awarded the charge of delivering her over to

her friends."

"Friends!" involuntarily repeated the fair American, her

cheek becoming even paler than before, and her lips

compressed in a way to indicate some deep and painful

emotion. Again she dropped her veil.

No other notice was taken of the interruption than what

the surprised manner of Major Montgomerie manifested,

and the General proceeded:

"I would ask you, Major Montgomerie, to become my guest,

while you remain with us, but fear that, as a bachelor,

I have but indifferent accomodation to offer to your

niece."

"If Miss Montgomerie will accept it," said Colonel

D'Egville, interposing, "I shall be most happy to afford

her the accomodation of a home until she finally departs

for the opposite coast. If the attention of a family of

daughters," he continued, more immediately addressing

himself to the young lady, "can render your temporary

sojourn among us less tedious, you have but to command

them."

So friendly an offer could not well be refused. Miss

Montgomerie inclined her head in acquiescence, and Colonel

D'Egville drew her arm within his own.

"It were unkind," remarked the General good humouredly,

"to separate Major Montgomerie altogether from his niece.

Either the young lady must partake of our rude fare, or

we shall consider ourselves included in your dinner party."

"You could not confer on me a greater pleasure, General--

and indeed I was about to solicit it. Commodore Barclay,

may I hope that so short and unceremonious an invitation

will be excused by the circumstances? Good--I shall expect

you. But there is yet another to be included among our

guests. Gerald, you will not fail to conduct this

gentleman, whose name I have not yet had the pleasure of

hearing"--and he looked at the latter, as if he expected

him to announce himself.

"I fear sir," observed the young officer pointedly, "that

your dinner party would be little honored by such an

addition. Although he wears the uniform of an American

officer, this person is wholly unworthy of a seat at your

table."

"Every eye was turned with an expression of deep

astonishment on the speaker, and thence upon the form of

the hitherto scarcely noticed militia officer; who, with

his head sunk sullenly upon his chest, and an eye now

and then raised stealthily to surrounding objects, made

no attempt to refute, or even to express surprise at,

the singular accusation of his captor.

"This is strong language to apply to a captive enemy,

and that enemy, apparently, an officer," gravely remarked

the General: "yet I cannot believe Mr. Grantham to be

wholly without grounds for his assertion."

Before Grantham could reply, a voice in the crowd exclaimed,

as if the utterer had been thrown off his guard, "what,

Phil!"

On the mention of this name, the American looked suddenly

up from the earth on which bit gaze had been rivetted,

and cast a rapid glance around him.

"Nay, nay, my young friend, do not, as I see you are,

feel hurt at my observation," resumed the General extending

his hand to Gerald Grantham; "I confess I did at one

moment imagine that you had been rash in your assertion,

but from what has this instant occurred, it is evident

your prisoner is known to others as well as to yourself--

No doubt we shall have every thing explained in due season.

By the bye, of what nature is your wound? Slight I should

say, from the indifference with which you treat it.

"Slight, General--far slighter," he continued, coloring,

"than the wound that was sought to be affixed to my fair

name in absence."

All looked at the speaker, and at each other with surprise,

for, as yet, there could have been no communication to

him of the doubts which had been entertained.

"Who is it of you all, gentlemen," pursued the young man,

with the same composedness of voice and manner, and

turning particularly to the officers of the ---- Regiment,

who were grouped around their Chief; "Who is it, I ask,

on whom has devolved the enviable duty of reporting me

as capable of violating my faith as a subject, and my

honor as an officer?"

There was no reply, although the same looks of surprise

were interchanged; but, as he continued to glance his

eye around the circle, it encountered, either by accident

or design, that of Captain Molineux, on whose rather

confused countenance the gaze of Henry Grantham was at

that moment bent with an expression of much meaning.

"No one answers," continued the youth; "then the sting

has been harmless. But I crave your pardon, General--I

am claiming an exemption from censure which may not be

conceded by all. Commodore, how shall I dispose of my

prisoners?"

"Not so, Mr. Grantham; you have sufficiently established

your right to repose, and I have already issued the

necessary instructions. Yet, while you have nobly acquitted

yourself of YOUR duty, let me also perform mine. Gentlemen,"

he continued, addressing the large circle of officers,

"I was the first to comment on Mr. Grantham's supposed

neglect of duty, and to cast a doubt on his fidelity.

That I was wrong I admit, but right I trust will be my

reparation, and whatever momentary pain he may experience

in knowing that he has been thus unjustly judged, it will

I am sure be more than compensated for, when he hears

that by General Brock himself his defence was undertaken,

even to the pledging of his own honor--Mr. Grantham,"

concluded the gallant officer, "how you have obtained

your knowledge of the conversation that passed here,

during your absence, is a mystery I will not now pause

to inquire into, but I would fain apologize for the wrong

I have done. Have I your pardon?"

At the commencement of this address, the visible heaving

of his full chest, the curling of his proud lip, and the

burning flush of his dark cheek, betrayed the mortification

Gerald felt, in having been placed in a position to be

judged thus unjustly; but, as the Commodore proceeded,

this feeling gradually passed away, and when the warm

defence of his conduct, by the General, was alluded to,

closed as the information was with a request for pardon,

his temporary annoyance was banished, and he experienced

only the generous triumph of one who is conscious of

having won his way, through calumny and slander, to the

well merited approbation of all right minded men.

"Come, come," interposed the General, more touched than

he was willing to appear by the expressive manner in

which the only hand of the Commodore now grasped that of

his Lieutenant, and perceiving that the latter was about

to reply; "We will defer all further explanation until

a later period. But, before we depart, this person must

be disposed of--Major Montgomerie, excuse my asking if

you will be personally responsible for your fellow

prisoner?"

"Certainly not," returned the Major quickly, and with

something like alarm at the required responsibility;

"that is to say, he does not belong to the United States

regular service, and I know nothing of him. Indeed, I

never saw him before last night, when he joined me with

a verbal message from Detroit."

Hitherto the individual spoken of had preserved an unbroken

silence, keeping, as we have already shown, his gaze

rivetted on the ground, except at intervals when he seemed

to look around,--with an eye of suspicion, as if to

measure the distance that separated him from the groups

of Indians in the background. The disclaimer of the Major

had, however, the effect of restoring to him the use of

his tongue. Casting his uncertain eye on the gentlemanly

person of the latter he exclaimed, in a tone of insufferable

vulgarity;

"I'll tell you what it is, Mister Major--you may think

yourself a devilish fine feller, but I guess as how an

officer of the Michigan Militia is just as good and as

spry as any blue coat in the United States rig'lars; so

there's that (snapping his fingers) for pretendin' not

to know me."

An ill suppressed titter pervaded the group of British

officers--the General alone preserving his serieux.

"May I ask your name?" he demanded.

"I guess, Giniril, it's Paul, Emilius, Theophilus, Arnoldi;

Ensign in the United States Michigan Militia," was answered

with a volubility strongly in contrast with the preceding

silence of the speaker.

"Then, Mr. Arnoldi, as an officer in the American Militia,

you shall enjoy your liberty on parole. I need not, I

presume, sir, point out to you the breach of private

honor and national faith consequent on any violation of

that parole."

"I guess not, Giniril, for, I take it, the word of a

Michigan Militia officer is as good as that of any United

States rig'lar, as ever stepped in shoe leather."

Another very pardonable disposition, on the part of the

younger officers to indulge in mirth, was interrupted by

the General, desiring a young aid-de-camp to procure the

necessary billet and accomodation for Ensign Arnoldi.

These two individuals having moved away in search of the

required lodging, the General, with his staff and prisoner

guests, withdrew towards the fort. Their departure was

the signal for the breaking up of the groups; and all

dispersed to their several homes, and in pursuit of their

various duties. The recently arrived Indians were

distributed throughout the encampment, already occupied

as we have described, and the prisoners taken in the

morning were provided with suitable accommodation.

As Colonel D'Egville was about to enter the gate of the

fort, with his fair charge leaning on his arm, Gerald

Grantham approached the party, with the intention of

addressing the General in regard to the prisoner Arnoldi;

but finding him engaged in close conversation with Major

Montgomerie, he lingered, as if awaiting a fitting

opportunity to open the subject.

While he yet loitered the eye of Miss Montgomerie met

his. What it expressed we will not venture to describe,

but its effect upon the young officer was profound. The

moment before, discouraged by her apparent reserve, he

had stood coldly by, but now startled into animation, he

bent upon her an earnest and corresponding look; then

with a wild tumult at his heart, which he neither sought

to stifle nor to analyze, and wholly forgetting what had

brought him to the spot, he turned and joined his brother,

who, at a short distance, stood awaiting his return.