August 16th, then, sees Major-General Isaac Brock and his men embarked for the American shore. Tecumseh had not waited for the main body, but with Colonel Elliott and six hundred Indians had crossed the night before, as an advance guard to hold the enemy should they attempt to hinder Brock.

We can picture the crossing of this comparative handful of men—382 British regulars, 362 Canadian militiamen, and the remainder of the Indians. They set out to the accompaniment of the booming of the guns from the Hunter and the Queen Charlotte, which were in the river just above what is now the city of Windsor. Many of Brock’s men were quite new to the idea of conflict, and doubtless the thoughts of men before battle then were much the same as they are now. But the sun rose high in the heavens, and the hearts of the men rose with it. The glint of the sun’s rays caught the bayonets which moved to and fro as the batteaux and canoes made swiftly across stream. Blue-shirts of sailors and red-coats of soldiers colored the scene, which took on a quaint and awesome quality when the Indians’ gaudy feathers and brilliant paint began to be discernible as the expedition neared the opposite bank and finally landed at Springwells, three miles below the fort. The whoops and strange cries of the Indians did not tend to hearten the enemy.

Brock surveyed the situation. Here was he, against his superior’s orders, on enemy ground, taking the offensive. He had little better than half the men his opponent had, and, what is more, his men were for the most part green and untried, while General Hull’s, though not actually experienced, were far more highly trained. Above him, as he looked, rose not far away the heavy walls of a strong fort, with all that that implied of gunfire and destruction. But Brock knew that if in material he did not equal Hull, the spirit of his men was unbreakable, while the braggart who opposed him secretly feared the issue.

His plan was to split Hull’s army. He knew that Hull dare not leave the fortress unprotected and that that fact would lessen the number who would give him direct battle. He planned to lure Hull into the open, and he relied on his few regulars and the inveterate fighters he had in the Indians to hearten the raw recruits, if they needed any spur other than that of defending their families and homes. But here a factor was introduced which would not allow him time for strategy.

He suddenly learned that about 350 men—this number was exaggerated to him—were away from Hull’s main body, bringing supplies. Hull, aware of Brock’s approach, had sent peremptory orders to this detachment to return immediately. They were only a short distance away, and Brock saw that he must strike at once. This man of action decided to assault the fort itself. Seldom has there been a more splendidly foolhardy plan. He drew up his 1,400 men, roughly, half Indian and half white, and prepared to attack the fort.

It must have looked a hard obstacle to conquer. It has been described as being constructed in the form of a parallelogram. At each corner was a strong bastion and all round stretched a moat, twelve feet wide and eight feet deep. There were palisades of hardwood, ten feet in height, inclining from the base of the rampart at an angle of forty degrees, and sharpened at the top. The ramparts were twenty-two feet high, and breaches for cannon occurred at regular intervals. There was a portcullis, well provided for small-arm firing, and a drawbridge. And perhaps the most important thing from the defenders’ point of view was that the fort commanded quite open country, so that the attacking army would find it very difficult to remain undiscovered for long. The fortress, Brock told himself, was going to be hard to take, but it was worth a determined struggle, not only for the intrinsic gain but also for what a victory signified. The fort held a great deal of ammunition, as well as more than thirty guns.

Brock personally led his army in the attack. Colonel Nichol, the gallant Scottish-Canadian merchant whom Brock had made quartermaster-general of militia, protested against this. He reined up by the side of the commander who was riding up and down in front of his army, heartening them for the attack, and said: “General, I cannot forbear entreating you not to expose yourself. If we lose you, we lose all.” But Brock, who had always believed in the inspiration of personal example, turned to his officer and said: “Master Nichol, I duly appreciate the advice you give, but I feel that in addition to their sense of loyalty and duty, many here follow me from personal regard, and I will never ask them to go where I do not lead them.”

Brock believed in co-operation, and while he advanced down the long, narrow road the battery at Sandwich, commanded by Captain Hall, and the guns on the deck of the Queen Charlotte poured heavy fire into the fort. This had its effect, for just at the time Brock’s column was nearing its destination a shot from Captain Hall’s guns found its billet in one of the rooms at the fort, wounding and killing several officers and men. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Bullock was leading the advance guard for Brock. He had three six pounders and two three pounders. It was a case of David and Goliath over again, for this sort of weapon was hardly fitted to the great task in front of Brock. He was leading his men down the country road, in the very face of a battery of two twenty-four pounders, two twelve-pounders, and two six-pounders.

General Hull was feeling subdued enough by now. Brock had uniformed the militiamen he had with him in the old tunics of the 41st, and Hull therefore imagined that Brock had more regulars than he had at first supposed. And he was sure too of the presence of the Indians. He conjured up visions of innumerable scalpings. His last ounce of courage faded when Captain Hall’s effective shots fell within the fort and he despatched messengers with a flag of truce to the Captain. Hall, however, returned word that Major-General Isaac Brock alone could accept surrender.

Not far away the Indians were coming through the woods, shrieking their war-cries, terrifying all who heard. Already the York volunteers had had some desultory fighting, and they were now only a mile or so from the battery of heavy guns. But to the American soldiers manning them, as to the men in the fort, there came no order to fire. Presumably, Hull expected that the white flag he had despatched precluded any opposition. Brock, of course, knew nothing of the offer of surrender.

The British advanced to within three-quarters of a mile of the fort and called a halt to reconnoitre. Brock was amazed to find that the American gunners had fled to the fort, and that, approaching him was one of Hull’s staff officers bearing a flag of truce. An hour or two later Brock led his men into the fort! The way which had seemed so difficult had become miraculously easy.

It was next day, Monday, August 17th, that Brock formally took possession of the fort, which implied the surrender of the whole of surrounding Michigan. There were many prisoners of war, but even more to be desired, 40 cannon, 2,500 muskets, 60 barrels of gunpowder, 200 tons of cannon ball, and large stores of other ammunition fell into the hands of the British. Looking around, the men found horses and sheep and cattle in abundance. These had been stolen from Canadian farmers by the marauding Americans. Food too was discovered. The fort had evidently prepared for a long siege. There was one other prize, a brig called the Adams. With this Hull had hoped to make himself master of the lakes. Brock converted it into the British Brig Detroit.

The fickle population who had welcomed Hull with open arms now shouted just as hard for Brock. There were great rejoicings, and everywhere the Union Jack was hoisted. In the fort there were some captured British cannon which had been taken from the British in the Revolutionary War. These fired salutes in honor of Brock’s victory, and the guns of the Queen Charlotte replied heartily.

Brock’s first act, almost, after entering the captured fort, was characteristic of the man. He ordered that Private Dean, who a few days previously had distinguished himself at the Canard River and had been taken prisoner by the Americans, should be brought before him, and in the presence of the assembled troops warmly congratulated him on his heroic conduct.^[1]

The capture of Detroit was a very real victory. Had the day gone otherwise, Hull might have made his boasted march to Quebec, and that as a conqueror. But his march now was as a prisoner of war. Brock had dared what looked impossible and by a stroke of fortune had won out. His victory was an imposingly public one. It cheered his men. It made those Canadian inhabitants who were hesitating declare definitely for the British, while those with leanings towards the United States kept silent. It saved Canada from invasion at a moment when, owing to the shortsightedness of her rulers, she was particularly vulnerable.

Brock apprised Sir George Prevost, modestly enough, of his victory and wrote to his brothers: “Rejoice at my good fortune, and join me in prayers to Heaven. I send you a copy of my hasty note to Sir George. Let me know that you are all united and happy.”