FERNANDO SEES SERVICE.

The trump of war stirred two passions in the heart of Fernando Stevens, revenge and patriotism. One was a noble and the other a very human but ignoble passion; but Fernando was only a common mortal with mortal weaknesses. When he reflected on the wrongs he had suffered; when he remembered the death of poor Boseley, slain to gratify the malice of Captain Snipes, and poor Sukey still the slave of the British monarch, he could not be other than revengeful.

"Mother," he said one day, shortly after they had heard of war. "I am going to enter the army."

The mother, who was plying her needle, sat for several moments in silence. She was not surprised at the declaration. For several days, she had watched her son with the care and anxiety of a mother. She had noted that he read the papers regularly. He pored over any news which hinted of war and was an eager listener to the latest rumor which his father brought from town. The parents had talked the matter over frequently, and Captain Stevens, himself a veteran, said:

"I can't blame him; no, I can't blame him. Poor boy, he has suffered enough to know the wrongs done to our flag."

"But would it be for the flag, or revenge?" said the mother.

"Both," answered the practical father. "He is only human, wife, and human hearts can't endure what he endured without human resentment."

The mother hoped it was more patriotism than revenge, for she was a Christian lady, and while war might be proper, even for Christian people, she thought it should be purely a conflict of principle and not of revenge.

"Fernando," said the mother laying aside her knitting and taking off her glasses and wiping them, "do you really mean to go?"

"Yes, mother. My country needs my services. There are thousands of unfortunate Americans, still in bondage. I seem to hear their pitiful cries calling on their country to send brave men to their rescue."

"I have expected this," sighed Mrs. Stevens, and tears gathered in her eyes.

"Mother, would you have me stay?"

It was hard for a mother to say it; but she had to do so. She was patriotic, and she answered:

"No."

"Then I will go."

"When?"

"They are beating up for volunteers at town, and I am going there to enlist in a day or two. First I must help father drain the flat and clear off a few timber patches."

It soon became rumored all over the neighborhood that Fernando was going to enlist. Many friends came to see him, bid him good-by and wish him God-speed. The day before he went away, he was chopping wood, when he saw a large man riding a large bay mare followed by a large colt, cross the old bridge a few hundred paces below and ascend the hill toward the house. The visitor was Mr. Winners. He had grown older and stouter, and the mare was older and heavier, and this was her fourth colt since he had come over to talk with his neighbor about sending his son to college with Fernando. The kind, good face of the old farmer expressed sadness, and his eye, always dull, seemed melancholy.

He rode slowly up the hill to where Fernando was chopping wood. Fernando saw him coming and laid down his axe, for it was quite evident that Mr. Winners wanted to speak with him. The old man, drawing rein close by Fernando, said:

"Mornin', Fernando, how's all?"

"We are all well, Mr. Winners. How are yourself and family?"

"Oh, we are just middlin' like."

"Won't you alight and come into the house?"

"No; I ain't got time, Fernando. I just came to see you, that's all. Fernando, I hear as how you're goin' t' ther war."

"I am, Mr. Winners. I am a young man with no wife or children. My country just now stands in need of young men."

"Ya-as, it does, an' I don't come t' blame ye for it,--mind ye, I don't blame ye fur it. I'm sometimes tempted to go myself, old as I am."

"No, no, Mr. Winners, there is no occasion. Let the younger men do the service."

"I don't blame ye, for goin', Fernando; but I hope ye won't furgit one thing."

"What?"

"My Sukey's on t'other side. Now that fightin's begun, he'll have to light his own flag; but he won't do it with a very good grace, lem me tell ye. No, he won't. Now, Fernando, I don't want to ask ye to ease down on the British a bit; but when ye come to the crowd that Sukey's with, won't ye kind a shoot easy?"

Fernando promised to do all he could to aid Sukey to escape, and assured him that, when once he was free, the cruel masters should pay for their tyranny. The old man seemed partially satisfied, and, as he rode away, he twisted himself half way round in the saddle to say:

"Now, Fernando, if ye meet Sukey's crowd, I want ye to remember to shoot easy."

"I will not harm Sukey, if I can help it," Fernando answered. Next morning, he bade his parents farewell and, with his clothes tied up in a little bundle, set out on his way to the town.

A flag was streaming from a long pole, and Fernando heard the roll of the drum and the shrill notes of a fife. The company was more than half made up when he arrived. He enlisted at once and four days later the company was ready to march.

As yet the armies of the United States were not organized, and for some time Captain George Rose was at a loss what to do with his volunteers. They were riflemen, ready for any detached service to which they might be assigned. The militia forces raised were, of course, to serve in their own respective States; but the volunteers were allowed to attach to any regiment they chose. For some time, it was doubtful whether Captain Rose would be sent West under Hull and Harrison, or to the North to act under General Jacob Brown.

The latter course was at last decided upon, and they hurried to the northern frontier of New York. But small preparations had been made for the defence of this portion of the frontier. From Oswego to Lake St. Francis, an expansion of the St. Lawrence, General Brown's forces were scattered. The length of this territory was about two hundred miles. There was only one American war-vessel (the Oneida) on Lake Ontario. This was commanded by Lieutenant Melancthon Woolsey; while the British, in anticipation of difficulties, had built at Kingston, at the foot of the lake, a small squadron of light vessels-of-war. Brown and Woolsey were authorized to defend the frontier from invasion, but not to act on the offensive except in certain emergencies.

About the 20th of July, Fernando's company joined the regiment of Colonel Bellinger at Sackett's Harbor, at the eastern end of Lake Ontario. Nine days later, the British squadron composed of the Royal George, 24 guns, Prince Regent, 22 guns, Earl of Moira, 20 guns, Simcoe, 12 guns, and Seneca, 4 guns, appeared and bore down on the American forces there. Fernando was sleeping when the discovery was made, but was soon roused and saw soldiers hauling in the Oneida so as to lay her broadside to the approaching enemy. Colonel Bellinger's militia were many of them raw recruits, and the approach of a fleet unnerved a few of them; but the majority were cool as veterans.

"Take that thirty-two pound gun up on the bluff," commanded the colonel, pointing out an old iron cannon down by the shore.

Fernando assisted them to drag it to the rocky bluff, and the whole battery was placed in charge of Captain Vaughn, a sailing master in the navy. Slowly the fleet bore in, the Royal George, having the heaviest guns, coming ahead of the others. A wreath of smoke curled up from her forecastle, and a ball, skipping over the water, struck the sandy beach.

Captain Rose and his company of riflemen took up their station on the high bluff, where, should the troops attempt to land, they might do effective work. Fernando had been promoted to sergeant in the company and was quite popular with both officers and men.

For two hours, a cannonade between the Royal George and the big guns on shore was kept up, with very little effect, when a 32 pound ball from the former came over the bluff and ploughed a furrow near where the riflemen were standing. Fernando ran and caught up the ball and, running with it to Captain Vaughn, said:

"Captain Vaughn, I've been playing ball with the redcoats, and I have caught them out."

"That will just fit our gun," said the captain. "Hand it to the gunner."

Fernando did so. The gunner said:

"Captain, it fits better than our own balls. The shot we have been firing were all too small."

"Send it back to them," said Captain Vaughn.

The gun was trained and fired. The heavy boom rang out over the bluffs and water. The ball went through the Royal George from stern to stem, sending splinters as high as her mizzen topsail yard, killing fourteen men and wounding eighteen.

This ended the bombardment. The squadron, alarmed, sailed out of the harbor.

Eight merchant schooners were at Ogdensburg, being converted into American war vessels, and, immediately after being repulsed at Sackett's Harbor, two of the British armed vessels started to Ogdensburg to destroy them. The American schooner Julia was armed and, with sixty volunteers from the Oneida and Fernando's company of riflemen in a boat, set out to overtake the British. They caught up with them among the Thousand Islands, on the 31st of July, fought for three hours with the enemy, and then, in the shadows of an intensely dark night, relieved occasionally by flashes of lightning, reached Ogdensburg in safety before morning.

During the armistice which was granted shortly after this, the Julia and her consort and the six schooners made their way to the lake, where the latter were converted into vessels-of-war.

On the 8th of November, Chauncey appeared in those waters with a fleet of seven armed war-schooners and, after a short cruise, disabled the Royal George and blockaded the British harbor of Kingston. Fernando, meanwhile, was at Ogdensburg under General Brown, who had about fifteen hundred troops, including the militia. On the 1st of October, the very day of General Brown's arrival, a large flotilla of British bateaux, escorted by a gun-boat, appeared at Prescott, on the opposite side of the river. This flotilla contained armed men, who, on the 4th of October, attempted to cross the river and attack Ogdensburg, but were repulsed by the Americans. Eight days later, Fernando was with Major G.D. Young when he captured a large portion of a British detachment at St. Regis, an Indian village on the line between the United States and Canada. Fernando was close at the side of Lieutenant William L. Marcy (afterward governor of New York), when he captured a British flag, the first trophy of the kind taken on land in the war.

While lying at Ogdensburg, Fernando heard of the daring feat of Lieutenant Jesse Elliott, who, with a picked party of seamen and riflemen, had at Black Rock, under the British heavy guns, captured the war-schooner Caledonia and burned the Detroit. While these many stories of the bravery of Americans were thrilling the hearts of patriots, the cowardice of the pompous General Smythe at Buffalo caused much ridicule and humiliation.

Despite all his boasts and threats to invade Canada, he remained on American soil. He was finally dismissed from the service, and, in a petition to congress to reinstate him, he prayed for permission to "die for his country." His petition excited much ridicule, and, at a public celebration of Washington's birthday, a wit proposed the following:

"General Smythe's petition to congress to die for his country. May it be ordered that the prayer of said petition be granted!"

Early in January, 1813, Fernando Stevens' company, being Ohio volunteers, was for some reason, he never knew what, transferred to the army of the West. General William H. Harrison had succeeded Hull in command of this army. Historians do not accord to General Harrison the distinction of greatness, though he was one of the successful generals of the last war with England. It was under him that first victories were gained over the British in the Northwest. Though his name goes down to posterity connected with the battle of the Thames, Colonel Richard M. Johnson was the real hero of that conflict. Johnson's Kentucky riflemen fought and won the battle, though Harrison received the credit. Harrison was even more honorably remembered for his Indian wars, and, as the hero of Tippecanoe, gained a fast hold on the public heart; but Tippecanoe was only a skirmish and, viewed in the light of a battle, could hardly be considered a great victory. The American losses were probably as great, if not greater than the Indians, and it was only an accident that Harrison was not surprised. Tippecanoe was fought by the soldiers, and to their coolness and courage belonged the victory. Critically speaking, General Harrison was inferior in military genius to both Jackson and Brown. He wanted the terrible energy, the almost reckless bravery which characterized these two leaders. He belonged to a different school altogether. His was a policy of Fabius rather than of Marcellus, and this not from necessity but for choice. The bent of his mind was to be prudent, economic of means, willing to listen to advice, a very excellent qualification for a general or a statesman.

The dispute between Harrison and Winchester had been settled before Captain Rose with his company reached the army and joined General Winchester, then on his march to the Raisin, January 21, 1813. As Winchester's volunteers were mostly Kentuckians, Fernando found many friends among them. Some had formerly lived in Ohio. On the same evening, they reached Frenchtown, where they found Colonel Lewis, who, with Allen and six hundred men, had defeated and routed a force of British and Indians under Major Reynolds.

The troops were in the highest spirits, and all were anxious to press on to drive General Proctor from Malden.

The day had been cold, and Fernando was wearied with long marches through snow, ice and mud. The ground was covered with snow which had but a thin frozen crust over it, and the soldiers frequently broke through, especially in the swampy regions they crossed. Their second lieutenant was sick; the first lieutenant, being wounded, was left behind, and the management of the company fell upon Captain Rose and his orderly sergeant, Fernando Stevens.

Captain Rose, though a brave man, loved his ease and comfort, so the most irksome duty fell upon the orderly. He saw that quarters as comfortable as were possible were made for the men. Boards, canvas, brush and everything possible to make a shelter were provided. The wintry sky was clear, and when night came on the stars came out one by one. The moon shone on the snow-covered earth, so soon to be crimsoned with patriotic blood.

Fernando Stevens and Captain Rose were quartered in an old shed building, with a roaring fire in the broad fireplace. Their quarters were quite comfortable, and, after having made all the necessary arrangements for the company's comfort, Fernando partook of a light supper and, wrapping himself in a blanket, lay down on the left side of the broad fireplace to sleep. Corporal Mott entered and told Captain Rose, who sat smoking his pipe, that Colonels Wells and Lewis were having some trouble about their positions.

"Why should they quarrel over that?" asked Captain Rose taking his pipe from his mouth.

"Wells, who is colonel of regulars, claims to outrank Lewis, and demands to be posted on the right."

"That's in an open field."

"Yes; Lewis thinks that, in case of an attack, Wells should be posted in some gardens on the left."

"Lewis knows more about it than Wells or Winchester either," growled Captain Rose.

"Yes; but Winchester decided in favor of Wells. There is also a rumor that Proctor is on his way from Malden to attack us."

"I hope it is so," said Captain Rose. "If he will come here and take his whipping like a man, it will save us going to Malden to give it to him."

Then they wondered what General Harrison was doing and when they would join him; but Fernando left off listening to their conversation and gazed into the glowing fire before which he lay stretched on his blanket.

His mind was busy with his own sad life. All through the long years of trying events, he had never forgotten Morgianna. Her sweet face had haunted him while a slave on the British war-ship. In the camp, or on the battle field, she was ever near him. A thousand times he had said to himself:

"Oh, why can I not forget her? Morgianna is nothing to me. No doubt, long ere this she has married Lieutenant Matson and is happy. May God bless her in her happiness, and may Heaven spare her husband."

It never once entered his mind that she could possibly care for him. She had been so cool, so careless, and seemed so unconcerned on the night of their parting, that he thought she must be glad that he was away and had ceased to annoy her.

Yet her face, as he remembered it that night, lying gazing into the fire, half asleep and half awake, was lovely, and she was blameless. To him, she was a goddess to be worshipped, one incapable of wrong. If she had rejected him, it was right. If she had loved the lieutenant, it was perfectly right; yet he could not crush her image out of his heart. It was indelibly stamped there, and had become a part of his existence.

The bleak northeast wind swept through the woods and howled about the rude shanty, rattling the boards and causing the sentries to shiver, as they drew their cloaks about their shoulders. Fernando felt almost comfortable in this retreat, and the fire burned low, still giving out a generous heat.

Two officers from another company came to their quarters, and the last Fernando remembered was hearing them talking of the disposition of the troops and the probability of meeting the enemy and sharing the glory which Lewis and Allen had won but three days before.

Their voices were low and indistinct and finally became mingled with his dreams of the past, forming a mass of events, sights and sounds which at first had no meaning. At last the scene changed. The officers ceased talking, the firelight disappeared, and his dreaming fancy, which had been struggling with these realities, was freed to take what course it chose.

He was once more on the sands of Mariana. He saw the great white stone house on the hill and the form of Morgianna descending toward the seashore. He knew he had been gone for years, was conscious that their parting had been unpleasant, and yet her appearance seemed to inspire his heart with hope. The sun's golden rays fell upon the bright, fairy-like being as, with a glad smile she hastened toward him.

"You have come at last," she said, with a happy smile. "I have waited so long, oh, so long, that I feared you would never come."

"Morgianna!" he cried, starting forward and clasping her in his arms. "Are you pleased to see me?"

"I am happy, Fernando, oh, so happy----"

Then he was partially awakened by some one throwing logs of wood on the fire, and he had an indistinct impression of hearing a soldier say:

"It's four o'clock and has begun to snow a little. We'll have it cold as blazes by morning."

As the fire roared, and the wind whistled about their miserable barracks, he sank away into dreamland again. He had hardly been sufficiently awakened to break the thread of his dreams. His mind however was disturbed by the entrance of the officer, and though he wooed back the gentle dream, it had lost much of its charm and brightness.

He saw Morgianna no longer wreathed in sweet smiles; her face was expressive of distress and agony. The joy and sunlight had given place to sorrow and gloom. What had occasioned this change?

"Morgianna, do you not love me?"

She bowed her head and wept.

"What is amiss?"

She pointed to her once beautiful home, and he discovered that it was in flames. Painted demons, whose yells seemed to make the earthquake, were dancing about the blazing, crackling building. Then wild cheers came from the ocean, with the boom of a cannon.

He saw British marines, headed by Captain Snipes and Lieutenant Matson, leap from boats and rush toward them as they stood on the beach.

"Fly! Morgianna, fly!" he cried.

She turned to run, and Fernando, all unarmed as he was, wheeled to face the foe. Suddenly there came a rattling crash of firearms. He saw Morgianna throw up her arms, and he sprang toward her, as she fell bleeding at his feet. He uttered a cry of horror and became conscious of some one shaking his shoulder.

"Wake up, for Heaven sake, awake! we are attacked!" cried the voice of Captain Rose.

On his ear, there still came a confused noise of cries, shouts, reports of firearms and boom of artillery.

"Sergeant Stevens, awake!"

He sprang to his feet and seized his rifle. The roaring of the battle could be plainly heard, and a cannon-ball came crashing through the top of their miserable shanty.

They leaped out to find all in utter confusion. General Winchester, who, despite his faults, was no coward, was mounted on his horse rallying his men at every point. Wells was forming on the open fields, and Lewis, in a very disadvantageous position, was making a strong fight. It was scarcely daylight yet. The air was sharp and frosty; but the snow had ceased falling. Day was dawning; but in the deeper shadows of the wood the night lingered in patches.

From the forest came those streams of fire, those storms of grape-shot and the yells of savage demons. A bombshell came screaming through the air and fell into one of the shanties, exploding and scattering the loose boards in every direction.

"Who has attacked us?" some of the officers asked Winchester.

"Proctor from Malden," was the answer.

It was just as day began to dawn, that Proctor, with his combined force of British, Canadians and Indians, attacked the Americans, while Fernando was still lost in the mazes of a troubled dream. With his right covered with artillery, and his flanks with marksmen, Proctor advanced at first gallantly; but when he approached within musket-shot of the pickets, he was met by such a galling and incessant fire, that the centre of his army fell back in confusion. On the left, however, he was more successful. Perceiving the exposed situation of the detachment under Wells, Proctor hastened to concentrate all his forces against it. A furious conflict ensued on this part of the field. Sharp and rapid volleys followed in quick succession from either side, while high and clear above the terrible din of battle, rose the war-whoop of savages and the wild cheers of the Kentuckians. That little band, unprotected as it was, could not long hold out against overwhelming numbers. The sun rose over the bleak woods, and, after a short fight of twenty minutes, Winchester ordered Wells to fall back and gain the enclosures of Lewis.

At the first symptom of retreat, the enemy redoubled their exertions and pressed so obstinately on the Americans, that the little line was soon thrown into disorder. A panic seized the Kentuckians, who had just defended themselves so bravely, and mistaking the command to fall back, for directions to retreat, they rushed to the river, which they crossed on the ice, and began to fly through the woods, in the direction of the Maumee Rapids. Exhilarated by victory, the British gave pursuit, the chase being led by the savages, who tasted, in anticipation, the blood of the fugitives. In vain Winchester, riding among the men, endeavored to rally them; in vain Colonels Lewis and Allen, hurrying from their enclosures with a company of fifty men each, struggled to check the torrent of defeat. Nothing would avail. Allen fell, bravely fighting in the desperate attempt; while Winchester, with Lewis and other officers were taken prisoners. The rout now became a massacre. The Indians, like hungry tigers, pursued the soldiers and brought them down with rifle or tomahawk. Of the whole of that chivalrous band which had left the Raisin with Winchester two days before, all were slaughtered except forty who were taken prisoners and twenty-eight who escaped. The troops at Frenchtown, about six hundred able-bodied men, surrendered. Sixty-four wounded prisoners were burned in a house.

Why dwell on the horrors of the River Raisin? They are matters of history which had better be forgotten than remembered. Fernando Stevens' company did excellent work until the retreat began. Captain Rose, with his sharpshooters, sought to cover the retreat of the Americans, but discovered that they were about to be flanked.

"Sergeant, Sergeant!" cried Captain Rose, "we must fly!"

The two officers were almost alone on the field; but, taking to their heels, they soon outstripped three big Indians who were trying to head them off. Fernando shot one of the savages with his pistol and, dodging the hatchets which the others threw at him, charged them with his clubbed rifle and knocked one down. The other fled. Fernando did not attempt to pursue him, but flew as fast as his legs could carry him to the river.

He had reached the middle of the frozen stream, which was covered with ghastly forms, when Captain Rose suddenly clasped his hand to his side and uttered a groan.

"Captain, are you hit?" he asked.

Captain Rose made no answer, but turned partially around. His eyes were closed; his jaw fell, and Fernando saw he was sinking. He caught him in his arms; but Captain Rose was dead before he touched the ice.

There was no time to waste with dead friends, and Fernando fled to the wood beyond.

For a long time, the Indians were close at his heels. Once they were so near that he heard a tomahawk as it came fluttering through the air past his head. Then the sounds of pursuit grew less, and at last he found himself alone on a hill. Three Indians were following on his trail, and he concealed himself behind a tree until they were within range of his rifle, and then fired.

One of them fell, and his companions ran away.

Fernando continued his flight until nearly night, when he fell in with four Kentuckians, who had escaped the massacre, and they proceeded to the Maumee Rapids, where General Harrison was building Fort Meigs.

Fernando was in the fort when it was besieged several weeks later by Proctor and Tecumseh with fully two thousand men. General Clay coming to his assistance on the 5th of May, Proctor retreated.

Colonel Dudley made a sortie from Fort Meigs on the same day and was drawn into an ambuscade. He was mortally wounded and lost six hundred and fifty men.

Mr. Madison, who had been re-elected president of the United States, showed a disposition to prosecute the war with great vigor. While the success of the Americans on land was not very encouraging, to the surprise of everybody, their greatest achievements were on water. England's boasted navies seemed to have become second to the American war-vessels. On Lake Erie, Commodore Oliver Perry, in command of an inferior fleet, had won a signal victory over Commodore Barclay after a long and hotly contested battle. There has never been such a remarkable naval victory on fresh water. Perry's famous dispatch to General Harrison, "We have met the enemy and they are ours," has become a proverb.

Shortly after the repulse of Proctor, Fernando, who had taken a place in another company, was sent to Fort Stephenson, then commanded by Major George Croghan, a regular army officer only twenty-one years of age. Proctor's dusky allies marched across the country to assist the British in the siege of the fort; and when, on the afternoon of the 31st, the British transports and gunboats appeared at a turn in the river a mile from the fort, the woods were swarming with Indians.

[Illustration: JAMES MADISON.]

Within the fort, all were calm, pale, yet determined. Only one hundred and sixty men were there to oppose the hosts of Proctor and Tecumseh. Proctor sent a demand to the fort for surrender, accompanied by the usual threat of massacre by the Indians in case of refusal. To his surprise, Major Croghan sent a defiant refusal. A cannonade from the gunboats and howitzers which the British had landed commenced.

All night long the great guns played upon the fort without any serious effect, occasionally answered by the solitary six-pound cannon of the garrison, which was rapidly shifted from one block house to another, to give the impression that the fort was armed with several guns. During the night, the British dragged three six-pound cannon to a point higher than the fort to open on it in the morning.

It was a trying night for Fernando. All night long, the incessant thunder of cannon shook the air, and the great balls, striking the sides of the earthworks, or bursting over their heads, presented a scene grand but awful.

Morning came slowly and wearily to the besieged. As the gray dawn melted into the rosy hues of sunrise, many a brave man within that fort looked up for the last time, as he thought, but still with no unmanly fear, only with that sad feeling which the boldest will experience when he sees himself about to be immolated. Such a feeling, perhaps, crossed the heart of Leonidas, when he fastened on his buckler and waited for the Persian thousands. Fernando stood near Croghan, who was in front of his men, calm in that hour of extreme peril. It soon became apparent that the enemy did not intend an immediate assault, for, with the battery of six pieces, they began a fearful cannonade.

"Lie under the breastworks," said Croghan to his men as the balls were hurled about the fort, or bounded from the ramparts. The surface of the ground in the line of fire, soon became covered with smoke, which every few moments was rent by a whistling ball.

All that long forenoon Fernando Stevens remained behind the works occasionally picking off a gunner at long range. When the hot August sun began to decline in the West, the roar of artillery seemed to increase rather than diminish. At last he heard the young commander say:

"They are concentrating on the northwest corner of the fort; that is the point from which the attack will be made." He called to Fernando and a dozen other sharpshooters and hastened to the threatened spot. Every man who could be spared from other quarters was put in requisition, and every bag of sand and flour that could be found was hurriedly collected and sent to strengthen the angle.

"Lieutenant Stevens," said Major Croghan, "get your riflemen together and pick off those fellows as fast as you can. Never mind those bags of sand. Others will attend to them."

Fernando and his score of sharpshooters soon began dropping the redcoats as fast as they could see them. The solitary cannon, the only hope of the defenders, was loaded to its fullest capacity and trained so as to enfilade the enemy. The gunner who rammed home the charge said:

"By thunder, she's almost full to the muzzle. Shouldn't wonder if she'd bust." Each soldier took his position. A tremendous volley of cannon shots suddenly rained on the fort. It seemed as if the British had fired every gun at the same instant. A profound silence succeeded within, which lasted for perhaps two minutes, at the end of which time the enemy was seen to advance through the smoke, in one compact column, with the steady tread of assured victors. When Croghan gave the order to fire, such a withering volley was poured in by the garrison, that the British reeled and fell into disorder. Whatever others may have done in that fire, Fernando's sharpshooters wasted no bullets. For a moment, the Britons wavered and were about to fly, when Lieutenant-Colonel Short, who led the British in assault, sprang to the front of his soldiers and, waving his sword above his head, cried:

"Cut away the pickets, my brave boys, and show the d--d Yankees no quarter!"

A wild, angry shout answered this appeal, and the ranks recovering their order, the head of the column rushed forward, and leaped down into the ditch, which was soon densely crowded. This was the time for which Croghan had waited. Another minute and the fort would have been captured. The over-loaded six-pounder, so trained as to rake the assailants, now bore fully on the masses of soldiery in the ditch. The dark mask which had concealed it was suddenly jerked aside, and Croghan cried:

"Fire!"

The match was applied. A clap of thunder, a sheet of flame, a hissing sound of grape, shrieks and groans, and Fernando saw whole ranks mowed down, as the white smoke arose for a moment hiding the prospect from view. When the veil of battle blew aside, he saw such a scene of horror as he had never before witnessed. At first a lane was perceptible extending through the densest portion of the assaulting mass, marking the path traversed by the shot; but as the distance from the gun increased, and the grape scattered, this clearly defined line gave place to a prospect of the wildest confusion. One third of those who had entered the ditch lay there a shapeless, quivering mass. In many instances, the dead had fallen on the wounded, and as the latter struggled to extricate themselves, the scene resembled that depicted in old paintings of the final judgment, where fiends and men wrestle in horrible contortions. Groans, shrieks and curses more terrible than all rose from that Golgotha. Lieutenant-Colonel Short was among the slain. The few who retained life and strength, after the first second of amazement, rushed from the post of peril, leaped wildly upon the bank, and, communicating their terror to the rest of the column, the whole took flight and buried itself in the neighboring woods; while such a shout went up to heaven from the conquerors as had never been heard on that wild shore before. Well might the Americans exult, for the successful resistance was against ten times their own number. The British loss was one hundred and fifty. That hot day, August 2, 1813, at five o'clock in the evening, George Croghan by one cannon-shot immortalized himself.

Fernando Stevens had been under a terrible strain all the day and the night before, and no sooner was the enemy gone, than he sank exhausted on the ground with scores of others.