Whispers of War, page 11
Later
Our brave General Brock is slain. The news has spread through the fort like the flames that were burning. All around me the women are gasping their disbelief. “What will we do now?” one just cried. “How will we win without him?”
When a soldier came in to announce it to us, Ellis did not cry out as I did. He only nodded, as if he knew all along. Now he is sitting against a wall with his head on his arms. I wrapped my shawl around him, as it is very cold in here. I wish I could comfort him, but he is far away from me. I am so sorry I was angry with him. He looks like such a small boy, huddled in his misery.
General Brock had already died when we were watching General Sheaffe, so Ellis was right.
As for me, I can scarcely absorb the news and can only pray that the same fate did not occur to Papa and Hamilton. I am ashamed that I wrote those words about feeling exhilarated. War is not about exhilaration — it is about death.
Evening
Hamilton and Papa are safe! I thank God for that. They arrived back at Fort George dirty and weary, but unharmed. The battle at Queenston Heights is over and we won, but at what cost?
I do not think that I have the spirit to tell you much more about the rest of this day. It was suffused with tragedy. By the early evening I could not bear to watch Ellis’s lonely grief any longer. I wandered upstairs and gazed beyond the walls.
To my astonishment, hundreds and hundreds of American soldiers were being marched towards the fort. I quickly realized these were prisoners from the battle. As they drew closer I could see how weary the men were, and what an effort it was for them to march. Many were as young as Hamilton. They seemed ordinary, not like an enemy. They were someone’s brothers and sons.
I wanted to get a closer look. Hannah was too busy helping to cook supper to notice when I slipped out the door of the barracks.
Then I wished I had not. As well as prisoners streaming into the fort, wounded soldiers had begun to arrive, some British but most American. Bodies were lined up in rows on the ground. Many were moaning with pain but some looked already dead. Many had gaping wounds. One had half his face missing, another his arm. Blood covered their uniforms and bandages and skin.
I scurried back to the barracks. I cannot write any more about what I saw, but its horror will stay with me forever.
Now I am beginning to believe that General Brock is dead. I keep hearing his kind voice as he asked me to buckle on his sword.
Why did I not bring him the luck he needed?
14 October 1812
Dear Constance,
Hannah and I are back in the house now. Papa has asked her to sew me a black dress for General Brock’s funeral, which is the day after tomorrow. There is a cease-fire, so it is safe for me to remain in Niagara for a few days longer. But all I want is to go home.
Several buildings were burned to the ground from the cannon fire, including the courthouse, which is next door. It is still smouldering and the air smells like charred wood. It could have been this house! Papa says he is glad we were safe in the fort, but I reminded him of the fires there. Nowhere is safe in a war.
Lieutenant Colonel John Macdonell, who fought bravely at General Brock’s side, was seriously wounded. He was carried to Government House, where he died shortly after midnight. Now his body is lying in state along with General Brock’s.
It is so hard to believe that their bodies are next door, when only yesterday morning I observed them both getting ready to fight. When I think of General Brock’s height and vigour, of his kindness, I have to stop what I am doing and weep.
Hannah says I must learn to govern my feelings. She is still cross with me for leaving the barracks to help with the fire, and she is as exhausted as I am after our arduous time. This makes her even more disagreeable than usual. How I long for Mama!
I have to help Hannah sew my dress, but my eyes blur and I have to force the needle through the cloth. The house is very quiet. Papa and Hamilton are so busy getting ready for the funeral that we have not seen them since they brought us back here last night.
I wonder if Ellis is all right. What will become of him now that his guardian is dead?
Afternoon
I spent the morning doing more sewing until the dress was finally finished. It is very ugly and ill-fitting. Hannah is not a good sewer and, although I can make neat stitches, I am not any better than she at cutting out. I would have liked to go outside, but Hannah will not let me leave the house. Crowds of people walk up and down the street, all here for the funeral.
Hannah went to lie down and ordered me to do the same. But I could not sleep. My head was swirling with jangled images and sounds — the General’s words, cannon fire, all those bleeding soldiers. I got up and discovered a copy of Pilgrim’s Progress in Papa’s study. For the rest of the afternoon I was immersed in it, and found it a welcome escape.
Evening
Hamilton stayed home after supper and we were finally able to talk. In fact, it was the longest I have had him to myself for months. I feasted my eyes on him the whole time, so glad he was alive.
We had so much to catch up on! First he described the battle. He and Papa reached Queenston just in time to hear about General Brock’s death. The General led his men in a running charge up the Heights — I remembered how steep they were. His tall figure in his red coat made him an easy target. He had just raised his sword — that heavy sword I held — and turned to urge his men forward when he was shot in his chest.
Captain Glegg told Hamilton that General Brock’s last words were, “My fall must not be noticed or impede my brave companions from advancing to victory.” His body was quickly taken into a house in Queenston so the enemy would not know he was slain.
All of this was very difficult to listen to. Hamilton went on to tell me that it was the cries of the Iroquois warriors, led by the valiant Mohawk leader, John Norton, which drove off the Americans. So once again the Indians have helped us win a battle.
Both Hamilton and Papa played decisive roles. When General Sheaffe arrived he sent Hamilton galloping off to Chippewa for reinforcements. After the victory Papa was asked to help ride along the column of enemies and collect their swords, which he placed on the pommel of his saddle. Papa has been given the great honour of being a pallbearer tomorrow.
“Were you not afraid of being killed?” I asked my brother. He admitted to me that he was, that he thought of Catherine and wanted to live for her. But his eyes were still lit up with the flame of fighting. He would have gone over and over every detail had I not told him I could not bear to hear any more.
He asked me what it had been like being at the fort, so I told him how Ellis and I had helped put out the fire and watched the magazine being saved. “It was foolish of you to leave the barracks,” Hamilton told me. “You are only children.” Then he smiled. “But you were both very brave — I am proud of you.”
I suppose we were brave — although I do not know if I would have done it without Ellis.
“You and Papa were braver,” I said. “And General Brock.” I stammered as I said it. I could not finish and tears filled my eyes.
“I hope that Father and I will always temper our courage with good sense,” said Hamilton. He smiled at me. “As I hope you will!”
He paused. “I will tell you something, Susanna, that perhaps I should not. General Brock was a very courageous man, but if he had not been so reckless perhaps he might still be alive. Do not tell Papa I said this, but I believe that gallant dash up the Heights was foolhardy. He should have ordered a captain to make the charge. But that was Brock’s weakness, I think, his love of bold action — it was his Achilles’ heel.”
I shivered, suddenly remembering what Ellis had said. “Who was Achilles?” I asked. Hamilton explained how the mythological hero was invincible except for his heel, which was his downfall.
We both sat there silently, mourning our hero. Hamilton then caught me up with all he has been doing. When he related how he took the American prisoners, I said that General Brock had told us that when he came for tea.
“I knew he had visited. What a privilege for you to meet him!” said Hamilton.
I did not tell him I had met the General again. I did not tell him that I had buckled on his sword and that General Brock had kissed me on the forehead. I did not tell him about my great sadness and guilt that I am not “lucky” after all.
Why did I not relate all this to Hamilton? I think it was because I need to first sort out my churning feelings. They scour my insides like boiling water. I need to be quiet, to be at home and to ponder all that happened only yesterday morning. But I cannot go home yet, and here the war is too close for me to think clearly.
I believe these have been the two longest days of my life.
16 October 1812
Afternoon
Dear Constance,
I am going to tell you every detail of General Brock’s funeral, because today I truly lived a moment in history. Writing about it also distracts me from my inner turmoil.
Hamilton and Papa had already left when I got up. My ugly dress itched me and was too tight under the arms. But that did not matter — at least I looked respectful. Hannah and I went out very early to get a good viewing place. Never have I seen such a crowd — there must have been thousands! Waves of people in mourning clothes spread over the streets like a black sea.
The procession began at ten. First came the red coats of the 41st Regiment, followed by the militia. As well as Hamilton, I spotted James and Charles and pointed them out to Hannah. Behind them was the regimental band, which played slow mournful music accompanied by drums muffled in black cloth. Every few minutes field guns were fired.
Alfred, tragically riderless and splendidly draped in ornamental coverings, was led by a groom. And then I saw Ellis. He was walking beside Porter, his face white and proud. He looked so small but his steps did not falter.
I recognized Doctor Thorn and Reverend Addison among the men who followed. Then came the caskets on gun wagons, first John Macdonell’s, then General Brock’s. Papa was marching beside the General’s. I waved proudly, but of course he kept his eyes straight ahead. His left arm and his sword-knot, like all the other soldiers’, were wrapped in black crape.
General Sheaffe looked so solemn. He is now our new leader. Hamilton said if it were not for his quick thinking the battle would have been lost.
General Brock’s staff and friends followed his casket and we fell in behind along with the rest of the crowd. They pressed so closely and I could not see anything. Hannah held onto me firmly but I tugged and let my hand slip away as if by accident. I managed to wriggle my way through the crowd and find a clearer spot near the front of the procession.
The route to Fort George was lined with two rows of detachments, including Indians and the coloured troops in their green coats. All the soldiers held their muskets upside down. After the long procession the caskets stopped at the northernmost corner of the fort, at the Cavalier Bastion.
I squirmed to the front and was able to hear the whole service. Reverend Addison conducted it. When he said, “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” I could not hold back my tears. A woman next to me gave me her handkerchief. The two caskets were lowered into a single grave, to lie there side by side. The grave was one of the casements Ellis had shown me in June.
After the internment there were three rounds of seven guns each. The Americans in Fort Niagara answered the salute and I could see from the fort that their flag, like ours, was at half-mast. It is a great tribute to the General that they honoured him as much as we did.
Everyone was grieving, but there was also a feeling of release, as if the war were over. But of course it is still here, like a crouching beast waiting to pounce on us again.
Evening
After supper, while everyone else was talking about the funeral, I slipped out and knocked on the door of Government House. Porter answered it and led me to Ellis.
Ellis was sitting in the kitchen, a plate of untouched food in front of him. The house was dark and gloomy, haunted by the tragedy that permeated it.
At first our words were strained. I told Ellis how well he looked walking in the procession. We talked a little about the funeral and he seemed to perk up in my presence, beginning to eat. I did not want to disturb him further, but I had to ask what was going to happen to him.
Ellis said that General Brock’s will had provided for him, and that he was to be sent to school in England. I asked him if he wanted that. He shrugged.
“It is what General Brock wanted,” he said, “and what my father wanted as well. I will try to like it for their sakes.” His voice was sad but resigned.
Ellis cannot go to England with the war still on, of course, so until it is over he is to live with Porter in York.
There did not seem to be much to say after that. I watched him finish his meal and then I said goodbye.
I will probably never see Ellis again. He is the bravest boy I have ever met.
17 October 1812
Dear Constance,
This morning Papa and Hamilton drove me home. Mama was there! I flew into her arms. Caroline and James and the baby were home as well. Caroline kissed me heartily and seemed in her old good spirits again. Perhaps it was just being with child that had made her so irritable. Even James was attentive to me.
“Come and meet your niece,” Caroline said. The baby was sleeping in her cradle. She is a perfect small human with the tiniest fingers and toes. She is called Adelaide Margaret. I think those are fine names.
When she woke up I was allowed to hold her. I can help take care of her, for Caroline and Adelaide are to live here until the war is over.
We talked and talked, filling each other in on all that had happened. Maria was telling me so many things that my ears were ringing. She and Tabitha were very lonely with only the two of them here. While I was gone they had to fix a hole in the roof caused by the storm, and raccoons got into the corncrib.
Mama asked to see the space where my tooth was. It seems like years since my toothache, as if I were much younger then.
“Tell them what you did in the fort, Susanna,” said Hamilton.
When I had finished Mama told me I was imprudent, but Papa said I was very courageous for eleven. I reminded him that I was now twelve.
“Twelve!” Mama cried. “Oh my dear child, how could we have forgotten?” Everyone looked ashamed and I assured them that it did not matter. Maria ran upstairs and came down with a needlecase in the shape of a small book that she had embroidered for me.
Then I told Papa how much I had grown. He took me on his knee and said he would have to do something about that. I scarcely dare to hope he knows my wish. Perhaps, at twelve, I am too old to sit on his knee, but tonight I did not care.
As we sat in the parlour I realized that this was the first time we have all been together since June. On Monday the men will have to leave us. But tonight, as Mouse purred on my lap, Jack slept at my feet, and my family chattered around me, I felt sheltered in safety.
18 October 1812
Dear Constance,
I am nearing the end of this book, but I must go back to writing to you regularly. Recording the daily routine of my life is the only thing that quiets the storm of emotions inside me. I shall try to make my handwriting tiny.
This morning Papa conducted a service of thanksgiving in the parlour. He thanked God for preserving the safety of the men in our family, for helping us win the battle of Queenston Heights, and for the heroic sacrifice of General Brock.
For dinner we had a roasted side of beef that Papa had brought home, with parsnips and green beans and pumpkin pie. In the afternoon I joined him and Hamilton in a ride around our land. I had to keep whipping Sukie to get her to keep up. Papa said, “I think you have outgrown that stubborn beast.”
I was allowed to mind Adelaide for a whole hour while the others helped get supper. Her blue eyes stare curiously and she clenches my finger with great strength.
Charles rode all the way from Queenston to call on Maria. He told us that his sister, Mrs. Secord, had gone out to look for her husband on the battlefield at Queenston Heights. She found him wounded and dragged him home. What a brave woman she must be!
Mama allowed Charles and Maria to walk in the orchard. I was supposed to chaperone but Maria asked me to give them privacy, so I lingered under a tree. I have never seen Maria look so radiant.
After supper we played whist, and sang, and talked and talked. Our full house was suffused with contentment.
Why, then, do I feel such agitation? It is as if part of me is not really here, but still in Niagara. I have not caught up with myself since being in the kitchen with General Brock and Ellis, since listening to the cannons roar and seeing all those horribly wounded soldiers.
Papa’s prayer made me even more unsettled. Did God want us to win? Did He want General Brock to be killed? Surely I should not have such thoughts, but I cannot help it.
19 October 1812
Morning
Dear Constance,
Last night in bed Maria told me that Charles has asked for her hand. They have to wait until she is older, but then they will be betrothed. Maria gave Charles all the letters she wrote. She embraced me and thanked me for the paper. Then she made me promise not to tell anyone her secret.
Another secret! At least this is a happy one. I like Charles and hope he will be a steadying husband to my flighty sister.
Later
Papa, Hamilton and James left today. The truce has been extended, however, so they are going to try to come home again next Sunday.
I spent the day helping with the laundry and with Adelaide. I think she recognizes me. She is a good baby, rarely crying.
Tabitha asked me if I had seen General Brock before he was killed, since she knows he lived next door to Papa. I told her I had seen him enter his house that night. I could not tell her more.
20 October 1812
Dear Constance,
