In the Van or The Builders Part 39

"A song of the chase or a boat song, we don't care which," said Smith.

"Well," replied Helen, with a smile at the ardor of the men. "If you can imagine it is morning instead of evening, perhaps Scott's 'Hunting Song'

will do."

The paddles almost ceased plying, and in the still night, her sweet contralto voice filled the air from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e.

"'Waken lords and ladies gay, The mist has left the mountain gray, Springlets in the dawn are steaming, Diamonds on the brake are gleaming; And foresters have busy been To track the buck in thicket green.

Now we come to chant our lay, 'Waken lords and ladies gay.

"'Waken lords and ladies gay!

To the greenwood haste away.

We can show you where he lies, Fleet of foot and tall of size; We can show the marks he made When 'gainst the oak his antlers frayed.

You shall see him brought to bay, 'Waken lords and ladies gay.

"Louder, louder, chant the lay, 'Waken lords and ladies gay!

Tell them youth and mirth and glee Run a course as well as we; Time! stern huntsman! who can balk, Staunch as hound, and fleet as hawk?

Think of this and rise with day, Gentle lords and ladies gay!"

Sweetly the echoes died away over the water, thanks of appreciation were murmured, and they were calling upon Beaumont to fulfil his promise when another song was wafted from the sh.o.r.e towards them.

"Why, that's Bateese," cried the Doctor. "He can sing better than I can.

Listen to him to-night, mine will keep for another day."

"Hearken!" whispered Helen. "How quaint it is!"

Plus jolie femme ees nice an' neat, I sorry ven I leave 'er, Mit eyes so blue an' lips so sweet She's cunnin' as de beaver.

She love me well, dis gal of mine, For her I toe de scratch, sir; Ba gosh! her name is Emmiline An' I will be her match, sir.

For she was reeche, wid pater's gold An' farm down by de rivare; But mon cheval, it had be sold An' all my tings, pis aller.

But now I work so hard again To make up for my losses; An' nevare more will give her pain But cover her wid kisses.

An' from dis time I'll work and wait As never yet did lover; An' pray Mon Dieu to bless our fate An' make her mine forever.

Den my sweet vife, ma fille so true, Wid my fond arms around her, Vill bless ma life, sweet entre nous, An' make me still de fonder.

An' when de leetle garcon come An' fille so p't.i.te an' jolie, We bless de Lord an' for de same Will give him all de glory.

The last verse almost took Helen's breath away, and, forgetting all about Beaumont's song, she bade the officers good-night, and with Harold hastened on sh.o.r.e to their own dwelling.

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

It was July before Colonel Battersby's column, after a long march from Montreal, reached Kingston and joined the forces of General Drummond, and none too soon, for word had been forwarded of the disastrous invasion of the Niagara frontier under Brigadier-Generals Scott and Ripley. Fort Erie had been taken, and Commander-in-Chief Brown, with a heavy force, had advanced against Major-General Riall and defeated the British forces at Chippewa. The country was ravaged, St. Davids burned, Niagara threatened.

With all possible speed General Drummond pressed forward his troops, but it was the 25th of the month before Niagara was reached and Riall reinforced. Part of Colonel Battersby's command was left with the veterans stationed at Queenston, to oppose the landing of American troops there; while the balance, including Battersby himself, as well as Captain Morris and his company, continued with the main force in the advance toward Lundy's Lane.

At six o'clock of that memorable night, when Drummond's forces met Riall's at the junction of Queenston Road and Lundy's Lane, they were retreating before the superior force of the enemy. Countermanding the retreat, the Generals at once placed their guns in strong position on the hill. Eight hundred soldiers, however, added to the British troops still came short of balancing the forces. Nevertheless, the famous battle of Lundy's Lane commenced, and before night it was fiercely raging. As it progressed, reinforcements were received on both sides.

This only added fuel to the flame, and it was not until midnight that the battle ceased.

Among orchards laden with fruit on hillside and summit, in little copses of woodland, in open plain, throughout that long twilight, until the pale moon sank in the west:

"Roar of baleful battle rose And brethren of a common tongue To mortal strife like tigers sprung."

What gave enthusiasm to Canadians and British in the contest was that they were fighting for home and country. The att.i.tude of defender and invader can never be the same. The struggle of heart and soul against mere mentality cannot be equal. The one has virile force in every fibre of its being, ready to sacrifice life and limb to principle; the other mere elusive energy, begotten of baser metal.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "That'll be our new home, sweetheart"

_Page 210_]

Still, the American infantry fought with gallant determination. With unfailing energy they made charge after charge to capture the British guns. General Riall, now second in command, was wounded and captured, and at nine o'clock it seemed as though the Americans would win. Then reinforcements poured in on either side. Though tired from long marches on that hot summer day, they at once rallied to the support of their respective commanders, and lighted only by the faint moonlight and the flash from the rifles, the struggle continued with redoubled fury.

The English gunners stood manfully at their posts and swept with deadly fire the lines of Brown's battalions. The carnage was terrific. White men of the same blood, the same language, the same religion, nay, in the highest ethics of the same race, shot each other down by hundreds, as if life were of no moment, bayonetting each other to death in the light of the silvery moon.

At last, spurred on by the determination to carry the battery at any cost, Colonel Miller, of the Twenty-first, made an impetuous rush, and for a time captured the British guns.

Now began the wildest scene of all--a hand-to-hand and bayonet-to-bayonet struggle for mastery. General Drummond's men rallied on every side, determined to fight to the bitter end, and hour after hour the slaughter continued. Everywhere the fight went on. The shouts of command, the thunder of artillery, the continual flashing of powder, the clashing of steel, mingled with the roar of Niagara and the groans of the dying, made it seem as though the demons of h.e.l.l had been let loose to ravage the earth.

But six hours of mortal conflict were enough. Seventeen hundred men, Britons and Americans, lay side by side, dead or wounded, on that field of battle. The position of the British was too strong to be taken and held, and the invaders, realizing the futility of further effort, withdrew from the field, returning to Fort Erie, which they had already captured, and where they more adequately intrenched their position.

Left to themselves, the British were not long in making a change. Lights were lit, and at once men were dispatched to examine the field and search for missing comrades.

Colonel Battersby, although he had led his men in the thickest of the fight, had come off unscathed, but he knew that some of his officers had been slain or wounded. To his horror, Captain Morris, the man of his own selection, was missing. Eager to know the truth, accompanied by orderlies, he went carefully over the field. Headless trunks, disembowelled bodies, the dead, the dying, the wounded, were everywhere.

Agonizing groans came from the fallen, both English and Americans, while side by side with them, stoic Indians with impa.s.sive faces did not utter a sound.

As they pa.s.sed on, limbs were straightened, a comfortable position given or a wound staunched, while now and then a few drops from a pocket flask were poured between the lips of a life fast ebbing away.

"Colonel, here's a captain's epaulets," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed one of his men at last. A light was thrown upon a body whose face was hidden in the moss beneath an oak shrub. The man, though unconscious, still breathed, as he lay in a pool of blood. Wiping his face, they gently turned it upwards.

"My G.o.d! It is Captain Morris," exclaimed the Colonel.

Tenderly they placed him in an easier position. Blood from the scalp and side and leg were freely flowing.

"Tell one of the surgeons to come at once," was the Colonel's order, while he knelt to loosen his clothing.

In a few minutes the doctor came and made an examination.

"Suffering from concussion, as well as loss of blood," were his words.

"Let us lay him on a stretcher and carry him to quarters."

In a few minutes they reached a vacant house on the lower side of the hill, which they purposed using as a temporary hospital.

"Who is it?" enquired General Drummond, as they approached.