To gain the Welland canal and railway at Port Colborne was now, as it had from the first been the Fenian object. O’Neil either expected additional forces unarmed from the American side, or to have had unarmed Fenians joining him in Canada, most probably the latter. For at the creek were collected spare arms and ammunition. This was in boxes of one thousand cartridges each; ten packages of one hundred, to a box; ten smaller parcels of ten to each package, and twelve percussion caps with each parcel of ten. Eighteen of the boxes had been fished up from the bottom of the creek, close by the bridge previous to 20th of June, containing 18,000 cartridges. Possibly more had been sunk elsewhere. The boxes had been punctured by bayonets to admit water to destroy the powder. Each box bore a date, “1865,” and the name of a United States arsenal, most of them that of “Bridport.” The arms, rifles and bayonets, were piled on a fire kindled on centre of the timber bridge, to be destroyed with that structure. They had been sunk in the creek. Ninety rifles were taken out and accounted for before 20th of June. How many more were found or still remained in the water, was uncertain. Rifles had also been broken by striking the butts against trees. The bark of apple and cherry trees, poplars and willows along the creek, indicated where the rifle stocks had been broken; and stock, lock, and barrel thrown into the water. Remnants of barrels and locks were also found in the ashes of the numerous cooking fires which had been used along the orchard and pasture field.
The Fenian Chief’s object in burning the bridge, on his removal north, from Frenchman’s creek at midnight of June 1st, was to prevent pursuit in his rear, in the event of a British force having reached Waterloo village (commonly called Fort Erie) by an inland road. To cover his movement he left his outlying pickets on their posts, southerly and west of the creek and Newbigging’s house. Some men of these pickets escaped across Niagara, when at daylight, June 2nd, they discovered that the main body had left; others remained, refusing to believe that any British force was approaching. Certain of the farmers, acting with Mr. Murray a customs officer, took them prisoners, as also other stragglers, and during the forenoon, of June 2nd, delivered them to a party of the Welland Artillery, who placed them on board the steamer Robb. They formed part of a batch of sixty-five prisoners taken to Brantford jail, afterwards to Toronto.
The Newbigging family passed a night of keen sensations. They did not know that O’Neil and his force had left, having been ordered, when he and officers took supper at 11 p. m., in their house, to stay strictly within doors. They dreaded that, if the Fenians remained until the expected advance of British troops in the morning, they would, on retreating burn the premises; or, if giving battle, that the creek, bridge, dwelling-house and barns would be the central theatre of fiery conflict, or, if the British did not come soon, that their cows, sheep, everything consumable would be taken for Fenian food, and the premises perhaps, burned at last.
The “worst looking blackguard of the whole” according to the judgment of the lady of the house, was a small sized Scotchman, who had been pugilistically engaged and had then a disfigured face. He was asked what induced him to be a Fenian? and replied that he had been a soldier, in the American army, was discharged, wanted something to do, and so joined the army of General Sweeny.
A youthful volunteer of the 13th left wounded on the field of Limestone Ridge next day, relates that he narrowly escaped murder after being a prisoner, and was saved by intervention of a Fenian Scotchman. If that was the same person he had a good side as well as a bad and an ill-favored face.
After leaving Frenchman’s creek the invaders marched five miles north, to the town lines of Bertie and Willoughby; then west to Lot 16, 8th concession of Bertie, the property of Louis Krafft. There they bivouacked till daylight; having as at the Newbigging farm, erected bullet screens of rails, posted pickets and made a show of entrenching and defending a position on Black creek.
At sunrise they marched south, and struck the road called Ridgeway, and then south-west on that road until they reached the property of Henry F. Angur, Lot 4. 10th concession of Bertie. About a hundred yards distant from the road, skirting it on the south, the limestone rock has a vertical face, the farm fields above the precipice sloping upward and south two or three hundred yards to a pine thicket; the country to north of the road being nearly level, and stretching half a mile to the skirts of a thicket of maple and oak where also is a marsh and a stream, which is a feeder of Black creek. Henry Angur’s house is on the wayside, not many yards from the vertical rocks. There, O’Neil halted to reconnoitre, and, as events came out made his head-quarters during the combat which derives its name from that locality. It was now 5 a. m. June 2nd.
On the previous day messengers came along this road and warned the inhabitants that the Fenians were to march that way to Port Colborne and to Port Robinson to capture the Welland canal. The farmers, whose houses are nearly all on the wayside, if their land touch it, removed their families and the best of their horses and cattle that day. Henry Angur, aged 73, afflicted with gout and moving only on crutches chose to remain. He is an intelligent veteran from the war of 1812, and the rebellion of 1837-38. He said his family wanted him to go in the waggon, but, “he had been in two wars and would risk a third.” O’Neil had been well informed of the inhabitants lining in that district, of the horses they possessed, with the number and names of their sons. On entering this house he looked the old man in the face and said: “Your name is Henry Angur?” “Yes, sir, Henry F. Angur; what may your name be, if you please?” “My name is O’Neil. I am chief in command of fourteen hundred men, (Mr. Angur feels sure he gave that number), now in possession of your premises, your farm and country from the ferry to Ridgeway; where are your sons?” “I have no sons at home, sir,” “No sons at home? nonsense! where is Jim?” “Well, sir, I don’t know where Jim have gone.” “When did you last see him?” “Last see him? well sir, Jim went yesterday to the mill with a grist, and I suppose he heard ill news and so have not come home.” “What ill news do you think he heard?” “The same as we heard here, I suppose.” “What was that?” “It was that the Fenians had landed, and to begin with had killed Dr. Kempson of the Ferry.” “But Dr. Kempson is not killed, nor injured, don’t you know that no harm has happened him or any one else, from us?” “I have heard since that he was not killed; but what, sir, are you going to do with us?” “Tell me first Mr. Angur, have you any Johnny Bulls around here?” “Johnny Bulls, sir? I don’t exactly comprehend.” “Yes, you comprehend quite well; have you seen any red-coats here about? any of Queen Victoria’s soldiers? or of Canadian Volunteers? any armed men? any cavalry? artillery? infantry?” “No, sir, I have not; I have not indeed, sir.” “Very well, that will do for the present. Captain” (to an officer of the staff) “you and a guard remain in charge of this house and this old man. Make every person prisoner you find.” O’Neil, after that conversation proceeded in the direction of the railway station at Ridgeway, but did not go farther, it is supposed, than about Hoffman’s tavern, the “Smuggler’s Home,” a mile in advance of Henry Angur’s house and about two miles short of the station.
A nephew of the old man, a youth of sixteen remained beside his horse in sight of the conflict in the woods 800 yards north of the road. Another young man lay concealed in the roof of a barn. He said he counted over twelve hundred Fenians pass the barn. All else had left the previous day. At the farm house of Mr. Stoneman, half way between Henry Angur’s and J. N. Angur’s (that name being German is pronounced Anker) I spoke to three small boys a few days after the fight, the hottest of which had been in their orchard, and in fields adjoining. They were aged about eleven, nine, and seven. “Where were you little boys, the time of the battle?” “Back in the woods, over yonder.” (pointing north). “How far?” “Back ever so far—six mile” “Did you go soon in the morning?” “No, day before.” “How did you know the day before that Fenians were coming this way?” “A man came along from the Ferry, telling all around here to clear.” “Did you carry provisions with you?” “Some, not much.” “Where did you stay all Friday night?” “Slept in the woods?” “Were you frightened?” “Yes, I think so; you’d have been frightened too.” “You have fancy pigeons in that cage; did you take them to the woods?” “No, they hung just there all the time.” “And the Fenians did not take them?” “They took fowls, and then throwed fowls away; pigeons were no use to them, but they were near being shot; you can see where bullets went through boards of the house—up there, and here, and there again, and the trees in the orchard are scored all over with bullets.”
Up to this point the narrative has followed the track of the Fenians. Let us now turn to the prompt mustering of forces, the patriotic, the impassioned attitude of defiance, the gallant rush to the frontier, to repulse from Canadian soil, this unrighteous army of intruders, who by no law recognized on earth or in heaven was justified in its invasion of Canada.