His aide received them and, after learning that they had news, went in to the general. From the inner room now they heard in unnecessarily loud tones the great man's orders to, “Bring them in, sah.”
The bottles on the table, his purple visage, and thick tongued speech told how well-founded were the current whispers.
“Raid on Plattsburg? Ha! I hope so. I only hope so. Gentlemen,” and he turned to his staff, “all I ask is a chance to get at them—Ha, Ha! Here, help yourself, Macomb,” and the general pushed the decanter to a grave young officer who was standing by.
“No, thank you, sir,” was the only reply.
The general waved his hand, the scouts went out, puzzled and ashamed. Was this the brains of the army? No wonder our men are slaughtered.
Now Macomb ventured to suggest: “Have you any orders, sir? These scouts are considered quite reliable. I understand from them that the British await only a change of wind. They have between one thousand and two thousand men.”
“Plenty of time in the morning, sah. Plattsburg will be the bait of my trap, not one of them shall return alive,” and the general dismissed his staff that he might fortify himself against a threatened cold.
Another young man, Lieut. Thomas MacDonough, the naval commandant, now endeavoured to stir him by a sense of danger. First he announced that his long boats, and gunboats were ready and in six hours he could transfer three thousand troops from Burlington to Plattsburg. Then he ventured to urge the necessity for action.
Champlain is a lake of two winds. It had brown from the south for two weeks; now a north wind was likely to begin any day. MacDonough urged this point, but all in vain, and, shocked and humiliated, the young man obeyed the order “to wait till his advice was asked.”
The next day Hampton ordered a review, not an embarkation, and was not well enough to appear in person.