They were not long kept in suspense. One individual alone had ascended from the beach, and now stood among them, habited in a dread-nought jacket and trousers and round hat. His salutation to each was cordial, and he expressed in warm terms the approbation he felt at the indefatigable and efficient manner in which the duty assigned to each had been conducted.
"Well, gentlemen," continued the Commodore, (for it was he,) "you have done famously to-day. Much has been done, but more remains. To-morrow you must work double tides. At daylight you must re-open with showers of shot and shell, for it is, during the confusion caused by your fire, that the General intends crossing his troops and advancing to the assault. But this is not all—we have some suspicion the enemy may attempt your batteries this very night, with a view of either spiking the guns, if they cannot maintain the position, or of turning them, if they can, on our advancing columns. Now all the troops destined for the assault are assembled ready to effect their landing at daybreak, and none can be spared unless the emergency be palpable. What I seek is a volunteer to watch the movements of the enemy during the remainder of the night—one (and he looked at Grantham,) whose knowledge of the country will enable him to approach the opposite coast unseen, and whose expedition will enable us to have due warning of any hostile attempt."
"I shall be most happy, sir, to undertake the task, if you consider me worthy of it," said Grantham, "but——"
"But what?" interrupted the Commodore, hastily.
"My only difficulty, sir, is the means. Had I my light canoe here, with Sambo for my helmsman, I would seek their secret even on their own shores."
"Bravo, my gallant fellow," returned the Commodore, again cordially shaking the hand of his Lieutenant. "This I expected of you, and have come prepared. I have had the precaution to bring your canoe and paddles with me—you will find them below in my boat."
"Then is every difficulty at an end," exclaimed the young sailor joyously. "And our dress, sir?"
"No disguise whatever, in case of accidents—we must not have you run the risk of being hanged for a spy."
Gerald Grantham having secured his cutlass and pistols, now descended with the Commodore to the beach, whither Sambo (similarly armed) had already preceded him. Under the active and vigorous hands of the latter, the canoe had already been removed from the boat, and now rested on the sands ready to be shoved off. The final instructions of the Commodore to his officer, as to the manner of communicating intelligence of any movement on the part of the Americans having been given, the latter glided noiselessly from the shore into the stream, while the boat, resuming the direction by which it had approached, was impelled down the river with as little noise as possible, and hugging the shore for greater secrecy, was soon lost both to the eye and to the ear.
It was with a caution rendered necessary by the presence of the vessels in the harbor, that Gerald Grantham and his faithful companion, having gained the middle of the river, now sought to approach nearer to the shore. The night, although not absolutely gloomy, was yet sufficiently obscure to aid their enterprize; and notwithstanding they could distinctly hear the tread of the American sentinels, as they paced the deck of their flotilla, such was the stillness of Sambo's practised paddle, that the little canoe glided past them unheard, and, stealing along the shore, was enabled to gain the farther extremity of the town, where, however, despite of the most scrupulous inspection, not the slightest evidence of a collective movement was to be observed. Recollecting that most of the American boats used for the transport of their army from the Canadian shore, which they had occupied for some time, were drawn up on the beach at the opposite end of the town, and deeming that if any attempt on the batteries was in contemplation, the troops ordered for that duty would naturally embark at a point whence, crossing the river considerably above the object of their expedition, they might drift down with the current, and affect a landing without noise—he determined to direct his course between the merchantmen and vessels of war, and pursue his way to the opposite end of the town. The enterprize, it is true, was bold, and not by any means without hazard; but Grantham's was a spirit that delighted in excitement, and moreover, he trusted much to the skill of his pilot, the darkness of the night, and the seeming repose of the enemy. Even if seen it was by no means certain he should be taken, for his light skiff could worm its way where another dared not follow, and as for any shot that might be sent in pursuit of them, its aim would, in the obscurity of the night, be extremely uncertain.