“There he is,” said Mrs Morrison, pointing to an officer engaged in reading a letter by the fire.
Maggie repeated Hemlock’s message. Macdonell listened with sparkling eyes, and when she had done said, “Thank you, my bonnie lass, you have done the King a service, and when the Yankees come they will find us ready to gie their lang nebs a smell o’ oor claymores.”
Hastening out, he gave his orders in quick succession, and with surprising alacrity for a volunteer force, the men fell in. Two companies were soon complete. “Now, Captain Bruyére, if your men do as well as you will yourself all will be well; and for you, Captain Daly, I know by long experience what a loyal Irishman is. Hold your ground until I get up to you with the other companies.”
The men quietly descended the bank and plunged into the river, which took them nearly to the middle, for owing to the recent rains it was deep. Gaining the opposite bank, they were swallowed up in the woods. Gazing over the tree-tops, which looked peaceful in the calm of a dull, moist, autumnal day, Maggie wondered what was going on beneath their cover—wished she could see the advancing Americans and the men who had just gone to meet them. There was an interval of suspense. Then, suddenly, there was a sharp volley and the quiet air became filled with shouts, and yells, and cries of frightened men. All at once there burst from the bush on to the river bank, a good way up, a string of habitants, flying in terror, their blue tuques streaming behind them, and few of them having muskets, for they had thrown them away to aid their flight. “The cowardly loons,” muttered Macdonell, “it would serve them right to give them a taste of shot.” On reaching the ford, they tumultuously dashed in. As the foremost came up the bank the Colonel demanded an explanation. They had been surprised by the unexpected appearance of a great host of Americans and ran to save themselves. Attention, however, was now attracted from the fugitives by the recommencement of the firing, which was sharp and continuous, relieved by the yells and whoops of the Indians.
“Hasten!” shouted Macdonell to the troops who were lining up, “do you not hear the firing? Our comrades need us.”
The head of the column had reached the water’s edge, when there was a burst of cheering. “That’s our lads,” said the Colonel, “they must have won the day. Halt! We will not seek to share the credit of their victory.” In a few minutes a body of the Fencibles reappeared, with several prisoners and bearing a few wounded men. Their report was that they had encountered the advance guard of the American brigade, which, although elated at the rout of the outpost of habitants, fled at the first fire. The Colonel ordered the men to retire and wait behind the breastworks that commanded the ford. “It is not likely,” he remarked to his adjutant, “that the Americans will now attack us, seeing their design to surprise us has miscarried.” Half an hour later, Hemlock arrived with his braves, at whose girdles hung several fresh scalps. He told Macdonell that the Americans had given up their intention of gaining the ford and had gone into camp nearly two miles above, in a grove beside the river. Seeing how slight was the prospect of more fighting on that side of the river, he was going to join the main-body. On hearing this reassuring news, Maggie slipped away to her canoe and paddled homewards.
On coming in sight of the shanty she was amazed and alarmed by the change that had taken place in her short absence. American soldiers were clustered around it, and a few horses picketed. Fearing the worst, she drew near. Seated by the fire were several officers warming themselves and drying their clothes, and with whom her mother was in altercation.
“Come to free us, say ye? What wad ye free us frae?”
“From the tyranny of European monarchy,” answered an officer with a smile.