Two days later, a force of about 25,000 men crossed the Niagara River near Buffalo, and at once marched inland, with a view of taking possession of the Welland Canal, and damaging it in such a manner as to prevent the passage of some British gunboats, which had been reported as on their way from Halifax to the Upper Lakes. This was a most wise and timely movement; for if these vessels had gotten through the canal, the cities of Buffalo, Erie, Cleveland, Toledo, Sandusky, Detroit and Chicago, would have been completely at their mercy; as under an old treaty between the United States and England, neither power could have more than one war vessel at any time on the Lakes.
For this reason, the news of the success of this detachment in destroying the locks of the Welland Canal, so as to effectually prevent these vessels from reaching Lake Erie, was hailed with great delight by the entire press of the United States, and a grand chorus of jubilation was echoed from one end of the country to the other. The main body of the American troops, however, had been concentrated near Plattsburgh, in New York State, and were intended to operate against Montreal and Ottawa. This consisted of 75,000 men, under the immediate command of General Schofield, and this army crossed the Canadian frontier at the point where the Irish fenians had established their camp the preceding season, on the first day of May, 1890. No opposition to speak of was encountered, and the army advanced at once, by easy marches, towards the St. Lawrence River, with a view to the rapture of Montreal.
The movements of the detachment on the Pacific Coast had not been so prompt us those of the others. Numerous delays occurred in the arrival of equipments and supplies, and therefore that division of the force found itself utterly unable to move at the time specified—which had been fixed for not later than the 1st of May. This was the general situation on the 1st of May, 1890.
CHAPTER VI.
THE BRITISH FLEET ARRIVES OFF SANDY HOOK.
On the morning of the 10th of May, the telegraph operator stationed at Fire Island, telegraphed to New York that four large war vessels were in sight, proceeding slowly westward towards Sandy Hook.
Later in the day, numbers of other vessels were reported as also passing in the same direction; and it became evident that the long expected fleet had at length reached our shores. The excitement which this news caused in the cities of New York and Brooklyn was intense and indescribable.
Although it had been the uppermost thought in people's minds for months past, and in spite of the fact that there had been scarcely any other subject of conversation among the citizens, and notwithstanding the almost universal feeling of confidence which had possessed them in the efficiency of their defensive preparations, the news of the actual arrival of a hostile fleet—representing the most formidable naval power in the world, and presumably containing all the best and most approved offensive weapons known to modern science—seemed to exert an almost paralyzing effect upon the inhabitants of the two cities. The noisy and boisterous ebullitions, which usually accompany occasions of great public excitement, were entirely wanting. Business of all kinds was suspended, and in all of the down-town centers, groups of anxious and pale-faced men were to be encountered at every corner and street crossing, engaged in earnest, but quiet conversation. The lively spirit of braggadocio and bravado, which had heretofore been such a prominent feature of every gathering, large or small, when the pending "invasion" happened to be the subject of conversation, was noticeable by its total absence. Conversation was carried on almost entirely in hurried and anxious whispers; and anybody who raised his voice above a colloquial tone—whether it was an excited newsboy, shouting out the latest extra; or a half intoxicated tramp, yelling patriotic defiance to the hated British—was looked upon, much as the deliberate violator of some sacred spot would be regarded, by an enthusiastic believer in its sanctified character.
A complete hush seemed to have fallen upon the two cities; and a subdued air, as if some impending calamity had proclaimed its near approach, seized upon the people. For the first time, a faint idea of the real gravity of the situation seemed to dawn upon the public mind. Here was war, bitter, relentless, destructive, cruel war, at their very doors. In a day or two at the latest, possibly within a few hours, the thunder of distant cannon would be faintly heard, and the bursting and crashing of deadly shells would involve the city in ruin and desolation. What was to be done? How could this frightful downpour of dynamite shells be averted? What if those formidable marine monsters were able to defy the attacks of our insignificant looking little torpedo boats and rams. Supposing some of them should be destroyed; what if two, or three, or even one, should remain uninjured, and should proceed to pour its hail of deadly projectiles upon these defenseless and exposed cities? Who could tell where the shells might strike, or who would be safe from their deadly work? Many of the more timid of the inhabitants took time by the forelock and sought safety in flight. The newspapers, however, did much to avert what threatened to become a panic, by treating the whole subject in a light and cheerful vein, and their optimistic predictions were regarded as gospel truths by the great majority of the citizens.