Delaplace was the commandant, and of course the very person whom Allen wanted. The little party crossed the lake in such boats as they had at hand. Morning was near and every moment had to be put to use. When the patriots reached the opposite shore the commander turned to the young lad and, laying his hand upon his shoulder, said quickly: “We are ready now. Show us the way to the sally port.” Guided by him, the mountaineers moved toward the fort, and, coming suddenly upon a sentry, heard the snapping of the fuse-lock and saw him run through a covered way within the walls. “Quick,” cried the boy, looking up at Allen, and the soldiers sprang after the guard and made their way to the parade ground unopposed. The enthusiasm of the patriots now broke forth into shouts of victory, which, reaching the ears of the British soldiers, caused them to spring from their pallets and rush from the barracks, only to be made prisoners as they appeared. Never was a surprise more complete; thanks to Nathan Beman. When Allen had secured most of the garrison he asked the boy to show the way to the commander’s room, and the two were soon running up the steps leading to it.
Bang! bang! went Allen’s sword against the colonel’s door, and the British officer hurried out of bed to answer the command, “Surrender this fort instantly.” “By what authority?” inquired the astonished officer. “In the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress!” said Allen, flourishing his sword. It so happened that Allen and Delaplace were old acquaintances, and the reader can imagine the latter’s astonishment when he saw who was hammering at the door. Of course there was nothing to do but surrender. The garrison, numbering forty-eight, were made prisoners and sent to Connecticut. A fortress which had cost Great Britain a vast amount was captured in ten minutes by a company of undisciplined provincials. By this daring exploit a hundred cannons and great quantities of military stores fell into the hands of the Americans. Amid the general rejoicings that followed this exploit the part played by Nathan Beman was not forgotten. His name was on every tongue, and his services were rewarded liberally. “He lived,” said Lossing the historian, “to see our confederacy increase from thirteen to thirty stars,” and died at the good age of eighty-nine years.
YOUNG HOWE.
When the call for volunteers was made during the Civil War, two boys, twelve and fourteen years respectively, presented themselves and desired positions as drummer boys. “Our infant drummers,” as General Sherman called them, attracted much attention on dress parade in the great camps of instruction. The little Howes drummed well, proved hardy, never seemed homesick, and passed through battle after battle, and march after march, untouched by disease, unscathed by bullet or shell. In the charge of May 19th the younger of the two, like other musicians, with a white handkerchief tied about the left arm to designate him as a non-combatant, followed in the rear of the line to assist the wounded. At the advanced position finally held by the regiment, it was essential not to allow any cessation in the firing, and the cartridge boxes became rapidly depleted. Ammunition, from the difficulties of the ground, could only be brought to the Union men by special messengers and in such quantity as they were able to carry about their person. Sergeant-Major Hartsook was instructed to go back to the regimental ordnance wagon, take command of the musicians and such other men as he might find detailed near the camp, and send them to the front one by one with cartridges. This dangerous duty was promptly and well performed.
The little drummer, by his own statement, was not at this time with the other musicians, but in the ravine just in the rear of the regiment, having been ordered back from the front to be out of danger, by the colonel. About him were several dead and wounded men. Collecting the ammunition from their cartridge boxes, and using his blouse for a sack, he carried this up to the command. Flattered with much praise then received, he started for the ordnance wagon and returned in safety, with his small but valuable contribution. Again he sped down and across the ravine and up the steep opposite slope, while a hail-storm of canister and musket balls fell around him. Suddenly he dropped, and hearts sank, thinking his brief career ended; but he had only tripped over some obstacle. Often he stumbled, sometimes he fell prostrate, but was quickly up again, and finally disappeared limping, over the summit, and the Fifty-fifth saw him no more for several months. As the boy sped away the last time, the colonel shouted to him: “Bring calibre fifty-four.” General Sherman’s letter to the War Department will tell the rest of the story.
Headquarters Fifteenth Army Corps,
Camp on Big Black, Aug. 8th, 1863.
Hon. E. M. Stanton, Secretary of War,
Sir:
I take the liberty of asking through you that something be done for a young lad named Orion P. Howe, of Waukegan, Illinois, who belongs to the 55th Illinois, but is at present from home, wounded. I think he is too young for West Point, but would be the very thing for a midshipman.