Billy Green Saves the Day (9 page)

“Perhaps you'll change your mind when the scout parties return. Once we know where the Americans are camped, we might be able to launch a pre-emptive strike.”

Vincent stopped and turned to him. “Assuming we find them, we can't spare any men to fight them.”

Harvey took a long look at the soldiers working.

“I think the men would rather die attacking the enemy than defending Burlington Heights. At least we'd have the element of surprise.”

Vincent noticed a fresh grave and some troops digging another. “Death is death. And just as honourable under either circumstance. No, we'll stay here and defend ourselves ... and the fate of the country.” He entered his tent and closed the flap behind him.

Harvey pondered whether to follow, took a deep breath, then entered.

“I don't remember inviting you in,” Vincent said, surprised by the intrusion.

“I beg your pardon, sir, but I have to ask if there's even the slightest possibility we can launch a surprise attack, would you at least consider it?”

Vincent removed his jacket, settled into a chair, and studied his officer. “Do you want to die?”

“Of course not, but I'm willing to give my life to defend the Crown.”

Vincent withdrew his sword and used it to dig at the mud stuck to his boots. “You're a good solider, maybe too good. Don't let your valour cloud your judgment.”

Harvey stood at attention. “I'm waiting, sir.”

Vincent smiled. “You really are insolent, aren't you?”

Harvey nodded. “Yes, sir, I am.”

Vincent pointed a finger at his officer. “All right then. If there's a chance, I'll weigh it carefully, but be warned, Colonel, I want facts, not fiction. Is that understood?”

Harvey smiled and saluted enthusiastically. “Yes, General.”

Vincent waved him out. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.” Harvey quickly exited, and the general shook his head. “Poor fool. He doesn't know the battle's been lost before it's even begun.”

Isaac Corman ran along a sloppy path, following an old Indian trail leading into some underbrush. He stopped when he heard leaves rustling and waited before hooting like an owl. His anxious eyes searched in every direction but froze at the sound of an answering owl. “Billy?” he whispered.

Suddenly, a hand covered Isaac's mouth from behind as he was rapidly pulled to the ground and dragged into the bush. Isaac struggled to break free but relented when he saw it was Billy.

“How did you get away?” Billy asked, “The Yankees are everywhere.”

“It was unbelievable. When they found out I was related to General Harrison, they let me go. How is Keziah?”

“Scared, but she's all right.” Billy offered him a deerskin full of water.

After taking a long drink, Isaac shook his head. “I never actually believed this would happen. It's the beginning of the end for the country.”

Billy tucked away the deerskin. “Someone should go to Burlington Heights and warn the British Army.”

Isaac studied him for a moment and then realized the implication. “No, Billy! I saw their forces at the lake. They're shipping in supplies and probably more men. It's an invasion. The whole town's surrounded. Nobody could get through their lines.”

“I can do it. I'll go back to Levi's house and get his horse. They can't catch me if I stay off the trails.” Billy gripped his musket and started off.

“Billy, wait. I know I can't talk you out of it, so I might as well tell you I have the American password.”

Billy twisted beneath the heavy vegetation to face him. “What is it?”

Isaac stared at the ground. “I gave my word as a gentleman that I wouldn't tell.”

“Your loyalty lies with this country. For God's sake, you have the wound to prove it.” Billy pointed at Isaac's scar.

He pushed Billy's hand away. “I promised I wouldn't tell the British.”

Billy broke into a mischievous grin. “I'm not British. I'm Canadian.”

“Look, Billy, the trip to Burlington Heights will take hours. It's not worth risking your life.” Isaac looked skyward. “Besides, it'll be dark soon.

Billy shook Isaac by the collar. “Give me the password!”

“You don't understand. Of course, my patriotism lies with the British, but if I tell you, members of my own kin might get killed.” Isaac straightened his shirt. “And if you're caught, they'll know who gave the password to you and we'll both be hanged for treason.”

“If I'm caught, I'd rather die first than give it to them. Please, Isaac, what is it? I'm begging you. For the sake of our families and our country, what is it?”

“Wil-Hen-Har,” Isaac muttered. “Please be careful.”

Billy slapped him on the back and scrambled off but promptly halted and glanced at him. “If something happens to me, tell Sarah that I love her.”

Isaac nodded as Billy quickly faded into the bush just as a contingent of American soldiers discovered Isaac and aimed their weapons.

“Major Thomas had second thoughts,” one of the Yankee soldiers said. “Despite the fact that you're a relative of General Harrison, he wants us to escort you home and keep you there.”

“Fine, but we'd better hurry,” Isaac said with a knowing smile. “When it gets dark, that's when the Indians like to hunt.”

Completely terrified, the soldiers followed him, their eyes searching frantically for Natives in the trees.

CHAPTER SIX

T
he sun set slowly, casting an orange glow across the western horizon. Low, dark clouds portended a menacing storm. Billy ran along the rough terrain and crouched when he heard voices. He parted some branches and saw a handful of U.S. soldiers talking at the outskirts of the Gage encampment. Glancing down at his chest, he saw his shirt flutter with each heavy beat of his quickening heart. Billy swallowed hard and turned for the main road. After a short distance, he stopped and withdrew a piece of beef jerky. Taking a moment to rest and eat, he peered through the trees and discovered another enemy regiment several hundred yards away. The small battery of men was marching in his direction but was unaware of his presence.

Thoroughly panicked, Billy looked around for another route to escape but saw none. “The password ... the password,” he whispered to himself, trying to remember it. He noticed the jerky in his hand, quickly pulled his coat over his head, and dropped to all fours.

One of the soldiers squinted and spied Billy hobbling across the road, remarkably resembling a bruin. “Bear!” the Yankee shouted, raising his musket. “Slow your step!” he said to the others as Billy disappeared into the woods.

Minutes later Billy scurried up a steep embankment and hid behind a tree. He scanned Levi's home. The only sign of life was the curl of smoke drifting from the chimney, and two saddled horses grazing near the front of the house. The door opened, and two American soldiers stepped onto the porch, smoking cigars.

Without taking his eyes off them, Billy ran to the back of the house to the barn and noiselessly slipped inside. Levi's horse, Tip, became agitated upon his intrusion, and Billy tried to soothe him. “Easy, Tip, easy. Listen to me. I know you're a plough horse, but I need you to run faster than you've ever run before.” Tip grew increasingly skittish as Billy tried to saddle him. The animal threw its weight and knocked Billy against the barn wall, causing some boards to snap.

At the front of the house the Yankees heard the commotion and raced for the barn, their pistols drawn. Billy tossed the saddle aside and launched himself onto Tip's back. He kicked his heels hard into the stallion's side as the horse lunged forward and out of the barn.

One of the soldiers took aim, but Billy steered Tip directly into his path, knocking the enemy off balance. The second soldier fired, but Billy evaded the attack and rode off. Tip raced through the labyrinth of low branches as Billy ducked and dug his heels harder into the beast's flesh.

The Americans were rapidly catching up as Tip galloped along the twisting path. The animal's nostrils flared as it tried to maintain the breakneck pace. Billy leaned down and wrapped his arms around the horse's neck. “Come on, boy. Come on.” He turned to look behind him and heard the sound of a sword being withdrawn.

Billy grabbed a low branch and released it, causing it to swing violently backward into the face of one soldier, sending him reeling to the ground. The second soldier's animal suddenly stopped, trying to avoid the fallen man, and threw its rider head first into a prickly bush. Billy grinned and guided Tip into the shadows of the timberland.

On the Gage property one of many campfires blazed, projecting phantom-like outlines of the nearby men as more wood was placed over the crackling flames. The American army was beginning to settle in for the night against the backdrop of twilight. Hundreds of tents had been erected, and now the soldiers casually milled around, enjoying the last scraps of their meal. The cooks continued serving the final few hungry troops while others were already preparing the long loaves of bread for the next day's breakfast.

Inside the Gage house Chandler and Winder played a game of cards by candlelight. Chandler glanced out the window with a worried look on his tired face. “This doesn't feel right. The men are too disorganized and undisciplined.” He watched some of the soldiers wrestling on the ground.

“As usual you worry too much,” Winder said.

“Aren't you concerned that the British might launch a night attack?”

Winder rolled his eyes and took a large bite out of a loaf of bread. “You know what you are? An alarmist. The British are hardly in a position to attack us. Besides, we haven't seen any of their scout parties. They don't even know we're here.”

“Don't be so sure.” Chandler bit his lip and looked up at the moon before it was covered by clouds.

Winder spread a healthy amount of butter on another piece of bread. “You know, even though you and I are of equal rank, you do know the only reason you're in command is because of General Dearborn.”

Chandler turned from the window. “We've been over this. What is it you're trying to say? That I'm unfit to lead?”

“You said that, not me, but it's interesting you did.”

Winder drank some wine. “We shall see, won't we?”

Chandler blushed, and he quickly went to the door where he motioned to several sentries. “Tell Major Black that I want him to take eight hundred men to the lake and help safeguard the supplies coming in from Fort George.”

The sentinel saluted and hurried off.

“After our victory at Burlington Heights tomorrow, I think we should press on to Kingston,” Winder said as Chandler returned to the table.

“One battle at a time if you don't mind.”

Winder leaned back in his creaking chair with his hands behind his head. “If we keep advancing into British territory, I wouldn't be surprised if Congress forged medals in our honour.”

The thought pleased Chandler as he gazed into space.

“I must admit, defeating the British at Fort George and again tomorrow will definitely boost my military standing.”

Winder lit a cigar and blew a perfect smoke ring before winking. “Then listen to me, follow my lead, and we'll be the toast of Washington.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door as Major Smith entered and saluted. He was a handsome man of thirty with curly brown hair beneath his hat. Chandler returned the salute, but Winder didn't.

“What do you want?” Winder asked, clearly irritated.

“Begging your forgiveness for the interruption, sirs, but I was ... I'm ... it's hard for me to say,” Smith said anxiously.

Winder bashed his fist against the table, causing the bottle of wine to fall over. “Out with it, Major Smith!”

Smith took a few guarded steps closer. “I ... I'm worried that if the enemy were to attack this evening, we're not adequately prepared.”

“Go on, Major,” Chandler said as Winder exhaled with disgust.

Smith retrieved a crumpled piece of paper from his coat and placed it on the table. It was a map of the American forces scattered across the Gage property. Chandler leaned in closer, but Winder sat back, completely uninterested. “I think we should properly position our guns in a defensive manner with an established rallying point should an attack occur. As it stands now, the men are poorly organized with no centre, left, or right wings to quickly form battle lines.”

“What's your opinion?” Chandler asked Winder.

Winder yawned. “It's a monumental waste of time. The men are tired. Let them rest.”

“I also feel the men should sleep with their muskets tonight,” Smith said. “I've taken the liberty of ordering them to load their guns with buckshot. If that's all right with you, sirs.”

Winder stood, grabbed the paper, and tore it to shreds. “I'm tired of all this cowardice and lack of confidence. We're the best-equipped and best-trained army in the world.”

“Sir, the men aren't lacking in courage, just simple, standard military procedure,” Smith said to Winder.

Winder exploded with rage and kicked his chair aside. He slapped Smith across the face. “You snivelling rat! How dare you question my command?”

Chandler stepped between them. “No, he's questioning mine, as well he should.”

Winder pointed a threatening finger at Smith. “One more stupid interruption from you or any of the other officers and you'll all be relieved of duty. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Smith said unwillingly, and saluted.

Chandler escorted him to the door. “Thank you for your concern, Major. I'll take it under advisement.” After Smith exited, Chandler turned to Winder. “We should do what he says.”

Winder scowled. “My God, man! You're letting your imagination get the better of you. We have thirtyfive hundred men.” He gestured at the tents as distant thunder rumbled. “Bad weather and a three-hour march with minimal forces from Burlington Heights to our position. Trust me. The enemy's staying home tonight.”