War 1812 (6 page)

“The British and Indians are out,” Jonah volunteered after taking a breath.

“How big a force?”

Jonah turned to see a major standing there. Lieutenant Shipp quickly introduced the men. “Major, this is Jonah Lee from Washington. Mr. Lee, may I introduce you to our commanding officer, Major George Croghan.”

As the two men shook hands, Croghan asked again, “Any estimate on the size of the force?”

“A quick estimate by a scout was five thousand or more, Major. It appeared they were headed to attack Fort Meigs. I was riding with a scouting party when we got the news. We were suddenly attacked by a large band of Indians. Captain Clay Gesslin and his group of Kentucky volunteers were trying to hold off the red devils long enough to give me a chance to get clear and warn you. Hopefully, some will survive and make it safely here.”

“I see,” Croghan replied. Another officer walked up and the major introduced him, “This is Captain Hunter, who is my second in command.” Greetings were made and then Croghan continued, “We have a good position here. I think we can defend it against anything other than heavy artillery.”

“If we had anything larger than the one six-pounder we could fire on any vessel attempting to pass the fort on the Sandusky,” Hunter volunteered.

After looking around until he saw the stable, Moses took the reins of Jonah’s horse and walked off to care for the animals.

“Your servant?” Croghan asked.

“My friend,” Jonah replied quickly.

“I see,” the major said, lowering his eyes and kicking the dirt.

“How many men do you have?” Jonah asked. “What’s your strength?”

“One hundred and sixty,” Croghan said, knowing it didn’t sound like a lot. “We have three strong block houses with a sixteen foot high palisade stretching between the block houses. I’ve had a ditch dug around the palisade that’s a good eight feet wide and just as deep. As I said, I believe we have a very defensible position. One I’d not like for the British to capture. They would then have a stronghold that would do as much damage to the war as Hull’s surrendering Detroit.”

Jonah liked Croghan and his officers. Croghan showed a degree of insight rarely found in someone so young. Sizing up the major, Jonah doubted Croghan was more than twenty or twenty-one years old.

“Indians!” The cry from the sentry had everyone climbing up to the parapet. The men watched as a number of braves wearing war paint passed by the fort on horseback. They were just outside of firing range. Fresh scalps hung from their lances, and some of the braves shook them at the fort as they passed, taunting the men inside the fort.

“We can reach them with the six-pounder,” Captain Hunter volunteered.

“No… I don’t think so,” Croghan said. “We have limited powder and shot for it. I’d prefer to put it to better use when the time arises.”

That afternoon the sky turned dark and gray. Soon the distant roll of thunder was heard. Within an hour, they had a full blown thunderstorm. The rain was pouring down and bolts of lightning lit up the afternoon sky. It was under cover of the thunderstorm when more riders showed up. Gesslin and four of the ten men in the scouting party rode through the gates drenched and chilled. Gesslin had a bloody dressing around his arm. Not a single one of his men had escaped without some sort of wound.

“We held them off till it got dark,” Gesslin said. “Then somehow we got separated. The other six may be alive, I don’t know. A couple of men were badly wounded, but they may have made it.”

The men were taken inside where their wet clothes were removed. While their clothes were being dried over a wood-burning stove, their wounds were treated. A hot meal was served which improved the men’s spirits. Still wrapped in blankets, the men ate heartily. Jonah noticed a dollop or two of brandy had been added to the men’s coffee. They deserve it, he thought.

“I’m grateful the Lawd seen fit to let ’em get through,” Moses said. He’d come to like Gesslin and knew the man had put his life on the line along with those of the men in patrol so the fort could be warned. “It’s possible some of those scalps the Indians carried may have been taken from Captain Clay’s men,” Moses whispered to Jonah.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Jonah replied. “But it won’t do any good bringing up the possibility around Clay,” he added.

“No, it won’t,” Moses agreed. “But I ain’t forgetting about it.”

“No… me neither,” Jonah answered.

The rain was gone the next morning when Gesslin got up. Dressing quickly, he made it to the dining area in time for breakfast. His arm appeared stiff but he seemed to have full use of it otherwise. It didn’t affect his appetite. At noon a cry rang out by the sentry of riders approaching.

Gesslin, Jonah, and Moses joined Major Croghan and Captain Hunter at the gate as three men rode into the fort. Their horses were wet and lathered from a long, hard ride.

“It’s the British,” the haggard scout blurted. “On land and on the river. It seems they are headed this way.”

“What’s their strength?” Major Croghan asked.

“I don’t rightly know,” the scout answered truthfully. “They’s several gunboats, and I’d say at least five thousand injuns and soldiers combined.”

Except for the addition of the gunboats, the estimated strength of the British hadn’t changed since Jonah had arrived.

“Thank you,” Croghan told the scout. “I’ll have the sergeant fix you up with some grub.”

“Sir, can we get some fresh horses?” the scout asked. “Ours are about played out. We’ve pushed them hard for a good twenty miles. We’ve had to outrun some of the red devils at times. They’ll be hard put to make it back to General Harrison, played out as they be.”

“I’m sure we can accommodate you,” Major Croghan answered.

The scout look puzzled. “Do that mean yes?”

The officers all chuckled.

“Yes, that means yes,” Croghan replied.

Now the scout grinned. “I’ll be thanking you then, Major.”

Croghan then spoke to the fort’s officers, Gesslin and Jonah. “Let’s meet in my office for a quick officer’s call.”

Cigars and pipes were lit up, and a glass of brandy was poured for each of the men. Once the glasses were filled, Major Croghan leaned back in his chair lighting his pipe. Soon, a small cloud of aromatic smoke drifted up. Satisfied the pipe was lit, the major took a swallow of his brandy then spoke.

“Well, it seems the odds have changed. I think we can stand an assault by ground troops and Indians. However, I’m not sure the fort can withstand a barrage of artillery. It may be best if we abandon the fort as General Harrison has recommended.”

When none of the other men spoke, Jonah drained his glass of brandy and stood up. Taking a deep puff on his pipe, he blew out a cloud of smoke. “I disagree… respectfully,” he added, giving a small salute with his pipe.

Leaning the chair forward so that all four legs touched the floor, Major Croghan said, “Oh.”

“We talked about the tactical importance of the fort the day I arrived,” Jonah said. “Nothing has changed to alter that. It may be the attack on Fort Meigs was just a feint to draw strength away from here. If that’s so, the ploy has failed and we still have our full strength. We can fortify ourselves and make taking the fort a costly endeavor. We can also send out a volunteer asking for reinforcements. Even if we are overrun, we will have bought time for General Harrison to counter the British efforts.”

Major Croghan nodded but didn’t speak for a moment or so. “I agree,” he finally said. “Any other thoughts?” Nobody spoke. “Well, I guess it’s decided then. I’ll prepare a quick dispatch stating our position and requesting reinforcements so the scout can take it with him when he leaves.”

“Another glass,” Croghan called to his servant and then sent for writing paper, quill, and ink. The dispatch was short.

“The fort is to be attacked by a superior force of British gunboats, soldiers, and Indian allies. Estimated number is five thousand or more. We will not surrender. Reinforcements are requested.”
It was signed, Major George Croghan, U.S. Army, Commanding.

Chapter Six

O
nce again, the sentry
set off a cry of alarm. This had been occurring most of the day. The woods had been swarming with Indians since first light. At different times a group of young braves would make a dash toward the fort then stop just shy of musket range and taunt the defenders inside the walls. The officers had run to the parapet so many times it was getting hard to move with any urgency. This time, the cry that went up was different. There was a tremor to the sentry’s alarm.

Jonah and Moses climbed the ladder to the parapet as two gunboats appeared at a bend in the river then continued toward a small cove just down from the fort. A small island in the stream would give some cover, so once the gunboats made it to the cove they could no longer be fired upon.

Major Croghan ordered the six pounder manned. Captain Hunter put his gunners to work and set up an immediate bombardment on the boats. The gunners worked feverishly to keep up a steady rate of fire. Hunter grew hoarse shouting, “Load, aim, fire, sponge out… sponge out, damn you… do you want the effen thing to explode in your face?”

Men ran to and from the magazine as quickly as they could carrying powder and shot. The gunboats were soon past the range and line of fire for the cannons. A few hits had been made with the men cheering every time they scored a hit. However, not one of the gunboats had been sunk or damaged so badly it didn’t continue on. While the six-pounder was being fired, Indians revealed themselves in the woods from all directions. The fort was now surrounded, there would be no retreat.

Using his spy glass, Major Croghan called to Gesslin and Jonah. “Look there,” he pointed toward the road with the barrel of his glass. Gesslin and Jonah took out their glasses, and when Captain Hunter walked up, Croghan handed him his glass. “That’s Tecumseh in the lead,” Croghan advised. The Indian chief with about two thousand braves was headed down the road away from the fort.

“They intend to cut off any reinforcement,” Jonah stated.

Major Croghan nodded, “My thoughts as well. Not that I was expecting any.”

“Sir, look there,” Lieutenant Shipp volunteered. Three British officers under a flag of truce were heading toward the gates of the fort.

“Coming to offer an instrument of surrender,” Jonah guessed.

“Have we had any second thoughts, gentlemen?” The major asked. When no one responded, he turned to Lieutenant Shipp, “Lieutenant, be so good as to meet our foe. Speak to them as gentlemen but tell them where to stick their terms of surrender.”

The officers met just outside the gate. The junior British officer made the introductions. “Good afternoon to you, sir. I’m Captain Chambers of his Majesty’s forty-first regiment. Colonel Elliott is our commanding officer and this chap is Captain Dixon, of the Royal Engineers. He is in command of our Indian allies.”

Lieutenant Shipp, being as civil as he could be, shook each of the officer’s hands and introduced himself.

After the greetings were completed, Colonel Elliott cleared his throat and spoke, as if reading from a prepared text.
“I am instructed to demand instant surrender of the fort, to spare the effusion of blood, which we can not do should we be under the necessity of reducing it by our powerful force of regulars, Indians, and artillery.”

Lieutenant Shipp listened quietly to the long winded speech by the colonel. When the man had finished, Shipp paused only a second as he had already been forming his reply. “My commandant and the garrison,” he replied, “are determined to defend the post to the last extremity and bury themselves in its ruins, rather than surrender it to any force what-so-ever.”

Not believing his ears, Dixon spoke out, “But, sir, look at our immense body of Indians. They cannot be restrained from massacring the whole garrison, in the event of our undoubted success.”

“And, sir, our success is certain,” Captain Chambers eagerly added.

Shipp just looked at the men. Dixon, he felt, was truly concerned about controlling his “Indian allies.” Feeling there was no more to say, Shipp turned to walk away when Dixon spoke again.