‘And do you think that resentment will turn against us?’ Hervey was intrigued rather than anxious.
‘Well,’ said the lieutenant, noting that Major Lawrence too was waiting intently on the reply, ‘I’ve heard talk again of the affair of the Niagara scalplock, and how it spoke for the way the white man would abandon his Indian friends to save his own skin when the time came. The braves wonder how long it will be before the white man above and below the Lakes makes common cause against them.’
‘Are there other voices?’ said Major Lawrence, relighting his cigar.
‘Yes, the elders are saying that spring will see the return of the deer, the bear and the beaver. But again, the younger braves point out that, after the spring, and the summer, and the autumn, there will come another winter.’
They sat late into the small hours talking of what it might come to.
They left Fort George at nine the next morning, red cloaks over winter warms. It must have been a good display to the American garrison across the river. Lord Towcester seemed content that it was, steadfastly refusing even to glance towards Fort Niagara, such was his contempt for the American revolutionaries, as he insisted on calling them.
They made the heights of Queenston before eleven. They passed above the falls after midday, hearing more than they saw of the great cataract, though the winter flow was a trickle compared with the spring thaw. They took their ease for an hour in Chippeway, where reports of their progress brought out villagers bearing kettles and pots of boiling water even as they rode up. In the afternoon they passed through the rich settlements of the upper Niagara, and on down to Fort Erie, arriving a little before last light. Here the evening was much as the one before, with another of Major Lawrence’s field officers confirming the troubling assessment of the Indians’ condition, although he was not inclined to believe that the younger braves’ blaming the white man would come to much once spring began to show.
Next morning, snow was falling as the troop mustered for the return march, and there was talk of staying at the fort until it stopped. But Lord Towcester saw no reason why they should not at least set out, for between Fort Erie and Chippeway there was shelter enough if the snow became heavier, and they could bivouac at any number of places if things came to the worst. He had matters pressing in plenty at York. Hervey was content enough with the condition of the troop after his morning inspection, and so they left by the road they had come on at a quarter to ten, the Cayuga scouts this time taking a much closer point since visibility was reduced.
Major Lawrence decided not to return with them, however. He intended taking the ferry across the river to Buffalo to meet with his counterpart there, to discover what policy the United States would be adopting towards their Indians in the spring. Rumours of inevitable displacements had already reached him in York from diplomatic sources in Montreal, and Mr Bagot himself had thought that the settlers’ inroads west of the Missouri would soon unravel Washington’s resettlement policy.
They made the fifteen miles to Chippeway just after midday. The snow had stopped falling soon after they set off, and they had been able to maintain a brisk trot for a mile or so at a time. They made a brief halt at the village, where the people showed the same alacrity in hospitality as the day before, and the dragoons were again able to eat hot without the trouble of dismounting their own camp kettles.
Lord Towcester summoned Hervey to his side. ‘See here, there is no need at all of our spending another night at Fort George. I consider there to be no purpose in it, anyway. We can take this road here’ — he indicated the line with a gloved finger, rather indistinctly — ‘along Lundy’s Lane to begin with. There was some skirmish of cavalry in the war there, so it must be passable to the horse. We may then proceed to the road from Queenston to Burlington that runs atop the ridge, instead of skirting the lake. It will save us all of eight leagues, and a further night.’
Hervey was not so sure. Indeed, he felt uneasy. If the lieutenant colonel wished to curtail the patrol, that was of course his prerogative, and he assumed that Lord Towcester possessed that discretion in Sir Peregrine’s orders. But the distance by this direct route was, even at a rough calculation, not much short of fortyfive miles. They had at best five hours of daylight left, though the moon and snow would make movement at night along a road relatively easy. But if the weather were to change again, the route could be treacherous. And the road through the forest to the Burlington ridge looked little better than a track.
‘Do you think we should ask the Indians, your lordship?’
‘Confound the Indians, Captain Hervey! Do you even know enough of their language? They’ll do as they’re damn well told!’
Lord Towcester was clearly in one of his peremptory moods, but Hervey felt bound to risk one more objection. ‘We might be benighted, though, sir, however well we do.’
‘In Heaven’s name, Captain Hervey! I heard tell at Fort George of a woman who went on
Hervey had heard of Mrs Secord’s fearless journey. But she had walked from Queenston not Chippeway, and in the middle of summer. He thought it useless to point this out to Lord Towcester, however. ‘Very good, your lordship. I will tell the scouts,’ he said, wondering to himself if he could.
In fact, communicating with the scouts was not as difficult as Hervey expected. He was able to get them to comprehend his intentions easily enough in a mixture of English and simple sign language (the map, predictably, was of no use to the proceedings). They were evidently unhappy with the news — for three reasons, as far as he could make out. First, the road was difficult, with many ups and downs and streams to cross. Then they made signs indicating that night would fall on them, and finally something about passing through land which the Mississauga hunted. Hervey was only too relieved that they did not turn and walk away when he told them he intended taking the road anyway. But it was his first taste of an Indian’s displeasure, even in that brief exchange, and it was not palatable.
He called Serjeant Armstrong aside and made a clean breast of things. ‘I’ll not say anything to Mr Seton Canning, but it’s as well you know my apprehension. I dare say all will be well. We’ll end up huddled in the forest after midnight when the moon sets, but that we can bear. And the Indians will be used to people riding through if there’s a road cut, so they can’t be all that troubled by our doing so. But I want NCOs’ pistols primed all the same. No others, mind.’
Armstrong nodded. ‘I was talking to them Indians last night. They’re worried where all the game’s going — all of them are. Some of the tribes are starving.’
Hervey could only admire his serjeant’s way with men. ‘Major Lawrence’s officers have been telling me this as well.’
‘I suggest we take flints out of weapons, too — except the NCOs, I mean. If one of them greenheads’ pistols goes off…’
Hervey nodded. ‘Ay. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
In the event, the road was better than Hervey had imagined, but narrow. They rode in file rather than threes, though, and from time to time the files had to merge. But the snow hadn’t settled so deep as on the road they had left, and it didn’t ball in the hooves. They managed some good trots in the first ten miles. The Cayugas rode very close point, however, not once losing sight behind. They seemed distinctly less at ease than on the ride out, and not a word passed between them.
The forest impressed its silence on the dragoons, too. For the most part, the only sound was the occasional snort from their plodding troopers, or the jingling of a bridoon, or the chink of stirrups as the files came too close. Looking left or right into the forest, Hervey could not imagine the sound travelling more than a few yards in that mass of fir, beech and elm. It looked more impenetrable than anything he had seen in India, even. And all the time there was neither sight nor sound of another living thing, on the ground, in the trees or overhead.
The Mississaugas came out of the forest like some sudden, mechanical change of scenery on a stage. There seemed no movement, only appearance — a dozen or so warriors at the same instant, in the same attitude, well wrapped in long moosehide coats, full hair to the shoulders, faces dyed red above the cheekbones. They stood, rifle in left hand, motionless and wholly impassive.
The Cayugas halted —
‘Threes about! Threes about!’ he shouted. But there was no room for even files to turn. He barged at Hervey and his trumpeter to make way.
