from Treasury. He had also been painted red. A sign saying “Peeping Tom” hung around his neck. The public humiliation had been too much for Pinkerton and he had returned to Chicago.
Rebecca smiled at Fromm, who almost melted until he caught Bridget glaring at him. “Sergeant, I doubt that I shall need you to knock anyone's skull, but I otherwise think we shall make a good team.”
In the depths of his not-totally-unexpected grief, Scott understood that Mrs. Devon was of much stronger stuff than her cretin of a thieving husband. It would appear that she was a match for Nathan Hunter. Good, he thought.
“That is settled, then,” Scott said. “I need to be alone. Mrs. Devon, if you would be so kind as to come here tomorrow morning, I would appreciate it.”
He didn't truly need a clerk or an assistant, but he felt she could be useful as well at making an empty house somewhat less so. In the meantime, Scott thought, I wish to weep for my beloved wife.
Chapter Fifteen
It had taken almost two weeks for the British army to snake its way out of Hamilton and reach the Union positions. Much of the delay was caused by the need to surreptitiously replace the British regulars garrisoning the Niagara forts with Canadian militia.
When the British finally arrived near the Union camps, Cardigan deployed the Scottish Division on his left, or south of Dundas Street, and the British Division on his right, or north of Dundas. The two divisions were arrayed in double ranks and took up about a mile and a half in total length. The Canadian Division was in reserve, less than half a mile away from the front.
The British had arrived at their final positions late in the afternoon and, along with the Americans, had spent the rest of the day and evening scouting and deploying. When done, both armies tried to spend some of the night in sleep. It was difficult, as there was the fear of what the morning would bring, along with the intermittent but persistent rattle of small-arms fire as the two armies probed each other for weaknesses.
Thus, it was before dawn when Viscount Monck found Brigadier General Garnet Wolsey in his tent, alert, dressed, and conferring with his aides. Wolsey was totally surprised by the visit. Monck wanted to talk in private, so Wolsey excused the others.
“I want you to know how much confidence I have in you, General Wolsey.”
“I'm honored, sir.”
“Did you know that I requested you?” Monck said. Wolsey had not. “What you did at London was splendid, but now we must fight. I have the greatest confidence that you will not throw away the lives of the men entrusted to your care.”
“Thank you: sir.” Wolsey was deeply touched.
Monck chuckled. “By the way, Mr. McGee is with me, although this time as a journalist and not a would-be general.”
Wolsey laughed. “The best thing for him and for Canada.” The sun was rising. There was no longer any need for oil lamps or candles. A shout went up from outside and both men left Wolsey's tent. A great gray blob had arisen from the mist of the Union lines and stood over them like a giant, obscene mushroom that floated in the sky.
“A balloon,” Monck said. “The damned Americans have a balloon to spy on us. What are we going to do about it?”
As if in answer, a couple of British cannon opened fire on it, to no avail. “As you can see, Governor, we will not do very much at all. That thing is almost a thousand feet in the air and rising higher. Our guns cannot elevate that high. We might stand a chance when it is closer to the ground, but by then it would serve no purpose.”
“I've never seen one in battle.” said Monck.
“Nor I, although we'd heard that the Union was making use of them.”
As he spoke, something fluttered down from the cupola of the balloon. “A message tied to a weight,” Wolsey said grimly. “Probably a map drawn to show our dispositions. I wouldn't be surprised if there is a telegraph machine in the damned thing.”
Monck was clearly concerned. “Then they shall know everything about us, won't they? We shall not be able to surprise them at all, although they seem to have surprised us with that contraption.”
Indeed, thought Wolsey. This was not going to be a gigantic battle, and the balloon's occupants could doubtless see the entire field. There were no hills to speak of and much of the land was plowed and cleared farmer's fields whose crops were being trampled by thousands of feet. No, Lord Cardigan would not be able to surprise the Americans. On the other hand, he wondered just how many more of their own surprises the Americans had up their sleeves.
Nathan declined the invitation to go aloft in the observation balloon. He assured both Rawlins and Grant that his feet were planted firmly on the ground. Inwardly, the thought of going so high above the ground in such a frail vessel terrified him. It would take a special kind of person to leave the comforts of mother earth, he decided, and he was not one of them.
As at London, he and Rawlins rode to where they could see the British dispositions. The lines of red were precise and impressive. They could hear the faint sounds of drums and the skirl of bagpipes as the two men rode along the front from the British to the Scottish positions. This was not a mob of farmers as they had seen at London, nor was it Confederates in dirty gray or homespun butternut. These were professionals of the highest order. For the first time, Nathan realized that they were confronting the army of the mightiest empire on the face of the earth. In recent years, the British army had beaten Russia in the Crimea, and put down a savage rebellion in India. Who would fare best this day, the scarlet of Great Britain or the blue of the United States?
“The legions of Rome against the barbarian hordes,” said Nathan. “I just wonder which of us is the barbarian.”
“If they support the Confederacy and slavery, then England is the barbarian,” Rawlins said angrily.
All during the night and part of the morning, they had labored over orders from Grant to his generals, Grant was an excellent writer of terse, easy-to-understand directives, which Nathan had copied and distributed properly, while Rawlins stayed pretty much out of the way, Now, with battle threatening to erupt all around them, there was little left for them to do, Even Grant had commented that events were largely out of their hands. Now it was up to others to implement what had been designed.
Cannon fire erupted. Nathan checked his watch. “Eight thirty-five,” he said. He would note the tine of battle in his records.
“Ours or theirs?'^: asked Rawlins. “Which came first?”
“Don't know, and I don't think it matters. In a little while, the British will attack.”
“Any chance they won't?”
Nathan shook his head. The cannon firing had reached a thunderous crescendo as guns from both sides sought targets. Nathan hoped he and Rawlins were inconspicuous. “They'll attack. They didn't march all the way out here just to look at us.”
This had been the topic of discussion and the basis of Grant's planning. The British would attack because they had to attack. Cardigan could not retreat without looking like a coward or a fool. Nathan thought he might be the latter but certainly not the former.
There was a shift in the sound of the firing. Now it seemed to be concentrated towards the south, where the Scots were arrayed against the corps of General George Thomas. To the north, the well-scouted English Division was confronted by W. F. Smith's corps. Despite the differences in terminology, the two forces were approximately equal, as an American corps approximated a British division.
George Thomas, who had served under Halleck, had been recently promoted to major general. He was considered a solid professional, and, at forty-six, one of the older generals. W. F. “Baldy” Smith was a replacement for the recently deceased C. F. Smith. Although outspoken to the point where he alienated people, Baldy Smith was considered to be a competent general.
There was some concern that only Lew Wallace's division was in reserve, but keeping a large reserve was not part of Grant's battle plan.
