Cleburne's Irish Legion has crossed the border at Niagara and joined with Grant.”
“Does that mean the Welland Canal is ours as well?”
Lincoln was surprised. “I believe it does. Why?”
Scott smiled more broadly. “I do recall that General Grant operates well in conjunction with naval forces.”
Lord Cardigan had been evacuated by ship. He had suffered a complete emotional collapse and been sent across Lake Ontario to Kingston. He would then go to a hospital in either Ottawa or Montreal, and later back to England whether better or not. Regardless of what would transpire, his long career was over and had ended in disgrace.
General Colin Campbell now commanded by virtue of seniority over General Gough. Governor Monck had made it through the lines to Toronto, which the British still held, however feebly. He, too, departed by ship to Kingston to avoid the growing Union cavalry presence. There were no British regulars in Toronto, and only a few hundred militia and police constituted the city's entire defensive force. Toronto's city government had already opened negotiations with Grant to declare Toronto an open city. Grant had concurred. He would take the city if and when he wished, and there would be no resistance.
The Americans were more than content to surround the entrenched British at Hamilton, and bombard their works with their field guns. In particular they used three-inch rifled cannon that could fire a ten-pound shell accurately for more than a mile.
American cavalry ranged past Toronto and as far as Oshawa on Lake Ontario. Communications and resupply, therefore, were entirely by ship, which was the city of Hamilton's only connection with the rest of the world and the British Empire.
“Thank God Britannia rules the waves,” Wolsey said with sarcasm. General Gough chuckled. The Royal Navy's entire Lake Ontario Squadron, a trio of armed schooners and a paddle wheeler with cannon mounted on it, stood about a mile offshore. Two of the schooners had come through the Welland from Lake Erie, which meant there were no British ships on that Great Lake.
“How long do you think our naval superiority will last?” Gough queried. “If I recall, the Americans have a nasty habit of building their own fleets on the Great Lakes. God only knows what's going on at Rochester and Oswego. I can only hope that no American ships will arrive until the relief column from Montreal breaks through.”
Wolsey thought Gough was being very optimistic. Cardigan had lost a third of his army dead, wounded, or missing, and the remainder was under siege. Both knew there weren't enough soldiers in Montreal to counter Grant's force, which they now estimated at fifty thousand thanks to reinforcements that had poured in from Niagara. The fact that thousands of them were damned Irishmen was galling as well.
American cannon had begun smashing British works, and the British didn't have the guns to counter them. Most had been lost in the battle, and it was presumed that some were in use against them by the Americans, which made a bad situation even worse, particularly since some of them were the large cannon from the Niagara forts. These had been damaged by the retreating Canadians, but the clever Americans had quickly fixed them.
Life in Hamilton meant going from place to place by trench and staying in basements and bunkers for as long as possible. Sticking one's head up invited disaster, and the city was being pounded to rubble by the American guns. Only by the waterfront was it even somewhat safe.
They had only been under siege for a few days, but it seemed like forever, and it also seemed like the thunder of cannon would never stop.
It would be a very long time before any relief column made it to Hamilton. Meanwhile, they had to defend themselves against the Americans, who were watching every move they made and every trench they dug thanks to their damned balloon, which, as they spoke, swayed with the breezes high above the Union lines.
The sound of a signal cannon echoed in from the lake. “What now?” said Gough.
They left the safety of their shelter and rushed through the trenches towards the harbor, where they saw the quartet of Royal Navy ships heading farther outward. Three dark fingers of smoke were visible in the distance. In a short while the shapes of three paddle wheelers were evident. Through their telescopes, Wolsey and Gough could see that the strangers flew the American flag and were surprisingly low in the water. Then it dawned on Wolsey.
“They're ironclads, by God. Goddamn, Grant's made ironclads out of steamships and sent them through the Welland.”
The Welland Canal could not accommodate extremely large ships, but could handle lake steamers with shallow enough drafts. Obviously, these qualified.
The British ships opened fire at long range with no apparent effect. As the cannon fire rumbled, the Americans closed the distance until, at very close range, they opened fire. Even though each ironclad only had a pair of guns, they were large caliber and the effect was devastating. The unarmored schooners seemed to disintegrate before their eyes as the shells crushed their hulls and began fires that devoured the wooden ships. A steamer took a hit in her boiler and blew up, showering the ironclads with debris.
Within a few moments, it was over. There were no British ships on the Great Lakes.
The American warships made no attempt to keep the British lifeboats from picking up survivors. Instead, the three Union ironclads moved close to shore with studied insolence. Except for a few dents, they were unharmed by their encounter with the British ships.
For the next hour, they ranged the waterfront and fired at anything they wished. They smashed buildings and shattered bunkers. Fires were started, and no one could get out of their trenches to stop them. Since most buildings contained soldiers, there were numerous casualties.
Wolsey lay on his belly in a ditch as dirt and debris rained down on him. General Gough was beside him. There were only a handful of guns on the American ships, but the British could not oppose them. It was execution, not battle.
Finally it was over and the three American ironclads steamed away, doubtless short of ammunition. Wolsey got up from the ditch and shook mud off his uniform. Gough was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, shaken, but otherwise unharmed. The Union ships were heading towards St. Catherines, which the Americans had taken several days before. They would be back and would commence a blockade.
There would be no more supplies from Montreal and no relief column was going to save them. It was a bitter truth: but one that had to be confronted. That evening, it was almost with relief that Wolsey got the summons from General Campbell to attend a council of war. Campbell could call it what he wished. Wolsey thought, but he doubted there would be very much war for him any longer
Brevet Colonel Nathan Hunter once again rode under flag of truce towards the enemy lines. He paused as a lone rider emerged from behind an earthen embankment. Nathan stifled a grin when he realized it was Brigadier General Wolsey.
Nathan gave Wolsey a courtesy salute. “I can't say I'm delighted to see you again, Colonel,” Wolsey said, “but I'm damn glad to be talking to someone who is reasonable.” That remains to be seen, Nathan thought. “I. too, had hoped to meet you again under more pleasant circumstances. However, fate has decreed otherwise.”
“I rather think General Grant and his army had more to do with it than fate,” Wolsey said drily. “Be that as it may, it is, as General Grant's note said, time to halt the bloodshed. What does he propose?”
“Unconditional surrender,” said Nathan and saw Wolsey wince. “Unacceptable,” Wolsey said. “We must negotiate an honorable settlement.”
“Consider your position, General. You have scant food and little ammunition. You are outnumbered and surrounded, with no relief available from anywhere in the hemisphere. Soon your men will be pounded to pieces just like the men you saved at London would have been had they continued their folly. Surrender and save lives, sir.”
“At London you did not hold the Canadians prisoner,” Wolsey said in rebuttal. “I am not proposing that we be released, but surely we can come to some accommodation regarding parole and exchange.”
“Too much blood has been spilled for there to be complete absolution. Surrender, and both you and your men will be treated honorably. Continue the fighting and confront destruction. As to parole or exchange, that is for our governments to work out. However, as we now hold and will hold many more British soldiers than you do Americans, exchange is not a likely option under any circumstances. The possibility of parole for senior officers is
