 CHAPTER VI. Nor was this all. The British navy harried the coast in every convenient quarter and made effective work of two most important joint attacks, one on Maine, the other on Washington itself. The attack on Maine covered two months, all together, from July 11th to September 11th. It began with the taking of Moose Island by Sir Thomas Hardy, Nelson's old flag captain at Trafalgar, and ended with the surrender at Machius of about 100 miles of sea coast, together with that intermediate tract of country which separates the province of New Brunswick from lower Canada. On September 21st, Sir John Sherbrooke proclaimed at Halifax the formal annexation of all the eastern side of the Penobscot River and all the country lying between the same river and the boundary of New Brunswick. The attack on Maine was meant, in one sense at least, to create a partial counter-poise to the American preponderance on Lake Erie. The attack on Washington was made in retaliation for the burning of the old and new capitals of Upper Canada, Newark and York. The naval defense of Washington had been committed to Commodore Barney, a most expert and gallant veteran of the Revolution, who handled his wholly inadequate little force with consummate skill and daring, both afloat and ashore. He was not, strictly speaking, a naval officer, but a privateersman who had made the unique record of taking eleven prizes in ten consecutive days with his famous Baltimore schooner Rossi. The military defense was committed to General Winder, one of the two generals captured by Harvey's 704 Firelocks at Stony Creek the year before. Winder was a good soldier and did his best in the seven weeks at his disposal. But the American government, which had now enjoyed continuous party power for no less than thirteen years, gave him no more than four hundred regulars, backed by Barney's four hundred excellent seamen and the usual array of militia, with whom to defend the capital in the third campaign of a war they had themselves declared. There were ninety-three thousand five hundred militiamen within the threatened area, but only fifteen thousand were got under arms and only five thousand were brought into action. In the middle of August the British fleet under Admiral's Cochran and Cockburn sailed into Chesapeake Bay with a detachment of four thousand troops commanded by General Ross. Barney had no choice but to retire before this overwhelming force. As the British advanced up the narrowing waters all chances of escape disappeared. So Barney burnt his boats and little vessels and marched to Seaman to join Winder's army. On August 24th Winder's whole six thousand drew up in exceedingly strong position at Bladensburg, just north of Washington, and the President rode out with his cabinet to see a battle which is best described by its derisive title of the Bladensburg races. Ross's four thousand came on and were received by an accurate checking fire from the regular artillery and from Barney's Seaman gunners. But a total loss of eight killed and eleven wounded was more than the five thousand American militia could stand. All the rest ran for dear life. The deserted handful of regular soldiers and sailors was then overpowered, while Barney was severely wounded and taken prisoner. He and they, however, had saved their honor and won the respect and admiration of both friend and foe. Ross and Cockburn at once congratulated him on the stand he had made against them, and he, with equal magnanimity, reported officially that the British had treated him just like a brother. That night the little British army of four thousand men burnt governmental Washington, the capital of a country with eight millions of people. Not a man, not a woman, not a child, was in any way molested, nor was one finger laid on any private property. The four thousand then marched back to the fleet, through an area inhabited by ninety-three thousand five hundred militiamen on paper, without having so much as a single musket fired at them. Now, if ever, was Prevost's golden opportunity to end the war with a victory that would turn the scale decisively in favor of the British cause. With the one exception of Lake Erie, the British had the upper hand over the whole five thousand miles of front. A successful British counter-invasion across the Montreal frontier would have offset the American hold on Lake Erie, ensure the control of Lake Champlain, and thus bring all the scattered parts of the campaign into their proper relation to a central crowning triumph. On the other hand, defeat would mean disaster. But the bare possibility of defeat seemed quite absurd when Prevost set out from his field headquarters opposite Montreal, between La Prairie and Chambley, with eleven thousand seasoned veterans, mostly peninsulars, to attack Plattsburgh, which was no more than twenty-five miles across the frontier, very weakly fortified and garrisoned only by the fifteen hundred regulars whom Izard had culled out when he started for Niagara. The naval odds were not so favorable. But as they could be decisively affected by military action, they naturally depended on Prevost, who, with his overwhelming army, could turn them whichever way he chose. It was true that Commodore McDonough's American flotilla had more trained seamen than Captain Downey's corresponding British force, and that his vessels and crews possessed the further advantage of having worked together for some time. Downey, a brave and skillful young officer, had arrived to take command of his flotilla at the upper end of Lake Champlain only on September 2nd. That is, exactly a week before Prevost urged him to attack, and nine days before the battle actually did take place. He had a fair proportion of trained seamen, but they consisted of scratch-drafts from different men of war, chosen in haste and hurried to the front. Most of the men and officers were complete strangers to one another, and they made such short-handed crews that some soldiers had to be wheeled out of the line of march and put on board at the very last minute. There would have been grave difficulties with such a flotilla under any circumstances. But Prevost had increased them tenfold by giving no orders and making no preparations while trying his hand at another abortive armistice, one more over which he had no authority even to propose. Yet in spite of this, Prevost still had the means of making Downey superior to McDonough. McDonough's vessels were mostly armed with Karanads, Downey's with long guns. Its fired masses of small projectiles, with great effect at very short ranges. Long guns, on the other hand, fired each a single large projectile up to the farthest ranges known. In fact it was almost as if the Americans had been armed with shotguns and the British armed with rifles. Therefore the Americans had an overwhelming advantage at close quarters, while the British had a corresponding advantage at long range. Now McDonough had anchored in an ideal position for close action inside Plattsburgh Bay. He required only a few men to look after his ground tackle, anchors and cables, and his springs, ropes to hold a vessel in position when hauling or swinging in a harbor. Here ropes from the stern to the anchors on the landward side, were outward on the landward side for winding ship, that is, for turning his vessels completely around so as to bring their fresh broadsides into action. There was no sea room from maneuvering round him with any chance of success, so the British would be at a great disadvantage while standing into the attack. First because they could be raked and on, next because they could only reply with bow fire, the weakest of all, and lastly because their best men would be engaged with the sails and anchors while their ships were taking station. But Prevost had it fully in his power to prevent McDonough from fighting in such an ideal position at all. McDonough's American flotilla was well within range of McComb's long range American land batteries, while Prevost overwhelming British army was easily able to take these land batteries, turn their guns on McDonough's helpless vessels, whose short range Caranades could not possibly reply, and so either destroy the American flotilla at anchor in the bay or force it out into the open lake, where it would meet Downey's long range guns at the greatest disadvantage. Prevost, after allowing for all other duties, had at least 7,000 veterans for an assault on McComb's second rate regulars and an ordinary militia, both of whom together amounted to at most 3,500, including local militiamen who had come in to reinforce the culls whom Izzard had left behind. The Americans, though working with very creditable zeal, determined to do their best, quite expected to be beaten out of their little forts and entrenchments, which were just across the fortable Sarnac in front of Prevost's army. They had tried to delay the British advance. But in the words of McComb's own official report, so undaunted was the enemy that he never deployed in his whole march, always pressing on in column. That is, the British veterans simply brushed the Americans aside without deigning to change from their column of march into a line of battle. Prevost's duty was therefore perfectly plain. With all the odds in his favour a shore, and with the power of changing the odds in his favour a float, he ought to have captured McComb's position in the early morning, and turned both his own and McComb's artillery on McDonough, who would have then been forced to leave his moorings for the open lake, where Downey would have had eight hours of daylight to fight him at long range. What Prevost actually did was something disgracefully different. Having first wasted time by his attempted armistice, and so hindered preparations at the base between La Prairie and Chambley, he next proceeded to cross the frontier too soon. He reported home that Downey could not be ready before September 15th. But on August 31st he crossed the line himself only twenty-five miles from his objective, thus prematurely showing the enemy his hand. Then he began to goad the unhappy Downey to his doom. Downey's flagship, the Confiance, named after a French prize which Yeoh had taken, was launched only on August 25th, and hauled out into the stream only on September 7th. Her scratch crew could not go to battle quarters till the eighth, and the shipwrights were working madly at her up to the very moment that the first shot was fired in her fatal action on the eleventh. Yet Prevost tried to force her into action on the ninth, saying, I need not dwell with you on the evils resulting to both services from delay, and warning Downey that he was being watched. Captain Watson is directed to remain at little Shazie until you are preparing to get under way. Thus watched and goaded by the Governor-General and Commander-in-Chief, whose own service was the army, Downey, a comparative junior in the Navy, put forth his utmost efforts against his better judgment to sail that very midnight. A baffling headwind, however, kept him from working out. He immediately reported to Prevost, giving quite satisfactory reasons. But Prevost wrote back impatiently, the troops have been held in readiness since six o'clock this morning, the tenth, to storm the enemy's works at nearly the same time as the naval action begins in the bay. I ascribe the disappointment I have experienced to the unfortunate change of wind, and shall rejoice to learn that my reasonable expectations have been frustrated by no other cause. No other cause. The innuendo, if unintentional, was there. Downey, a junior sailor, was perhaps suspected of shyness by a very senior soldier. Prevost's poison worked quickly. I will convince him that the Navy won't be backward, said Downey to his second, Pring, who gave this evidence under oath at the subsequent court-martial. Pring, whose evidence was corroborated by that of both the First Lieutenant and the Master of the Confiance, then urged the extreme risk of engaging McDonough inside the bay. But Downey allayed their anxiety by telling them that Prevost had promised to storm McComb's indefensible works simultaneously. This was not nearly so good as if Prevost had promised to defeat McComb first, and then drive McDonough out to sea. But it was better, far better, than what actually was done. With Prevost's written promise in his pocket, Downey sailed for Plattsburg in the early morning of that fatal eleventh of September. Punctually to the minute he fired his pre-concerted signal outside Cumberland Head, which separated the bay from the lake. He next waited exactly the prescribed time, during which he reconnoitred McDonough's position from a boat. Then the hour of battle came. The hammering of the shipwrights stopped at last, and the ill-starred Confiance, that ship which never had a chance to find herself, led the little squadron into Prevost's death-trap in the bay. Every soldier and sailor now realized that the storming of the works on land ought to have been the first move, and that Prevost's idea of simultaneous action was faulty, because it meant two independent fights, with the chance of a naval disaster preceding the military success. However, Prevost was the commander-in-chief. He had promised cooperation in his own way, and Downey was determined to show him that the navy had stopped for no other cause than the headwind of the day before. Did no other cause than mistake and judgment affect Prevost that fatal morning? Did he intend to show Downey that a commander-in-chief could not suffer the disappointment of holding troops in readiness without marking his displeasure by some visible return in kind? Or was he no worse than criminally weak? His motives will never be known, but his actions throw a sinister light upon them. For when Downey sailed into the attack, Prevost did nothing whatever to help him. Betrayed, traduced, and goaded to his ruin, Downey fought a losing battle with the utmost gallantry and skill. The wind flawed and failed inside the bay, so that the Confiance could not reach her proper station. But her first broadside struck down forty men aboard the Saratoga. Then the Saratoga fired her cownades at point-blank range, cut up the cables aboard the Confiance, and did great execution among the crew. In fifteen minutes Downey fell. The battle raged for two hours longer, while the odds against the British continued to increase. Four of their little gun-boats fought as well as gun-boats could. But the other seven simply ran away, like their commander afterwards when summoned for a court-martial that would assuredly have sentenced him to death. Two of the larger vessels failed to come into action properly. One went ashore, the other drifted through the American line and then hauled down her colors. Thus the battle was fought to its dire conclusion by the British Confiance and Lynet against the American Saratoga, Eagle, and Ticonderoga. The gun-boats had little to do with the result, though the odds of all those actually engaged were greatly in favour of McDonough. The fourth American vessel of larger size drifted out of action. McDonough, an officer of whom any navy in the world might well be proud, then concentrated on the stricken Confiance with his own Saratoga, greatly aided by the Eagle, which swung round so as to rake the Confiance with her fresh broadside. The Lynet now drifted off a little and so could not help the Confiance, both because the American galleys at once engaged her and because her position was bad in any case. Finally both flag ships slackened fire, whereupon McDonough took the opportunity of winding ship. His ground tackle was in perfect order on the far or landward side, so the Saratoga swung round quite easily. The Confiance now had both the Eagles and the Saratoga's fresh caronade broadsides deluging her battered, cannon-armed broadside with showers of deadly grape. Her one last chance of keeping up a little longer was to wind ship herself. Her tackle had all been cut, but her master got out his last spare cables and tried to bring her round, while some of his toiling men fell dead at every haul. She began to wind round very slowly, and when exactly at right ankles to McDonough was raked completely, foreign aft. At the same time an ominous list to port, where her side was torn in over a hundred places, showed that she would sink quickly if her guns could not be run across to starboard. But more than half her mixed-scratch crew had already been killed or wounded. The most desperate efforts of her few surviving officers could not prevent the confusion that followed the fearful raking she now received from both her superior opponents, and before her fresh broadside could be brought to bear she was forced to strike her flag. Then every American caronade and gun was turned upon Pring's undaunted little linen, which kept up the hopeless fight for fifteen minutes longer, so that Prevost might yet have a chance to carry out his own operations without fear of molestation from a hostile bay. But Prevost was in no danger of molestation. He was in perfect safety. He watched the destruction of his fleet from secure headquarters, well inland, marched and counter-marched his men about to make a show of action, and then as the linen fired her last despairing gun he told all ranks to go to dinner. That night he broke camp hurriedly, left all his badly wounded men behind him, and went back a great deal faster than he came. His shamed, disgusted veterans deserted in unprecedented numbers, and McCombs' astounded army found themselves the victors of an unfought field. The American victory at Plattsburgh gave the United States the absolute control of Lake Champlain, and this, reinforcing their similar control of Lake Erie, counterbalanced the British military advantages all along the Canadian frontier. The British command of the sea, the destruction of Washington, and the occupation of Maine, told heavily on the other side. These three British advantages had been won while the mother country was fighting with her right hand tied behind her back, and in all the elements of war-like strength the British Empire was vastly superior to the United States. Thus, there cannot be the slightest doubt that if the British had been free to continue the war they must have triumphed. But they were not free. Europe was seething with the profound unrest that made her statesmen feel the volcano heaving under their every step during the portentous year between Napoleon's abdication and return. The mighty British Navy, the veteran British Army, could not now be sent across the sea in overwhelming force. So American diplomacy eagerly seized this chance of profiting by British needs, and took such good advantage of them that the Treaty of Ghent, which ended the war on Christmas Eve, left the two opponents in much the same position towards each other as before, neither of the main reasons for which the Americans had fought their three campaigns was even mentioned in the articles. The war had been an unmitigated curse to the motherland herself, and it brought the usual curses in its train all over the scene of action. But some positive good came out of it as well, both in Canada and in the United States. The benefits conferred on the United States could not be given in after words than those used by Galata, who, as the finance minister during four presidential terms, saw quite enough of the seamy side to sober his opinions, and who, as a prominent member of the War Party, shared the disappointed hopes of his colleagues about the conquest of Canada. His opinion is, of course, that of a partisan, but it contains much truth for all that. The war has been productive of evil and of good, but I think the good preponderates. It has laid the foundations of permanent taxes and military establishments, which the Republicans, as the anti-Federalist Democrats were then called, had deemed unfavorable to the happiness and free institutions of the country. After our former system we were becoming too selfish, too much attached exclusively to the acquisition of wealth, above all, too much confined in our political feelings to local and state objects. The war has renewed the national feelings in character which the revolution had given, and which were daily lessening. The people are now more American. They feel and act more as a nation, and I hope that the permanency of the Union is thereby better secured. Gallatin did not, of course, foresee that it would take a third conflict to finish what the revolution had begun. But this sequel only strengthens his argument. For that Union, which was born in the throes of the revolution, had to pass through its tumultuous youth in 1812, before reaching full manhood by means of the Civil War. The benefits conferred on Canada were equally permanent and even greater. How Gallatin would have rejoiced to see in the United States any approach to such a financial triumph as that which was won by the army-bills in Canada? No public measure was ever more successful at the time or more full of promise for the future. But mightier problems than even those of national finance were brought nearer to their desirable solution by this propitious war. It made Ontario what Quebec had long since been, historic ground, thus bringing the older and newer provinces together with one exalting touch. It was also the last, as well as the most convincing defeat of the three American invasions of Canada. The first had been led by Sir William Phipps in 1690. This was long before the revolution. The American colonies were then still British and Canada still French. But the invasion itself was distinctively American, in men, ships, money, and design. It was undertaken without the consent or knowledge of the home authorities, and its success would probably have destroyed all chance of there being any British Canada to-day. The second American invasion had been that of Montgomery and Arnold in 1775 during the revolution, when the very diverse elements of a new Canadian life first began to defend their common heritage against a common foe. The third invasion, the War of 1812, united all these elements once more, just when Canada stood most in need of mutual confidence between them. So there could not have been a better bond of union than the blood, and shed so willingly by her different races in a single righteous cause. End of Chapter 6, Part 2.