War 1812 (15 page)

Departing on September 28th, it took two days to reach Sandwich, just eighteen miles away. Sandwich was located just across the strait from Detroit. Once there, Harrison lay over three days waiting on Colonel Johnson’s mounted rifles to join up. While waiting, Harrison ignored his seething officers and took over the home of Colonel James Baby, which had also been the headquarters of William Hull, the disgraced American commander.

Letting his horse crop at a small patch of grass, Jonah watched as Harrison’s infantry climbed into the boats to be rowed back out to Commodore Perry’s ships. His reverie was broken as Captain Clay Gesslin rode up.

Nodding to Moses, Gesslin spoke to Jonah. “The colonel is ready to pull out.”

“Looks like they might have a wet ride,” Jonah said, referring to the soldiers in the boats.

“Better them than us,” Gesslin replied, using his head to indicate the loading of the infantry.

“I won’t argue,” Jonah said. “How about you, Moses, land or sea?”

“I’ll stick to this hoss. If he goes down, I can still walk. One of them ships go down, I’d be in a heap of trouble. Only one man I ever heard of who could walk on water, and I never been much at swimming.” As an afterthought, Moses added, “And I certainly can’t drink that much water.” This brought a chuckle from Jonah and Gesslin.

“I like his thinking,” Gesslin said, as the three of them swung their horses around to catch up to the colonel.

“Glad to see you, Mr. Lee,” Colonel Johnson greeted Jonah as they rode up. “I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my brother, have you?”

“No sir.”

“James, this is Mr. Jonah Lee. He has the confidence of the president. Mr. Lee, my brother, Lieutenant Colonel James Johnson. He is my second in command.”

As the two shook hands, Jonah felt firmness in the man’s grip and decided he, like his brother, would be a formidable opponent.

“It’s good to meet you,” James said. “I’ve seen you in camp and Clay speaks highly of you.”

By the use of Gesslin’s first name, Jonah decided James was a little more relaxed than his brother.

Captain Gesslin was assigned the forward detail. Thinking it would be a cooler ride, Jonah and Moses decided to accompany the group. As much as Gesslin’s Kentucky volunteers liked to whoop it up in camp, they were all business on the trail.

About noon, a heavy mist began to fall; not a heavy rain, not even a sprinkle, just a mist. As the group rode toward Detroit, Jonah realized a man would have his hands full trying to make a go of it in this area. The country seemed low and soggy. They passed a few frame houses and a couple of larger houses with barns in the back. However, they were all deserted. Not a single soul was sighted, not even an Indian.

“You ever been to Detroit?” Gesslin asked as he sidled his horse next to Jonah’s.

“No, I’ve not had that pleasure,” Jonah responded.

“It’s a sight different than this area,” Gesslin explained. “Not barren like you see here. The town is laid out regular- like into streets and even alleys. I expect they have one hundred and fifty homes. The land is more level and the farms produce good crops. Mostly orchards and wheat; it’s too cold for corn. Most folks in the town are American, but a few Canadians are about. The Detroit River has a lot of traffic. At one place, it’s a mile wide.” Gesslin seemed to ignore the mist as he talked and rode. He did have a small hide draped over his long rifle to keep the firing pan dry.

As the group rounded a bend, Gesslin’s point rider had pulled up. “Small Indian village up ahead,” he volunteered as Gesslin, Jonah, and Moses rode up. “Smoke coming from some of the huts, so I guess somebody is minding the fire.”

“Huh,” Gesslin snorted. “They have better sense than we do, at least they’re inside.”

Ignoring his captain’s comments, Coot, the scout, dug into his leather pouch and came out with a plug of tobacco. Unwrapping the brown paper from around the plug, Coot then brushed and blew away any dirt or lint. Being polite, he held out the plug for anyone to take a chew. When nobody reached for the plug, he stuck it in his mouth and tore off a chew.

“Don’t blame you,” he volunteered when everyone passed. “It’s been known to turn a man’s innards.”

Gesslin seemed as patient as Job as he waited for the man to work his cud then spit.

That done, Coot wiped his chin on his sleeve and said, “They’s a marsh to one side of the huts. No way to go around, as I can see. Have to pass the huts.”

This was what Gesslin had been waiting for. He knew his man and gave him time to make his report. Signaling to one of the other riders, Gesslin wrote a quick note to be carried to Colonel Johnson.

As the messenger galloped off, Gesslin spoke. “Let’s get a better view of this village.”

The group followed the trail a ways, but when the smell of smoke was distinct, they eased into the woods. After a hundred yards or so, the village was in plain sight. The huts were made out of tree branches and mud. Smoke rose from a few crude chimneys but not a soul was in sight. There was no sound, not a child crying, or a dog barking, not even a horse was seen.

“I don’t like it,” Jonah whispered.

“Me neither,” Gesslin responded. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Seventeen

A
bloodcurdling yell filled the
stillness, followed by bodies painted in war paint dropping onto the riders from the trees.

As Captain Gesslin was hurled to the ground by his assailant, he shouted, “Ride for help.”

One of the riders at the rear of the detail caught a glancing blow on the shoulder from a tomahawk. He blasted his foe at point blank range with his rifle, then dug his heels into his mount and bounded away.

Meanwhile, Jonah was trying to rise from the ground where he was pinned by one Indian while another was tugging at the rifle held firmly in his hand. Seeing his friend, Clay, about to be stabbed with a wicked-looking knife, Jonah pulled the trigger of his rifle causing the one Indian to fall backwards from the impact of the ball. Rolling, he pulled his own knife and quickly dispatched his other foe. Reaching out, he grasped the Indian who was trying to kill his friend. Twisting the Indian’s arm, Jonah struck with all of his might plunging his blade deep into the kidney of the brave. The Indian fell forward dead. Another Indian had snatched up Gesslin’s gun and pointed the recovered rifle at Jonah. Kicking out, Jonah caught the Indian just below the knee, dislocating it. The rifle went off as the Indian fell. Hearing a thud and feeling a jerk, it took a moment to realize the ball had struck a dead branch causing it to fall into Jonah. Standing, Jonah could see Moses was backed against a tree with two of the red devils closing in.

Picking up a tomahawk Jonah charged forward and buried it in the skull of one of the attackers. Seeing his friend fall, the second Indian turned to face this new challenge. Too late, he realized his mistake as Moses grabbed a handful of hair and deftly pulled his sharp blade across the exposed throat. A gurgling noise was heard as the Indian dropped.

Turning to see how his comrades were making out, a sick feeling came over Jonah as one of the Indians scalped Coot, who let out a scream. Picking up his rifle, Jonah clubbed the Indian from behind and hit him a couple more times with the metal butt plate, turning the Indian’s skull into a bloody pulp.

A shot rang out. Whirling around, Jonah saw an Indian go down kicking while Gesslin held a smoking pistol in his hand. Blood oozed from a cut to his scalp and to his shoulder. But he was alive and fighting. Jonah gave a sigh of relief. He’d come to really like Gesslin and would take it hard if he fell. As quick as the attack had begun, it was over.

“Damn,” Gesslin swore, as he looked about. One man dead with a tomahawk still buried in his back. Coots, wounded and scalped, and still another; the one who rode away for help was wounded, but how bad was still to be seen.

Moses had a huge goose egg knot over his temporal area and a busted lip. Jonah’s ribs hurt so bad, it was hard to take a breath.

“Damn,” Gesslin cursed again. “I let my men get ambushed like some bunch of city folks.”

“You’re not the only one,” Jonah said, trying to salve his friend’s hurt.

“But I was in charge.”

“Makes no never mind, Clay. You did everything right. You took every precaution. This is war and men die.” Placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder, he continued, “It could have been worse.”

“Tell him that,” Gesslin replied, pointing to the scalped Coot.

“He’s alive,” Jonah started to say but remained silent.

Moses walked over and took the scalp from the dead Indian’s hand. He then rinsed it off with water from his canteen. With Jonah and Gesslin watching, he poured water over the wounded man’s head, and then placed the scalp back over the wound. He adjusted it slightly, then tore a strip from a blanket and bound it over the scalp and under the jaw

“Don’t try to talk,” he cautioned Coot. Then as an afterthought, he added, “Leave your chew in the pouch.”

Once clear of the wounded man, Jonah asked, “Will that grow back?”

Nodding, Jonah went to look for a small flask he carried in his saddlebag. He could use a drink, and Coot could probably use the whole bottle. Taking a swallow, the sound of Colonel Johnson’s men could be heard. Maybe they’d have a jug somewhere.

Skirmishers were sent out and the small village was quickly searched. A British officer’s coat was found but little more. The huts were destroyed and the group pulled out. Later that night, Gesslin stopped by Jonah and Moses’ camp. Moses had managed to get a fire going in spite of the dampness.

“Pine knot, what some call lighter, will burn every time,” Moses was telling one of the men. “I always keep a few sticks in my possible bag for days like this.”

Soon, the aroma of hot coffee could be smelled all over the camp. After taking the cup of offered coffee, Gesslin squatted next to the fire.

“Thanks for being supportive this afternoon,” he half-whispered. “The colonel said as much.” Pausing to blow on the strong black liquid, Gesslin took a timid sip then added, “The sawbones said Moses may have prevented ill vapors and purification by fixing Coot up like he did. Says he’ll probably still be bald on top.”