Billy Green Saves the Day (10 page)

Chandler relaxed into his chair and closed his eyes. “Perhaps you're right. Maybe exhaustion is getting the better of me.”

Winder topped up Chandler's glass and slid it toward him. “I'm always right. What you need is a few more drinks and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow we'll finish them off. Once and for all.”

Outside, Major Smith shook his head in disbelief as he watched Chandler and Winder drinking. “Their ignorance will be our ultimate demise,” he whispered to himself. He sauntered toward some of his officers where Samuel Foote waited. The major pointed to a small knoll east of the property. “I want the entire camp moved up there, including the cannons. Have the guns charged and make sure the slow matches are lit. And remind the men to sleep with their muskets loaded.”

“Did General Chandler order that, sir?” one of the officers asked incredulously.

“It's not his order. It's mine. Just do it.”

The officer saluted and ran off as Foote stepped forward. “Do you think the British will attack?” he asked the major.

Smith rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “If they're worth their salt, they will.”

“Bring them on!” Samuel cried, readying his musket.

“Mr. Foote, we appreciate your supplies, but this isn't the place for a citizen.” Smith motioned to another officer, who came running. “Take thirty men and occupy the church on the other side. I want three sentries posted twenty yards apart.”

The officer saluted and scurried off as Foote aimed his musket at an imaginary target. “I can hit a squirrel between the eyes. You could use me.”

Smith frowned at him. “Are you a God-fearing man, Mr. Foote?”

“Of course. Every patriotic American is.”

Smith surveyed the disorderly soldiers clumsily preparing to move camp. “Well, if you stay, you just might meet your maker.”

Foote looked at the sky and then at Smith. “You believe in God, don't you?”

The major laughed, but soon stopped. “I used to ... but what kind of God would let any of this happen?” With one hand he gestured at the cannons and the infantrymen. “This war was a bad idea from the start. Every war is. Pure madness.”

Adam Green hurled a glass, and it smashed against the wall. He stood and tossed the chair he was sitting in through the window. “I told him!” he shouted, overturning the table and sending plates and cutlery crashing to the floor.

Keziah ushered Hannah into another room as Levi waited for his father's wrath to end.

Adam glared at Levi. “I asked you to look after him. How could you let him run off like that?”

“Billy's not a little boy, Pa. He's a young man and quite capable. He saved our lives.”

“He's not accustomed to war, Levi,” Adam shot back. He slumped against the door and gazed at the night sky. “My youngest son may be killed if he's not already dead. I know how the army works. They're going to need every man they can get to fight the Americans.” He stepped onto the porch.

Levi followed him out. “You're going to have to let him be a man some time. He's nineteen, after all.”

“He hasn't had a chance to grow up yet. And you let this happen.” Adam punched Levi in the mouth, and he fell to the ground.

Levi got to his feet and chuckled. “You're as ill tempered as Billy is.”

Adam punched him again, and Levi crashed to the dirt once more.

“I won't hit you, Pa, no matter how many times you hit me. In fact, keep doing it if it makes you feel better.”

“Get up and fight like a man!”

“Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Billy. That's what he wants to do — fight like a man. I wonder where he gets that from?” Levi wiped blood from his lip.

Adam fought to control his anger. Slowly, he extended a hand and helped Levi to his feet. “I'm sorry, son. It's just that I can't stand the thought of losing Billy ... or any of my children. You try to teach your child right from wrong, to make your son into a man, a better man than yourself. But maybe I failed.”

“You didn't. He wants you to be proud of him. He's got courage, Pa. Your courage. And as far as I'm concerned, that's a success.” Levi smiled as Adam hugged him.

“Where is he?” Sarah Foote suddenly cried as she burst into the room.

They turned to see Sarah running toward them. “I don't know,” Adam said sadly.

“He's gone to fight, hasn't he?” She collapsed to her knees and sobbed.

Adam went to her and knelt beside her. “He knows what he's doing. He'll be all right.”

“What if ... what if he's hurt? What if he's killed?”

Adam caressed her hair as she buried her face in his chest. “He isn't going to die,” he whispered as though to comfort himself more than her. “He'll come back to both of us.” He looked at Levi, Keziah, and Hannah.

“To all of us.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

B
illy rode through the black of night, his arms clinging tightly to Tip's neck. The animal's hooves came perilously close to the escarpment's edge as Billy's eyes searched for signs of the Americans. In the distance light radiated from the campfires at Burlington Heights just as a sudden bolt of lightning momentarily turned the countryside an incandescent white.

Following a trail down the escarpment, Billy stopped at the foot of a swamp. He dismounted and calmed Tip as the horse panted from fatigue. “Good boy, Tip. We finally made it.”

Billy tied the horse to a tree before wading into the hip-deep sludge. He fought to cross the marsh and hauled himself up the slippery embankment where he saw the friendly fires of the British Army a short distance away. The white canvas shelters were arranged in neat, tight rows surrounded by militia, settler, and Indian pavilions.

Thoroughly winded, Billy hobbled onward, but then froze. He sensed someone behind him and pivoted to find a stone-faced British sentry holding a musket.

“Identify yourself!” the soldier demanded.

“My name's Billy Green. I'm a Loyalist. The Americans have invaded Stoney Creek.”

The guard aimed his musket. “You're a spy.”

“Please, you have to listen to me,” Billy said, but the sentinel pushed the tip of the weapon against his chest.

“Don't move! One more word and I'll kill you.” The sentry shoved Billy forward into a tent where Colonel Harvey sat at a table writing. “Sir, this man claims he's a Loyalist from Stoney Creek. I caught him trying to enter the camp.”

Billy stepped forward. “The Yankees have taken over the Gage house. There are thousands of them.”

“I know,” Harvey said, continuing to write.

Billy's jaw dropped. “What?”

Fitzgibbon, dressed in full uniform, entered the tent. “I saw them,” he said casually. “I sold them butter, disguised as a settler. And now you're trying to sell us a lie.”

“Take him into custody,” Harvey said with a careless wave of his hand. “It's obvious he's trying to trick us into attacking and then be ambushed.”

Billy struggled to break free, but the sentry manhandled him away. “You have to believe me. I'm not a spy. I know the American password.”

Harvey looked up from his paperwork and studied Billy. “You're lying. Get him out of here.”

Billy was dragged off just as John Norton, the Indian leader, appeared outside the tent. “Let him be. I know this boy.”

The moon disappeared behind some rain-filled clouds, and the wind began to pick up. Fog rolled in from Lake Ontario and crawled toward the shore, eventually engulfing Burlington Heights.

Inside Vincent's tent the general pulled on his coat. “What have we got?”

“Seven hundred of our most elite men,” Colonel Harvey said, scanning a sheet of paper. “Major Pleanderleath will command the 49th Regiment, and Major Ogilvie is commanding the 8th.”

Vincent buttoned his jacket. “Good, good. We'll take one cannon. Any more will slow the march. You take the point, and I'll bring up the rear.”

“Yes, sir. I also think we should split our forces once we get there.” Harvey placed a hand-drawn map of the Gage property on the desk. “I suggest Fitzgibbon and I follow the road in while Ogilvie attacks from the south and Pleanderleath from the north.” He pointed with his finger. “Norton will lead his Indians from the high ground on the southwest corner of the farm. I've evenly split the militia between both regiments.”

“I just pray to God the Americans don't attack us here while we're advancing on them,” the general said, attaching his sword.

“About that, sir, I'd really like to see more men going to Stoney Creek.”

“It's out of the question, Colonel. If we should fail, Burlington Heights is all that's left between this country and the Americans. We need more men here.” Vincent opened a drawer in his desk, retrieved his Bible, and sat in his chair. “I need some time alone. Please leave me now. I'll be out in a minute.”

Harvey saluted. “You're doing the right thing, sir.”

General Vincent returned the gesture. “John?” Harvey turned. “Whatever happens, it's been an honour serving with you. I personally want to thank you for your courage and your candour.”

“You're most welcome, General.” Harvey smiled and then exited.

Vincent opened the Bible and closed his eyes as he murmured a prayer.

Several British soldiers were asleep in their bedrolls as condensation exhaled from their mouths with each breath. The fog crept beneath the tent as the men unconsciously pulled the covers tight.

Suddenly, a British officer threw back the flap and kicked at the soldiers' boots. “On your feet and prepare for duty! I want you outside now!” he barked, and hurried out. Soon the British regulars and militia formed ranks as the Indians did the same under John Norton.

Billy anxiously kept step with Colonel Harvey, who supervised the beehive of activity. “Please, I want to fight.”

“You've done enough,” Harvey said, continuing the survey of his troops.

“I need to do this, sir. Please, I'm begging you. I know this area better than anybody. I know it as well as any animal. I could be your scout.”

Harvey stopped walking and confronted him. “I'm sorry, son, but leave this to the professionals.” He slapped Billy on the back before striding away.

Dejected, Billy watched as the combatants assembled outside General Vincent's tent. After a few moments, the general stepped out, dressed in his crisp uniform. A hush fell over the crowd.

“Gentlemen, we're going to march the three hours to Stoney Creek and launch a surprise attack on the Americans.” The general's announcement caused an instantaneous reaction of whispers, both of support and disbelief.

Vincent inspected the musket of a nearby infantryman. “This will be a cold-steel exercise, people. There will be no flints in the firelocks, so nobody fires prematurely.” He turned to Harvey. “Colonel Harvey has convinced me that this attack is essential. If we stay here and do nothing, it will only be a matter of time before the Americans surround us. This raid truly represents Upper Canada's only hope of maintaining independence from American domination and expansion. This is a moment your children can say they witnessed ... and hopefully remember the sacrifices made to keep their future in their own hands.” Vincent patted the head of a nearby infant in his mother's arms.

The general's eyes drifted off, and he frowned. “If Upper Canada falls to the United States, Lower Canada will surely follow. The destiny of a nation depends upon this fight, and though we're outnumbered three to one, we do have the advantage of surprise.”

Slowly, he walked along, surveying the troops. “A victory will indelibly write your names in history. Your efforts will be as great as those of the warriors before you.” He halted before a teenage drummer. “This is more than a battle about the British defending Crown territory.” He turned to the Six Nations men. “This is about our Indian allies and preserving their land and identity.”

The general ambled over to a militiaman, who was holding his young son's hand. “It's about maintaining the livelihoods of the settlers and securing a future for their children and grandchildren. Some of you won't return, but your noble sacrifice won't be forgotten for generations to come.”

Vincent scanned the nervous faces of his army and then focused on Billy. “And, finally, we all owe a debt of gratitude to Billy Green here. He's made this assault possible by giving us the American password.” The general withdrew his sword and presented it to Billy. “I'd be honoured if you'd lead us as our official scout to Stoney Creek, Billy.” He handed the young man a folded British uniform.

Billy's despondent face filled with jubilation as he glanced at Harvey. The colonel nodded and smiled. Billy beamed with pride as he gladly accepted the weapon and clothing. “Yes, sir!”

Vincent climbed atop his horse and donned his hat. “Good luck, men, and may God bless you. Mr. Green, get into that uniform and lead us on.”

Quickly, Billy ran behind a tent and disrobed. With quaking hands he stared at the white pants and pulled them on. He was shaking with excitement so badly he couldn't get the red coat through his arms. Colonel Harvey appeared and held the jacket as Billy slipped into it. The officer buttoned it for him and gave Billy the standard black hat. Harvey smiled. “You look like a soldier. How do you feel?”

“Happy ... and kind of scared,” Billy said sheepishly. “But I won't let you down, sir.”

“I know you won't, son. Come on, it's time.” Harvey escorted him to the vanguard of the small army.

Billy took a deep breath and began to march as the men followed. He frequently checked over his shoulder and grinned with excitement, still amazed that he was leading the way.

Major Pleanderleath caught up to Billy. “Slow the march, son.”

“If we don't hurry, daylight will break by the time we get there,” Billy warned.