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Three chief moves were in MacDonough's strategy。 He anchored to
the northward of the bay； so that any fleet coming down the lake
would have to beat up against the wind to reach him； so close to
land that any fleet trying to flank him would come within range
of the forts； and left only one apparent gap that a foe might try
to use； a gap in front of which was a dangerous sunken reef。 This
was indeed a baited trap。 Finally he put out cables； kedges；
anchors； and springs； so that with the capstan he could turn his
vessels and bring either side to bear on the foe。
All was ready； that morning of September the 11th as the British
fleet； ably handled； swung around the Cumberland Head。
The young commander of the Yankee fleet now kneeled bareheaded
with his crew and prayed to the God of Battles as only those
going into battle pray。 The gallant foe came on； and who that
knows him doubts that he； too； raised his heart in reverent
prayer？ The first broadside from the British broke open a chicken
coop on the Saratoga from which a game…cock flew； and； perching
on a gun； flapped his wings and crowed； so all the seamen cheered
at such a happy omen。
Then followed the fighting； with its bravery and its horrors
its brutish wickedness broke loose。
Early in the action； the British sloop； Finch； fell into
MacDonough's trap and grounded on the reef。
The British commander was killed； with many of his officers。
Still； the heavy fire of the guns would have given them the
victory； but for MacDonough's foresight in providing for swinging
his ships。 When one broadside was entirely out of action； he used
his cables； kedges and springs； and brought the other batteries
to bear。
It was one of the most desperate naval fights the world has ever
seen。 Of the three hundred men on the British flag… ship not more
than five； we are told； escaped uninjured； and at the close there
was not left on any one of the eight vessels a mast that could
carry sail； or a sail that could render service。 In less than two
hours and a half the fight was won； and the British fleet
destroyed。
To the God of Battles each had committed his cause： and the God
of Battles had spoken。
Far away to the southward in the boats were the Vermont troops
with their general and Rolf in the foremost。 Every sign of the
fight they had watched as men whose country's fate is being tried。
It was a quarter after eleven when the thunder died away； and the
Vermonters were headed on shore； for a hasty landing； if need be；
when down from the peak of the British flag…ship went the Union
Jack； and the Stars and Stripes was hauled to take its place。
〃Thank God！〃 a soft； murmuring sigh ran through all the boats and
many a bronzed and bearded cheek was wet with tears。 Each man
clasped hands with his neighbour； all were deeply moved； and even
as an audience melted renders no applause； so none felt any wish
to vent his deep emotion in a cheer。
Chapter 82。 Scouting for Macomb
General Macomb knew that Sir George Prevost was a cautious and
experienced commander。 The loss of his fleet would certainly make
a radical change in his plans； but what change？ Would he make a
flank move and dash on to Albany； or retreat to Canada； or
entrench himself to await reinforcements at Plattsburg； or try to
retrieve his laurels by an overwhelming assault on the town？
Whatever his plan； he would set about it quickly； and Macomb
studied the enemy's camp with a keen； discerning eye； but nothing
suggesting a change was visible when the sun sank in the rainy west。
It was vital that he know it at once when an important move was
begun； and as soon as the night came down； a score of the
swiftest scouts were called for。 All were young men； most of them
had been in McGlassin's band。 Rolf was conspicuous among them for
his tall figure； but there was a Vermont boy named Seymour； who
had the reputation of being the swiftest runner of them all。
They had two duties laid before them： first； to find whether
Prevost's army was really retreating； second； what of the
regiment he sent up the Saranac to perform the flank movement。
Each was given the country he knew best。 Some went westerly； some
followed up the river。 Rolf； Seymour； and Fiske； another
Vermonter； skimmed out of Plattsburg harbour in the dusk； rounded
Cumberland Bend； and at nine o'clock landed at Point au Roche； at
the north side of Treadwell's Bay。
Here they hid the canoe and agreeing to meet again at midnight；
set off in three different westerly directions to strike the
highway at different points。 Seymour； as the fast racer； was
given the northmost route； Rolf took the middle。 Their signals
were arranged in the woods the barred…owl cry； by the water
the loon； and they parted。
The woods seemed very solemn to Rolf that historic September
night； as he strode along at speed； stopping now and again when
he thought he heard some signal； and opened wide his mouth to
relieve his ear…drums of the heart…beat or to still the rushing
of his breath。
In half an hour he reached the high…road。 It was deserted。 Then
he heard a cry of the barred owl：
Wa wah wa wah Wa … wah wa hooooo…aw。
He replied with the last line； and the answer came a repeat of
the whole chant； showing that it might be owl； it might be man；
but it was not the right man； for the final response should have
been the hooooo…aw。 Rolf never knew whence it came； but gave no
further heed。
For a long time he sat in a dark corner； where he could watch the
road。 There were sounds of stir in the direction of Plattsburg。
Then later； and much nearer； a couple of shots were fired。 He
learned afterward that those shots were meant for one of his
friends。 At length there was a faint tump ta tump ta。 He drew his
knife； stuck it deep in the ground； then held the handle in his
teeth。 This acted like a magnifier； for now he heard it plainly
enough the sound of a horse at full gallop but so far away
that it was five minutes before he could clearly hear it while
standing。 As the sound neared； he heard the clank of arms； and
when it passed； Rolf knew that this was a mounted British
officer。 But why； and whither？
In order to learn the rider's route； Rolf followed at a trot for
a mile。 This brought him to a hilltop； whither in the silent
night； that fateful north wind carried still the sound
te rump te rump te rump。
As it was nearly lost； Rolf used his knife again； that brought
the rider back within a mile it seemed； and again the hoof beat
faded； te rump te rump。
〃Bound for Canada all right；〃 Rolf chuckled to himself。 But there
was nothing to show whether this was a mere despatch rider； or an
advance scout； or a call for reinforcements。
So again he had a long wait。 About half…past ten a new and larger
sound came from the south。 The knife in the ground increased but
did not explain it。 The night wa