Point, guarded by Heward’s volunteer company from Little York, and some of Hatt’s company of the 5th Lincoln militia, a mile from Queenston, the twenty-four-pound shells from the gun, mounted en barbette, which commanded at long range both landings, were leaving behind them furrows of fire in the black gorge.  The big gun was pouring a continuous stream of destructive metal upon the American boats that were attempting the passage of the river within the limited zone of its fire.[3]

Fort Gray, above Lewiston, was fairly belching flames, to which the isolated eighteen-pounder on the Queenston redan was roaring an angry and defiant response.  Brock’s trained ear recognized the wicked barking of the brass six-pounders, under Dennis of the 49th, mingling with the occasional boom, of the twenty-four-pound carronade below the village.

The village of Queenston consisted of a small stone-barracks and twenty or more scattered dwellings in the midst of gardens and orchards.  To Brock’s right a road from the landing led to St. David’s, from which, at almost right angles, an irregular branch roadway wound up the Heights.  The adjacent table-land west of the village was dotted with farm-houses, partly surrounded by snake-fences and an occasional stone wall.

Above Vrooman’s he was joined by his two aides.  Here he met a few men, shockingly torn and bleeding, crawling to the houses for shelter, and quite a number of prisoners, and was told that the enemy was routed.  All killed or taken prisoners!  Very skeptical, but increasing his speed, our hero rode into the village, and, though stained and splashed with mud from stirrup to cockade, he was recognized, and welcomed by the men of the 49th with a ringing cheer.

FOOTNOTE: 

[3] This gun is credited with having fired 160 shots during the engagement.

[Illustration:  BATTLE OF QUEENSTON HEIGHTS.  From an old Print]

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE ATTACK ON THE REDAN.

Checking his reeking horse for a moment, Brock acknowledged with a smile the salute, saying to the men who had leaped to his side, “Take breath, my good fellows; you will need all you have, and more, in a few minutes,” words which evoked much cheering.  Then he breasted the rise at a canter, exposed to a galling enfilading fire of artillery, and running the gauntlet of the sniping of some invisible marksmen, reached the redan, half-way to the summit.  Here he dismounted, threw his charger’s reins to a gunner, and entered the enclosure.

* * * * *

From the loftier elevation of the Heights a still more striking scene confronted him.  He saw, in the yellow light, battalion after battalion drawn up in rear of the Lewiston batteries, across the river, only two hundred yards wide at this point, awaiting embarkation.  Other soldiers he saw crouching in the batteaux on the river, while an unknown number had already crossed and were in possession of Queenston landing.  Round and grape shot from the American batteries were searching the banks and scourging the village, while shells from mortars at short range came singing across the river.  He saw a boat with fifteen American soldiers smashed in mid-stream by a six-pounder from Dennis’s battery, and watched the mangled bodies drift into the gloom.