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Colonel McDonell moved rapidly across the river, and on landing, was met by Captain Forsyth and the American forces under him. A movement designed for a feint, was now converted into a real attack. Colonel McDonell, as he perceived the enemy, still more rapidly pushed forward, and, in a few minutes, was hotly engaged.
General Brocke put himself at the head of the 49th's Grenadiers, and while gallantly cheering them on, he fell mortally wounded, and soon after died. His trusty aid-de-camp, the brave Colonel McDonell, fell beside him, almost at the same moment, never again to rise in life. The 49th fought stoutly for a time, but, discouraged by the loss of the General, they fell back and the position was lost.
The Americans were driven from the village, leaving behind them twenty killed and a considerable number wounded. On the side of the British, the loss of Colonel McDonell, seven other officers and seven rank and file had to be deplored, while forty-one men were wounded. The attack was most successful however.
His proposals were indignantly rejected, and he was personally insulted; two of his officers were dragged from their horses by the mob, and marched through the streets with their hands tied behind their backs; the consul, Mr. McDonell, was put under guard, and his wife and other ladies of his family were ignominiously driven into the town from the country house.
I edged cautiously near enough the wounded man to see that he was not Hamilton. Near the litter was a group of clerks. "They're fools," one clerk was informing the others. "Cameron sent word he'd have McDonell dead or alive. If he doesn't give himself up, this fort'll go and the whole settlement be massacred." "Been altogether too high-handed anyway," answered another.
Two days after our arrival, Cuthbert Grant, with a band of Bois-Brulés, had gone to Fort Douglas to arrest Captain Miles McDonell for plundering Nor'-West posts. The doughty governor took Grant's warrant as a joke and scornfully turned the whole North-West party out of Fort Douglas.
The answer set me wondering to what pass things had come between the two great companies that they were shipping each other's traders gratuitously out of the country. I recalled the talk at the Quebec Club about Governor McDonell of the Hudson's Bay trying to expel Nor'-Westers and concluded our people could play their own game against the commander of Red River.
Again the buglers sounded the advance, and the sound of martial music echoed through the woods, so that it seemed as if 200,000 men were being marshalled for the fight. It was at this crisis that Colonel McDonell arrived with reinforcements, and the ardour of the enemy was checked. Purdy, long lost in the woods, was now guided towards the ford by the firing and the music.
All the chiefs in there " jerking his thumb towards a side door "are advising Captain McDonell to give himself up and save the fort." "Good thing. Who'll miss him? He'll only get a free trip to Montreal," remarked one of the aggressives in this group. "I tell you, men, both companies have gone a deal too far in this little slap-back game to be keen for legal investigation.
"What what what?" sputtered the Highland governor, springing first on one side of Grant and then on the other, all the while rumbling out maledictions on Lord Selkirk, and Governor McDonell and Fort Douglas. "What do ye say, mon? Do I understand ye clearly, there's no prisoners with ye?" "Laughs at the Bois-Brulés. The fool laughs at the Bois-Brulés!
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