Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Fort Meigs-- 30 April 1813

The race to build gun emplacements on one side, and earthworks on the other side of the river, continued this day, as Indian sharpshooters continued to pelt the fort with musket and rifle balls.

From Major Chambers' notes:
30th I accompanied Lt. Colonel Warburton and made a reconnaissance on the Enemy's side approached so near to their Fort that the Riflemen fired several shot at us. I fired one shot at a number I perceived together with my Rifle (one that General Brock presented me with).
Four Ottawa Boys intercepted the Sandusky Mail, it was guarded by three men who fled as soon as the Boys fired, the Eldest Boy was only fourteen years of age.
7 o'clock PM went on Board the Myers Gun Boat and in company with the Eliza ascended the River about half a mile fired a shot from the 9 Pounder every half hour the enemy did not fire a shot at us.
 From the National Intelligencer, 10 May 1813:
Some persons had gone within two miles of the Fort, and one ventured within half a mile, and so near, as distinctly to see the flash of the cannon through the trees...
 From Captain Cushing's Diary:
Friday, 30th-- We have been all day employed in traversing through the camp, playing upon their batteries with our eighteen pounders and throwing grape and canister shot at the Indians which are in our rear and on our flanks. We have had one man killed and 6 or 7 wounded by the Indians this day.
 From Private Shadrach Byfield, 41st Regiment of Foot (the target of Captain Cushing's cannon):
Sergeant Smith ordered me to go to the other battery, and let the artillery officer know that the work was ready for the platform; and as I came up from the work, I looked towards the fort and saw a smoke ascend, and then fell to the ground; when a ball passed over me and struck into the earth.
  From Private Nathaniel Vernon, Pittsburg Blues (a target of the Indians):
“Hurrah!” said I, “Sergeant, what does that mean?” He pointed to a tree at considerable distance from the pickets, where I observed an Indian perched in one of the branches. He said with great humor: “That rascal, George, has been firing at me ever since I commenced cooking my breakfast.” I swallowed up my tin cup of coffee, pretty expeditiously, during which however, I think he fired once or twice, and told Trovillo I was not going to remain a target for the yellowskins.