Upon landing Brock mustered his men. The reports showed 750 of all ranks, including the voyageurs left in charge of the river squadron. The 600 Indians deployed in the shelter of the woods, skirmishing to effect a flank movement. The column, having formed, was moved forward in sections, and at double distance, to lend a fictitious air of strength; the light artillery, of three, six, and two three-pounders, being immediately in rear of the advance guards, the whole preceded by fluttering standards and rolling drums. Three generations ago! Yet you can see it all to-day as plainly as Brock saw it, if you but close your eyes and conjure up the past.
The enemy, over 2,000 strong, drawn up in line upon an overlooking rise, had planted in the roadway, commanding the approach to the town, two twenty-four pounders, each loaded with six dozen grapeshot, around which the gunners stood with burning fuses, challenging our hero's advance.
Up and down, in front of the line, rode Isaac Brock on his gray charger, his brilliant uniform--khaki was unknown in those days--flashing in the morning sun, a shining mark. A command here, a kindly rebuke there, a word of encouragement to all ranks; the eyes of Britain and Canada were upon them; they might have to take the fort by storm,--even so, honour and glory awaited them.... Forward then, for King and country!
The rat-a-tat-tat of the kettle-drums, the clear-cut whistle of the fifes, the resonant roll of the big drums, the steady tramp, tramp of armed men--and the human machine was in motion.
The long grim guns on Fort Detroit and Hull's field-pieces pointed their black muzzles at the column. Up and down, in front of his men, rode Isaac Brock.
Now this was more than some flesh and blood could stand. Spurring his horse, acting Quartermaster-General Nichol reined up alongside his beloved commander. "General," he said, saluting his leader, while the soldiers' faces expressed dumb approval, "forgive me, but I cannot forbear entreating you not to expose yourself. If we lose you, we lose all. I pray you, allow the troops to advance, led by their own officers."
"Master Nichol," said Brock, turning in his saddle and returning the salute of the gallant Quartermaster, "I fully appreciate your kindly advice, but I feel that, in addition to their sense of loyalty and duty, there are many here following me from a feeling of personal regard, and I will never ask them to go where I do not lead."