War of 1812: How the Ranger was Twice Taken
Just a little way below the Long Sault Rapids in the St. Lawrence River, there lies an island which, from the time of its settlement, has been known as Barnhart's…
From: 1812 C.E. To: 1812 C.E.
“How the Ranger was Twice Taken” from The War of 1812 by Everett Tomlinson, 1906.
Just a little way below the Long Sault Rapids in the St. Lawrence River, there lies an island which, from the time of its settlement, has been known as Barnhart's Island. It is many acres in extent, and its fertile soil was attractive to settlers. To-day there are prosperous farmers to be found upon it, and its fields of waving grain greet the eye of the traveler as he passes its shore on his way to Montreal.
In the early summer of 1812 Barnhart's Island contained almost as many families as it does now. The farmers' boys did not find the life difficult to bear. It is true they were likely to have three months in the winter when they were shut off from their neighbors on the mainland, but that was the time when the island became a little commonwealth in itself. The fox hunts of that autumn, the gray squirrels they had shot, and the fish they had taken from the river furnished topics for conversation on the winter evenings ; and the stories grew with the frequent retelling.
On the particular summer day in 1812 with which our story has to do, Barnhart's Island presented a quiet yet busy scene. Its inhabitants were ''haying," and this meant many extra duties for all the household. The men were hungry, and the housewives were awake early for the task of feeding them.
At the upper end of the island was one of the best farms. It was owned by the Taylor family. Five brothers were in this family, all full grown, and known throughout the country round for their strength and skill in athletic games. No one had yet been found who could ''throw" the eldest son; and when on one occasion these five brothers, with neighboring lads of their own age, formed a lacrosse team, they beat the Canadian boys at their own game, or rather the game which the Indians had taught the Canadians.
On this day of our story three of the Taylor boys were busy in the hay field with their father. The oldest son had gone over to Massena to do his duty on general training day. William, the second son, had gone to Ogdensburg, and was expected home every minute. He was to return on the Ranger, a little American sloop that carried a crew of six men, and brought letters and provisions for the people dwelling along the river's banks. But there had been several encounters with the British and Canadian forces of late, and there was on this day unusual quiet in the Taylor hay field. As first one and then another of the boys stopped for a moment in his work to scan the river carefully, he seemed half guilty as he met his brother's anxious look. Each acknowledged to himself an uneasiness he would not admit to the others.
Perhaps this anxiety was the shadow which a coming event is said to cast before it. After a very careful lookout over the river, the youngest son quietly said:—
''There's a boat coming down the rapids."
It was no unusual sight to see a boat come down the rapids, and each of the Taylor boys had made the passage many times; but now, as if by common consent, they all rested from their labor and together turned their eyes upon the distant boat.
It was a rowboat, a little speck upon the water, coming toward them at the rapid speed of twenty miles an hour. As the boat drew nearer they could see that it had only one occupant, and that he was not satisfied to be carried by the current as was the usual custom in shooting the rapids, but that he was rowing with all his might. As he came through the rapids into the strong currents that sweep on for many miles, they saw that his course seemed to be directed toward the head of Barnhart's Island.
As if by common consent, and without a word, they left their scythes and ran toward the Httle dock at the head of the island. There they waited for the boat, which they could now see was making for the dock on which they stood.
“It's Ben White, and he's in a hurry, too," said Charley, the youngest of the Taylor boys.
''Yes, he's carrying bad news," said his father; ''that always goes at twice as fast a pace as good news."
But Ben White was so near them now that conversation ceased, as they waited for him to come alongside the dock. In a moment Ben had made his boat fast and stood breathing hard, and with his face flushed, beside the brothers.
"Well, Ben, you seemed to be in a hurry," said the father, expressing the question which was in his heart by a look rather than a word.
''I had to hurry," replied Ben, between his labored breaths. ''The Ranger has been taken."
''The Ranger taken!" cried the boys together. ''What's become of Will?"
"Oh, he's on board, and he is likely to be there for some time," said Ben. "But he's not hurt any—that is, he wasn't when I saw him last."
"Don't stop, but tell us about it," interrupted the father, quickly.
"Well, the way of it was this," rephed Ben. "When the Ranger put in at Louisville Landing, there was only one man there to help the crew unload, and they had an uncommon lot o' things to leave there. So that delayed them as much as half an hour. They were just ready to put off when they saw a half dozen men coming toward the dock. They motioned for the cap'n to wait, and he wasn't suspicious, so he waited; for he was glad to get half a dozen passengers to carry. They had guns, but he didn't care about that much, for 'most everybody carries one these times. But just as they got down to the dock, all of a sudden one fellow gives a signal, and before the cap'n could say a word, he and his crew were covered by those guns.
"The cap'n was rather surprised like, and he said, 'What does this mean?'
'"It means that you are my prisoners, and your boat is my prize.'
"'Well, who are you?' said the cap'n; for he saw there wasn't any use in fighting. You see, they just had him and that's all there was to it.
'"Well, I'm Corporal Denter, of his Majesty's —th, and these are my men; and I'm going to take you down to Cornwall. You'll save a heap of trouble if you go along peaceably, for it won't do any good to fight, and it might do some harm to some of you;' and the corporal looked pretty sharp at his men as he said this.
''Those seemed to be the cap'n's sentiments, too; and though there isn't, as you know, a braver man along the St. Lawrence River than Cap'n Conkey, he knew 'twould be just murder to allow his men to fight with the odds so much against 'em, so he just laughed and said: 'All right. It's your turn to-day. It may be mine to-morrow.'
"That pleased the corporal, and he laughed, too, and then he said he should be compelled to tie their hands behind their backs for safety. So he kept his five men with their guns pointed at the crew, and he went around and tied the hands of every man behind his back. Will had his hands tied, too, for he was the only passenger.
"Then all at once the corporal says, quick like: 'Who's going to steer this craft through those rapids? I don't know the channels, and I couldn't keep her in them if I did.'
"Cap'n Conkey laughed, and didn't say anything. He only asked the corporal if he'd ever been through the rapids, and the corporal said he hadn't.
"I've a great mind to let you steer it, or make you,' said the corporal.
"I'll steer her for you,' said the cap'n. ‘I’d a good deal rather go to Cornwall with you than go to the bottom of the St. Lawrence with you; and with you steering, we'd find the bottom a good deal quicker than we'd find Cornwall'
''All this time Tom Richards, who had been helping unload, stood on the dock, afraid to leave, and yet not wanting to stay. But as he saw now how the matter was working, he just edged off a little, and then a little more, and pretty soon he just took and ran down the road, as if all the British army was after him. But the men were so busy fixing up that matter of steering that they didn't seem to remember him. At least they didn't follow him; but Tom saw that they were going to let Cap'n Conkey do the steering, and then he turned in at the first house and got a horse and started for Massena. It's general training there to-day, you know, and while he thought he'd be too late to do anything, he thought he'd better go and tell them. He just stopped a half minute at my house to tell me to come on down here and let you people know. Likely enough we can do something here."
All this time Mr. Taylor and his boys had not spoken. Indeed, there was nothing to do but to listen; but as soon as Ben had finished his story, Mr. Taylor turned to his son Charley and said quietly : —
''You go and tell the neighbors to get their guns and come here."
He added no words, and he did not need to, for Charley's quickness of thought and action were well known. Only a few moments had passed before they heard the clatter of the horse's heels as Charley rode swiftly down the road toward his neighbors' homes.
Meanwhile, Mr. Taylor and the boys were busy at the dock. The guns were brought from the house, and some logs, which it had been hoped might be sent down the river and made into himber, were now used in erecting a rude fortification on the dock and along the shore. Mr. Taylor knew that the channel made in toward the dock and then ran for quite a long distance near the shore of Barnhart's Island. He had great hope that, if Captain Conkey were the pilot, he would bring the sloop in near the shore and either run it aground or else give an opportunity for action to those on the shore, and thus save the little Ranger. His heart beat a little more rapidly when he thought of his own son Will as one of the prisoners, and the thought served to nerve him for still more energetic action.
By the time the arrangement of the logs was completed, a large company had assembled, and, with their guns in hand, were ready for any action the event might demand. Some were for placing a flag upon the logs, and, standing side by side, firing together and calling upon the boat to surrender as it approached. Others thought the better plan was for the men to conceal themselves behind the logs and wait. If they were in sight, they might frighten the captors and make them change the course of the sloop. If they were quiet, the sloop might come nearer, and in that case they certainly could act as well as in the other.
The latter plan was chosen, and chosen the more readily after Charley had added the suggestion that when the sloop appeared in sight he would give his ''call" to Will, who would be sure to hear it from the boat. This ''call" was the caw of a crow given something after the manner of the modern Harvard “Rah” and was as sure to rouse Will as does a “Rah" the students on a football field to-day.
The men now lay in silence behind the logs. The rippling of the river rushing past them was the only sound to be heard. The summer sun seemed to become hotter every minute. Yet they waited. Occasionally some one turned his eyes upon Ben White, as if to question whether or not there were any truth in the story he had brought. But Ben's only reply was a nod of the head, and a very decided contraction of the eyebrows.
Suddenly Charley Taylor, who had seemed never for a moment to take his eyes from the open space between the logs in front of him, gave a little word of warning. He had discovered the sloop just coming around the foot of Long Sault Island. It came as rapidly and as lightly as if it were a part of the foam upon the waters. They all watched in breathless silence. The color on Mr. Taylor's cheek changed, but his hands gripped his gun with a strength that seemed almost unnatural.
The Ranger was in the channel by this time, and was surely coming nearer. On it cajne, nearer and nearer, and as yet all were silent. Suddenly there was heard the sound of the caw of a crow. The sound was itself wonderfully natural; would the peculiar order in which it was given arouse any suspicion in the boat?
The little Ranger sped on still more rapidly. The sound of the crow's cawing rose again. What would the boat do? It had reached the point where, if it were going down the river to Cornwall, it would have to turn and skirt the shore. Should the men behind the logs rise now and act? No; they must wait a moment longer. If the boat turned in its course, they would make themselves known. Straight onward, directly toward them, came the Ranger. If it kept on a minute longer, it would be aground.
While the minute was passing, a commotion on board the boat arose. Now was the time for the men to show themselves! Together, and with a shout, they sprang to their feet and ran toward the spot on the shore for which the Ranger was making. The corporal and his men were brave, and had no intention of losing their prize. They seized their guns, but in every one there was only the dull fall of the hammer. Not a report came. The guns had been wet and rendered useless.
Then, making a virtue of necessity, the corporal, with as good grace as possible, surrendered the Ranger, himself, and the men. He smiled slightly as Captain Conkey remarked that his turn had come before tomorrow.
The return of Will Taylor safe and well to his home was a story that was told at many a fireside on winter nights.
While the Ranger was passing through the rapids, so terror-stricken were the corporal's men that they untied the hands of Will Taylor and all the prisoners. They thought they might need the help of every man, and be- sides, it would have been inhuman to leave any one with his hands tied behind him, had the boat capsized. To Will the trip brought no terror, for he was well acquainted with the course. While the soldiers were busy with their own fears, he had taken the opportunity to dampen the powder in every gun.
As the boat had swept around the foot of Long Sault Island and his own home had come in sight, the sudden cawing of a crow had caught his attention. When the sound was repeated, he had recognized at once his brother's “call." He had noticed the changes in the dock, and although he had no thought that his friends could know of the capture of the Ranger he had whispered to Captain Conkoy the fact of his brother's signal. The (luick-witted captain had turned the sloop out of its course and had run aground on Harnhart's Island.
Just after the capture was made, the men who had come from the general training at Massena were seen upon the opposite shore, but there was no need of their assistance then.
The corporal and his guard were sent to Ogdensburg, and afterward exchanged; and as for the sloop Ranger, it was never taken again, and its captain was no longer known by his former name. Till the day of his death, many years later, he was always called ''Commodore Conkey."
Tomlinson, Everett, The War of 1812, Silver, Burdett, and Company, 1906.
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