A Panther Crosses Over by Sam Foster

Author:Sam Foster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sam Foster
Published: 2022-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

July 27, 1794

Fort Detroit, British Upper Canada

Colonel Richard England, commanding officer at His Majesty’s Fort Detroit, was a vision of military power in his long red coat, white lace ruffled shirt, and long, black, highly polished boots, with a sword belt wrapped around his slim, athletic waist. Blue Jacket suspected that was exactly the image he intended to convey in this his first meeting with the leadership of his traditional allies, the Shawnee, in his long fight against what had become his traditional enemy, the Americans.

The colonel’s old friend, the British Indian Agent for Upper Canada Alexander McKee, stood with him. Blue Jacket knew that McKee was, like himself, a turncoat American, and that McKee had been so disgusted by American colonial policy toward the Indians of the Ohio River drainage that in 1778 he defected to the British. McKee, who had been a friend to Pucksinwah, was fluent in Shawnee and married to a Shawnee. He could be trusted. It was he who had set up this meeting between the new commander and himself, Catahecassa, and Tecumseh.

For Blue Jacket and the Shawnee, this meeting was about one simple question: Could they count on British support against the latest American army being sent to crush them?

“General Anthony Wayne—his nom de guerre is ‘Mad Anthony,’ you know,” Colonel England intoned in a high, almost squeaky voice, seemingly odd coming from a man so tall and well proportioned. England’s face took on a distant look for a moment. “Yes, I know him. During the Revolution, we held this ‘impregnable’ little fort up on a cliff called Stony Point. I say impregnable cautiously because one night, almost moonless, Wayne and no more than two hundred of his men climbed that cliff. They carried muskets but they didn’t fire them, you know. Just put bayonets on them and climbed. Took us by surprise. Also took almost five hundred of us prisoner.” His words and self-deprecating smile let slip that he admired Wayne’s audacity. “He is very good, you know. Perhaps the best the Americans have. But I’d heard he became a farmer in Georgia. Either he failed at that or duty has called him again.” England’s laugh came out as a giggle. “He is an odd combination of skills, you know. He prepares well and slowly, but when he attacks he is audacious. That’s where the ‘Mad Anthony’ comes from, you know. When he comes, he will be well planned and prepared and then he will come in a rush.”

“And when this madman attacks, where will the British be?” Blue Jacket asked in English, the words halting, belying the fact that he was speaking in his native tongue.

“Ever has King George, your Great Father, been a friend to the Shawnee.” England paced slowly before the fireplace that was built into the wall behind his desk, his high nasal tone seeming to echo off the stone chimney and mantel. “And your Great Father continues to be, you know.” England stopped pacing, looked directly at each of the three before he spoke again.

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