Free The Bully Boys by Eric Walters Page A

When those had been found, FitzGibbon’s inquiries turned to food items: flour, salt, whisky and tobacco. More soldiers were sent and more barrels and bags and crates were moved through the doors and outside.
    â€œThank you, sir, you have been both an officer and a gentleman,” FitzGibbon said.
    â€œAnd what will become of my men? Are you taking us back as prisoners?”
    â€œThat is not my intent. I am prepared to offer a proposal. We require assistance to transport these provisions back to our boats. Any man who carries his weight and acts with integrity will be released once we reach our vessels,” FitzGibbon said. “You have my word.”
    The American rose to his feet. “And the wounded?”
    â€œThey will be allowed to remain. Do you have somebody who can tend to them?”
    The American nodded. “I agree to your terms.” He reached out his hand, FitzGibbon offered his, and they shook.
    As they continued to stand there, making polite conversation, I was struck by the strangeness of the whole situation. This American officer was offering them assistance to take his supplies. Just a few minutes ago, they’d been trying to kill each other!
    There was one other thing that struck me as odd. These two men, one dressed in a red uniform and the other in blue, could just as easily have been two old friends talking over the rail fence separating their properties—even twobrothers, like my Pa and uncle. And yet the colour of their uniforms meant that in battle they were mortal enemies, each sworn to try to take the life of the other.
    â€œMay I be excused to tend to my men and inform them of your offer?” the American officer asked.
    â€œCertainly.”
    They exchanged salutes and the officer was led away by two of our soldiers.
    â€œIt’s a shame, isn’t it, Tommy?” FitzGibbon said.
    â€œWhat is?” I asked, surprised that he’d directed a question to me.
    â€œAll these supplies and we can’t take all of them back across the river. There’s much here that would help us and the families of the men along the Niagara.”
    â€œBut we can take a lot.”
    â€œQuite a bit. Some provisions, weapons and ammunition. If we had more time, or more than one wagon—”
    â€œThere’s a wagon?” I interrupted.
    â€œYes, and horses to pull it.”
    â€œBut the wagon will never make it through that path,” I said.
    â€œYou’re right about that. We’re going to travel along the main road back toward Lewiston as far as we can. If our advance guard meets no opposition we’ll travel right to the sight of our first encounter with the militia. We’ll pass the supplies from one man to the next along the trail down the cliff and to the boats. I just wish I had a second wagon so I could have taken away the two twelve-pound cannons and a six-pounder we found. I suppose it has to be enough to knowthat we’ve spiked them, ruined them so they’ll never be capable of firing a shot.”
    â€œReady to go, James,” Merritt announced from the far end of the room. “The prisoners have been assembled, their wounded moved outside the walls, and the wagon is loaded with supplies and our wounded.”
    â€œHave you recalled the pickets from the road to Fort Niagara?” FitzGibbon asked.
    â€œBeing recalled now.”
    â€œGood. Would you please take the main party and proceed down the road? Leave me three men and four horses and we’ll set out once we’ve completed our work here. I have no doubt we’ll overtake you long before you reach the boats.”
    â€œIf you don’t, I’ll be back looking for you,” Merritt said.
    â€œCould I stay with you?” I asked FitzGibbon.
    â€œIt would be safer if you were with the main party.”
    â€œI’ll stay out of the way,” I pleaded.
    FitzGibbon didn’t answer immediately.
    â€œWell, James?” Merritt