The officer had been hit somewhere about the hip, and the horse must have
been killed by another grape-shot, fired from the same gun. We laid the
body of the first over in such a manner as to get a good look at him, but
we did not draw the leg from under the horse.[7]
When we succeeded in persuading the lady to quit her husband's body, we
shaped our course for the light-house. Glad were we three tars to see the
mast-heads of the shipping in the river, as we came near the banks of the
Niagara. The house at the light was empty; but, on my hailing, a woman's
voice answered from the cellar. It was an old woman who had taken shelter
from shot down in the hold, the rest of the family having slipped and run.
We now got some milk for the lady, who continued in tears most of the
time. Sometimes she would knock off crying for a bit, when she seemed to
have some distrust of us; but, on the whole, we made very good weather in
company. After staying about half an hour at the light-house, we left it
for the town, my advice to the lady being to put herself under the
protection of some of our officers. I told her if the news of what had
happened reached the commodore, she might depend on her husband's being
buried with the honours of war, and said such other things to comfort her
as came to the mind of a man who had been sailing so near the wind.
I forgot to relate one part of the adventure.
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