CHAPTER IX.
Campaign of 1783.
When we see th' end of strife and war—
And gain what we contended for;—
Remember that our thanks are due
To Him whose mercy brings us through.
The winter set in rather early for that part of the country, and not over gentle. We had a quarters guard and a magazine guard to keep; the magazine was situated on one of the highest hills, or rather ledges, on the island. In a cold northeast snow storm it would make a sentry shake his ears to stand two hours before the magazine. We likewise kept a small guard to protect the slaughter-house, about half the winter, the Invalids kept it the other half. All this made the duty of our little corps (of less than seventy men) rather hard.
I was once upon this slaughter-house guard;—when I went to relieve the sentinel there, who was a room-mate of mine, and a smart, active young man of about twenty-one years of age. As it was an obscure place, we dispensed with the usual ceremonies in relieving sentries; but this young man standing in the door of the house, when I came with the relief, and in his levity endeavouring to cut some odd figure with his musket, by throwing it over and catching it again, not considering where or how he stood, he struck the butt of his piece against the upper part of the door, which knocked it out of his hands and, coming down behind him, the bayonet entered the upper part of the calf of his leg and came out a little above the ankle. I had him conveyed to the barracks, where the wound was dressed by an ignoramus boy of a surgeon, belonging to the regiment of Invalids. A few days after he complained of a pain in his neck and back; I immediately informed the Captain, who had him wrapt up and sent off to the hospital at Newburgh. The men who conveyed him to the hospital, returned in the evening and informed us that he was dead, having been seized with the lockjaw, convulsions, or something else, caused by the wound. Thus a poor fellow, who had braved the hardships and perils of the war, till the very close of
