Île aux Noix, being the larger of the two outposts, housed more troops than Lacolle. It boasted a detachment of Royal Artillery equipped with three-pounder guns and companies of the 100th Regiment of Foot. On paper, at least, it appeared that the American force was outnumbered. Colonels Pearce and Pike, however, were counting on the element of surprise to swing the odds in their favour.

News that a relatively small column of US infantry was on the march was unlikely to set pulses racing on the other side of the border, unlike, say, the forward advancement of several thousand men and an entire artillery battery – though they were ready to follow, by both barge and road, as soon as the first position was secured. The fact that the men were travelling light, without tents or equipage, would lead an observer to assume that the manoeuvre was no more than a transfer of personnel, which happened all the time, particularly with America anxious to reinforce its defences against the threat of a possible British invasion.

The Provincial Marine did have at its beck and call an armed schooner and three gunboats, but they’d already been laid up for the winter. Pearce and Pike knew, therefore, that if their troops could secure the river and bring up reinforcements at speed, they could isolate the garrison – including the Marine – by cutting off the isle’s main supply routes. The British commander would have little choice but to capitulate, as Hull had done in Detroit.

The one fly in the ointment had been the escape of the two British spies. The fact that the Oneida had yet to return bearing their scalps was not necessarily an indication that their quarry had evaded capture. But despite his faith in Amos Walker’s irregulars, Colonel Pearce was not prepared to stake everything on their success. To guard against the eventuality that Hawkwood and Lawrence had managed to deliver word of the invasion, he had decided to bring forward the attack so that, even if forewarned, the British would not have time to mount a viable defence.

That was the plan. And Major Harlan Quade was determined to see it through, even though his thoughts were for the most part engaged elsewhere, wondering how it must feel to be a fugitive, knowing there was an Oneida hunting party on your tail. It was enough to give a person sleepless nights. A picture formed in his mind: two corpses, lying stripped and mutilated in the snow.

Warmed by the image, he smiled broadly.

Cageaga and Tewanias set the pace. Hawkwood, Lawrence and the nine chosen warriors followed in single file behind.

Thirteen was a pitifully small number when ranged against upwards of four hundred, as Lawrence had pointed out, adding, “Let’s hope it ain’t a portent.”