The obstacles surrounding Brock would have driven an ordinary man to distraction.  It is not possible to recite a fraction of them.  The Grand River Indians, having received a specious letter from Hull, refused to join the relief expedition for Moraviantown, on the Thames, on which some of Hull’s freebooters were marching.  Some of the militia declined to leave their homes, suspicious, they said, of Indian treachery.  Some, with blood relations in the States, refused point blank to take up arms.  Others were busy harvesting, while not a few came out openly as traitors and joined the ranks of Hull.  Brock had no reinforcements of regular troops, and small chance of getting any, and, what was far worse, he received little moral support even from the Legislature, and none from other sources from which he had a right to expect it.  He called an extra session of the House to enact laws to meet the crisis, to invest him with greater authority and to vote money for defence.  He closed his Speech from the Throne with a declaration delivered in sonorous, ringing tones that echoed throughout the chamber: 

“We are engaged in an awful and eventful contest.  By unanimity and vigour we may teach the enemy this lesson, that a country defended by free men, devoted to the cause of their King and constitution, can never be conquered.”

Though Brock’s speech “inspired the faithful and foiled the designs of some of the faithless,” his demands were conceded in part only, and he left for Fort George with heart filled with misgivings.  In answer to his request, Prevost declined to define the extent of the authority with which he had himself vested him.  Extreme measures, he told him, must be taken at his own risk.  Our hero was one of those limited few who had sounded the depths of the truth that it was easier to do one’s duty than to know it.  His shrewdness and self-reliance came to the rescue.  Seeing that the Niagara River would be selected as the point for invasion, he made it his defensive frontier, while the Detroit River was the offensive front of his campaign.  These views he outlined to his staff on the night following the prorogation of the House.

Judge Powell, after a long session of Council, the last to depart, was rising to leave.  “Then, sir,” said Colonel Macdonell, General Brock’s new provincial aide, the young and brilliant Attorney-General of Upper Canada—­engaged to Mary Powell, the daughter of the judge—­“you really believe we can bombard Detroit successfully?  The fort has, I understand, parapets twenty feet high, with four bastions, surrounded by palisades, a ditch and a glacis, and is capable of withstanding a long siege; besides which it has 2,500 fighting men to defend it.”

“My good Macdonell,” responded our hero, interest and deep regard imprinted on his face, “we fortunately know from Hull’s own letters that he has as little confidence in his army as they have confidence in him.  I fancy he is merely whistling to keep up his courage.  A bold front on our part, with a judicious display of our small force, will give him cause to reflect.  Then, provided we enthuse the Indians—­and if Mackinaw is fallen, this should not be difficult—­Detroit is ours!”