When Brock buttoned his scarlet tunic and strapped his sword on his hip,
as fine a specimen of a clean-bodied, clean-minded youth as ever trod
the turnpike of life, he knew that he was at the cross-roads. The trail
before him was well blazed, but straight or crooked, rough or smooth,
valley or height, it mattered little so long as he kept nourished the
bright light of purpose that burned steadily within him.

Five years of uneventful service, chiefly in England, passed by, and our
hero was celebrating his coming of age. His only inheritance was health,
hope and courage. While neither monk nor hermit, he had so far been as
steadfast as the Pole Star in respect to his resolutions. He had allowed
nothing to induce him to break the rules engraved on brass that he had
himself imposed. His mind had broadened, his spirits ran high, his
conscience told him that he was graduating in the world's university
with honour. His love for athletics still continued. He had the thews of
a gladiator, and in his Guernsey stockings stood six feet two inches.
Add to this an honest countenance, with much gentleness of manner and
great determination, and you have a faithful picture of Isaac Brock.

Upon obtaining his lieutenancy he returned to Guernsey, raised an
independent company, and exchanged into the 49th, the Royal Berkshires,
then stationed in Barbadoes. He now found himself looking at life under
new conditions. While the beauties of Barbadoes enchanted him, his
duties as a soldier were disappointing. They were limited to drill,
dress parade, guard mounting, the erection of new fortifications, and
patrolling the coast for vessels carrying prohibited cargoes.

Under the terms of a treaty made at Paris in 1773, United States produce
for British West Indian ports could only be carried by British subjects
in British ships. Britain's men-of-war were also authorized to seize any
vessel laden with produce for or from any French colony. Brock was a
soldier, not a policeman, and coast-guard duties palled upon him. His
great diversion was in calculating the probabilities of invasion by the
French. In expectation of this, the refortifying of the island was in
progress. The memory of Admiral d'Estaing's visit with his fleet from
Toulon, and the capture of St. Vincent, sent a chill through the island.
The great victory by the British Admiral Rodney, when he whipped a
superior French fleet to a standstill, was yet to come. Bastions and
earthworks g