Early in September, 1814, a British fleet sailed up the Penobscot River from Belfast to Bangor, robbing and destroying the farms and villages as they went along, and after they had caused great damage in Bangor, they turned about and sailed back again to the sea. Only once in this long and, from a British point of view, successful raid, did the Yankees get the better of their enemies, and this single instance was due to the bravery of one old man and his courageous wife.
The fleet was guided up the stream by a Tory pilot, and encountered no resistance until it reached the highlands of Cape Jellison, when a volley of musketry was discharged by a little band of Maine patriots, killing a number of sailors and soldiers who had been occupying conspicuous positions on the decks. The British replied with broadsides of grape-shot, riddling every house within striking distance, and silencing the flint-locks. But the incident had maddened the commander of the English squadron, and he gave orders to his gunners to take a shot at everything on shore as they proceeded. As a result many houses were struck and one cow was killed; the inhabitants, warned of the approaching fleet, having retired inland out of range.
Thus the Britishers had it all their own way until they came to a point called the Narrows, about a mile below Bucksport. Tall bluffs rise on both sides of the river here, and on the crest of one old David Grant lived in his little house with his wife. Grant was too old to go to the war, but he was not too old to resist the invaders. As soon as he saw the masts of the hostile ships coming around the bend, he got out his muskets and took up a good position in front of his house with a firm rest to aim on. From his point of vantage he could command the decks of the ships as they passed, and as soon as they came within gunshot he began to blaze away with his old shooting-irons, aiming at the officers who were gathered on the sterns of their vessels.
His wife stood by his side and loaded the guns as fast as she could. At the third shot fired by the old man, the defenders of the hill-top saw the man at the wheel of the foremost vessel throw up his hands and fall backward. Immediately the war-ship swung its nose around to the tide, and would have run ashore if the order had not been given to drop anchor. Grant had badly wounded the Tory, and the second vessel in the line had to take the lead of the fleet with a resident of the locality who sympathized with the British for pilot. During all this manoeuvring, old David Grant was pouring buck-shot and bullets upon the ships, and both he and his wife shook their fists in defiance at the surprised Englishmen.