From Prescott on the 29th of October, 1812, Tom wrote to his mother of his delight at being once more a regular "in that distinguished old corps the 49th." It was indeed a fine regiment. Brock had led it in North Holland and in 1801 it had been on board the fleet at Copenhagen with Hyde Parker and Nelson; it is now the Berkshire Regiment and the name "Queenston" where its commander, Brock, fell, is on its flag. Though a soldier not a sailor, Tom had now one gunboat and three armed batteaux under his command, and, when writing, he had just arrived at Prescott with the American prisoners taken in the gallant action at Queenston where Brock was killed. His tone is serious and tender. "When the war is over I trust in God we shall all have a happy meeting again at Murray Bay, perhaps never more to part during our stay in this world." It was now his plan that if he should outlive the war he would go to Edinburgh, find a wife and settle himself on his property without loss of time. A few days later, on November 15th, he writes from Kingston of a lively incident in which he has taken part. With six schooners and an armed tug, the _Oneida_, of 18 guns, all full of troops, the Americans had appeared before the place. At 4 o'clock on the morning of the 10th the adjutant of the 49th came into Tom's barrack room to arouse him with the news that the enemy was thought to be landing a force five or six miles above the town. "He lit my candle," says Tom, "and left. I immediately jumped out of bed, dressed myself in a devil of a hurry and sallied forth to the Barrack yard where I found three Companies of the 49th under arms, Gunners preparing matches and artillery horses scampering out of the yards with field pieces." He was soon sent to hold a bridge about three miles west of the town. The ships kept up a fierce cannonade for some time but it was so briskly returned that in the end they drew away having lost four men. But they had command of the lake, a supremacy not to be challenged until a British Commodore, Sir James Yeo, arrived in the following summer. In his letters at this time Nairne speaks of his heavy expenses and says that even if the opportunity came to visit Murray Bay he could not go for lack of money. So he begs his mother to build all the mills and houses she can, and thus to make the profits which he sorely needs. He complains of hearing from home so rarely: "You have only wrote once, I believe, since I came to the Upper Country. What in the name of wonder are you all about? I hope Yankey Doodle has not run off with you. I am sure there can be no complaints of my being negligent in this way."