THE BEGINNING OF WAR
From the history of those days one learns that there were white
savages who compared unfavourably with the red ones.
Of such were those border ruffians who, tempting the family of a
friendly Indian with liquor till they were stupefied with drink,
murdered them.
The Indian chief returned to find them weltering in blood. He was an
Iroquois who had moved his family from New York to the Ohio River.
His Indian name was Tahgahjute, but he was commonly called Logan from
the fact that he had in early life lived with a white family of that
name. Ever after he had been a staunch friend of the whites. Now he
became almost insane in his natural anger, and went about among the
various tribes calling on them to avenge his wrongs.
Had those border ruffians desired to bring on an Indian war they could
not have so quickly done it in any other way. Soon, tales of pioneer
families murdered by the Indians were brought over the mountains into
Virginia. Logan's friends were seeking vengeance.
Undoubtedly the war would have broken out later had not Logan's family
been murdered. The Indians believed they must fight or be overrun by
the white immigrants pouring into the western country.
The royal governor appointed by the king over the colony of Virginia
was, at this time, Lord Dunmore. He was an ardent loyalist, but he
also is said to have been interested financially in some of the land
ventures, concerning which there was much interest in the colony, also
much speculation. Though Governor Dunmore knew that the policy of the
English ministry at the time was conciliatory, he did not hesitate to
prepare for a war which should bring the savages to submission.
Just why the English ministry tried to discourage immigration into the
western country is not definitely known. Doubtless there were various
reasons. England wanted peace with the savages. Only a few years
before, her representative, Sir William Johnson, had made a treaty at
Fort Stanwix with them and given them many presents. They had been
told they should have, as their own, the country north of the Ohio.
The laws which governed the province of Quebec, recently captured from
the French, were to be applied to the western country, a plan which
did not meet with the approval of the colonists who wanted laws of an
English character.
There were influential men in England who were interested in the fur
trade with the Indians, which would be seriously injured if the
country were opened up to settlers. Besides, the colonies of Virginia
and Pennsylvania made conflicting claims to the new land and each had
friends in England.
Many of the colonists declared that England feared to have the
powerful colonies increase in power with new territory, and wished to
confine them to the seaboard. Be that as it may, Dunmore resolved on
establishing Virginia's claims by prompt and effectual warfare.
Perhaps he thought to divert the colonists' minds from the increasing
hostility to England. Instead he was to take the first step toward
securing that rich land to the United States of America.
This is but one of many instances when the plans of supposed wise men
result in the opposite to that intended.
The assembling for this war might be likened to a swarming of bees and
hornets, the one for the sweets of fertile lands and adventure, the
other for vengeance on account of wrongs received at the hands of the
Indians.
There came a British officer, pompous and resplendent in scarlet and
gold; the British soldier for his first experience in border warfare;
the trapper with his long rifle and frontier garb; the sturdy settler
in homespun. Nor were the camp followers altogether absent, those who
hang about for pickings and have little intention of fighting.
One heard the polite accent of culture, the soft spoken Southerner,
the dialects of Scotch and Irish and the gutturals of the German.
About them were the green woods and filtering through the leaves
overhead the hot sunshine of summer.
Early in the season that already famous frontiersman, Daniel Boone,
had been sent to the Falls of the Ohio to lead back to the settlements
a party of surveyors. He did it, for in the ways of the wilderness no
savage was his equal.
Governor Dunmore, on July 12, 1774, ordered General Andrew Lewis, who
twenty years before had been with Washington at Fort Necessity, to
raise four regiments of volunteers and, going down the Great Kanawha
River, to cross the Ohio River and march against the Shawnees on the
Scioto. In this expedition was David Allison.
Another expedition was to meet near Wheeling to assist General Lewis.
For this purpose Major Angus McDonald marched seven hundred militia
and frontiersmen over the mountains in the latter part of June. Daniel
Morgan assisted in raising a part of this little army from among his
neighbours and acquaintances, which were many, for he had served in
the two previous wars with French and Indians and was a natural leader
of men.
Under the supervision of George Rogers Clark, none other than "Cap'n"
Clark who had induced David Allison to try his fortunes on the
Kanawha, Fort Fincastle was built. In the latter part of July these
troops moved down the Ohio River to Fish Creek and started on a raid
against the Indian villages on the Muskingum River, which is fed by
the creeks that flow through the country where Rodney Allison had been
passing his months of captivity, one of them the creek overlooking
which stood the lodge of Ahneota.
Of this motley army some were in canoes, some in pirogues and others
in batteaux. In a large canoe, third back from the prow, sat a
fine-looking man, distinguishable from his associates in more ways
than may be easily described. His clothes were such as one would see
on the well-dressed man about the streets of Philadelphia; his
companions were in the garb of the frontier. He was broad of shoulder
with erect, military figure; while they were lithe and sinewy. His
features bore marks of good breeding and his voice and language were
those of a man of the world.
His companions had discovered that he knew nothing of woodcraft, but
much of military matters. Just where Morgan found him or he Morgan
does not yet appear. On the day the militia assembled Ezekiel Holden
of Boston had given him a name. Ezekiel was a character, Yankee to the
backbone. He had found his way to Norfolk on a coasting vessel a few
months before and was "lookin' araoun a leetle." "Zeke" was fond of
argument and delighted in arguing with Virginians about what he
considered the superiority of New Englanders. He was for liberty and
"pop'lar rights," "first, last an' all the time," and the rich
Virginians he looked upon as part of the English aristocracy,
descendants of those who had fought for King Charles, while "Zeke"
wished it understood his forebears fought under Cromwell.
When he saw this man he was in the midst of his pet argument and
exclaimed: "There's one o' them chevaliers naow," meaning cavalier,
but pronouncing it "Shiverleer." From that moment the rather
distinguished looking recruit was known among his fellows as
"Chevalier," and in truth the name fitted his manner excellently.
Furthermore he appeared to like the nickname and to take delight in
letting his companions know that he considered himself their superior,
though, be it said, this was in a spirit of humour rather than of
conceit, and he was ready to share toil or rations with his mates. Yet
this air did not please them and there was consequently much
chaffing.
The afternoon was hot and the men tired, just the moment when a little
inspiration was needed. One of the men said to his fellow in the prow
of the canoe, "Nick, ah reckon it's about time fer you to lead off
with a tune, one we kin hit the paddles to," and this was Nick's
response:
"The only good Injun, he died long ago.
Shove her along, boy, shove her along.
An' thar's nary one left on the O-hi-o.
Push her along, boy, push her along."
"Bravo, my worthy companion in toil. Verily thou makest the bending
ash to glide through the water like a swan's wing. Another verse and
we bid adieu to work."
"If it affects the Chevalier that ar way, better give him another,
Nick," said one of the men.
"The trees do grow tall where the corn ought to grow,
Push her along, boys, push her along.
Virginny's a-comin' an' she don' move slow.
Shove her along, boys, shove her along."
"I would applaud, but my paddle is now going of itself and I dare not
let go. Methinks we'll find around the next bend Pan with his flocks
of aborigines assembled and kneeling in adoration. I'm not sure but
he'll have the moon goddess with him."
Now the Chevalier's three companions knew nothing of Pan or the moon
goddess, with the possible exception of Nick, whose knowledge of
mythology, if he possessed it, had not as yet appeared. Not knowing,
they resented this intrusion of classical subjects and one remarked,
"Your talk has a sweet sound; 'sposin' you sing us a verse."
"Oh, melody is a wayward minx and vouchsafes her treasures of song to
few. Were it springtime and had I the gift I would sing:
"'When the red is on the maple and the dogwood is in bloom.'"
"Keep right on, you'll bloom right soon," said Nick with a laugh in
which all joined.
"Keep her goin', Chevalier," said another.
"Forsooth, my merry men, Puritans, Roundheads, I'll try:
"When cavalier doth draw his steel
The ranks fall back and yeomen kneel,
For that is as they should.
The pikes may gleam in thousands strong,
But men who ride shall right the wrong.
For throne and home they stood."
"Sure they stood not on the order o' goin', or I've misread me
history," laughed Nick.
"Ho, ho! my merry figure-head at the prow, this from you, _et tu
Brute_! I feared the lines would not scan, but it's not expected that
every man in the crew must be an Adonis because the figure-head of the
craft is a thing of beauty. One failure begets another, 'tis said, so
perhaps you'll like this no better:
"Oh, the paddle, the knife and the trusty gun,
And a land in which to roam;
The stars at night for my beacon light,
Wildwood for my home;
What care I for the gay cavalier,
His plumes and his flashing steel?
He rides not here in the grassy mere.
In grateful shade of the forest glade
We laugh at those who kneel."
"Ah! but that's worse than the first. I yield the palm of song to him
who goes before me."
This bantering was interrupted by a stalwart man sitting in the prow
of a canoe which overtook them at this point. He was as fine a
specimen of rugged manhood as all the border could produce, being over
six feet in height, of commanding figure and boundless energy and
courage. He was Daniel Morgan and, laughing as he spoke, he said:
"I've heard of hunting Indians with fife and drum, but charmin' 'em
with song is something new, I reckon."