_Victories and Defeats._
Situation of the Fort.--Indian Treachery.--Bombardment.--Boone goes to
North Carolina.--New Trials.--Boone Robbed.--He Returns to
Kentucky.--Massacre of Col. Rogers.--Adventure of Col. Bowman.--New
Attack by the British and Indians.--Retaliatory Measures.--Wonderful
Exploit.
There were but fifty men in the garrison at Boonesborough. They were
assailed by a body of more than ten to one of the bravest Indian
warriors, under the command of an officer in the British army. The
boldest in the fort felt that their situation was almost desperate. The
ferocity of the Indian, and the intelligence of the white man, were
combined against them. They knew that the British commander, however
humane he might be, would have no power, should the fort be taken by
storm, to save them from death by the most horrible tortures.
General Duquesne was acting under instructions from Governor Hamilton,
the British officer in supreme command at Detroit. Boone knew that the
Governor felt very kindly towards him. When he had been carried to that
place a captive, the Governor had made very earnest endeavors to obtain
his liberation. Influenced by these considerations, he consented to
hold the conference.
But, better acquainted with the Indian character than perhaps Duquesne
could have been, he selected nine of the most athletic and strong of the
garrison, and appointed the place of meeting in front of the fort, at a
distance of only one hundred and twenty feet from the walls. The
riflemen of the garrison were placed in a position to cover the spot
with their guns, so that in case of treachery the Indians would meet
with instant punishment, and the retreat of the party from the fort
would probably be secured. The language of Boone is:
"We held a treaty within sixty yards of the garrison on purpose to
divert them from a breach of honor, as we could not avoid suspicion of
the savages."
The terms proposed by General Duquesne were extremely liberal. And while
they might satisfy the British party, whose object in the war was simply
to conquer the colonists and bring them back to loyalty, they could by
no means have satisfied the Indians, who desired not merely to drive the
white men back from their hunting grounds, but to plunder them of their
possessions and to gratify their savage natures by hearing the shrieks
of their victims at the stake and by carrying home the trophies of
numerous scalps.
Boone and his men, buried in the depths of the wilderness, had probably
taken little interest in the controversy which was just then rising
between the colonies and the mother country. They had regarded the King
of England as their lawful sovereign, and their minds had never been
agitated by the question of revolution or of independence. When,
therefore, General Duquesne proposed that they should take the oath of
allegiance to the King of Great Britain, and that then they should be
permitted to return unmolested to their homes and their friends beyond
the mountains, taking all their possessions with them, Colonel Boone and
his associates were very ready to accept such terms. It justly appeared
to them in their isolated condition, five hundred miles away from the
Atlantic coast, that this was vastly preferable to remaining in the
wilderness assailed by thousands of Indians guided by English energy and
abundantly provided with all the munitions of war from British arsenals.
But Boone knew very well that the Indians would never willingly assent
to this treaty. Still he and his fellow commissioners signed it while
very curious to learn how it would be regarded by their savage foes. The
commissioners on both sides had appeared at the appointed place of
conference, as is usual on such occasions, entirely unarmed. There were,
however, a large number of Indians lingering around and drawing nearer
as the conference proceeded. After the treaty was signed, the old Indian
chief Blackfish, Boone's adopted father, and who, exasperated by the
escape of his ungrateful son, had been watching him with a very
unamiable expression of countenance, arose and made a formal speech in
the most approved style of Indian eloquence. He commented upon the
bravery of the two armies, and of the desirableness that there should be
entire friendship between them, and closed by saying that it was a
custom with them on all such important occasions to ratify the treaty by
two Indians shaking hands with each white man.
This shallow pretense, scarcely up to the sagacity of children, by which
Blackfish hoped that two savages grappling each one of the commissioners
would easily be able to make prisoners of them, and then by threats of
torture compel the surrender of the fort, did not in the slightest
degree deceive Colonel Boone. He was well aware of his own strength and
of that of the men who accompanied him. He also knew that his riflemen
occupied concealed positions, from which, with unerring aim, they could
instantly punish the savages for any act of treachery. He therefore
consented to the arrangement. The grasp was given. Instantly a terrible
scene of confusion ensued.
The burly savages tried to drag off their victims. The surrounding
Indians rushed in to their aid, and a deadly fire was opened upon them
from the fort, which was energetically responded to by all the armed
savages from behind stumps and trees. One of the fiercest of battles had
instantly blazed forth. Still these stalwart pioneers were not taken by
surprise. Aided by the bullets of the fort, they shook off their
assailants, and all succeeded in escaping within the heavy gates, which
were immediately closed behind them. One only of their number, Boone's
brother, was wounded. This escape seems almost miraculous. But the
majority of the Indians in intelligence were mere children: sometimes
very cunning, but often with the grossest stupidity mingled with their
strategy.
Duquesne and Blackfish, the associated leaders, now commenced the siege
of the fort with all their energies. Dividing their forces into two
parties, they kept up an incessant fire upon the garrison for nine days
and nine nights. It was one of the most heroic of those bloody struggles
between civilization and barbarism, which have rendered the plains of
Kentucky memorable.
The savages were very careful not to expose themselves to the rifles of
the besieged. They were stationed behind rocks, and trees, and stumps,
so that it was seldom that the garrison could catch even a glimpse of
the foes who were assailing them. It was necessary for those within the
fort to be sparing of their ammunition. They seldom fired unless they
could take deliberate aim, and then the bullet was almost always sure to
reach its mark. Colonel Boone, in describing this attempt of the Indians
to capture the commissioners by stratagem, and of the storm of war which
followed, writes:
"They immediately grappled us, but, although surrounded by hundreds of
savages, we extricated ourselves from them and escaped all safe into the
garrison except one, who was wounded through a heavy fire from their
army. They immediately attacked us on every side, and a constant heavy
fire ensued between us, day and night, for the space of nine days. In
this time the enemy began to undermine our fort, which was situated
about sixty yards from the Kentucky river. They began at the water mark
and proceeded in the bank some distance, which we understood by their
making the water muddy with the clay. We immediately proceeded to
disappoint their design by cutting a trench across their subterranean
passage. The enemy discovering our counter mine by the clay we threw out
of the fort, desisted from that stratagem. Experience now fully
convincing them that neither their power nor their policy could effect
their purpose, on the twentieth of August they raised the siege and
departed.
"During this siege, which threatened death in every form, we had two men
killed and four wounded, besides a number of cattle. We killed of the
enemy thirty-seven and wounded a great number. After they were gone we
picked up one hundred and twenty-five pounds weight of bullets, besides
what stuck in the logs of our fort, which certainly is a great proof of
their industry."
It is said that during this siege, one of the negroes, probably a slave,
deserted from the fort with one of their best rifles, and joined the
Indians. Concealing himself in a tree, where unseen he could take
deliberate aim, he became one of the most successful of the assailants.
But the eagle eye of Boone detected him, and though, as was afterwards
ascertained by actual measurement, the tree was five hundred and
twenty-five feet distant from the fort, Boone took deliberate aim,
fired, and the man was seen to drop heavily from his covert to the
ground. The bullet from Boone's rifle had pierced his brain.
At one time the Indians had succeeded in setting fire to the fort, by
throwing flaming combustibles upon it, attached to their arrows. One of
the young men extinguished the flames, exposing himself to the
concentrated and deadly fire of the assailants in doing so. Though the
bullets fell like hailstones around him, the brave fellow escaped
unscathed.
This repulse quite disheartened the Indians. Henceforth they regarded
Boonesborough as a Gibraltar; impregnable to any force which they could
bring against it. They never assailed it again. Though Boonesborough is
now but a small village in Kentucky, it has a history which will render
it forever memorable in the annals of heroism.
It will be remembered that Boone's family, supposing him to have
perished by the hands of the Indians, had returned to the home of Mrs.
Boone's father in North Carolina. Colonel Boone, anxious to rejoin his
wife and children, and feeling that Boonesborough was safe from any
immediate attack by the Indians, soon after the dispersion of the
savages entered again upon the long journey through the wilderness, to
find his friends east of the mountains. In the autumn of 1778, Colonel
Boone again found himself, after all his wonderful adventures, in a
peaceful home on the banks of the Yadkin.
The settlements in Kentucky continued rapidly to increase. The savages
had apparently relinquished all hope of holding exclusive possession of
the country. Though there were occasional acts of violence and cruelty,
there was quite a truce in the Indian warfare. But the white settlers,
and those who wished to emigrate, were greatly embarrassed by
conflicting land claims. Many of the pioneers found their titles
pronounced to be of no validity. Others who wished to emigrate,
experienced great difficulty in obtaining secure possession of their
lands. The reputation of Kentucky as in all respects one of the most
desirable of earthly regions for comfortable homes, added to the desire
of many families to escape from the horrors of revolutionary war, which
was sweeping the sea-board, led to a constant tide of emigration beyond
the mountains.
Under these circumstances the Government of Virginia established a
court, consisting of four prominent citizens, to go from place to place,
examine such titles as should be presented to them, and to confirm those
which were good. This commission commenced its duties at St. Asaph. All
the old terms of settlement proposed by Henderson and the Transylvania
Company were abrogated. Thus Colonel Boone had no title to a single acre
of land in Kentucky. A new law however was enacted as follows:
"Any person may acquire title to so much unappropriated land, as he or
she may desire to purchase, on paying the consideration of forty pounds
for every one hundred acres, and so in proportion."
This money was to be paid to the State Treasurer, who would give for it
a receipt. This receipt was to be deposited with the State Auditor, who
would in exchange for it give a certificate. This certificate was to be
lodged at the Land Office. There it was to be registered, and a warrant
was to be given, authorizing the survey of the land selected. Surveyors
who had passed the ordeal of William and Mary College, having defined
the boundaries of the land, were to make a return to the Land Office. A
due record was there to be made of the survey, a deed was to be given in
the name of the State, which deed was to be signed by the Governor, with
the seal of the Commonwealth attached.
This was a perplexing labyrinth for the pioneer to pass through, before
he could get a title to his land. Not only Colonel Boone, but it seems
that his family were anxious to return to the beautiful fields of
Kentucky. During the few months he remained on the Yadkin, he was busy
in converting every particle of property he possessed into money, and in
raising every dollar he could for the purchase of lands he so greatly
desired. The sum he obtained amounted to about twenty thousand dollars,
in the depreciated paper currency of that day. To Daniel Boone this was
a large sum. With this the simple-hearted man started for Richmond to
pay it to the State Treasurer, and to obtain for it the promised
certificate. He was also entrusted with quite large sums of money from
his neighbors, for a similar purpose.
On his way he was robbed of every dollar. It was a terrible blow to him,
for it not only left him penniless, but exposed him to the insinuation
of having feigned the robbery, that he might retain the money entrusted
to him by his friends. Those who knew Daniel Boone well would have no
more suspected him of fraud than an angel of light. With others however,
his character suffered. Rumor was busy in denouncing him.
Colonel Nathaniel Hart had entrusted Boone with two thousand nine
hundred pounds. This of course was all gone. A letter, however, is
preserved from Colonel Hart, which bears noble testimony to the
character of the man from whom he had suffered:
"I observe what you say respecting our losses by Daniel Boone. I had
heard of the misfortune soon after it happened, but not of my being a
partaker before now. I feel for the poor people who perhaps are to lose
their pre-emptions. But I must say I feel more for Boone, whose
character I am told suffers by it. Much degenerated must the people of
this age be, when amongst them are to be found men to censure and blast
the reputation of a person so just and upright, and in whose breast is a
seat of virtue too pure to admit of a thought so base and dishonorable.
I have known Boone in times of old, when poverty and distress had him
fast by the hand, and in these wretched circumstances, I have ever
found him of a noble and generous soul, despising everything mean, and
therefore I will freely grant him a discharge for whatever sums of mine
he might have been possessed at the time."
Boone was now forty-five years of age, but the hardships to which he had
been exposed had borne heavily upon him, and he appeared ten years
older. Though he bore without a murmur the loss of his earthly all, and
the imputations which were cast upon his character, he was more anxious
than ever to find refuge from the embarrassments which oppressed him in
the solitudes of his beautiful Kentucky. Notwithstanding his comparative
poverty, his family on the banks of the Yadkin need not experience any
want. Land was fertile, abundant and cheap. He and his boys in a few
days, with their axes, could erect as good a house as they desired to
occupy. The cultivation of a few acres of the soil, and the results of
the chase, would provide them an ample support. Here also they could
retire to rest at night, with unbolted door and with no fear that their
slumbers would be disturbed by the yell of the blood-thirsty savage.
The wife and mother must doubtless have wished to remain in her pleasant
home, but cheerfully and nobly she acceded to his wishes, and was ready
to accompany him to all the abounding perils of the distant West. Again
the family set out on its journey across the mountains. Of the incidents
which they encountered, we are not informed. The narrative we have from
Boone is simply as follows: our readers will excuse the slight
repetition it involves:
"About this time I returned to Kentucky with my family. And here, to
avoid an enquiry into my conduct, the reader being before informed of my
bringing my family to Kentucky, I am under the necessity of informing
him that during my captivity with the Indians, my wife, who despaired of
ever seeing me again, had transported my family and goods back through
the wilderness, amid a multitude of dangers, to her father's house in
North Carolina. Shortly after the troubles at Boonesborough, I went to
them and lived peaceably there until this time. The history of my going
home and returning with my family forms a series of difficulties, an
account of which would swell a volume. And being foreign to my purpose I
shall omit them."
During Boone's absence from Kentucky, one of the most bloody battles was
fought, which ever occurred between the whites and the Indians. Colonel
Rogers, returning with supplies (by boat) from New Orleans to the Upper
Ohio, when he arrived at the mouth of the Little Miami, detected the
Indians in large numbers, painted, armed, and evidently on the war
path, emerging from the mouth of the river in their canoes, and crossing
the Ohio to the Kentucky shore. He cautiously landed his men, intending
to attack the Indians by surprise. Instead of this, they turned upon him
with overwhelming numbers, and assailed him with the greatest fury.
Colonel Rogers and sixty of his men were almost instantly killed. This
constituted nearly the whole of his party. Two or three effected their
escape, and conveyed the sad tidings of the massacre to the settlements.
The Kentuckians were exceedingly exasperated, and resolved that the
Indians should feel the weight of their vengeance. Colonel Bowman, in
accordance with a custom of the times, issued a call, inviting all the
Kentuckians who were willing to volunteer under his leadership for the
chastisement of the Indians, to rendezvous at Harrodsburg. Three hundred
determined men soon assembled. The expedition moved in the month of
July, and commenced the ascent of the Little Miami undiscovered. They
arrived in the vicinity of Old Chilicothe just before nightfall. Here it
was determined so to arrange their forces in the darkness, as to attack
the place just before the dawn of the ensuing day. One half of the army,
under the command of Colonel Logan, were to grope their way through the
woods, and march around the town so as to attack it in the rear, at a
given signal from Colonel Bowman, who was to place his men in position
for efficient cooperation. Logan accomplished his movement, and
concealing his men behind stumps, trees, and rocks, anxiously awaited
the signal for attack.
But the sharp ear of a watch-dog detected some unusual movement, and
commenced barking furiously. An Indian warrior came from his cabin, and
cautiously advanced the way the dog seemed to designate. As the Indian
drew near, one of the party, by accident or great imprudence, discharged
his gun. The Indian gave a war-whoop, which immediately startled all the
inmates of the cabins to their feet. Logan and his party were
sufficiently near to see the women and the children in a continuous line
rushing over the ridge, to the protection of the forest.
The Indian warriors, with a military discipline hardly to be expected of
them, instantly collected in several strong cabins, which were their
citadels, and from whose loop-holes, unexposed, they could open a deadly
fire upon their assailants, In an instant, the whole aspect of affairs
was changed. The assailants advancing through the clearing, must expose
their unprotected breasts to the bullets of an unseen foe. After a brief
conflict, Colonel Logan, to his bitter disappointment and that of his
men, felt constrained to order a retreat.
The two parties were soon reunited, having lost several valuable lives,
and depressed by the conviction that the enterprise had proved an utter
failure. The savages pursued, keeping up a harassing fire upon the rear
of the fugitives. Fortunately for the white men, the renowned Indian
chieftain Blackfish, struck by a bullet, was instantly killed. This so
disheartened his followers, that they abandoned the pursuit. The
fugitives continued their flight all the night, and then at their
leisure returned to their homes much dejected. In this disastrous
expedition, nine men were killed and one was severely wounded.
The Indians, aided by their English allies, resolved by the invasion of
Kentucky to retaliate for the invasion of the Little Miami. Governor
Hamilton raised a very formidable army, and supplied them with two
pieces of artillery. By such weapons the strongest log fort could
speedily be demolished; while the artillerists would be entirely beyond
the reach of the guns of the garrison. A British officer, Colonel Boyd,
commanded the combined force. The valley of the Licking River, along
whose banks many thriving settlements had commenced, was their point of
destination.
A twelve days' march from the Ohio brought this army, which was
considered a large one in those times, to a post called Kuddle's
Station. The garrison was immediately summoned to surrender, with the
promise of protection for their lives only. Resistance against artillery
was hopeless. The place was surrendered. Indians and white men rushed
in, alike eager for plunder. The Indians, breaking loose from all
restraint, caught men, women and children, and claimed them as their
prisoners. Three persons who made some slight resistance were
immediately tomahawked.
The British commander endeavored to exonerate himself from these
atrocities by saying that it was utterly beyond his power to control the
savages. These wolfish allies, elated by their conquest, their plunder
and their captives, now demanded to be led along the valley five miles
to the next station, called Martin's Fort. It is said that Colonel Byrd
was so affected by the uncontrollable atrocities he had witnessed, that
he refused to continue the expedition, unless the Indians would consent,
that while they should receive all the plunder, he should have all the
prisoners. It is also said that notwithstanding this agreement, the same
scenes were enacted at Martin's Fort which had been witnessed at
Ruddle's Station. In confirmation of this statement, it is certain that
Colonel Byrd refused to go any farther. All the stations on the river
were apparently at his disposal, and it speaks well for his humanity
that he refused to lead any farther savages armed with the tomahawk and
the scalping knife, against his white brethren. He could order a
retreat, as he did, but he could not rescue the captives from those who
had seized them. The Indians loaded down their victims with the plunder
of their own dwellings, and as they fell by the way, sinking beneath
their burdens, they buried the tomahawk in their brains.
The exasperation on both sides was very great, and General Clark, who
was stationed at Fort Jefferson with a thousand picked men, entered the
Indian territory, burned the villages, destroyed the crops, and utterly
devastated the country. In reference to this expedition, Mr. Cecil B.
Hartley writes:
"Some persons who have not the slightest objection to war, very gravely
express doubts as to whether the expedient of destroying the crops of
the Indians was justifiable. It is generally treated by these men as if
it were a wanton display of a vindictive spirit, where in reality it was
dictated by the soundest policy; for when the Indians' harvests were
destroyed, they were compelled to subsist their families altogether by
hunting, and had no leisure for their murderous inroads into the
settlements. This result was plainly seen on this occasion, for it does
not appear that the Indians attacked any of the settlements during the
remainder of this year."
The following incident, well authenticated, which occurred early in the
spring of 1780, gives one a vivid idea of the nature of this warfare:
"Mr. Alexander McConnel of Lexington, while out hunting, killed a large
buck. He went home for his horse to bring it in. While he was absent,
five Indians accidentally discovered the body of the deer. Supposing the
hunter would return, three of them hid themselves within rifle shot of
the carcass while two followed his trail. McConnel, anticipating no
danger, was riding slowly along the path, when he was fired upon from
ambush, his horse shot beneath him, and he seized as a prisoner. His
captors were in high glee, and treated him with unusual kindness. His
skill with the rifle excited their admiration, and as he provided them
with abundance of game, they soon became quite fond of him. Day after
day the savages continued their tramp to the Ohio river, to cross over
to their own country. Every night they bound him very strongly. As they
became better acquainted, and advanced farther from the settlements of
the pioneers, they in some degree remitted their vigilance. One evening
when they had arrived near the Ohio, McConnel complained so earnestly of
the pain which the tightly bound cords gave him, that they more loosely
fastened the cord of buffalo hide around his wrists. Still they tied it,
as they supposed securely, and attached the end of the cord to the body
of one of the Indians.
"At midnight, McConnel discovered a sharp knife lying near him, which
had accidentally fallen from its sheath. He drew it to him with his
feet, and succeeded noiselessly in cutting the cords. Still he hardly
dared to stir, for there was danger that the slightest movement might
rouse his vigilant foes. The savages had stacked their five guns near
the fire. Cautiously he crept towards them, and secreted three at but a
short distance where they would not easily find them. He then crept
noiselessly back, took a rifle in each hand, rested the muzzles upon a
log, and aiming one at the heart, and one at the head of two Indians at
the distance of a few feet, discharged both guns simultaneously.
[Illustration]
"Both shots were fatal. The three remaining savages in bewilderment
sprang to their feet. McConnel instantly seizing the two other guns,
shot one through the heart, and inflicted a terrible wound upon the
other. He fell to the ground bellowing loudly. Soon however he regained
his feet and hobbled off into the woods as fast as possible. The only
remaining one of the party who was unhurt uttered a loud yell of terror
and dismay, and bounded like a deer into the forest. McConnel was not
disposed to remain even for one moment to contemplate the result of his
achievement. He selected his own trusty rifle, plunged into the
forest, and with the unerring instinct of the veteran hunter, in two
days reached the garrison at Lexington to relate to them his wonderful
escape."