Several survivors of St. Clair’s Defeat wrote vivid accounts of their
experiences during that terrible battle. These personal reports detail
one of the worst defeats ever suffered by an American army. Encouraged
by victories over the forces of Generals Harmar and St. Clair, the
Indians preyed upon the defenseless frontier. Therefore, the success of
General Wayne’s expedition, undertaken in 1792 to subdue the redskins,
was of primary importance to the development of the West.
The first of the three articles in this pamphlet contains the accounts
which Henry Howe included in his HISTORICAL COLLECTIONS OF OHIO, first
published in 1847. Sources of quotations used in Howe’s COLLECTIONS are
not always clear, but the material is considered of sufficient
historical significance to warrant reprinting without exact citations.
The second item appeared in the INDIANA HERALD on April 13, 1864. The
third article is a brief newspaper report which was published in the
INDIANA STATE JOURNAL on September 27, 1851.
The Boards and the Staff of the Public Library of Fort Wayne and Allen
County present this publication in the hope that it will prove
interesting to the general public as well as to students of the history
of the Old Northwest. Grammar, spelling, and punctuation have been
changed to conform to current usage.
The great objective of St. Clair’s campaign was to establish a military
post at the Miami village (the site of the present city of Fort Wayne)
at the junction of the St. Mary’s and St. Joseph rivers. Intermediate
posts of communication were to be maintained from that place to Fort
Washington at Cincinnati. This was felt to be the only way to prevent
future hostilities.
Acting under instructions, St. Clair proceeded to organize his army. At
the close of April, 1791, he was at Pittsburgh where troops and
munitions of war were being collected. On the fifteenth of May he
reached Fort Washington. The expedition was expected to start before the
first of August, but mismanagement in the quartermaster’s department and
other hindrances prevented the departure for many weeks. From Fort
Washington the troops advanced only six miles to Ludlow’s Station. The
army of 2,300, exclusive of the militia, remained there until September
17, when it moved forward and built Fort Hamilton on the Great Miami
River. From there the army marched forty-four miles farther and built
Fort Jefferson. On the twenty-fourth of October the toilsome march
through the wilderness began. We copy below from the NOTES ON THE EARLY
SETTLEMENT OF THE NORTH-WESTERN TERRITORY by Judge Jacob Burnet.
“During this time 300 militiamen deserted and returned to their homes.
The supplies for the army were still in the rear, and General St. Clair
was afraid that the deserters might seize them for their own use. He
decided very reluctantly to send the first regiment back for the dual
purpose of bringing up the provisions and, if possible, of overtaking
and arresting some of the deserters.
“After that arrangement had been made, the army resumed its march; and
on the third of November, it arrived at a creek flowing toward the
southwest. This stream was thought to be the St. Mary’s River, one of
the principal branches of the Maumee River; but it was afterward
ascertained to be a branch of the Wabash River. Since it was late in the
afternoon and the men were fatigued by the laborious march, they
encamped on a commanding piece of ground by the creek.
“General St. Clair intended to occupy that position until the first
regiment arrived with the provisions. According to a plan he had made
with Major Ferguson, he intended to begin work on a fort the next day;
but he was not permitted to do so. Half an hour before sunrise on the
fourth of November, just after the men had been dismissed from parade,
the Indians attacked the militiamen posted at the front. By rushing back
into camp with the Indians close upon their heels, they threw the army
into disorder from which it could not recover. In a short time the
Indians were checked by the fire of the first line, but they immediately
concentrated a very heavy fire on that line; and in a few minutes they
extended their fire to the second line.
“In each case their heaviest fire was directed into the center of the
line where the artillery was placed, and men were frequently driven from
the center with great slaughter. Bayonets were resorted to in that
emergency. Under orders from St. Clair, Colonel Darke made a spirited
charge with a part of the second line. The Indians instantly gave way
and were driven back several hundred yards. But there was not a
sufficient number of riflemen to preserve the advantage, and the enemy
soon renewed the attack and forced our troops to retreat.
“When the Indians entered the American camp from the left, another
charge was made with great success by the battalions of Majors Butler
and Clark. Several other charges were made with equal effect. These
attacks, however, caused a heavy loss of men, particularly of officers.
In the charge made by the second regiment, Major Butler was dangerously
wounded. All but three of the officers of that regiment fell, and one of
these three was shot through the body. The cannon was silenced, and all
the artillery officers were killed except Captain Ford who was
dangerously wounded. Half the army had fallen; it was necessary to gain
the road, if possible, and to make a retreat.
“A successful charge was made on the enemy, as if to turn their right
flank, but in reality to reach the road. The militia then commenced to
retreat, followed by the United States troops, with Major Clark’s
battalion covering the rear. The retreat, as might be expected, soon
became a flight. The camp was abandoned and so was the artillery for
there were no horses to move it. For about four miles the road was
almost covered with the arms and accouterments which the men continued
to throw away even after the Indians had stopped pursuing them.
“All of General St. Clair’s horses had been killed, and he was mounted
on a broken-down packhorse that could scarcely be forced out of a walk.
It was, therefore, impossible for him to get forward to command a halt;
and the orders which he dispatched by others for that purpose were not
executed. The rout continued until about dark when the remnant of the
army arrived at Fort Jefferson, twenty-seven miles from the
battleground. The battle had lasted about three hours; it began a half
hour before sunrise, and the retreat did not start until nine-thirty in
the morning. With only one exception, the troops behaved with great
bravery during this time; this accounts for the very large number of
casualties.
“Among those killed were Major General Butler, Colonel Oldham, Major
Ferguson, Major Hart, and Major Clark. Among the wounded were Colonel
Sargeant (the adjutant-general), Colonel Darke, Colonel Gibson, Major
Butler, and Viscount Malartie, who served as an aide. In addition to
these, the list of officers killed contained the names of Captains
Bradford, Phelon, Kirkwood, Price, Van Swearingen, Tipton, Purdy, Smith,
Piatt, Gaither, Crebbs, and Newman; Lieutenants Spear, Warren, Boyd,
McMath, Burgess, Kelso, Read, Little, Hopper, and Lickins; Ensigns Cobb,
Balch, Chase, Turner, Wilson, Brook, Beatty, and Purdy; Quartermasters
Reynolds and Ward; Adjutant Anderson; and Dr. Grasson. In addition to
the wounded officers whose names are mentioned above, the official list
contains the names of Captains Doyle, Truman, Ford, Buchanan, Darke, and
Hough; Lieutenants Greaton, Davidson, DeButts, Price, Morgan, McCrea,
Lysle, and Thompson; Adjutants Whistler and Crawford; and Ensign Bines.
The melancholy result of that disastrous day was felt and lamented by
all who had sympathy for private distress or public misfortune.
“The only allegation made by General St. Clair against his army was that
the men lacked discipline, a quality which could not have been developed
during the short time the men were in the service. That defect rendered
it impossible to restore order once the men were thrown into confusion,
and this is the chief reason why the loss fell so heavily on the
officers. They were compelled to expose themselves to an unusual degree
in their efforts to rally the men and to overcome the want of
discipline. Although worn down by sickness and suffering from a painful
disease, General St. Clair set the example. It was alleged by the
officers that the Indians far outnumbered the American troops. That
conclusion was drawn, in part, from the fact that the Indians outflanked
and forcefully attacked all sides of the American lines at the same
time.
“When the fugitives arrived at Fort Jefferson, the first regiment was
just returning from its unsuccessful effort either to overtake the
deserters or to meet the convoy of provisions. The absence of that
regiment at the time of the battle was believed by some men to have been
the cause of the defeat. They supposed that had it been present the
Indians would have been defeated or would have attacked at another time.
General St. Clair seemed to think it uncertain, judging from the
superior number of the enemy, whether he ought to consider the absence
of that corps fortunate or otherwise. On the whole, he seemed to think
it fortunate, for he gravely doubted whether its presence would have
changed the fortune of the day. If it had not, the triumph of the enemy
would have been more complete, and the country would have been left
without means of defense.
“As soon as the troops reached Fort Jefferson, it became a question of
whether they ought to stay there or return to Fort Washington. General
St. Clair asked the advice of his surviving field officers; these
included Colonel Darke, Majors Hamtramck, Zeigler, and Gaither, and
Colonel Sargeant. After discussing the subject, they reported
unanimously that they believed the troops could not be accommodated in
Fort Jefferson nor could they be supplied with provisions there. The
officers thought it proper to proceed immediately toward supplies which
were known to be on the road not more than two marches distant. This
plan was adopted, and the army set out at ten o’clock and marched all
night. The next day they met a convoy with a quantity of flour which was
one day ahead of a drove of cattle. These supplies were used by the
troops on their march to Fort Washington.
“The loss sustained by the country in the fall of so many gallant
officers and men was most seriously regretted. General Butler and Major
Ferguson were spoken of with particular esteem. The public feeling,
however, was in some measure alleviated by the fact that those brave
men, officers and privates, fell covered with honor while defending the
cause of their country.
“The principal complaint made by the commander was that some of his
orders given during the night to Colonel Oldham were not executed. He
also complained that some very important information sent during the
night by Captain Hough to General Butler was not imparted to him, and he
did not hear of it until he arrived at Fort Washington.
“Because of the almost treasonable negligence of the government agents
in furnishing supplies, the army had been on short allowances for many
days. This had made it absolutely necessary either to retreat or to send
the first regiment, which was the flower of the army, to bring up the
provisions and military stores. The latter alternative was chosen, and
in the absence of that corps the attack was made. In regard to the
negligence of the War Department, it is a well-authenticated fact that
boxes and packages were carelessly put up and marked. During the battle
a box marked ‘flints’ was found to contain gunlocks; a keg of powder
marked ‘for the infantry’ was found to be damaged cannon-powder that
could scarcely be ignited.
“Under all of these disadvantages, it was generally believed by candid,
intelligent men that the commanding general was not justly liable to
severe censure. With one exception at the commencement of the action,
the troops behaved with great bravery. They maintained their ground for
three hours in an uninterrupted conflict with a superior force. They did
not attempt to leave the field until it was covered with the bodies of
their companions and a retreat was ordered. The General, less anxious
for himself than for others, was the last to leave the ground after he
had ordered the retreat.
“For some time after the disaster, St. Clair was universally censured.
After a thorough investigation, a committee of Congress, with Mr. Giles
of Virginia as chairman, found that the campaign had been conducted with
skill and personal bravery. The committee concluded that the defeat was
caused chiefly by the lack of discipline in the militia and by the
negligence of those whose duty it was to procure and forward the
provisions and military stores necessary for the expedition.
“Secretary of War Henry Knox addressed a letter to Congress complaining
that an injustice had been done him by the committee. The report was
then reconsidered by the same committee. After hearing the statements
and explanations of the Secretary and after reconsidering the whole
matter, they reaffirmed their first report.”
From one part of the country to the other, this defeat caused one loud
and merciless outcry of abuse and detestation of St. Clair. Many a
general with far less bravery and military skill has, when successful,
been applauded by the unthinking multitude with vehement acclamations.
The following excerpt from the narrative of St. Clair’s campaign shows
that he deserved a better fate.
“During the engagement, Generals St. Clair and Butler were continually
going up and down the lines; as one general went up one side, the other
one went down the opposite side. St. Clair was so severely afflicted
with the gout that he was unable to mount or dismount a horse without
assistance. His own four horses had been turned out to feed overnight,
but they had been brought in before the battle. St. Clair first
attempted to ride a young horse, but the animal was so frightened by the
firing that it could not be mounted. He had just moved the horse to
where he could have some advantage from the slope of the ground when the
horse was shot through the head. The boy holding it was wounded in the
arm. A second horse was brought and harnessed; but as St. Clair was
about to mount, the animal and the servant who held it were killed. The
General then ordered the third horse to be prepared and brought to him
at the left of the front line, which was then warmly engaged. The man
and horse were never heard of afterward, and it is supposed that they
were killed. General St. Clair’s fourth horse was killed under the Count
de Malartie, one of his aides, whose horse had died on the march.
[Illustration: _the horse was shot through the head_]
“On the day of the battle, St. Clair was not in his uniform; he wore a
coarse coat and a three-cornered hat. A long queue and heavy gray locks
flowed from under his beaver hat. Early in the action, a ball grazed the
side of his face and cut off a portion of one of his locks. It is said
that during the battle eight balls passed through his clothes. After his
horses were killed, he exerted himself on foot for a considerable time
with a degree of alertness that surprised everybody who saw him. When he
was nearly exhausted, a packhorse was brought to him. Although he could
scarcely prod the animal out of a walk, he rode it during the remainder
of the day. Had he not been furnished with a horse, he would have had to
remain on the field, even though he was unhurt.
“During the action General St. Clair exerted himself with a courage and
presence of mind worthy of the best fortune. He gave his orders in
person to Colonel Darke, and he was present when the first bayonet
charge was made upon the enemy. When the Indians first entered the camp
by the left flank, General St. Clair led the troops which drove them
back. When a retreat became indispensable, he put himself at the head of
the troops which broke through the enemy ranks and opened the way for
the remainder of the army. When this was done, he remained in the rear
and made every exertion to obtain a party to cover the retreat. The
panic, however, was so great that his exertions were of little avail. At
the height of the action, a few of the men crowded around the fires in
the center of the camp; St. Clair was seen drawing his pistols,
threatening them, and ordering them to turn and repel the enemy.”
In commenting upon the General’s honorable acquittal of all blame by the
committee of Congress appointed to inquire into the causes of the
failure of the expedition, Chief Justice John Marshall, in his LIFE OF
GEORGE WASHINGTON, remarks with his usual felicity of expression: “More
satisfactory testimony in favor of St. Clair is furnished by the
circumstance that he still retained the undiminished esteem and good
opinion of President Washington.”
To the foregoing description of the battle we extract from the narrative
of Major Jacob Fowler his own personal experience in the events of that
fatal day. Charles Cist published Fowler’s story in his ADVERTISER, with
the following introduction:
“There was hardly a battle fought in the early struggles with the
Indians in which Mr. Fowler did not participate. He is now (July, 1844)
eighty years old, but his eye has not dimmed nor his natural force
abated. He can still pick off a squirrel with his rifle at one hundred
yards. He can walk as firmly and as fast as most men of fifty, and I
cannot perceive a gray hair in his head. His mind and memory are as
vigorous as his physical body.”
Major Fowler’s story is as follows:
“Excepting a single instance, St. Clair kept out no scouting parties
during his entire march. We would have been completely surprised by the
attack if it had not been for volunteer scouting parties from the
militia who were out on the evening before the battle. The constant
discharge of rifles throughout the night also warned us to prepare for
the event. The militia, encamped about a quarter of a mile in front of
the main army, received the first shock of the attack a little after
daybreak. The camp was on the bank of a small creek, one of the upper
branches of the Wabash River. The ground was nearly level and covered
with a heavy growth of timber. As surveyor, I drew the pay and rations
of a subaltern; but as an old hunter, I was not disposed to trust myself
among the Indians without my rifle. Indeed, I found it very serviceable
during the march, for the army never had more than half rations during
the whole campaign.
“My stock of bullets had become low from using them for hunting; and as
soon as it was daylight that morning, I started for the militia camp to
get a ladle to pour some more. By this time the battle had begun, and I
met the militia running into the main body of troops. I hailed one of
the Kentuckians, whom I found disabled in the right wrist by a bullet;
and I asked him if he had bullets to spare. He told me to take out his
pouch and to divide with him. I poured out a double handful, put back
what I supposed was half, and was about to leave him, when he said,
‘Stop, you had better count them.’ I could hardly resist the impulse to
laugh, for the idea of counting a handful of bullets was ludicrous under
the circumstances. ‘If we get through this day’s scrape, my dear
fellow,’ said I, ‘I will return you twice as many.’ But I never saw him
again, and I suppose he shared the fate that befell many a gallant
spirit on that day. I owe the bullets, at any rate, at this moment.
“When I returned to the lines, I found that the engagement had begun.
One of Captain Piatt’s men lay shot through the belly near the spot I
had left. I saw an Indian behind a small tree not twenty steps away and
just outside the regular lines. He was loading his piece, squatting down
as much as possible to screen himself. I sighted and shot him through;
he dropped as soon as I had fired, and I retreated into our lines to
reload my rifle. Finding that the fire had ceased at this point, I ran
to the rear line, where I met Colonel Darke leading a charge with about
three hundred men. I followed with my rifle. By this movement the
Indians were driven out of sight, and the Colonel called a halt to rally
his men. A number of trees had been blown down near where we stood. As
an experienced woodsman and hunter, I suggested to Colonel Darke that
these trees would form an excellent breastwork of sufficient length to
protect the whole force. We might yet need that protection, for judging
by the shouting and firing, the Indians behind us had closed the gap we
had made in charging. I told the Colonel that if we turned and charged
the Indians at our rear, we should have them with their backs to us. No
doubt we would be able to give a good account of them. ‘Lead the way,
then,’ said the Colonel, as he rode to the rear to march the whole body
forward. We then charged the Indians, but they were so thick that we
could do nothing with them. In a few minutes they had surrounded us, and
we found ourselves beside the army baggage and the artillery, which had
been captured. I then climbed a tree. After firing twelve or fourteen
times, two or three rods being my longest shot, I discovered that many
of those whom I had struck were not brought down. I had not then had
sufficient experience to know that I must shoot them in the hip to bring
them down. The unprotected regulars armed with muskets could do little
better than to fire at random.
[Illustration: _While he was crawling away_]
“By this time only about thirty men of Colonel Darke’s command were left
standing; the rest were lying around us, either killed or wounded. I ran
to the Colonel, who was waving his sword in the thickest of it to
encourage his men, and told him we should all be down in five minutes if
we did not charge. ‘Charge, then!’ said he to the little line that
remained, and they did so. Fortunately, the main army charged on the
other side at the same time, and the Indians were momentarily put to
flight.
“I had been partially sheltered by a small tree, but two Indians behind
a larger tree fired simultaneously at me. Feeling the stream of air
following the passage of their shots, I supposed myself cut to pieces;
but no harm had been done. I brought my piece to my side and fired
without aiming at the one that stood his ground. The fellow was so close
to me that I could hardly miss him, and I shot him through the hips.
While he was crawling away on all fours, Colonel Darke, who had
dismounted and stood close by me, cut off the Indian’s head. By this
time the cock of my rifle lock had worn loose and gave me much trouble.
I told my difficulty to an acquaintance from Cincinnati who had picked
up a gun from a militiaman. ‘There is a first-rate rifle,’ he said,
pointing to one at a distance. I ran to get it as soon as I ascertained
that my bullets would fit it.
“Here I met Captain J. S. Gano, who was unarmed. I handed him the rifle
I had gone into the battle with, and I told him that we were defeated
and would have to make our escape as speedily as possible. If we
escaped, we would need the rifles for subsistence in the woods. While
the battle still raged, a group of soldiers had gathered together, but
they did little more than present targets for the enemy. The soldiers
appeared stupefied and bewildered. At another spot a group of soldiers
had broken into the officers’ marquees and were eating the breakfast
from which the officers had been called. It must be remembered that
neither officers nor men had eaten anything the whole morning. Some of
the men were shot down in the very act of eating.
“Just where I then stood, no Indians were visible, although their rifle
balls were striking all around. At last I saw an Indian dash for a tree
about forty yards off. From this protection he loaded and fired four
times, bringing down his man at every shot. He fired too quickly to give
me a chance to aim at him. At length I got a range of two inches inside
his backbone and blazed away; down he fell, and I saw no more of him.
“A short time later I heard the cry given by St. Clair and his adjutant
sergeant to charge to the road. I ran through the disorganized army to
where I had left my relative, Captain Piatt, and I told him that the
army was broken up and in full retreat. ‘Don’t say so,’ he replied. ‘You
will discourage my men, and I can’t believe it.’ I persisted a short
time, but finding him obstinate, I said, ‘If you will rush your fate, in
God’s name do it!’ I then ran off toward the rear of the army, which was
rapidly retreating.
“Piatt called, ‘Wait for me!’ It was no use to stop, for by this time
the savages were hardly twenty yards behind me. Being uncommonly active
in those days, I soon got from the rear to the front of the troops; but
I had great trouble in avoiding the bayonets which the retreating men
had thrown down with the sharp points toward their pursuers.
“It has been stated that the Indians followed us for thirty miles, but
this is not true. My duty as surveyor led me to mark the miles every day
we proceeded on our march, and it was therefore easy to ascertain how
far we were pursued. The Indians, after every other fire, fell back to
load their rifles and regained the lost distance by running on afresh.
“Even during the last charge of Colonel Darke, the bodies of the dead
and dying were shrouded with smoke and in the heavy morning frost looked
like so many pumpkins in a cornfield in December. It was on the fourth
of November, and the day was severely cold for the season. My fingers
became so benumbed at times that I had to take the bullets in my mouth
and load from it, while I had the wiping rod in my hand to force them
down.”
The map of the battleground is taken from the survey of John S. Houston
of Celina. The localities were pointed out to him by Mr. McDowell, who
was in the action and who is now living near Fort Recovery. In a letter
headed Celina, March 20, 1847, Mr. Houston reported on a conversation
with Mr. McDowell.
“Mr. McDowell states that on the morning of the battle he and several
others had just gone out to look after their horses when suddenly they
heard discharges of musketry and the most hideous yells from the
opposite side of the river. Instantly, he rushed to camp where his
regiment was preparing for action. He joined them and gallantly charged
the enemy. On the retreat he was among those who defended the rear and
kept the enemy in check for several miles. The ground was covered with a
slushy snow which greatly retarded their progress. After a while many
soldiers became so dispirited and hungry—having eaten no breakfast—that
they threw down their arms and made their way as best they could among
the retreating crowd.
“About this time, Mr. McDowell saw a mother carrying her year-old
infant. She was so tired that she was about to fall by the wayside when
he took the child and carried it some distance. Afterward, to save her
own life, the woman left the child in the snow. The Indians carried it
to the Sandusky towns and reared it. Soon after this, McDowell overtook
a youth about eighteen years old who was hobbling along, wounded in the
leg. McDowell gave him a drink of spirits and a little bread, although
he himself had not had time to eat. This refreshed and encouraged the
young man; and when a pony came dashing by, McDowell caught it and
mounted the young soldier upon it. In this way the youth reached the
fort safely.
[Illustration: PLAN OF ST. CLAIR’S BATTLEFIELD]
REFERENCES:
A. HIGH GROUND ON WHICH THE MILITIA WHERE ENCAMPED AT THE COMMENCEMENT
OF THE ACTION.
B. & C. ENCAMPMENT OF THE MAIN ARMY
D. RETREAT OF THE MILITIA AT THE BEGINNING OF THE BATTLE
E. ST. CLAIR’S TRACE ON WHICH THE DEFEATED ARMY RETREATED
F. PLACE WHERE GENERAL BUTLER AND OTHER OFFICERS WERE BURIED
G. SITE OF FORT RECOVERY BUILT BY WAYNE
from Historical Collection of Ohio by Howe.
“At Stillwater Creek, twelve miles from the battleground, the Indians
gave up the pursuit and returned to share the booty. ‘Oh!’ said an old
squaw who died many years ago on the St. Mary’s River, ‘my arm that
night was weary scalping white man.’
“‘Some years ago,’ McDowell said to me (and here his cheeks became
moistened with tears), ‘I was traveling in Kentucky to visit a sister I
had not seen in many years. When I arrived at Georgetown, I entered my
name on the hotel register with the place of my residence—Fort Recovery,
Ohio.
“‘After I had been sitting some time at ease before a comfortable fire,
a gentleman who had noticed the entry of my name and residence opened a
friendly conversation about the place and country. He soon remarked that
he was at the defeat of St. Clair, and that if it had not been for the
assistance of a young man of Butler’s regiment, he would have been there
yet.’
“After a few more questions and replies, both men recognized each other.
The gentleman was the youth who had been shot during the retreat and
whose life had been saved with McDowell’s assistance. At this discovery
their surprise and consequent mutual attachment may be imagined. The
gentleman insisted upon taking McDowell home and introducing him to his
wife and daughters. He had become a wealthy merchant and gave McDowell a
new suit of clothes and other presents which he has carefully preserved
to this day.”
In his SKETCHES OF WESTERN ADVENTURE, John A. McClung relates some
anecdotes which show the heroism and activity of a young man who was in
this action.
“The late William Kennan, of Fleming County, when a young man of
eighteen, was attached to the corps of rangers who accompanied the
regular force. He had long been noted for his strength and activity. In
the course of the march from Fort Washington, he had repeated
opportunities to test his astonishing physical powers; and it was
universally admitted that he was the swiftest runner in the light corps.
On the evening preceding the action, his corps had been advanced a few
hundred yards in front of the first line of infantry in order to give
reasonable notice of the enemy’s approach. Just as day was dawning, he
observed about thirty Indians within one hundred yards of the guards’
fire. They advanced cautiously toward the spot where he stood with about
twenty rangers; the other men were considerably in the rear.
[Illustration: _mounted the young soldier_]
“Supposing it to be a mere scouting party, numbering no more than the
rangers, he sprang forward a few paces in order to shelter himself in a
spot of rank grass. After firing with a quick aim upon the foremost
Indian, Kennan instantly fell flat upon his face and proceeded with all
possible rapidity to reload his gun. He did not doubt for a moment that
the rangers would maintain their positions and support him. The Indians,
however, rushed forward in such overwhelming numbers that the rangers
were compelled to run. Kennan was in total ignorance of his danger until
his captain, who had observed him when he threw himself into the grass,
suddenly shouted, ‘Run, Kennan! or you are a dead man!’ Instantly,
Kennan sprang to his feet and beheld Indians within ten feet of him; his
company was already more than one hundred yards in front.
“Not a moment was to be lost. He darted off with every muscle strained
to its utmost. A dozen yelling Indians were close behind him. At first
he pressed straight forward to the ford in the creek which separated the
rangers from the main army. Several Indians, who had passed him before
he rose from the grass, threw themselves in the way and completely cut
him off from the other rangers. By the most powerful exertions, he left
all of the pursuers behind him, with the exception of one chief who
displayed a swiftness and perseverance equal to his own. The circuit
which Kennan was obliged to take extended the race for more than four
hundred yards. The distance between them was about eighteen feet, which
Kennan could not increase nor his adversary diminish. Each runner put
his whole soul into the race.
“Kennan, as far as he was able, kept his eye upon the motions of his
pursuer, for he was afraid the Indian would throw the tomahawk which he
held aloft in a menacing position. At length, finding that no other
Indian was immediately at hand, Kennan determined to try the mettle of
his pursuer in a different manner. He felt for his own tomahawk but
discovered it had slipped out of its sheath while he lay in the grass.
His hair almost lifted the cap from his head when he realized he was
totally unarmed! Kennan had slackened his pace for a moment, and the
Indian was almost in reach of him when he again sprinted forward. Fear
lent wings to his feet, and for the first time he saw himself
outdistancing the Indian. He had watched the motions of his pursuer too
closely, however, to pay proper attention to the nature of the ground
before him; and he suddenly found himself in front of a large tree which
had been blown down. Brush and other impediments increased the height of
the obstacle to eight or nine feet.
“The Indian, who heretofore had not uttered the slightest sound, now
gave a short, quick yell as if sure of his victim. Kennan had not a
moment to deliberate. He must clear the tree at a leap or perish.
Putting his whole soul into the effort, he bounded into the air with a
power that astonished himself. Clearing limbs, brush, and everything
else, he alighted in perfect safety on the other side. A loud yell of
astonishment burst from his pursuer, who had not the hardihood to
attempt the same feat. Kennan, as may be readily imagined, had no
leisure to enjoy his triumph but dashed into the bed of the creek. With
its high banks shielding him from the fire of the enemy, he ran up the
stream until he found a convenient place to cross. Soon he rejoined the
rangers in the rear of the encampment. He was panting from the fatigue
of exertions which have seldom been surpassed, but no breathing time was
allowed him. The attack instantly commenced and, as we have already
observed, was maintained for three hours with unabated fury.
[Illustration: _he alighted in perfect safety_]
“When the retreat commenced, Kennan was attached to Major Clark’s
battalion which was assigned the task of protecting the rear. This corps
quickly lost its commander and was completely disorganized. Kennan was
among the hindmost when the fight commenced; but by exerting those same
powers which had saved him in the morning, he quickly gained the front
and passed several horsemen in the flight. Here he beheld a private of
his own company, an intimate acquaintance, lying upon the ground with
his thigh broken. In the most piercing tones of distress, the wounded
man implored each horseman who hurried by to take him up behind him. As
soon as he beheld Kennan coming on foot, he stretched out his arms and
called aloud for help. Notwithstanding the imminent peril of the moment,
Kennan could not reject so passionate an appeal and carried him for
several hundred yards. Horseman after horseman passed them, but each
rider refused to take the wounded man.
“At length the enemy was gaining upon them so fast that Kennan saw their
deaths to be certain unless he relinquished his burden. Accordingly, he
told his friend that he had used every possible exertion to save his
life and that he must relax his hold around his neck or they would both
perish. The unhappy man, heedless of every remonstrance, still clung
convulsively and impeded Kennan’s exertions until the foremost of the
enemy, armed with tomahawk alone, was within twenty yards of them.
Kennan then drew his knife from its sheath and cut the fingers of his
companion. The unhappy man rolled upon the ground in utter helplessness.
He was tomahawked before Kennan had gone thirty yards. Relieved of his
burden, Kennan darted forward with a speed which once more brought him
to the front. Here again he was compelled to neglect his own safety in
order to attend to that of others.
“The late Governor George Madison of Kentucky, who afterward commanded
the troops who defended themselves so honorably at Raisin River, was a
man of amiable temper and unconquerable courage. At that time, he was a
subaltern in St. Clair’s army. His health was poor; and now, totally
exhausted by the exertions of the morning, he was calmly sitting on a
log awaiting the approach of his enemies. Kennan hastily accosted him
and inquired the cause of his delay. Madison, pointing to a wound which
had bled profusely, replied that he was unable to walk any farther and
that he had no horse. Kennan instantly ran back to a spot where he had
seen an exhausted horse grazing and caught it without difficulty. Having
assisted Madison to mount, he walked beside the animal until they were
out of danger. Fortunately, the pursuit soon ceased, as the plunder of
the camp presented irresistible attractions to the enemy. The friendship
thus formed between these two young men endured without interruption for
the rest of their lives. Kennan never entirely recovered from the severe
exertions which he had been compelled to make during this unfortunate
expedition. He settled in Fleming County where he was a leading member
of the Baptist church for many years. He died in 1827.”
The number of Indians engaged in this action can never be ascertained
with any degree of certainty. Estimates have varied from one to three
thousand. Colonel John Johnston, long an Indian agent in this region,
had many opportunities to form a correct opinion on this subject. His
statements in a letter of 1846 are worthy of consideration.
“The number of Indians at the defeat of St. Clair must have been large.
At that time game was plentiful, and a large number of Indians could
have subsisted easily. Wells, one of our interpreters, was there and
fought for the enemy. To use his own language, he tomahawked and scalped
the wounded, dying, and dead, until he was unable to raise his arm. The
principal tribes in the battle were the Delaware, Shawnee, Wyandot,
Miami, and Ottawa. A few Indians of the Chippewa and Potawatomi tribes
were also present. I had no accurate means of knowing the total number,
but it could not have been less than two thousand.”
Some time after the defeat of St. Clair, General Wilkinson, who had
become commander of Fort Washington, ordered an expedition to visit the
battleground. Captain Buntin, who was with the party, afterward wrote a
letter to St. Clair from which the following is extracted.
“In my opinion, those unfortunate men who were captured alive suffered
the greatest torture by having their limbs torn off. The women were
treated with the most indecent cruelty; stakes as thick as a person’s
arm were driven through their bodies. The former I observed while
burying the dead; the latter was discovered by Colonel Sargeant and Dr.
Brown. We found three carriages whole; the other five were so badly
damaged that they were useless. By the General’s orders, we dug pits in
different places and buried all the bodies that were exposed to view or
that could be found conveniently.
“During this time several small parties were detached—some to protect
the main group and others to examine the course of the creek. At some
distance in front of the ground occupied by the militia, these parties
found a large camp, not less than three quarters of a mile long. They
thought it had been the camp of the Indians the night before the action.
We remained on the field that night, and the next morning we hitched
horses to the carriages and started for Fort Jefferson.
“There is little reason to believe that the enemy carried off the
cannons, and it is thought they were either buried or thrown into the
creek. I think the latter more probable, but as it was frozen over with
thick ice and covered with a deep snow, it was impossible to make a
search with any prospect of success. I have mentioned the camp occupied
by the enemy the night before the action. Could Colonel Oldham have
complied with your orders on that evening, things at this day might have
worn a different aspect.”
Mr. McDowell, previously mentioned, was one of those who visited the
battleground. He stated that although the bodies were much abused and
stripped of everything of any value, they were recognized and interred
in four large graves. General Butler was found in the shattered remains
of his tent. After he had been wounded, he was carried to the tent;
while two surgeons were dressing his wounds, a ball struck one of them
in the hip. At that instant, an Indian, who was determined to have
Butler’s scalp, rushed in. While attempting to scalp the General, he was
shot by the dying surgeon.
In December, 1793, General Wayne arrived with his army at Greenville and
sent forward a detachment to the spot of St. Clair’s Defeat. They
arrived on Christmas Day and pitched their tents on the battleground.
Before the men could make their beds in their tents that night, they had
to gather the bones together and carry them out. The next day graves
were dug and the bones remaining above ground were buried. Six hundred
skulls were among them. The flesh was entirely off the bones, but in
many cases the sinews yet held them together. After this melancholy duty
was performed, a fortification was built and named Fort Recovery in
commemoration of its being recovered from the Indians who had been in
possession of the ground since 1791. On the completion of the fort, one
company of artillerymen and one of riflemen were left there; the others
returned to Greenville.
Henry Howe, HISTORICAL COLLECTIONS OF OHIO (Cincinnati: Published by
the state of Ohio, 1908), Vol. II, pp. 223-32.
The terrible battle known as St. Clair’s Defeat was fought on the
morning of November 4, 1791, in what is now the northwestern part of
Darke County, Ohio, near the Indiana boundary. Early in the preceding
spring General St. Clair had received orders to raise and organize an
army, to march into the wilderness as far as the junction of the St.
Mary’s and the St. Joseph rivers, and to establish a line of military
posts from Fort Washington at Cincinnati to the present site of Fort
Wayne. The forts were intended to keep the Indians in wholesome dread of
the power of the whites and to prevent those fearful depredations which
had already done so much to check the advancing tide of civilization. In
the execution of these orders, St. Clair surmounted many serious
obstacles. After building Forts Hamilton and Jefferson, he reached a
branch of the Wabash and encamped there in supposed security on the
evening of the third of November. His army numbered between two and
three thousand men. Several hundred women and children, the families of
the soldiers, traveled with the army.
St. Clair’s great and fatal mistake was in his fancied security. Instead
of having a large number of experienced scouts to scour the wilderness
far in advance of the main army and to warn him of danger, he marched
blindly forward as if passing through friendly territory. The Indians
proved themselves more circumspect, for their scouts and runners had not
been idle and had brought their leaders intelligence of the whites. To
check and punish what they regarded as an invasion of their territory,
the Indians collected a great force and marched forward to battle with
their enemies. Because of the American commander’s neglect, these dusky
sons of the forest were enabled to concoct their plans without
suspicion, to arrange their attack without detection, and to carry out
their designs with the most terrible effect.
About half an hour before sunrise on the fourth of November, the Indians
fiercely attacked the militia posted in front of the main army. The
first ranks made a slight resistance and then fell back in wild disorder
to the main camp. The overwhelming force of savages, led by their most
distinguished chiefs, came rushing on with yells of fury, creating panic
and confusion impossible to describe. Then began a desperate fight and a
fearful slaughter. Though taken completely by surprise, the brave
soldiers seized their arms, rallied under their respective leaders, and
stood their ground like heroes. Their first regular fire checked the
onset of the foe to some degree, but the Indians were too great in
numbers and held too great an advantage to give way permanently. In a
short time our gallant soldiers were violently assailed on all sides,
and officers and men went down before the deadly rifle fire like leaves
before the blasts of autumn wind. Several charges were ordered and made
with great spirit. The savages at times gave way before the impetuous
charges of their disciplined foes, yet it was only to rally in greater
force and to press more fearfully upon some weaker point.
For three hours the battle raged with wild fury, and the ground
everywhere was covered with the dead and dying. General St. Clair saw
with dismay that the day was hopelessly lost. Four of his own horses had
already been killed, his clothes were riddled with bullets, and nearly
every officer had been cut down. Under these distressing circumstances,
there was but one thing for him to do. He gave the order to retreat.
This retreat, as might have been anticipated, soon became a rout of the
most terrible kind. The Indians, finding themselves masters of the field
and finding their enemies flying in wild disorder, rushed after the
fugitives with yells of triumph. They followed the soldiers for four or
five miles, shooting, tomahawking, or scalping all they could overtake.
Then the most eager of the savages, satisfied with their morning’s work,
gave up the chase and returned to the battlefield to gather the scalps
of the dead and dying. Nearly all of the wounded were butchered. Those
unfortunate ones who had been taken unharmed were generally reserved for
later tortures, and there were enough captives to provide many holidays
for the different tribes.
We have thus given a brief sketch of the disaster on that woeful day.
The details of that horrifying scene of conflict would fill volumes.
This we cannot do. We can, however, piece together a narrative from the
records of the actors in that dreadful tragedy. It is our purpose to
publish the story of Robert Branshaw, a Kentuckian, who has left behind
him an account of what he saw and did on that memorable day.
“The main camp was pitched in a level wood by a small stream which was
one of the branches of the Wabash River; on higher ground about a
quarter of a mile across this stream, the militia and a company of
rangers had been on duty through the latter part of the night and were
prepared for an attack by Indians whom we knew to be in front of us. We
supposed them to be a mere scouting party sent out to gather information
about our movements. We did not think that they planned anything more
serious than to pick off some of our number and to get a few scalps if
they could do so without serious risk. Certain it is, we were not
prepared for what took place.
“In the gray of the morning, before objects had become distinct at any
considerable distance, I was standing near one of the fires conversing
with a comrade. Suddenly I saw twenty or thirty painted savages dodging
around among the trees in front of us, as if they planned to attack by
surprise. Supposing the ones I saw to be the entire party, and thinking
it a good chance to bring down one of them and at the same time to alarm
the camp, I instantly raised my rifle to my eye, took a quick aim, and
dropped the nearest Indian. The smoke had not cleared away from my rifle
when a terrific volley was poured in upon us. It was accompanied by
appalling yells from a thousand throats. At the same instant I saw
Indians springing from behind their covers and rushing down upon us in
overwhelming numbers. Instantly, I turned to fly and stumbled over the
dead body of the comrade with whom I had been conversing. He had been
shot through the temples, and he was the first dead man I saw on that
fatal day.
“As we fell back, the militiamen behind us discharged their pieces at
the approaching savages; then they turned and fled in the wildest alarm
through the little hollow back toward the main camp. Many of them never
reached it, for by this time the Indians were firing rapidly from all
sides and were following up the advantage with their murderous tomahawks
and scalping knives. All the while, they were screeching with such
appalling effect that I believe some of our men, who might otherwise
have escaped, became bewildered, stupefied, and lost.
“As for myself, I had some very narrow escapes. Although I was a pretty
good runner, I had been singled out by an ambitious young warrior, who,
in a race of about two hundred yards, had almost caught up with me. With
a good reach of his arm, he might have sunk his tomahawk in the back of
my head. A glance over my shoulder showed him about to strike, and
instinctively I threw myself down to avoid the blow. As fortune would
have it, he struck his foot against one of mine and pitched headlong
over me. His weapon flew from his grasp. Before he could recover
himself, I was upon him, driving my hunting knife through his throat and
severing his jugular vein.
“As I again sprang to my feet, I beheld three other savages close at
hand, bounding toward me with yells of rage. I had no hope of escaping
from them; but still I ran, straining every nerve to its utmost.
Fortunately, they were not as fleet-footed as the one I had killed, and
to my unspeakable joy, I found that I was outdistancing them. Each
Indian carried a gun in his hand, but I had thrown mine away during my
first race. This probably gave me some advantage. Seeing that they could
not overtake me, they suddenly stopped; one of them took deliberate aim
and fired. The ball sung loudly in my ear, the outer portion of which
felt as if it were touched with a live coal. A small portion of my ear
had been shot away.
“As I neared the creek, I discovered another small party of Indians in
front of me. Turning quickly to the left, I crossed the stream at a bend
thirty or forty rods higher up; and by making a broad circuit, I came
into camp from the right.
[Illustration: _I was upon him_]
“Here I found a scene of the wildest confusion. Two or three hundred
women and children were gathered together in a state of excitement
bordering on distraction. Some were running to and fro, wringing their
hands and shrieking out their terrors; some were standing speechless,
like statues of horror, with their hands clasped and their eyes fixed
upon the not very distant scene of strife; some were kneeling and
calling on Heaven for protection; some were sobbing and groaning in each
other’s arms; and several who had swooned from fright lay as if dead
upon the ground.
“I did not tarry even to answer the questions that many eager voices put
to me but hurried forward to the raging battle. As yet I had no rifle,
but I soon supplied myself with one from an old comrade who had been
shot through the heart. Thinking I could do quite as well alone as by
attaching myself to any company, I hastened to a tree that looked
suitable for my purpose. I began to load and fire as fast as possible,
and I brought down a savage with nearly every shot.
“I wish I could describe that battle, but I lack the power. As I look
back on it now, it seems like a wild, horrible dream, in which whites
and savages, friends and foes, were all mixed in mad confusion. They
melted away in smoke, fire, and blood, amid groans, shouts, shrieks,
yells, clashing steel, and exploding firearms.
“I fired eleven shots and had the grim satisfaction of seeing nine
savages go down before my aim; four of them fell within ten feet of me.
While I was loading for the twelfth time, a ball struck my right wrist
and fractured the bone. I dropped to the ground and bound my wound as
well as I could. Finding that I could be of no further use where I was,
I started for the rear, feeling weak and faint. I had eaten nothing that
morning, which was the case with nearly all of the army. On my way to
the center of the camp, I met pale, frightened men running in all
directions. Numerous dead bodies, some of them scalped and presenting
ghastly spectacles, proved that many of the Indians had been there
before me. Wounded soldiers called to me and begged for help and water.
But I could do nothing for them, and I hurried on. When I came within
sight of the spot where the women and children had been collected, I
beheld a large body of Indians busy at their work of slaughter. Turning
in another direction, I ran down the road.
“Fortunately, I caught a horse that had lost its rider, and with a good
deal of difficulty I succeeded in mounting. There were many fugitives
running in the trail ahead of me; and I rode after them, passing some in
my flight. In this way I escaped before the order to retreat was given;
and I was spared the painful sight of seeing the whole army in flight,
with the victorious savages in hot pursuit, butchering at every step.
“I succeeded in reaching Fort Jefferson, twenty-two miles from the
battlefield. I fainted as soon as I found myself in a place of safety.
The remnant of the army arrived about dark, and nothing was heard that
night but sounds of lamentation and woe. Subsequently my arm was
amputated. My career as a soldier ended with that disastrous day, in
which nearly a thousand gallant men and two or three hundred women and
children had been killed or wounded. Oh, woeful, woeful day!”