Arrival of Squire Boone and a companion at the camp of Daniel
Boone--Joyful meeting--News from home, and hunting resumed--Daniel
Boone and Stuart surprised by the Indians, Stuart killed--Escape
of Boone, and his return to camp--Squire Boone's companion lost
in the woods--Residence of Daniel Boone and Squire Boone in the
wilderness--Squire returns to North Carolina, obtains a fresh
supply of ammunition, and again rejoins his brother at the old
camp--Daniel Boone's own account of this remarkable period of his
life--His return to North Carolina--His determination to settle in
Kentucky--Other Western adventurers--The Long hunters--Washington
in Kentucky--Bullitt's party--Floyd's party--Thompson's
survey--First settlement of Tennessee.
In the early part of the month of January, 1770, Boone and Stuart were
agreeably surprised by the arrival of Squire Boone, the younger brother
of Daniel, accompanied by another man, whose name has not been handed
down. The meeting took place as they were hunting in the woods. The
new-comers were hailed at a distance with the usual greeting, "'Holloa!
strangers, who are you?" to which they answered, "White men and
friends." And friends indeed they were--friends in need; for they
brought a supply of ammunition, and news from Daniel Boone's home
and family on the Yadkin. They had had a weary journey through the
wilderness, and although they had met with no Indians on their way, they
had frequently come upon their traces in passing through the woods.
Their purpose in undertaking this formidable journey had been to learn
the fate of Boone and his party, whose safety was nearly despaired of by
his friends in North Carolina, to hunt for themselves, and to convey a
supply of ammunition to Boone. It is difficult to conceive the joy with
which their opportune arrival was welcomed. They informed Boone that
they had just seen the last night's encampment of Stuart and himself,
so that the joyful meeting was not wholly unanticipated by them.
Thus reinforced, the party, now consisting of four skillful hunters,
might reasonably hope for increased security, and a fortunate issue to
their protracted hunting tour. But they hunted in separate parties; and
in one of these Daniel Boone and Stuart fell in with a party of Indians,
who fired upon them. Stuart was shot dead and scalped by the Indians,
but Boone escaped in the forest, and rejoined his brother and the
remaining hunter of the party.
A few days afterward this hunter was lost in the woods, and did not
return as usual to the camp. Daniel and Squire made a long and anxious
search for him; but it was all in vain. Years afterward a skeleton was
discovered in the woods, which was supposed to be that of the lost
hunter.
The two brothers were thus left in the wilderness alone, separated
by several hundred miles from home, surrounded by hostile Indians,
and destitute of every thing but their rifles. After having had such
melancholy experience of the dangers to which they were exposed, we
would naturally suppose that their fortitude would have given way, and
that they would instantly have returned to the settlements. But the most
remarkable feature in Boone's character was a calm and cold equanimity
which rarely rose to enthusiasm and never sunk to despondence.
His courage undervalued the danger to which he was exposed, and his
presence of mind, which never forsook him, enabled him, on all occasions
to take the best means of avoiding it. The wilderness, with all its
dangers and privations, had a charm for him, which is scarcely
conceivable by one brought up in a city; and he determined to remain
alone while his brother returned to Carolina for an additional supply of
ammunition, as their original supply was nearly exhausted. His situation
we should now suppose in the highest degree gloomy and dispiriting. The
dangers which attended his brother on his return were nearly equal to
his own; and each had left a wife and children, which Boone acknowledged
cost him many an anxious thought.
But the wild and solitary grandeur of the country around him, where not
a tree had been cut, nor a house erected, was to him an inexhaustible
source of admiration and delight; and he says to himself, that some
of the most rapturous moments of his life were spent in those lonely
rambles. The utmost caution was necessary to avoid the savages, and
scarcely less to escape the ravenous hunger of the wolves that prowled
nightly around him in immense numbers. He was compelled frequently to
shift his lodging, and by undoubted signs, saw that the Indians had
repeatedly visited his hut during his absence. He some times lay in
canebrakes without fire, and heard the yells of the Indians around him.
Fortunately, however, he never encountered them.[17]
Mr. Perkins, in his Annals of the West, speaking of this sojourn
of the brothers in the wilderness, says: And now commenced that most
extraordinary life on the part of these two men which has, in a great
measure, served to give celebrity to their names; we refer to their
residence, entirely alone, for more than a year, in a land filled with
the most subtle and unsparing enemies, and under the influence of no
other motive, apparently, than a love of adventure, of Nature, and of
solitude. Nor were they, during this time, always together. For three
months, Daniel remained amid the forest utterly by himself, while his
brother, with courage and capacity equal to his own, returned to North
Carolina for a supply of powder and lead; with which he succeeded in
rejoining the roamer of the wilderness in safety in July, 1770.
It is almost impossible to conceive of the skill, coolness, and sagacity
which enabled Daniel Boone to spend so many weeks in the midst of the
Indians, and yet undiscovered by them. He appears to have changed his
position continually--to have explored the whole centre of what forms
now the State of Kentucky, and in so doing must have exposed himself to
many different parties of the natives. A reader of Mr. Cooper's Last of
the Mohicans may comprehend, in some measure, the arts by which he was
preserved; but, after all, a natural gift seems to lie at the basis of
such consummate woodcraft; an instinct, rather than any exercise of
intellect, appears to have guided Boone in such matters, and made him
pre-eminent among those who were most accomplished in the knowledge
of forest life. Then we are to remember the week's captivity of the
previous year; it was the first practical acquaintance that the pioneer
had with the Western Indians, and we may be assured he spent that week
in noting carefully the whole method of his captors. Indeed, we think
it probable he remained in captivity so long that he might learn their
arts, stratagems, and modes of concealment. We are, moreover, to keep in
mind this fact: the woods of Kentucky were at that period filled with
a species of nettle of such a character that, being once bent down,
it did not recover itself, but remained prostrate, thus retaining the
impression of a foot almost like snow--even a turkey might be tracked
in it with perfect ease. This weed Boone would carefully avoid, but the
natives, numerous and fearless, would commonly pay no regard to it, so
that the white hunter was sure to have palpable signs of the presence
of his enemies, and the direction they had taken. Considering these
circumstances, it is even more remarkable that his brother should have
returned in safety, with his loaded horses, than that he remained alone
unharmed; though in the escape of both from captivity or death from
January, 1770, until their return to the Atlantic rivers in March, 1771,
there is something so wonderful that the old pioneer's phrase, that he
was "an instrument ordained to settle the wilderness," seems entirely
proper.
Daniel Boone's own account of this period of his life, contained in his
autobiography, is highly characteristic. It is as follows:
"Thus situated, many hundred miles from our families in the howling
wilderness, I believe few would have equally enjoyed the happiness we
experienced. I often observed to my brother, 'You see now how little
nature requires to be satisfied. Felicity, the companion of content,
is rather found in our own breasts than in the enjoyment of external
things; and I firmly believe it requires but a little philosophy to
make a man happy in whatsoever state he is. This consists in a full
resignation to Providence, and a resigned soul finds pleasure in a
path strewed with briers and thorns.'
"We continued not in a state of indolence, but hunted every day,
and prepared a little cottage to defend us from the winter storms. We
remained there undisturbed during the winter; and on the first of May,
1770, my brother returned home to the settlement by himself for a new
recruit of horses and ammunition, leaving me by myself, without bread,
salt, or sugar, without company of my fellow-creatures, or even a
horse or dog. I confess I never before was under greater necessity of
exercising philosophy and fortitude. A few days I passed uncomfortably.
The idea of a beloved wife and family, and their anxiety on account of
my absence and exposed situation, made sensible impressions on my heart.
A thousand dreadful apprehensions presented themselves to my view, and
had undoubtedly disposed me to melancholy if further indulged.
"One day I undertook a tour through the country, and the diversity and
beauties of Nature I met with in this charming season expelled every
gloomy and vexatious thought. Just at the close of day the gentle gales
retired, and left the place to the disposal of a profound calm. Not
a breeze shook the most tremulous leaf. I had gained the summit of a
commanding ridge, and, looking round with astonishing delight, beheld
the ample plains, the beauteous tracts below. On the other hand, I
surveyed the famous river Ohio, that rolled in silent dignity, marking
the western boundary of Kentucky with inconceivable grandeur. At a
vast distance I beheld the mountains lift their venerable brows, and
penetrate the clouds. All things were still. I kindled a fire near a
fountain of sweet water, and feasted on the loin of a buck, which a few
hours before I had killed. The fallen shades of night soon overspread
the whole hemisphere, and the earth seemed to gape after the hovering
moisture. My roving excursion this day had fatigued my body, and
diverted my imagination. I laid me down to sleep, and I awoke not until
the sun had chased away the night. I continued this tour, and in a few
days explored a considerable part of the country, each day equally
pleased as the first. I returned to my old camp, which was not disturbed
in my absence. I did not confine my lodging to it, but often reposed in
thick canebrakes to avoid the savages, who, I believe, often visited
my camp, but fortunately for me in my absence. In this situation I was
constantly exposed to danger and death. How unhappy such a situation for
a man tormented with fear, which is vain if no danger comes, and, if it
does, only augments the pain. It was my happiness to be destitute of
this afflicting passion, with which I had the greatest reason to be
affected. The prowling wolves diverted my nocturnal hours with perpetual
howlings; and the various species of animals in this vast forest in the
daytime were continually in my view.
"Thus I was surrounded with plenty in the midst of want. I was happy
in the midst of dangers and inconveniences. In such a diversity it was
impossible I should be disposed to melancholy. No populous city, with
all the varieties of commerce and stately structures, could afford so
much pleasure to my mind as the beauties of Nature I found here.
"Thus, through an uninterrupted scene of sylvan pleasures, I spent the
time until the 27th day of July following, when my brother, to my great
felicity, met me according to appointment, at our old camp. Shortly
after we left this place, not thinking it safe to stay there any longer,
and proceeded to Cumberland River, reconnoitering that part of the
country until March, 1771, and giving names to the different waters.
"Soon after, I returned home to my family, with a determination to bring
them as soon as possible to live in Kentucky, which I esteemed a second
paradise, at the risk of my life and fortune.
"I returned safe to my old habitation, and found my family in happy
circumstances."
This extract is taken from the autobiography of Daniel Boone, written
from his own dictation by John Filson, and published in 1784. Some
writers have censured this production as inflated and bombastic. To us
it seems simple and natural; and we have no doubt that the very words of
Boone are given for the most part. The use of glowing imagery and strong
figures is by no means confined to highly-educated persons. Those who
are illiterate, as Boone certainly was, often indulge in this style.
Even the Indians are remarkably fond of bold metaphors and other
rhetorical figures, as is abundantly proved by their speeches and
legends.
While Boone had been engaged in his late hunting tour, other adventurers
were examining the rich lands south of the Ohio.[18] Even in 1770, while
Boone was wandering solitary in those Kentucky forests, a band of forty
hunters, led by Colonel James Knox, had gathered from the valleys of
New River, Clinch, and Holston, to chase the buffaloes of the West; nine
of the forty had crossed the mountains, penetrated the desert and almost
impassable country about the heads of the Cumberland, and explored the
region on the borders of Kentucky and Tennessee. This hunting party,
from the length of time it was absent, is known in the traditions of
the West as the party of the Long Hunters. While these bold men were
penetrating the valley of the Ohio, in the region of the Cumberland Gap,
others came from Virginia and Pennsylvania, by the river; among them,
and in the same year, that the Long Hunters were abroad, (1770), came no
less noted a person than George Washington. His attention, as we have
before said, had been turned to the lands along the Ohio, at a very
early period; he had himself large claims, as well as far-reaching plans
of settlement, and he wished with his own eyes to examine the Western
lands, especially those about the mouth of the Kanawha. From the journal
of his expedition, published by Mr. Sparks, in the Appendix to the
second volume of his Washington Papers, we learn some valuable facts in
reference to the position of affairs in the Ohio valley at that time.
We learn, for instance, that the Virginians were rapidly surveying and
settling the lands south of the river as far down as the Kanawhas; and
that the Indians, notwithstanding the treaty of Fort Stanwix, were
jealous and angry at this constant invasion of their hunting-grounds.
"This jealousy and anger were not supposed to cool during the years
next succeeding, and when Thomas Bullitt and his party descended the
Ohio in the summer of 1773, he found that no settlements would be
tolerated south of the river, unless the Indian hunting-grounds were
left undisturbed. To leave them undisturbed was, however, no part of
the plan of these white men.
"This very party, which Bullitt led, and in which were the two McAfees,
Hancock, Taylor, Drennon and others, separated, and while part went up
the Kentucky River, explored the banks, and made important surveys,
including the valley in which Frankfort stands, the remainder went on to
the Falls, and laid out, in behalf of John Campbell and John Connolly,
the plan of Louisville. All this took place in the summer of 1773; and
in the autumn of that year, or early in the next, John Floyd, the deputy
of Colonel William Preston, the surveyor of Fincastle County, Virginia,
in which it was claimed that Kentucky was comprehended, also crossed the
mountains; while General Thompson of Pennsylvania, made surveys upon
the north fork of the Licking. When Boone, therefore, in September,
commenced his march for the West, (as we shall presently relate), the
choice regions which he had examined three years before, were known
to numbers, and settlers were preparing to desecrate the silent and
beautiful woods. Nor did the prospects of the English colonists stop
with the settlements of Kentucky. In 1773, General Lyman, with a number
of military adventurers, went to Natchez and laid out several townships
in that vicinity; to which point emigration set so strongly, that we are
told, four hundred families passed down the Ohio on their way thither,
during six weeks of the summer of that year."[19]
[Footnote 17: McClung.]
[Footnote 18: Perkins. "Annals of the West."]
[Footnote 19: Perkins, "Annals of the West."]