Last illness, and death of Colonel Boone--His funeral--Account
of his family--His remains and those of his wife removed from
Missouri, and reinterred in the new cemetery in Frankfort,
Kentucky--Character of Colonel Boone.
In September, 1820, Colonel Boone had an attack of fever, from which he
recovered so as to make a visit to the house of his son, Major Nathan
Boone. Soon after, from an indiscretion in his diet, he had a relapse;
and after a confinement to the house of only three days, he expired on
the 26th of September, in the eighty-sixth year of his age.
He was buried in a coffin which he had kept ready for several years.
His remains were laid by the side of those of his deceased wife. The
great respect and reverence entertained toward him, attracted a large
concourse from the neighboring country to the funeral. The Legislature
of Missouri, then in session, passed a resolution that the members
should wear the badge of mourning usual in such cases for twenty days;
and an adjournment for one day took place.
Colonel Boone had five sons and four daughters The two oldest sons, as
already related, were killed by the Indians. His third, Colonel Daniel
Morgan Boone, resided in Missouri, and died about 1842, past the age of
eighty. Jesse Boone, the fourth son, settled in Missouri about 1805, and
died at St. Louis a few years after. Major Nathan Boone, the youngest
child, resided for many years in Missouri, and received a commission in
the United States Dragoons. He was still living at a recent date. Daniel
Boone's daughters, Jemima, Susannah, Rebecca, and Lavinia, were all
married, lived and died in Kentucky.
In 1845 the citizens of Frankfort, Kentucky, having prepared a rural
cemetery, resolved to consecrate it by interring in it the remains of
Daniel Boone and his wife. The consent of the family being obtained,
the reinterment took place on the 20th of August of that year.
The pageant was splendid and deeply interesting. A few survivors of
Boone's contemporaries were present, gathered from all parts of the
State, and a numerous train of his descendants and relatives led the van
of the procession escorting the hearse, which was decorated with forest
evergreens and white lilies, an appropriate tribute to the simple as
well as glorious character of Boone, and a suitable emblem of his
enduring fame. The address was delivered by Mr. Crittenden, and the
concourse of citizens from Kentucky and the neighboring States was
immense.
The reader of the foregoing pages will have no difficulty in forming
a correct estimate of Boone's character. He was one of the purest and
noblest of the pioneers of the West. Regarding himself as an instrument
in the hands of Providence for accomplishing great purposes, he was
nevertheless always modest and unassuming, never seeking distinction,
but always accepting the post of duty and danger.
As a military leader he was remarkable for prudence, coolness, bravery,
and imperturbable self-possession. His knowledge of the character of the
Indians enabled him to divine their intentions and baffle their best
laid plans; and notwithstanding his resistance of their inroads, he was
always a great favorite amongst them. As a father, husband, and citizen,
his character seems to have been faultless; and his intercourse with his
fellow-men was always marked by the strictest integrity and honor.
COLONEL BOONE'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY
[The following pages were dictated by Colonel Boone to John Filson, and
published in 1784. Colonel Boone has been heard to say repeatedly since
its publication, that "it is every word true."]
Curiosity is natural to the soul of man, and interesting objects have
a powerful influence on our affections. Let these influencing powers
actuate, by the permission or disposal of Providence, from selfish or
social views, yet in time the mysterious will of Heaven is unfolded, and
we behold our conduct, from whatsoever motives excited, operating to
answer the important designs of Heaven. Thus we behold Kentucky, lately
a howling wilderness, the habitation of savages and wild beasts, become
a fruitful field; this region, so favorably distinguished by nature,
now become the habitation of civilization, at a period unparalleled in
history, in the midst of a raging war, and under all the disadvantages
of emigration to a country so remote from the inhabited parts of the
continent. Here, where the hand of violence shed the blood of the
innocent; where the horrid yells of savages and the groans of the
distressed sounded in our ears, we now hear the praises and adorations
of our Creator; where wretched wigwams stood, the miserable abodes
of savages, we behold the foundations of cities laid, that, in all
probability, will equal the glory of the greatest upon earth. And we
view Kentucky, situated on the fertile banks of the great Ohio, rising
from obscurity to shine with splendor, equal to any other of the stars
of the American hemisphere.
The settling of this region well deserves a place in history. Most
of the memorable events I have myself been exercised in; and, for the
satisfaction of the public, will briefly relate the circumstance of my
adventures, and scenes of life from my first movement to this country
until this day.
It was on the first of May, in the year 1769, that I resigned my
domestic happiness for a time, and left my family and peaceable
habitation on the Yadkin River, in North Carolina, to wander through the
wilderness of America, in quest of the country of Kentucky, in company
with John Finley, John Stewart, Joseph Holden, James Monay, and William
Cool. We proceeded successfully, and after a long and fatiguing journey
through a mountainous wilderness, in a westward direction. On the 7th
of June following we found ourselves on Red River, where John Finley
had formerly been trading with the Indians, and, from the top of an
eminence, saw with pleasure the beautiful level of Kentucky. Here let
me observe that for some time we had experienced the most uncomfortable
weather, as a pre-libation of our future sufferings. At this place we
encamped, and made a shelter to defend us from the inclement season,
and began to hunt and reconnoitre the country. We found everywhere
abundance of wild beasts of all sorts, through this vast forest. The
buffalo were more frequent than I have seen cattle in the settlements,
browsing on the leaves of the cane, or cropping the herbage on those
extensive plains, fearless, because ignorant of the violence of man.
Sometimes we saw hundreds in a drove, and the numbers about the salt
springs were amazing. In this forest, the habitation of beasts of every
kind natural to America, we practiced hunting with great success until
the 22d day of December following.
This day John Steward and I had a pleasing ramble, but fortune changed
the scene in the close of it. We had passed through a great forest, on
which stood myriads of trees, some gay with blossoms, and others rich
with fruits. Nature was here a series of wonders, and a fund of delight.
Here she displayed her ingenuity and industry in a variety of flowers
and fruits, beautifully colored, elegantly shaped, and charmingly
flavored; and we were diverted with innumerable animals presenting
themselves perpetually to our view. In the decline of the day, near
Kentucky River, as we ascended the brow of a small hill, a number of
Indians rushed out of a thick canebrake upon us, and made us prisoners.
The time of our sorrow was now arrived, and the scene fully opened.
The Indians plundered us of what we had, and kept us in confinement
seven days, treating us with common savage usage. During this time we
discovered no uneasiness or desire to escape, which made them less
suspicious of us; but in the dead of night, as we lay in a thick
canebrake by a large fire, when sleep had locked-up their senses, my
situation not disposing me for rest, I touched my companion, and gently
awoke him. We improved this favorable opportunity and departed, leaving
them to take their rest, and speedily directed our course toward our old
camp, but found it plundered, and the company dispersed and gone home.
About this time my brother, Squire Boone, with another adventurer, who
came to explore the country shortly after us, was wandering through the
forest, determined to find me if possible, and accidentally found our
camp. Notwithstanding the unfortunate circumstances of our company, and
our dangerous situation, as surrounded with hostile savages, our meeting
so fortunately in the wilderness made us reciprocally sensible of the
utmost satisfaction. So much does friendship triumph over misfortune,
that sorrows and sufferings vanish at the meeting not only of real
friends, but of the most distant acquaintances, and substitute happiness
in their room.
Soon after this, my companion in captivity, John Stewart, was killed
by the savages, and the man that came with my brother returned home by
himself. We were then in a dangerous, helpless situation, exposed daily
to perils and death among savages and wild beasts--not a white man in
the country but ourselves.
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 the will of 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 day 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 upon the
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 sullen shades of night soon overspread
the whole hemisphere, and the earth seemed to gasp 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 again 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 by 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 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. I sold my farm on the Yadkin, and what goods we could not
carry with us; and on the 25th day of September, 1773, bade a farewell
to our friends, and proceeded on our journey to Kentucky, in company
with five families more, and forty men that joined us in Powel's Valley,
which is one hundred and fifty miles from the now settled parts of
Kentucky, This promising beginning was soon overcast with a cloud of
adversity; for, upon the 10th day of October, the rear of our company
was attacked by a number of Indians, who killed six, and wounded one
man. Of these, my eldest son was one that fell in the action. Though
we defended ourselves and repulsed the enemy, yet this unhappy affair
scattered our cattle, brought us into extreme difficulty, and so
discouraged the whole company, that we retreated forty miles, to the
settlement on Clinch River. We had passed over two mountains, viz,
Powel's and Walden's, and were approaching Cumberland mountain when this
adverse fortune overtook us. These mountains are in the wilderness, as
we pass from the old settlements in Virginia to Kentucky, are ranged in
a southwest and northeast direction, are of a great length and breadth,
and not far distant from each other. Over these, nature hath formed
passes that are less difficult than might be expected, from a view of
such huge piles. The aspect of these cliffs is so wild and horrid, that
it is impossible to behold them without terror. The spectator is apt
to imagine that nature has formerly suffered some violent convulsion,
and that these are the dismembered remains of the dreadful shock; the
ruins, not of Persepolis or Palmyra, but of the world!
I remained with my family on Clinch until the 6th of June, 1774, when
I and one Michael Stoner were solicited by Governor Dunmore of Virginia
to go to the falls of the Ohio, to conduct into the settlements a number
of surveyors that had been sent thither by him some months before; this
country having about this time drawn the attention of many adventurers.
We immediately complied with the Governor's request, and conducted in
the surveyors--completing a tour of eight hundred miles, through many
difficulties, in sixty-two days.
Soon after I returned home, I was ordered to take the command of three
garrisons during the campaign which Governor Dunmore carried on against
the Shawanese Indians; after the conclusion of which, the militia was
discharged from each garrison, and I, being relieved from my post, was
solicited by a number of North Carolina gentlemen, that were about
purchasing the lands lying on the south side of Kentucky River, from the
Cherokee Indians, to attend their treaty at Wataga, in March, 1775, to
negotiate with them, and mention the boundaries of the purchase. This
I accepted; and, at the request of the same gentlemen, undertook to
mark out a road in the best passage from the settlement through the
wilderness to Kentucky, with such assistance as I thought necessary
to employ for such an important undertaking.
I soon began this work, having collected a number of enterprising men,
well armed. We proceeded with all possible expedition until we came
within fifteen miles of where Boonesborough now stands, and where we
were fired upon by a party of Indians, that killed two, and wounded two
of our number; yet, although surprised and taken at a disadvantage, we
stood our ground. This was on the 20th of March, 1775. Three days after,
we were fired upon again, and had two men killed, and three wounded.
Afterward we proceeded on to Kentucky River without opposition; and on
the first day of April began to erect the fort of Boonesborough at a
salt lick, about sixty yards from the river, on the south side.
On the fourth day, the Indians killed one of our men. We were busily
employed in building this fort until the fourteenth day of June
following, without any further opposition from the Indians; and having
finished the works, I returned to my family on Clinch.
In a short time I proceeded to remove my family from Clinch to this
garrison, where we arrived safe, without any other difficulties than
such as are common to this passage; my wife and daughter being the first
white women that ever stood on the banks of Kentucky River.
On the 24th day of December following, we had one man killed, and one
wounded by the Indians, who seemed determined to persecute us for
erecting this fortification.
On the fourteenth day of July, 1776, two of Colonel Calaway's daughters,
and one of mine, were taken prisoners near the fort. I immediately
pursued the Indians with only eight men, and on the 16th overtook them,
killed two of the party, and recovered the girls. The same day on which
this attempt was made, the Indians divided themselves into different
parties, and attacked several forts, which were shortly before this time
erected, doing a great deal of mischief. This was extremely distressing
to the new settlers. The innocent husbandman was shot down, while busy
in cultivating the soil for his family's supply. Most of the cattle
around the stations were destroyed. They continued their hostilities
in this manner until the 15th of April, 1777, when they attacked
Boonesborough with a party of above one hundred in number, killed one
man, and wounded four. Their loss in this attack was not certainly known
to us.
On the 4th day of July following, a party of about two hundred Indians
attacked Boonesborough, killed one man and wounded two. They besieged us
forty-eight hours, during which time seven of them were killed, and, at
last, finding themselves not likely to prevail, they raised the siege
and departed.
The Indians had disposed their warriors in different parties at this
time, and attacked the different garrisons, to prevent their assisting
each other, and did much injury to the distressed inhabitants.
On the 19th day of this month, Colonel Logan's fort was besieged by
a party of about two hundred Indians. During this dreadful siege they
did a great deal of mischief, distressed the garrison, in which were
only fifteen men, killed two, and wounded one. The enemy's loss was
uncertain, from the common practice which the Indians have of carrying
off their dead in time of battle. Colonel Harrod's fort was then
defended by only sixty-five men, and Boonesborough by twenty-two, there
being no more forts or white men in the country, except at the Falls,
a considerable distance from these; and all, taken collectively, were
but a handful to the numerous warriors that were everywhere dispersed
through the country, intent upon doing all the mischief that savage
barbarity could invent. Thus we passed through a scene of sufferings
that exceeds description.
On the 25th of this month, a reinforcement of forty-five men arrived
from North Carolina, and about the 20th of August following, Colonel
Bowman arrived with one hundred men from Virginia. Now we began to
strengthen; and hence, for the space of six weeks, we had skirmishes
with Indians, in one quarter or another, almost every day.
The savages now learned the superiority of the Long Knife, as they call
the Virginians, by experience; being out-generalled in almost every
battle. Our affairs began to wear a new aspect, and the enemy, not
daring to venture on open war, practiced secret mischief at times.
On the 1st day of January, 1778, I went with a party of thirty men
to the Blue Licks, on Licking River, to make salt for the different
garrisons in the country.
On the 7th day of February, as I was hunting to procure meat for the
company, I met with a party of one hundred and two Indians, and two
Frenchmen, on their march against Boonesborough, that place being
particularly the object of the enemy. They pursued, and took me; and
brought me on the 8th day to the Licks, where twenty-seven of my party
were, three of them having previously returned home with the salt.
I, knowing it was impossible for them to escape, capitulated with the
enemy, and, at a distance, in their view, gave notice to my men of their
situation, with orders not to resist, but surrender themselves captives.
The generous usage the Indians had promised before in my capitulation,
was afterward fully complied with, and we proceeded with them as
prisoners to Old Chilicothe, the principal Indian Town on Little Miami,
where we arrived, after an uncomfortable journey, in very severe
weather, on the 18th day of February, and received as good treatment as
prisoners could expect from savages. On the 10th day of March following,
I and ten of my men were conducted by forty Indians to Detroit, where we
arrived the 30th day, and were treated by Governor Hamilton, the British
commander at that post, with great humanity.
During our travels, the Indians entertained me well, and their affection
for me was so great, that they utterly refused to leave me there with
the others, although the Governor offered them one hundred pounds
sterling for me, on purpose to give me a parole to go home. Several
English gentlemen there, being sensible of my adverse fortune, and
touched with human sympathy, generously offered a friendly supply for
my wants, which I refused, with many thanks for their kindness--adding,
that I never expected it would be in my power to recompense such
unmerited generosity.
The Indians left my men in captivity with the British at Detroit,
and on the 10th day of April brought me toward Old Chilicothe, where
we arrived on the 25th day of the same month. This was a long and
fatiguing march, through an exceedingly fertile country, remarkable for
fine springs and streams of water. At Chilicothe I spent my time as
comfortably as I could expect; was adopted, according to their custom,
into a family, where I became a son, and had a great share in the
affection of my new parents, brothers, sisters, and friends. I was
exceedingly familiar and friendly with them, always appearing as
cheerful and satisfied as possible, and they put great confidence in me.
I often went a hunting with them, and frequently gained their applause
for my activity at our shooting-matches. I was careful not to exceed
many of them in shooting; for no people are more envious than they in
this sport. I could observe, in their countenances and gestures, the
greatest expressions of joy when they exceeded me; and, when the reverse
happened, of envy. The Shawanese king took great notice of me, and
treated me with profound respect and entire friendship, often entrusting
me to hunt at my liberty. I frequently returned with the spoils of
the woods, and as often presented some of what I had taken to him,
expressive of duty to my sovereign. My food and lodging were in common
with them; not so good, indeed, as I could desire, but necessity makes
every thing acceptable.
I now began to meditate an escape, and carefully avoided their
suspicions, continuing with them at Old Chilicothe until the 1st day
of June following, and then was taken by them to the salt springs on
Scioto, and kept there making salt ten days. During this time I hunted
some for them, and found the land, for a great extent about this river,
to exceed the soil of Kentucky, if possible, and remarkably well
watered.
When I returned to Chilicothe, alarmed to see four hundred and fifty
Indians, of their choicest warriors, painted and armed in a fearful
manner, ready to march against Boonesborough, I determined to escape
the first opportunity.
On the 16th, before sunrise, I departed in the most secret manner, and
arrived at Boonesborough on the 20th, after a journey of one hundred and
sixty miles, during which I had but one meal.
I found our fortress in a bad state of defense; but we proceeded
immediately to repair our flanks, strengthen our gates and posterns, and
form double bastions, which we completed in ten days. In this time we
daily expected the arrival of the Indian army; and at length, one of my
fellow-prisoners, escaping from them, arrived, informing us that the
enemy had, on account of my departure, postponed their expedition three
weeks. The Indians had spies out viewing our movements, and were greatly
alarmed with our increase in number and fortifications. The grand
council of the nations were held frequently, and with more deliberation
than usual. They evidently saw the approaching hour when the Long Knife
would dispossess them of their desirable habitations; and, anxiously
concerned for futurity, determined utterly to extirpate the whites out
of Kentucky. We were not intimidated by their movements, but frequently
gave them proofs of our courage.
About the first of August, I made an incursion into the Indian
Country with a party of nineteen men, in order to surprise a small
town up Scioto, called Paint Creek Town. We advanced within four miles
thereof, when we met a party of thirty Indians on their march against
Boonesborough, intending to join the others from Chilicothe. A smart
fight ensued between us for some time; at length the savages gave way
and fled. We had no loss on our side; the enemy had one killed, and two
wounded. We took from them three horses, and all their baggage; and
being informed by two of our number that went to their town, that the
Indians had entirely evacuated it, we proceeded no further, and returned
with all possible expedition to assist our garrison against the other
party. We passed by them on the sixth day, and on the seventh we arrived
safe at Boonesborough.
On the 8th, the Indian army arrived, being four hundred and forty-four
in number, commanded by Captain Duquesne, eleven other Frenchmen, and
some of their own chiefs, and marched up within view of our fort, with
British and French colors flying; and having sent a summons to me, in
his Britannic Majesty's name, to surrender the fort, I requested two
days consideration, which was granted.
It was now a critical period with us. We were a small number in the
garrison--a powerful army before our walls, whose appearance proclaimed
inevitable death, fearfully painted, and marking their footsteps with
desolation. Death was preferable to captivity; and if taken by storm,
we must inevitably be devoted to destruction. In this situation we
concluded to maintain our garrison, if possible. We immediately
proceeded to collect what we could of our horses and other cattle, and
bring them through the posterns into the fort; and in the evening of
the 9th, I returned answer that we were determined to defend our fort
while a man was living. "Now," said I to their commander, who stood
attentively hearing my sentiments, "we laugh at your formidable
preparations; but thank you for giving us notice and time to provide for
our defense. Your efforts will not prevail; for our gates shall forever
deny you admittance." Whether this answer affected their courage or not
I cannot tell; but contrary to our expectations, they formed a scheme to
deceive us, declaring it was their orders, from Governor Hamilton, to
take us captives, and not to destroy us; but if nine of us would come
out and treat with them, they would immediately withdraw their forces
from our walls, and return home peaceably. This sounded grateful in our
ears; and we agreed to the proposal.
We held the treaty within sixty yards of the garrison, on purpose to
divert them from a breach of honor, as we could not avoid suspicions of
the savages. In this situation the articles were formally agreed to,
and signed; and the Indians told us it was customary with them on such
occasions for two Indians to shake hands with every white man in the
treaty, as an evidence of entire friendship. We agreed to this also,
but were soon convinced their policy was to take us prisoners. 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 that 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
sixty yards from Kentucky River. They began at the water-mark, and
proceeded in the bank some distance, which we understood by their
aking the water muddy with the clay; and we immediately proceeded to
disappoint their design, by cutting a trench across their subterranean
passage. The enemy, discovering our countermine by the clay we threw out
of the fort, desisted from that stratagem; and experience now fully
convincing them that neither their power nor policy could effect their
purpose, on the 20th day 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. Soon after this, I went into the settlement, and nothing
worthy of a place in this account passed in my affairs for some time.
During my absence from Kentucky, Colonel Bowman carried on an expedition
against the Shawanese, at Old Chilicothe, with one hundred and sixty
men, in July, 1779. Here they arrived undiscovered, and a battle ensued,
which lasted until ten o'clock, A.M., when Colonel Bowman, finding he
could not succeed at this time, retreated about thirty miles. The
Indians, in the meantime, collecting all their forces, pursued and
overtook him, when a smart fight continued near two hours, not to the
advantage of Colonel Bowman's party.
Colonel Harrod proposed to mount a number of horse, and furiously to
rush upon the savages, who at this time fought with remarkable fury.
This desperate step had a happy effect, broke their line of battle, and
the savages fled on all sides. In these two battles we had nine killed,
and one wounded. The enemy's loss uncertain, only two scalps being
taken.
On the 22d day of June, 1780, a large party of Indians and Canadians,
about six hundred in number, commanded by Colonel Bird, attacked
Riddle's and Martin's stations, at the forks of Licking River, with
six pieces of artillery. They carried this expedition so secretly, that
the unwary inhabitants did not discover them until they fired upon the
forts; and, not being prepared to oppose them, were obliged to surrender
themselves miserable captives to barbarous savages, who immediately
after tomahawked one man and two women, and loaded all the others with
heavy baggage, forcing them along toward their towns, able or unable
to march. Such as were weak and faint by the way, they tomahawked.
The tender women and helpless children fell victims to their cruelty.
This, and the savage treatment they received afterward, is shocking to
humanity and too barbarous to relate.
The hostile disposition of the savages and their allies caused General
Clarke, the commandant at the Falls of the Ohio, immediately to begin an
expedition with his own regiment, and the armed force of the country,
against Pecaway, the principal town of the Shawanese, on a branch of
Great Miami, which he finished with great success, took seventeen
scalps, and burnt the town to ashes, with the loss of seventeen men.
About this time I returned to Kentucky with my family; and here, to
avoid an inquiry 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--expecting the Indians had put a period to my
life, oppressed with the distresses of the country, and bereaved of me,
her only happiness--had, before I returned, transported my family and
goods on horses 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
purposely omit them.
I settled my family in Boonesborough once more; and shortly after, on
the 6th day of October, 1780, I went in company with my brother to the
Blue Licks; and, on our return home, we were fired upon by a party of
Indians. They shot him and pursued me, by the scent of their dog, three
miles; but I killed the dog, and escaped. The winter soon came on, and
was very severe, which confined the Indians to their wigwams.
The severities of this winter caused great difficulties in Kentucky.
The enemy had destroyed most of the corn the summer before. This
necessary article was scarce and dear, and the inhabitants lived chiefly
on the flesh of buffalo. The circumstances of many were very lamentable;
however, being a hardy race of people, and accustomed to difficulties
and necessities, they were wonderfully supported through all their
sufferings, until the ensuing autumn, when we received abundance from
the fertile soil.
Toward spring we were frequently harassed by Indians; and in May, 1782,
a party assaulted Ashton's station, killed one man, and took a negro
prisoner. Captain Ashton, with twenty-five men, pursued and overtook the
savages, and a smart fight ensued, which lasted two hours; but they,
being superior in number, obliged Captain Ashton's party to retreat,
with the loss of eight killed, and four mortally wounded; their brave
commander himself being numbered among the dead.
The Indians continued their hostilities; and, about the 10th of August
following, two boys were taken from Major Hoy's station. This party was
pursued by Captain Holder and seventeen men, who were also defeated,
with the loss of four men killed, and one wounded. Our affairs became
more and more alarming. Several stations which had lately been erected
in the country were continually infested with savages, stealing their
horses and killing the men at every opportunity. In a field, near
Lexington, an Indian shot a man, and running to scalp him, was himself
shot from the fort, and fell dead upon his enemy.
Every day we experienced recent mischiefs. The barbarous savage nations
of Shawanese, Cherokees, Wyandots, Tawas, Delawares, and several others
near Detroit, united in a war against us, and assembled their choicest
warriors at Old Chilicothe, to go on the expedition, in order to destroy
us, and entirely depopulate the country. Their savage minds were
inflamed to mischief by two abandoned men, Captains McKee and Girty.
These led them to execute every diabolical scheme, and on the 15th day
of August, commanded a party of Indians and Canadians, of about five
hundred in number, against Bryant's station, five miles from Lexington.
Without demanding a surrender, they furiously assaulted the garrison,
which was happily prepared to oppose them; and, after they had expended
much ammunition in vain, and killed the cattle round the fort, not being
likely to make themselves masters of this place, they raised the siege,
and departed in the morning of the third day after they came, with the
loss of about thirty killed, and the number of wounded uncertain. Of the
garrison, four were killed, and three wounded.
On the 18th day, Colonel Todd, Colonel Trigg, Major Harland, and myself,
speedily collected one hundred and seventy-six men, well armed, and
pursued the savages. They had marched beyond the Blue Licks, to a
remarkable bend of the main fork of Licking River, about forty-three
miles from Lexington, where we overtook them on the 19th day. The
savages observing us, gave way; and we, being ignorant of their numbers,
passed the river. When the enemy saw our proceedings, having greatly the
advantage of us in situation, they formed the line of battle from one
bend of Licking to the other, about a mile from the Blue Licks. An
exceeding fierce battle immediately began, for about fifteen minutes,
when we being overpowered by numbers, were obliged to retreat, with the
loss of sixty-seven men, seven of whom were taken prisoners. The brave
and much-lamented Colonels Todd and Trigg, Major Harland, and my second
son, were among the dead. We were informed that the Indians, numbering
their dead, found they had four killed more than we; and therefore four
of the prisoners they had taken were, by general consent, ordered to be
killed in a most barbarous manner by the young warriors, in order to
train them up to cruelty; and then they proceeded to their towns.
On our retreat we were met by Colonel Logan, hastening to join us, with
a number of well-armed men. This powerful assistance we unfortunately
wanted in the battle; for, notwithstanding the enemy's superiority of
numbers, they acknowledged that, if they had received one more fire from
us, they should undoubtedly have given way. So valiantly did our small
party light, that to the memory of those who unfortunately fell in the
battle, enough of honor cannot be paid. Had Colonel Logan and his party
been with us, it is highly probable we should have given the savages a
total defeat.
I cannot reflect upon this dreadful scene, but sorrow fills my heart.
A zeal for the defense of their country led these heroes to the scene of
action, though with a few men to attack a powerful army of experienced
warriors. When we gave way, they pursued us with the utmost eagerness,
and in every quarter spread destruction. The river was difficult to
cross, and many were killed in the flight--some just entering the river,
some in the water, others after crossing, in ascending the cliffs. Some
escaped on horseback, a few on foot; and, being dispersed everywhere in
a few hours, brought the melancholy news of this unfortunate battle to
Lexington. Many widows were now made. The reader may guess what sorrow
filled the hearts of the inhabitants, exceeding any thing that I am able
to describe. Being reinforced, we returned to bury the dead, and found
their bodies strewed everywhere, cut and mangled in a dreadful manner.
This mournful scene exhibited a horror almost unparalleled; some torn
and eaten by wild beasts; those in the river eaten by fishes; all in
such a putrefied condition, that no one could be distinguished from
another.
As soon as General Clark, then at the Falls of the Ohio--who was
ever our ready friend, and merits the love and gratitude of all his
countrymen--understood the circumstances of this unfortunate action, he
ordered an expedition, with all possible haste, to pursue the savages,
which was so expeditiously effected, that we overtook them within two
miles of their towns; and probably might have obtained a great victory,
had not two of their number met us about two hundred poles before we
came up. These returned quick as lightning to their camp, with the
alarming news of a mighty army in view. The savages fled in the utmost
disorder, evacuated their towns, and reluctantly left their territory
to our mercy. We immediately took possession of Old Chilicothe without
opposition, being deserted by its inhabitants. We continued our pursuit
through five towns on the Miami River, Old Chilicothe, Pecaway, New
Chilicothe, Will's Towns, and Chilicothe--burnt them all to ashes,
entirely destroyed their corn, and other fruits, and everywhere spread
a scene of desolation in the country. In this expedition we took seven
prisoners and five scalps, with the loss of only four men, two of whom
were accidentally killed by our own army.
This campaign in some measure damped the spirits of the Indians, and
made them sensible of our superiority. Their connections were dissolved,
their armies scattered, and a future invasion put entirely out of their
power; yet they continued to practice mischief secretly upon the
inhabitants, in the exposed parts of the country.
In October following, a party made an incursion into that district
called the Crab Orchard; and one of them, being advanced some distance
before the others, boldly entered the house of a poor defenseless
family, in which was only a negro man, a woman, and her children,
terrified with the apprehensions of immediate death. The savage,
perceiving their defenseless condition, without offering violence to the
family, attempted to capture the negro, who happily proved an over-match
for him, threw him on the ground, and in the struggle, the mother of the
children drew an axe from a corner of the cottage, and cut his head off,
while her little daughter shut the door. The savages instantly appeared,
and applied their tomahawks to the door. An old rusty gun-barrel,
without a lock, lay in a corner, which the mother put through a small
crevice, and the savages, perceiving it, fled. In the meantime, the
alarm spread through the neighborhood; the armed men collected
immediately, and pursued the ravagers into the wilderness. Thus
Providence, by the means of this negro, saved the whole of the poor
family from destruction. From that time until the happy return of peace
between the United States and Great Britain, the Indians did us no
mischief. Finding the great king beyond the water disappointed in his
expectations, and conscious of the importance of the Long Knife, and
their own wretchedness, some of the nations immediately desired peace;
to which, at present [1784], they seem universally disposed, and are
sending ambassadors to General Clarke, at the Falls of the Ohio, with
the minutes of their councils.
To conclude, I can now say that I have verified the saying of an old
Indian who signed Colonel Henderson's deed. Taking me by the hand, at
the delivery thereof--"Brother," said he, "we have given you a fine
land, but I believe you will have much trouble in settling it." My
footsteps have often been marked with blood, and therefore I can truly
subscribe to its original name. Two darling sons and a brother have
I lost by savage hands, which have also taken from me forty valuable
horses, and abundance of cattle. Many dark and sleepless nights have
I been a companion for owls, separated from the cheerful society of
men, scorched by the summer's sun, and pinched by the winter's cold--an
instrument ordained to settle the wilderness. But now the scene is
changed: peace crowns the sylvan shade.
What thanks, what ardent and ceaseless thanks are due to that
all-superintending Providence which has turned a cruel war into peace,
brought order out of confusion, made the fierce savages placid, and
turned away their hostile weapons from our country! May the same
Almighty Goodness banish the accursed monster, war, from all lands,
with, her hated associates, rapine and insatiable ambition! Let peace,
descending from her native heaven, bid her olives spring amid the joyful
nations; and plenty, in league with commerce, scatter blessings from her
copious hand!
This account of my adventures will inform the reader of the most
remarkable events of this country. I now live in peace and safety,
enjoying the sweets of liberty, and the bounties of Providence, with
my once fellow-sufferers, in this delightful country, which I have seen
purchased with a vast expense of blood and treasure: delighting in the
prospect of its being, in a short time, one of the most opulent and
powerful States on the continent of North America; which, with the love
and gratitude of my countrymen, I esteem a sufficient reward for all my
toil and dangers.
DANIEL BOONE.
Fayette County, KENTUCKY.