supplies from Ohio, and succeeded in stopping some stores on their
way to Detroit, at the river Raisin, thirty-six miles distant,
defeating Van Horn, who had been sent by Gen. Hull to escort them. On
receiving this intelligence, Gen. Hull sent three hundred regulars,
the 4th Regiment and two hundred militia, under the command of Col.
James Miller, to open the communication. The British had thrown up a
breastwork four miles from Brownstown, at a place called Monguagon,
behind which a great number of the Indians under Tecumseh lay
concealed. On the 9th of August, while on its march, the detachment
drew near the ambuscade. The advanced guard, commanded by Capt.
Snelling, was considerably in advance of the main body when suddenly
the attack was made on him. His party sustained themselves until Gen.
Miller, with the utmost speed and coolness, drew up his men, opened a
brisk fire and then charged. The British regulars gave way, but the
Indians under Tecumseh betaking themselves to the woods on each side,
did much execution. The British again rallied, and were again repulsed;
and Majors Muir and Tecumseh both being wounded, were compelled to
yield, retiring slowly before the bayonets to Brownstown. They would
all have been taken prisoners had they not had boats in readiness
to cross the river. During the engagement a mounted officer delayed
charging as he was ordered; Capt. Snelling directed him to dismount,
and himself sprung upon the horse. The officer being a tall man, he
found the stirrups much too long, but there was no time to be lost;
he therefore clung to the horse with his knees, and in this ludicrous
predicament performed the duty which belonged to another. His brother
officers often laughed at the recollection of his appearance at that
time.
Meanwhile his friends in Detroit hearing the roar of the cannon knew
there was fighting. Thomas Hunt was then a volunteer, and the feelings
of the young girl, whose brother and betrothed lover were in danger,
may be imagined. Young Hunt had rode a white horse, which returned
and stood at the stable door, the saddle pulled away and covered with
blood; and the conclusion was inevitable that he had fallen from his
horse, either killed or wounded. As cart after cart came in with the
wounded, Miss Hunt heard it whispered, “It must be Capt. Snelling,”
and on enquiry was informed that an officer answering the description
of him had been mortally wounded. In the agony of her feelings she was
about rushing by all to the cart when she was forcibly detained, and
some one went to ascertain if it indeed was so; but soon returned with
a bright countenance, saying, “it is not Snelling, it is Peters, and
he is only slightly wounded.” On further inquiry she learned that Mr.
Hunt was safe, having given up his horse for the use of a wounded man
who had fainted and fallen off. The next day the absentees returned. In
this engagement Capt. Snelling had his hat knocked off by a ball, and
the hilt of his sword grazed. At one time he observed an Indian from
behind a tree very near him raise his rifle to shoot him; he sprang
forward, knocked the gun from his grasp, and plunged the point of his
sword through his neck, when he fell lifeless. The Captain supposed
from the situation of the Indian that he had been previously wounded.
On the 13th of August, Miss Hunt, then only fifteen years old, was
married to Capt. Snelling by the Chaplain of Gen. Hull’s army. General
Hull and several other officers were present, with a few ladies. The
ceremony had been performed but a few moments when the drum beat to
arms; and Capt. Snelling instantly started up to go in search of his
sword. All rushed to the door except Gen. Hull, who laying his hand on
the young officer’s shoulder as he was about leaving the house, said,
“Snelling, you need not go, I will excuse you.” “By no means,” was the
reply, “I feel more like doing my duty now than ever.” “Stay, it is a
false alarm by my order,” said the General.
About this time, Gen. Brock reached Malden with reinforcements, and
immediately planted batteries opposite the fort of Detroit. From Col.
Hunt’s house the family could distinctly see the men at work, by the
aid of a spy glass. Then were seen two British officers with a white
flag of truce, crossing at the ferry; they were met at the wharf and
blindfolded, and were conducted to the first house, which happened to
be that of Col. Hunt. The youthful bride saw them enter the parlor with
Gen. Hull, his aid, who was his son, and some others; and the door was
locked. They demanded, in the name of Gen. Brock, a surrender, stating
that he should otherwise be unable to restrain the fury of the savages,
but were answered by a spirited refusal. The British officers returned
to the boat in the same manner, and presently the firing commenced
from their batteries, and continued without much effect until the next
morning.
About this time Michilimackinac was captured, and Lieut. Hanks, who
commanded, was sent on parole to Detroit; his wife being with him.
His command consisted of but fifty men, the enemy numbered over
one thousand, including Indians; and Lieut. Hanks had received no
information of the declaration of war! Being on parole, he was of
course bound to remain neutral, and it happened that he was in a room
with some others, when a shell from the enemy passed into the room,
scattering death and destruction. Mrs. Hanks was with the other ladies
in an adjoining room, where all were employed in making flannel bags
to put powder in for the cannon. When they heard the report and the
groans, all rushed to the door, for it was but a narrow entry that
divided the two rooms. Mrs. Hanks was in advance, when the door was
opened by one of the wounded, and Lieut. Hanks was seen with his bowels
torn open and dreadfully disfigured. A blanket was immediately thrown
over him by one who came in. Three others had been badly wounded and
two killed by that single bomb-shell. Mrs. Hanks saw at a glance the
condition of her husband, and that there was no hope of life, and for a
time she was bereft of reason.
It having been reported by some Frenchmen, that the British were
preparing to cross the river opposite Spring Wells, Capt. Snelling
was sent to watch their movements and report. He left Detroit about
nine o’clock in the evening, with a detachment of men, and returning
next morning before daylight, he reported to the General that from
appearances, they would cross the river at that point, three miles from
Detroit, that morning. The alarm of Gen. Hull now became extreme, and
his appearance that morning was pitiable. The balls were flying very
fast over the fort, and several men were killed; the chimney of the
room in which the ladies were at work, was struck and fell with some of
the roof into the apartment. The ladies were then advised to go into an
empty bomb-proof magazine for safety, and took Mrs. Hanks with them,
she being quite frantic. In passing the parade ground several shells
burst over them, but they escaped injury, and reaching the magazine
found it filled with women and children from the town; some fainting,
and some in convulsions with fear. The picture of woe was complete when
Mrs. Hanks was placed among the sufferers. Presently, Mrs. Snelling
heard herself called by name, and going to the door, found it was her
husband. He said, “My dear wife, I know not what moment I may be shot
down; I have come to say farewell, and ask you to make me a promise,
that in case I fall you will _never marry an Englishman_.” His weeping
bride assented without being able to speak, and they parted.
While the British were crossing the river, Gen. Hull was entreated by
the officers to prevent their landing, which they insisted could be
done; at least, they might sink every other boat; but he would not
allow a gun to be fired. The field officers, suspecting he intended
to surrender, determined on his arrest; this, however, was prevented,
in consequence of the absence of Colonels Cass and McArthur, who had
been detached with four hundred men on a third expedition to the river
Raisin. Had they been present, there is no doubt the project would
have been carried into effect. On that morning Gen, Miller was very ill
of chill and fever.
The morning of the 16th (three days after the marriage of our fair
friend) the British landed at Spring Wells, and marched up in solid
column along the river bank. The American troops now eagerly waited
for orders; they were strongly fortified, and cannon loaded with grape
stood on a commanding eminence, ready to sweep the advancing columns.
At this crisis, what was their mortification and disappointment, when
orders were given them to retire within the fort! When there, Capt.
Snelling saw Gen. Hull’s aid trying to plant a white flag: “Snelling,”
said he, “come and help me fix this flag.” “No, sir; I will not soil my
hands with that flag,” was the indignant answer.
Gen Hull, panic-stricken, surrendered the fortress without even
stipulating the terms; even Colonels Cass and McArthur’s detachment was
included. Language cannot adequately describe or express the emotions
that filled the hearts of those brave soldiers, as they stacked their
arms to be conveyed away by the British soldiers. Mrs. Snelling now
returned to her brother’s house, and for the first time saw Tecumseh.
He was a noble looking warrior, on horseback at the head of his band
of Indians, who had fired off their guns before they were permitted
to enter the town; they passed by the door in good order, being
evidently under restraint; but how long would it last! It was felt to
be a relief when Capt. Snelling informed his wife the vessels were in
sight in which all the prisoners were to embark. Col. H. I. Hunt was
permitted to remain on parole, Detroit being his home, and John E.
Hunt stayed with him; but Thomas, afterwards a captain in the army,
and the brother-in-law, Maj. Edwards, accompanied the prisoners. They
were put on board the Queen Charlotte, where they found Gen. Hull and
staff, with several other officers and their wives. They were very much
crowded, the state-rooms being occupied by the General and his staff,
while the rest made pallets on the cabin floor. It may be supposed
that no one slept much that night. Gen. Hull’s conduct was freely
discussed within his hearing; and bitter, bitter indeed, were the
feelings expressed against him. The next day, much to the satisfaction
of Mrs. Snelling, her party, with others, was put on board the vessel
commanded by Captain Mackintosh, at his request. He gave her up his
own stateroom, and handed her the key of the box that contained his
preserves and other niceties. He told the prisoners that if the army
had marched to Malden at the time they crossed the river, that post
would have been taken without the cost of a life.
When they arrived at Erie, the British guards took charge of the
captive troops, and each American captain was placed at the head of his
company, surrounded by a British guard, and marched to Fort George,
eighteen miles, where vessels were in readiness to proceed to Kingston.
Gen. Hull and his staff were placed in carriages. Mackintosh promised
Capt. Snelling he would place his young wife in the hands of a friend,
who would see that she had a conveyance to join him at Fort George. He
did so, but was obliged to return to his vessel; however, Mr. Warren
promised to send her the same afternoon. Soon after she was joined by
the wife of Capt. Fuller, of the 4th regiment. When Capt. Snelling then
bade a brief adieu to his wife, “You may have need of money,” said he,
and gave her a half eagle.
With much impatience the ladies waited for Mr. Warren to make his
appearance with a carriage. When tea was ready he came, but said all
the carriages in the place were gone, and he could furnish nothing
better than a lumber wagon. They eagerly exclaimed, “That will do, let
us have it!” “But you must not go on to-night, it is too late,” he
persisted; “the roads are filled with straggling Indians; it will not
do--it would be rashness to venture. I will have everything ready by
daylight to-morrow morning.” The ladies remonstrated against delay.
“They have all gone; the troops will embark, and sail without us, and
we shall be left behind.” “Oh, no!” replied Warren; “unless the wind
changes they cannot leave.”
His involuntary guests passed a sleepless night in his house. They
were up two hours before daylight, and endeavored in various ways to
rouse their host, but in vain. Day dawned; they opened the window, to
see if the wind had changed; it blew from the same direction, and they
were more calm. When the sun rose, they went to Mr. Warren immediately,
and begged the fulfilment of his promise. He went out, and expecting
him back every moment, they got their luggage ready in the hall, every
moment seeming an age. At length, a negro man drove up to the door
about nine o’clock, in a large lumber wagon; their hearts sank within
them, for they had supposed that Mr. Warren would accompany them.
The man came into the hall, and asked, “Is this the luggage? Heavy
load!--take all day to get there!” “And is not Mr. Warren going with
us “No, marm; cannot go; told me to go.” Thus the wedding tour of our
fair bride promised to be an adventurous one! Their fears were divided
between the negro man and the Indians who were straggling on the roads.
They had a great deal of baggage, and were completely in the power of
the driver. Mrs. Snelling said to him imploringly, “If you will make
haste, and take us safely through, I will give you this gold piece, and
our husbands, who are both Captains in the American army, will pay you
well besides.” The man answered that he would do his best.
When he stopped to water the horses at a tavern, there were a number
of Indians about the house, and the ladies begged the driver not to
let them know they were prisoners. They remained in the wagon while he
went for water, watching him narrowly however, and not suffering him to
delay a moment. When he resumed his seat, they breathed more freely. At
noon some crackers and cheese were purchased, and they prevailed upon
the driver to be satisfied with it for his dinner. Often they met three
or four Indians, who sometimes stopped the driver to talk to him, and
were inquisitive to know who the women were, what was in the trunks,
&c., &c. During such times, although the prisoners trembled in every
nerve, they appeared in a very merry mood, signifying to them and the
driver that they were in a hurry. He cracked his whip, and as they went
on, leaving the Indians behind, they set up a frightful yell, enough to
chill the blood with fear.
As they drew near Fort George, they became still more anxious, for as
nearly as they could judge the wind had changed, or was changing. It
was late in the afternoon, and still they had some distance to go.
Within a few miles of the fort, they met a foot traveller from there,
who told them all the vessels had gone except one. In that one Capt.
Snelling and Capt. Fuller were pacing the deck, sometimes looking
with eagerness towards the shore, then beseeching the Captain of the
sloop, who was a kind-hearted man, to delay only a little longer,
notwithstanding orders had been sent him to proceed. Just as the
words, “I can wait no longer, I must obey orders,” passed his lips,
handkerchiefs were seen waving from the shore; a boat was sent, and
the travellers were soon in their husbands’ arms. Even the rough but
kind-hearted sailor witnessing the scene, wiped his eyes; and as the
good Captain approached, the tears rolled down his cheeks. It was a
joyous, though a tearful meeting.
The next thought was for the baggage. Where was it? It had been left
in the lumber wagon, for no one had bestowed a thought upon it, and
the vessel was already miles from shore. The negro probably carried it
home as a prize, for the owners never heard of it again, though for
some time they entertained a hope that the trunks would be forwarded to
them. The Captain seemed to take quite an interest in Mrs. Snelling,
having learned she was a bride of but two weeks, and so young; and his
kind feeling was manifested by giving up to her his own stateroom, and
sometimes sending nice things from his table to her. Such kindness, at
such a time, was sensibly felt and appreciated. Capt. Snelling told
his wife he had a little difficulty while on the march with one of the
British officers who was with the guard. It was a very warm day, and
almost choked with dust and thirst, he stepped on the grass, a very
short distance from where he was marching, when the officer rudely
pushed him back. Pale with rage, “Sir,” said Snelling, “had I my sword
by my side, you would not thus dare to lay hands upon me. I trust the
day may come when I shall be able to show you how a gentleman ought to
behave under similar circumstances.” It was not a little singular that
this same officer was afterwards taken prisoner by the Americans, and
fell into the hands of Capt. Snelling, to be conducted to Fort Erie.
He was a married man, and expected to have been detained a long time
from his family. But his generous foe, then Inspector-General, used
his influence to effect his exchange. They parted with expressions of
sincere friendship.
The stay of the prisoners at Kingston was only sufficiently long to
remove them from the vessels to the large barges or batteaux which
were in readiness for the descent of the St. Lawrence. The lot of our
party fell again to the same boat in which were Gen. Hull and staff.
The journey was without much incident. At night they stopped at some
small village, where lodging in bed-rooms could not be had for all
who applied; and several times the high-spirited Capt. Snelling would
rebel and give expression to his feelings, when a room for which he had
spoken, would be given to a British officer.
On arriving at St. John’s, four or five miles from Montreal, the
prisoners were ordered to be arranged by companies, with their
officers, and marched under guard to the city. Gen. Hull and staff,
with an escort of British officers, went in carriages; the officers’
ladies two and two in gigs, and then the troops in the rear, with a
guard on each side, completed the procession. When they reached the
city, a full band of music went in advance of Gen. Hull’s carriage,
and began to play Yankee Doodle. The General having said in his
proclamation “I will go through Montreal with Yankee Doodle,” they were
determined to make good his promise.
It was evening, and the streets were illuminated, every window in every
house being filled with lights, and when the procession came opposite
Nelson’s Monument, there were cheers given, and a cry “hats off!” An
attempt was made to compel all to the act of reverence, by knocking
off the prisoners’ hats or caps. A militia officer tried it with Capt.
Snelling, “At your peril. Sir, touch me;” was the quick warning, and
before he could do anything rash, a regular officer rode up and rebuked
the militia officer. At this moment a lady made her way through the
crowd and guard towards the prisoners, and fell, overcome by emotion.
She was lifted up, and the Captain recognized Mrs. Gooding. His party
was conducted to a hotel, where they met Capt. Gooding also.
During the evening, after they had taken possession of their room,
a tap was heard at the door, and a servant brought in a tray, on
which were glasses and a decanter of wine, placed it on the table,
and said--“Capt. F---- will be here to see you, Capt. Snelling.” He
entered soon after, and Capt. Snelling saw in him the gentleman who
had insisted on knocking off his cap; he came to apologize for his
conduct, and requested permission to drink a glass of wine with him.
In a few days the married officers were paroled, and left Montreal
on their way to Boston. Here Captain and Mrs. Snelling remained
until he was exchanged, at which time he was ordered to Plattsburg
to join Gen. Hampton’s army. The admirable wife, who had shared his
dangers, remained in Boston. The separation lasted some months, when
unexpectedly the Captain made his appearance, informing Mrs. Snelling
that he was going to Washington city, having an extremely unpleasant
duty to perform, that of taking a man into custody that very night
while in bed, one of a party who supplied the enemy with provisions,
and must be taken to Washington. He left his wife about twelve o’clock
at night, saying he should have assistance, and she must not be uneasy,
for that if he succeeded in securing the man, he would stop in the
carriage and let her know of his safety. In two hours he returned,
told her they had succeeded, and that the prisoner was in irons in the
carriage, with a guard. “I pity his poor wife,” added he, “I wish you
to take a carriage to-morrow, drive to No. ----, Water Street, ask
for the lady of the house, and say to her that her husband will be in
Washington, for a few days, and then return to her in safety.” In two
weeks Capt. Snelling came back; the man had turned States’ evidence
against others, and had been dismissed.
About this time Mrs. Snelling’s eldest child was born--she being
only sixteen year’s of age. Her little daughter Mary beguiled many
an anxious hour of separation from her father; that father being in
constant peril. He passed through many dangers while in Plattsburg and
its vicinity, and rose rapidly in rank, Generals Izard and Macomb being
in command. Mrs. Snelling joined him there. Before long Gen. Izard’s
division was ordered to Fort Erie, and Capt. Snelling belonged to that
division. His wife remained in Burlington, on the other side of Lake
Champlain, and was there when Commodore McDonough gained his victory,
hearing distinctly the roar of the artillery, and relieved beyond
measure when the news came of the victory. It was shouted from mouth to
mouth, and from door to door, “Victory! Victory!”
The details of the siege of Fort Erie may be found in historical
works. At this time Snelling was in the staff of Gen. Izard, and was
Inspector-general, with the rank of Colonel. Gen. Brown commanded at
Fort Erie. When the troops went into winter quarters at Buffalo, Mrs.
Snelling again joined him at Buffalo with her little daughter. She had
travelled forty-one miles on horse-back, over the very same corduroy
roads she had been carried over eighteen years before. Her brother,
Capt. Hunt, met her at Batavia and carried little Mary on a pillow
before him; she had been very ill, and the journey restored her to
health.
After peace was proclaimed. Col. Snelling and his family, accompanied
by his wife’s brother, left Buffalo to visit friends in Detroit. They
embarked in a small vessel with a favorable wind, but the next day
there were indications of a storm; the wind veered round and they beat
about the lake several days. When the storm began to rage with fury,
there were no safe harbors near, and they made but little progress--and
were out of provisions and fuel. A few potatoes were found, but no fire
to cook them. Mrs. Snelling was very sea-sick, and did not require
food, but her little Mary lay by her side gnawing a raw potatoe. The
storm still increased, but the captain of the vessel hoped to reach
Cleveland with the side wind, and at daylight the third day they
found themselves opposite that place, though they dared not approach
the wharf. Guns of distress were fired but with little hope, for men
could not be found to risk their own lives to save them. The captain
then announced that his anchor dragged and he feared would not hold
the vessel. Soon were seen preparations to man a boat; it pushed off
from shore and approached the shoals; then was the greatest danger; it
passed over and reached the vessel. Capt. Hunt came to his sister and
said, “Abby, what will you do; remain here in so much peril, or go in
the boat, where there is perhaps greater?” She replied, “I will go.”
She was taken upon deck; the waves were terrific; the boat would now
rise on the summit of a huge billow, now plunge into a deep abyss, and
it seemed impossible that the lady and her child could be placed in the
boat. But in spite of peril, she hardly knew how, she was seated in the
boat with her child and her brother, and after a few minutes gained
courage to look back towards the vessel, of which she could only see
the top of the mast. At the moment they reached the shoals, a huge wave
broke over them and half filled the boat. Some of the men bailed while
others plied the oars with renewed energy. When they touched land Mrs.
Snelling was taken fainting from the boat and conveyed to an inn; and
it was several days before she recovered from the terrors of that storm.
Great was the joy that prevailed in the heart of every wife at the
return of peace. In the following spring, Snelling under the peace
organization, was Lieut. Colonel of the 6th infantry, and ordered to
Governor’s Island, Col. Atkinson commanding. He remained there with his
family over a year, when the regiment was ordered to Plattsburg, where
they had resided about four years when an order cams for St. Louis,
_en route_ for the Upper Mississippi or Missouri! Mrs. Snelling had
then three children, and her youngest sister and one of her brothers,
a graduate from West Point--Lieut. Wellington Hunt, then a married
man--were with her family.