COLONEL CLARK AND HIS RANGERS.
At this moment the subject of their conversation, Tom Moffat, made his
appearance at the entrance. Upon seeing that he was a white man, he was
admitted at once. He strode in with that independent, careless air so
common to his race, paying no attention to the inquisitive looks that
were cast upon him.
The first person who met him was Edwards, who had just returned from the
funeral ceremonies referred to.
“Why, what brings you here?” he asked, with a smile.
“My legs, I believe. How are you thriving, George?”
“Very well. How does it go with you?”
“Tolerable only. Had quite a scrimmage here, from the look of things.”
“Yes; this is bad business—though kind Providence has watched over us
thus far. His great name be praised for it.”
“How many killed?”
“Three only. This is a severe loss; but it’s nothing to that which we
were compelled to inflict upon these heathens who so wantonly assail us.
It seems that they should learn wisdom by their sad experience.”
“Any other of the varmint would, except them Shawnees. They kill and
hack so much they’re willing to stand it just for the fun.”
“It seems that you have been indulging in some of their savage
practices,” remarked Edwards, in a tone of quiet rebuke, as he glanced
at the scalps at the hunter’s waist.
“Yas,” he returned, looking complacently down at them, “I sometimes
indulge. There was such a smart chance of ha’r lifting that I had to
walk into the business.”
“It is strange to me that any man professing to be civilized can cammit
such revolting crimes that these North American Indians alone have the
credit for.”
“All edycation—all edycation, George. It went kindly against the grain
the first time I tried it, but I soon got my hand in; and, sir, there
ain’t nothing like it. I tell you it’s high, George, to serve a Shawnee
that way.”
“It is horrible, Thomas, and I would that you could be induced to cease
it.”
“Now, have you ever clipped a red-skin top-knot?”
“Me! Why, of course not!”
“Then you can’t tell anything about it, my good friend without
experimenting. I and any one else can see what a disgusting”——
“Beg pardon, George, I can’t you know.”
“Any one else can see what a disgusting practice it is. You have seen it
thus. It struck you as such when you first contemplated it, and you
admit that it required considerable effort before you could bring
yourself to it.”
“Wal, now, George, it lays all in edycation. You know what imps these
Shawnees are; and where they have done as them have, I can’t see the
harm of serving them in the same way—can’t see the difference to save my
life.”
“It’s no use talking with you, I see, Thomas. I am sorry that you are so
wedded to the practice; but it will make no difference in my respect for
you. We are old friends, remember, and I am glad to see you any time.
Pardon me for keeping you talking so long, when I should have asked you
to rest and refresh yourself.”
“Thank you, George, I don’t need rest. ’Cause why? I ain’t tired. And as
for refreshments, I don’t know much about them.”
“Wel, then, consider this your home as long as you are willing to remain
with us, which I trust will not be a very brief period. Do you bring any
news?”
“I have a little, which I’ll give you after a while.”
“Good or bad—I suppose I may inquire?”
“Wal, it’s good; so you needn’t worry about it.”
“In that case I shall not, for we have had enough gloomy tidings and
doings of late.”
“I believe I’ve got a brother somewhere ’bout these parts, or used to
have,” remarked the hunter, gazing searchingly about him.
“He is in the block-house, I believe, standing watch. I will call him,
or you can visit him there, as you choose.”
“What is he standing watch for? Shawnees?”
“For enemies, which are certainly thick enough around us.”
“You kin call him, then, for he’s watching for what ain’t about. I took
a tramp around the settlement afore I came in, and things is all right.”
“Have our enemies indeed retreated?” inquired a spectator.
“There isn’t a shadow of one of ’em for five miles around, except the
dead ones.”
“Thank Heaven for that, for we have had enough of this awful business to
last a lifetime. May I ask, friend, the appearance things bear along the
frontier? You are a scout, I take it, and are able to give us
information.”
“Things look dubious, I must say,” replied the backwoodsman, looking
down to the ground and shaking his head.
“Any fresh outrages of which we have not heard?”
“Not that I knows on, being I don’t know what you’ve heard; but I can
tell you the varmint, especially these thundering Shawnees, are at it
all the time. They are at Boonesborough half the time trying to come
some of their tricks over the colonel, and we boys as are ranging the
woods up and down the ’Hio sees tall times—wal we do. It’s hard fur the
settlements and wimmen folks, but fur us scouts and rangers it’s big
fun.”
“What is the probability of general war?”
“It must come sooner or later—there’s no helping it.”
“Why are you so certain, my friend?”
“’Cause I can see things as they is. If Bowman had given them a regular
lambasting when he tried it, you wouldn’t have seen the trouble you
have—no, sir!”
“I have no doubt of it. That unfortunate campaign has given the Indians
a poorer opinion of our strength and powers and a much better one of
their own.”
“Just so—exactly. If them Shawnees could get all the other to jine in
like, they would feel able to sweep us clean from the airth; and I ain’t
certain but what they’d be able to do it afore we got help from the
East. But there’s the rub, you see, some of these tribes hate each other
as much they do us; and being as they all hate us, each one is trying to
finish the job without the help of the other.”
“I see no help, either, except in a war of extermination. It would be a
dreadful thing to carry the struggle to the knife, but I see no other
alternative. They have rejected all our offers of friendship, and are
determined to exterminate us, and the safety of us and ours absolutely
requires that the war should be carried into their own country, though
for that matter they claim, I suppose, that it is already within their
own country.”
“That’s the doctrine I’ve been argyfying for a long time and I think
they’ll soon see it’s got to be done. But it ’pears to me that George is
gone a long time for that brother of mine. Hello! here they come. How
d’ye do, Abe?”
“How are you, Tom?”
The brothers met, and the others feeling the indelicacy of remaining,
withdrew and left them alone. A conversation, which it is not necessary
we shall record, passed between them.
Tom Moffat was older than his brother by six or seven years, and was one
of those scouts or rangers whose business it was to skirt along the Ohio
between the settlements, and to ascertain the doings and intentions of
the hostile tribes and to warn the whites when danger threatened them.
The services of such men were invaluable. There was hardly a movement of
the Shawnees which they did not discover and communicate, and to their
timely warning, in more than one instance, was the salvation of hundreds
owing.
The information which the scout imparted upon this occasion was that
Colonel Clark had determined, with his Kentucky Rangers, to march
against the Indians at Chillicothe, and to bring them to battle. A
summary chastisment was imperatively demanded, and our settlement
willingly volunteered to assist their gallant friends in the expedition.
Colonel Clark, a few weeks subsequent to these events, called together
his Kentucky Rangers, as they were termed, for marching against the
Indian settlements at Chillicothe. Tom Moffat, the scout, conducted his
brother, Kingman, and half a dozen others, through the wilderness to
join them, as our settlement had already gained quite a fame for its
readiness in assisting such expeditions.
This was in the summer of 1780. The Rangers collected together, and
headed by Colonel Clark, a gallant and inexperienced Indian fighter,
they reached the Indian town a day later; but the Shawnee runners had
apprized their nation of the force marching against them, and when the
villages were reached not even a squaw or pappoose was visible. This was
a surprise to the whites, as they fully expected to meet the combined
warriors and have a bloody battle; nevertheless, they determined that
the cowardly Indians should not escape them.
Their scouts were first dispatched to reconnoitre the forest, to prevent
falling into ambush. They reported that not a savage was in sight, and
it was evident they were thoroughly intimidated, and had retreated to a
safe distance. Colonel Clark then gave the order to burn the Indian
villages and destroy their corn-fields.
In a few moments the flames from the different lodges burst forth and
communicated to the others. They were made of light, combustible
material, and in an incredible short space of time the whole village was
one mass of roaring, crackling flame. The smoke ascended far over the
tree-tops and gathered and formed a dark, heavy cloud, which settled in
the horizon. These evidences of conflagration were witnessed by more
than one Shawnee from his hiding-place, and he trembled, for he knew
what a justly-excited people was revenging its wrongs. Not an Indian
made his appearance while the rangers were at work.
When the last cabin had burned to the ground, the whites entered the
corn-fields. A half hour later and not a stalk of corn was standing!
Everything was destroyed upon which it was possible to lay their hands.
Colonel Clark then gave orders to remain upon the ground until the
afternoon, hoping that the Shawnees would still give battle. But it was
useless; they had apparently lost the bravery for which they had become
so distinguished, for they carefully avoided showing themselves.
Finally the rangers set out on their return homeward, burning and
destroying everything along the way. While retreating, a few of the
infuriated Shawnees followed them and managed to pick off several of
their number from their hiding-places in the tree-tops and ledges. An
attempt was made to draw them into ambush, which came uncomfortably nigh
succeeding. So effectually was it arranged that the most cunning and
experienced scouts did not discover it until almost upon it.
During the wars on the frontier, it was the invariable custom of the
white forces in marching through the forest to keep their scouts
constantly ranging the country for the double purpose of being warned of
all ambushes and to gain a knowledge of the enemy’s movements. These
scouts were often the salvation of the whites, and a few years later,
when the great generals marched with their forces against the arrayed
tribes of the West, they were enrolled and recognized as an
indispensable part of the army. The brilliant and wonderful exploits of
such men as Captain W. Wells, M’Arthur, Davis, M’Cleland, Beason,
Williams, O’Bannion, M’Donald and others are found recorded in the
history of our country.
Several skirmishes took place during the homeward march, and the rangers
were constantly harassed by the Indian scouts following and lurking in
the rear. Several hand-to-hand struggles took place between the whites
and these scouts, and it was not until they were all within sight of
their destination that the pests disappeared and our friends were
allowed to proceed unmolested upon their way.
This chastisement of the Shawnees was most effectual and summary. Their
depredations and outrages up to this point had increased frightfully,
and scarce a day passed in which the report of a murder or a massacre
did not reach the different settlements. The power of the settlers,
through the blunder of Colonel Bowman, had been greatly underrated and
scorned, and there were many chiefs who really believed that a vigorous,
determined movement by the Shawnees alone would be sufficient to
overwhelm every settlement along the Ohio river. But the expedition just
returned had convinced them of their fatal mistake. They saw what a
comparatively small force could do against all of their numbers, and
they had sense enough to understand that nothing short of general
combination of the rival tribes of the “dark and bloody ground” could
offer any check to the approaching tide of civilization.
It was now the autumn of 1780. The great revolutionary struggle of the
colonies was nearly terminated, and many were turning their attention
toward the millions of acres of rich land beyond the Ohio. The advent of
a foreign army had impoverished the country, and many a homestead had
been razed to the earth and its wealth swept away for ever. Several new
settlements had been implanted upon the river above, and the old ones,
in spite of the disastrous circumstances by which they were surrounded,
had continued to thrive and increase. It sometimes seems, when
emigration commences to a new country like the West, at this time, that
the settlers are without will of their own, but fulfilling destiny, for
no combination of opposition, dangers and perils can check them. Rumors
constantly reached the East of the horrid barbarities perpetrated, and
of the numerous flat-boats that were decoyed into shore and their
inmates slaughtered; and yet there was hardly a week in which some boat,
freighted with its weak and defenceless load, did not launch upon the
Ohio and turn their prow fearlessly forward.
Some of these were victims to the cruelty of the renegades and savages,
but their places were filled by others as hopeful and eager as they had
been.
And amid all these formidable circumstances there were meek and good men
who hesitated not to brave all for the pleasure of their good Master.
The Moravian missionaries had penetrated the wilderness, and the seed
sown by them was already bearing good fruit. Numbers of Indians were
converted to Christ, and withstood all the temptations of the chase and
battle-field. They remained together and engaged in agriculture, and
withdrew entirely from their rude and warlike brethren. It was a
beautiful and instructive sight—the one small spot radiant with the
smile of Heaven amid the mighty wilderness, made doubly dark and gloomy
by the hand of man.
The faithful energetic followers of Wesley were already numbered among
the pioneers. They were brave, resolute men, who could shoulder the
rifle and lead to battle, swing the glittering ax in the forest, or
point the way to heaven. Theirs was the religion for the time. Freed
from the restraints and conventionalities of civilized life, it was from
the heart. Its representatives were men whose words were plain to the
uneducated backwoodsman, and who never set forth truth beyond their
comprehension.
For a time after the expedition of Colonel Clark comparative peace
reigned along the frontier. A number of flat-boats descended the river,
and reported that they had not been disturbed during the passage. This
made the settlers hopeful, and many began to believe war over. Numbers
engaged in felling the trees around their settlements, and extending
their boundaries; strong commodious cabins made their appearance; and
some, more venturesome than their tired neighbors, erected their
dwellings in the edge of the wood, beyond the immediate protection of
the block-house, and here they removed with their families. Emigration
received an impetus which otherwise would have required years.
But matters could not remain thus. The warlike disposition of the
powerful Shawnees could brook restraint for a long time.
In the summer of 1781, reports reached the settlements that a boat had
been stopped near the mouth of the Sciota and all its inmates—nearly a
score—had been massacred. The notorious Pete Johnson and Simon Girty
figured in this outrage. They made several attempts to decoy them to
shore, but the whites had been warned, and would have escaped had they
possessed any knowledge of the channel of the river; but unfortunately
they ran ashore during the night, and before they could escape, the
savages, headed by Girty, poured a volley into them, which killed or
rendered helpless all on deck, and then rushed upon the boat.
The women were outraged and tomahawked, Pete Johnson leading in the
latter barbarity; and, as if to incite the settlers along the river, the
flat-boat was carefully preserved from injury, and with several of the
mangled corpses upon it set afloat.
It glided some twenty or thirty miles when it struck the shore and
grounded.
One of the rangers, passing down the river, discovered it, and
suspecting foul play, waded out and climbed into it.
As he passed over the gunwale he was nearly overcome with the horrid
stench of the putrefying bodies. Nothing daunted, he plunged resolutely
into the cabin, where the full horrors burst upon his vision. Stretched
out at full length lay some eight or nine women and men, bloated and
bloody, piled upon each other, and glued together in their own blackened
blood.
He waded to the shore, broke off several dried branches, and piled them
at the cabin door. It was now nearly dark, and he set fire to them and
pushed the boat into the stream. At last the hull, burnt to a charred
cinder, dipped beneath the water and disappeared from view.