SECOND SIGHT--HICKORY CREEK
At the age of fourteen the heroine of the foregoing story married
Captain McKillip, a British officer. This gentleman was killed near
Fort Defiance, as it was afterward called, at the Miami Rapids, in
1794. A detachment of British troops had been sent down from Detroit,
to take possession of this post. Gen. Wayne was then on a campaign
against the Indians, and the British Government thought proper to make
a few demonstrations in behalf of their allies. Having gone out with a
party to reconnoitre, Captain McKillip was returning to his post after
dark, when he was fired upon and killed by one of his own sentinels.
Mrs. Helm was the daughter of this marriage.
During the widowhood of Mrs. McKillip she resided with her parents
at Grosse Pointe, eight miles above Detroit, and it was during this
period that an event occurred, which from the melancholy and mysterious
circumstances attending it, was always dwelt upon by her with peculiar
interest.
Her second brother, Thomas Lytle, was, from his amiable and
affectionate character, the most dearly beloved by her of all the
numerous family circle. He was paying his addresses to a young lady who
resided at the river Trench,[AO] as it was then called, now the river
Thames, a stream emptying into Lake St. Clair, about twenty miles above
Detroit. In visiting this young lady, it was his custom to cross the
Detroit river by the ferry with his horse, and then proceed by land to
the river Trench, which was, at some seasons of the year, a fordable
stream.
[Footnote AO: From the French--_Tranche_, a deep cut.]
On a fine forenoon, late in the spring, he had taken leave of his
mother and sister for one of these periodical visits, which were
usually of two or three days' duration.
After dinner, as his sister was sitting at work by an open window which
looked upon a little side enclosure filled with fruit-trees, she was
startled by observing some object opposite the window, between her
and the light. She raised her eyes and saw her brother Thomas. He was
without his horse, and carried his saddle upon his shoulders.
Surprised that she had not heard the gate opening for his entrance, and
also at his singular appearance, laden in that manner, she addressed
him, and inquired what had happened, and why he had returned so soon.
He made her no reply, but looked earnestly in her face, as he moved
slowly along the paved walk that led to the stables.
She waited a few moments expecting he would reappear to give an account
of himself and his adventures, but at length, growing impatient at his
delay, she put down her work and went towards the rear of the house to
find him.
The first person she met was her mother. "Have you seen Thomas?" she
inquired.
"Thomas! He has gone to the river Trench."
"No, he has returned--I saw him pass the window not fifteen minutes
since."
"Then he will be in presently."
His sister, however, could not wait. She proceeded to the stables, she
searched in all directions. No Thomas--no horse--no saddle. She made
inquiry of the domestics. No one had seen him. She then returned and
told her mother what had happened.
"You must have fallen asleep and dreamed it," said her mother.
"No, indeed! I was wide awake--I spoke to him, and he gave me no
answer, but such a look!"
All the afternoon she felt an uneasiness she could not reason herself
out of.
The next morning came a messenger from the river Trench with dismal
tidings.
The bodies of the young man and his horse had been found drowned a
short distance below the ford of the river.
It appeared that on arriving at the bank of the river, he found it
swollen beyond its usual depth by the recent rains. It being necessary
to swim the stream with his horse, he had taken off his clothes and
made them into a packet which he fastened upon his shoulders. It
was supposed that the strength of the rapid torrent displaced the
bundle, which thus served to draw his head under water and keep it
there, without the power of raising it. All this was gathered from the
position and appearance of the bodies when found.
From the time at which he had been seen passing a house which stood
near the stream, on his way to the ford, it was evident that he must
have met his fate at the very moment his sister saw, or thought she saw
him, passing before her.
I could not but suggest the inquiry, when these sad particulars were
narrated to me:
"Mother, is it not possible this might have been a dream?"
"A dream? No, indeed, my child. I was perfectly wide awake--as much so
as I am at this moment. I am not superstitious. I have never believed
in ghosts or witches, but nothing can ever persuade me that this was
not a warning sent from God, to prepare me for my brother's death."
And those who knew her rational good sense--her freedom from fancies or
fears, and the calm self-possession that never deserted her under the
most trying circumstances, would almost be won to view the matter in
the light she did.
* * * * *
The order for the evacuation of the post, and the removal of the troops
to Fort Howard (Green Bay), had now been received.[75] The family
circle was to be broken up. Our mother, our sister Mrs. Helm, and her
little son, were to return with us to Fort Winnebago--the other members
of the family, except Robert, were to move with the command to Green
Bay.
Before the time for our departure, however. Colonel Owen, the new
Indian Agent, arrived to take up his residence at the place. Col. R. J.
Hamilton, also, on a visit of business, expressed his determination to
make Chicago his future home. This may be considered the first impulse
given to the place--the first step towards its subsequent unexampled
growth and prosperity.
The schooner Napoleon was to be sent from Detroit to convey the troops
with their goods and chattels to their destined post. Our immediate
party was to make the journey by land--we were to choose, however,
a shorter and pleasanter route than the one we had taken in coming
hither. My husband with his Frenchmen, Petaille Grignon and Simon
Lecuyer, had arrived, and all hands were now busily occupied with the
necessary preparations for breaking up and removal.
I should be doing injustice to the hospitable settlers of Hickory Creek
were I to pass by, without notice, an entertainment with which they
honored our Chicago beaux about this time. The merry-making was to be
a ball, and the five single gentlemen of Chicago were invited. Mr.
Dole, who was a new-comer, declined--Lieut. Foster was on duty, but
he did what was still better than accepting the invitation, he loaned
his beautiful horse to Medard Beaubien, and he, with Robert Kinzie and
Gholson Kercheval, promised themselves much fun in eclipsing the beaux
and creating a sensation among the _belles_ of Hickory Creek.
Chicago was then, as now, looked upon as _the City_ par excellence. Its
few inhabitants were supposed to have seen something of the world, and
it is to be inferred that the arrival of the smart and dashing young
men was an event looked forward to with more satisfaction by the fair
of the little settlement than by the swains whose rivals they might
become.
The day arrived and the gentlemen set off in high spirits. The took
care to be in good season, for the dancing was to commence at two
o'clock in the afternoon. They were well mounted, each priding himself
upon the animal he rode, and they wore their best suits, as became city
gallants who were bent on cutting out their less fashionable neighbors,
and breaking the hearts of the admiring country damsels.
When they arrived at the place appointed, they were received with great
politeness--their steeds were taken care of--a dinner provided them,
after which they were ushered into the dancing-hall.
All the beauty of the neighboring precincts was assembled. The ladies
were for the most part white, or what passed for such, with an
occasional dash of copper color. There was no lack of bombazet gowns
and large white pocket-handkerchiefs, perfumed with oil of cinnamon;
and as they took their places in long rows on the puncheon floor, they
were a merry and a happy company.
But the city gentlemen grew more and more gallant--the girls more
and more delighted with their attentions--the country swains, alas!
more and more scowling and jealous. In vain they pigeon-winged and
double-shuffled--in vain they nearly dislocated hips and shoulders at
"hoe corn and dig potatoes"--they had the mortification to perceive
that the smart young sprigs from Chicago had their pick and choose
among their very sweethearts, and that they themselves were fairly
danced off the ground.
The revelry lasted until daylight, and it was now time to think of
returning. There was no one ready with obliging politeness to bring
them their horses from the stable.
"Poor fellows!" said one of the party, with a compassionate sort of
laugh, "they could not stand it. They have gone home to bed!"
"Serves them right," said another, "they'd better not ask us down among
their girls again!"
They groped their way to the stable and went in. There were some
animals standing at the manger, but evidently not their horses. What
could they be? Had the rogues been trying to cheat them, by putting
these strange nondescripts into their place?
They led them forth into the gray of the morning, and then, such a trio
as met their gaze!
There were the original bodies, it is true, but where were their
manes and tails? A scrubby, picketty ridge along the neck, and a bare
stump projecting behind were all that remained of the flowing honors
with which they had come gallivanting down to "bear away the bell" at
Hickory Creek, or, in the emphatic language of the country, "to take
the rag off the bush."
Gholson sat down on a log and cried outright. Medard took the matter
more philosophically--the horse was none of his--it was Lieut.
Foster's.
Robert characteristically looked around to see whom he could knock down
on the occasion, but there was no one visible on whom to wreak their
vengeance.
The bumpkins had stolen away, and in some safe, quiet nook, were snugly
enjoying their triumph, and doubtless the deceitful fair ones were, by
this time, sharing their mirth and exultation.
The unlucky gallants mounted their steeds, and set their faces
homeward. Never was there a more crestfallen and sorry-looking
cavalcade. The poor horses seemed to realize that they had met the
same treatment as the messengers of King David at the hands of the
evil-disposed Hanun. They hung their heads, and evidently wished that
they could have "tarried at Jericho" for a season. Unfortunately there
was in those days no back way by which they could steal in, unobserved.
Across the prairie, in view of the whole community, must their approach
be made, and to add to their confusion, in the rarity of stirring
events, it was the custom of the whole settlement to turn out and
welcome the arrival of any new-comer.
As hasty a retreat as possible was beaten, amid the shouts, the jeers,
and the condolences of their acquaintances, and it is on record that
these three young gentlemen were in no hurry to accept, at any future
time, an invitation to partake of the festivities of Hickory Creek.
* * * * *
In due time the Napoleon made her appearance. (Alas! that this great
name should be used in the feminine gender!) As there was at this
period no harbor, vessels anchored outside the bar, or tongue of land
which formed the left bank of the river, and the lading and unlading
were carried on by boats, pulling in and out, through the mouth of the
river, some distance below. Of course it always was a matter of great
importance to get a vessel loaded as quickly as possible that she might
be ready to take advantage of the first fair wind, and be off from such
an exposed and hazardous anchoring ground.
For this reason we had lived _packed up_ for many days, intending only
to see our friends safe on board, and then commence our own journey.
Our heavy articles of furniture, trunks, &c., had been sent on board
the Napoleon to be brought round to us by way of Fox River. We had
retained only such few necessaries as could be conveniently carried
on a pack-horse, and in a light dearborn wagon lately brought by Mr.
Kercheval from Detroit (the first luxury of the kind ever seen on the
prairies), and which my husband had purchased as an agreeable mode of
conveyance for his mother and little nephew.
It was a matter requiring no small amount of time and labor to
transport, in the slow method described, the effects of so many
families of officers and soldiers--the company's stores, and all the
various et ceteras incident to a total change and removal. It was all,
however, happily accomplished--everything, even the last article sent
on board--nothing remaining on shore but the passengers, whose turn it
was next.
It was a moment of great relief, for Capt. Hinckley had been in a fever
and a fuss many hours, predicting a change of weather, and murmuring
at what he thought the unnecessary amount of boat-loads to be taken on
board.
Those who had leisure to be looking out toward the schooner which had
continued anchored about half a mile out in the lake, had, at this
crisis, the satisfaction to see her hoist sail and leave her station
for the open lake--those who were a little later could just discern
her bearing away to a distance, as if she had got all on board that she
had any idea of taking. Here we were and here we might remain a week or
more, if it pleased Capt. Hinckley and the schooner Napoleon, and the
good east wind which was blowing with all its might.
There was plenty of provisions to be obtained, so the fear of
starvation was not the trouble, but how were the cooking and the table
to be provided for? Various expedients were resorted to. Mrs. Engle,
in her quarters above stairs, ate her breakfast off a shingle with her
husband's jack-knife, and when she had finished, sent them down to
Lieut. Foster for his accommodation.
We were at the old mansion on the north side, and the news soon flew
up the river that the Napoleon had gone off with "the plunder," and
left the people behind. It was not long before we were supplied by Mrs.
Portier (our kind Victoire), with dishes, knives, forks, and all the
other conveniences which our mess-basket failed to supply.
This state of things lasted a couple of days, and then, early one fine
morning the gratifying intelligence spread like wild-fire that the
Napoleon was at anchor out beyond the bar.
There was no unnecessary delay this time, and at an early hour in the
afternoon we had taken leave of our dear friends, and they were sailing
away from Chicago.[AP]
[Footnote AP: It is a singular fact that all the martins, of which
there were great numbers occupying the little houses constructed for
them by the soldiers, were observed to have disappeared from their
homes on the morning following the embarkation of the troops. After an
absence of five days they returned. They had perhaps taken a fancy to
accompany their old friends, but, finding they were not Mother Carey's
chickens, deemed it most prudent to return and reoccupy their old
dwellings.]