frequent. General Schuyler's house was robbed, and an attempt was made,
by Lovelace and his companions, to carry off Colonel Van Vechten. But
General Stark, who was in command of the barracks north of Fish Creek,
was too wide awake for him. He got wind of the scheme, and gave the
Colonel a strong guard, and so Lovelace was balked, and compelled to
give up his design. Captain Dunham, who commanded a company of militia
in the neighborhood, found out the tory colonel's place of concealment,
and he determined to attempt his capture. Accordingly, he summoned his
lieutenant, ensign, orderly, and one private, to his house; and, about
dusk, they started for the swamp, which was two miles distant. Having
separated to reconnoitre, two of them, named Green and Guiles, got lost;
but the other three kept together, and, about dawn, discovered Lovelace
and his party, in a hut covered over with boughs, just drawing on their
stockings. The three men crawled cautiously forward till near the hut,
when they sprang up with a shout, levelled their muskets, and Captain
Dunham sang out, 'Surrender, or you are all dead men!' There was no time
for parley; and the tory rascals, believing that our men were down on
them in force, came out one by one, without arms, and Dunham and his men
marched them off to General Stark's quarters. The rascals were all tried
by court-martial, as spies, traitors, and robbers; and Lovelace was
sentenced to be hung, as he was considered too dangerous to be allowed
to get loose again. He made complaint of injustice, and said he ought to
be treated as a prisoner of war; but our general could not consent to
look upon such a villain as an honorable soldier, and his sentence was
ordered to be carried into effect three days afterwards. I was then with
a company of New York volunteers, sent to reinforce General Stark, and
I was enabled to gratify my desire to witness the execution of a man I
detested. The gallows was put up on the high bluff a few miles south of
Fish Creek, near our barracks. When the day arrived, I found that our
company was on the guard to be posted near the gallows. It was a gloomy
morning, and about the time the tory colonel was marched out to the
gallows, and we were placed in position at the foot of the bluff, a
tremendous storm of wind and rain came on. It was an awful scene.
The sky seemed as black as midnight, except when the vivid sheets of
lightning glared and shot across it; and the peals of thunder were loud
and long. Lovelace knelt upon the scaffold, and the chaplain prayed with
him. I think if there was anything could change a man's heart, it must
have been the thought of dying at such a time, when God himself seemed
wrathful at the deeds of men.
"I expected to be delighted with seeing such a man hung; but I tell you,
my friends, I felt very differently when the time came, and I saw the
cruel tory kneeling on the scaffold, while the lightning seemed to be
quivering over the gallows. I turned away my head a moment, and when I
looked again, the body of Lovelace was suspended in the air, and his
spirit had gone to give its account to its God."
The account of this terrible scene had deeply interested the company;
and the animated manner of Morton impressed even the children with a
feeling of awe.
"Why didn't they postpone the hanging of the man until there was a clear
day?" enquired Mrs. Harmar.
"Executions are never postponed on account of the weather, my dear,"
replied her husband. "It would be rather cruel than otherwise thus to
delay them."
"I've heard of that Lovelace before," remarked old Harmar. "I judged
that he was a bold villain from some of his outrages, and I think he
deserved his death."
"For my part," said Higgins, "I hated the very name of a tory so much,
during the war, that I believe I could have killed any man who dared to
speak in their defence. All that I knew or heard of were blood-thirsty
scoundrels."
STORY OF THE MURDER OF MISS M'CREA.
"If you were at Saratoga, Mr. Morton, perhaps you know something about
the murder of Miss M'Crea," said Mrs. Harmar.
"Oh, yes! I know the real facts of the case," replied Morton. "I got
them from one who was acquainted with her family. The real story is
quite different from the one we find in the histories of the war, and
which General Gates received as true."
"Then set us right upon the matter," remarked young Harmar.
"Do," added Wilson. "I've heard the story through two or three
twistings, and I'm only satisfied that the lady was killed."
"Well," commenced Morton, "what I now tell you may depend on as the
truest account you can receive. No one but Heaven and the Indians
themselves witnessed the death of the young girl; and our only evidence
of a positive nature is the declaration of those who were supposed to be
her murderers. But to the story.
"Jane M'Crea, or Jenny M'Crea, as she is more generally known, was the
daughter of a Scotch clergyman, who resided in Jersey City, opposite
New York. While living with her father, an intimacy grew up between the
daughter of a Mrs. M'Niel and Jenny. Mrs. M'Niel's husband dying, she
went to live on an estate near Fort Edward. Soon after, Mr. M'Crea died,
and Jenny went to live with her brother near the same place. There the
intimacy of former years was renewed, and Jenny spent much of her time
at the house of Mrs. M'Niel and her daughter. Near the M'Niel's lived a
family named Jones, consisting of a widow and six sons. David Jones, one
of the sons, became acquainted with Jenny, and at length this friendship
deepened into love. When the war broke out, the Jones's took the royal
side of the question; and, in the fall of 1776, David and Jonathan Jones
went to Canada, raised a company, and joined the British garrison at
Crown Point. They both afterwards attached themselves to Burgoyne's
army; David being made a lieutenant in Frazer's division. The brother
of Jenny M'Crea was a whig, and, as the British army advanced, they
prepared to set out for Albany. Mrs. M'Niel was a loyalist, and, as she
remained, Jenny remained with her, perhaps with the hope of seeing David
Jones.
"At length Jenny's brother sent her a peremptory order to join him, and
she promised to comply the next day after receiving it. On the morning
of that day, (I believe it was the 27th of July,) a black servant boy
belonging to Mrs. M'Niel discovered some Indians approaching the house,
and, giving the alarm, he ran to the fort, which was but a short
distance off. Mrs. M'Niel, Jenny, a black woman, and two children, were
in the house when the alarm was given. Mrs. M'Niel's eldest daughter was
at Argyle. The black woman seized the two children, fled through the
back door into the kitchen, and down into the cellar. Jenny and Mrs.
M'Niel followed; but the old woman was corpulent, and before they could
descend, a powerful Indian seized Mrs. M'Niel by the hair and dragged
her up. Another brought Jenny out of the cellar. But the black woman and
the children remained undiscovered. The Indians started off with the two
women on the road towards Burgoyne's camp. Having caught two horses that
were grazing, they attempted to place their prisoners upon them. Mrs.
M'Niel being too heavy to ride, two stout Indians took her by the arms,
and hurried her along, while the others, with Jenny on horseback,
proceeded by another path through the woods. The negro boy having
alarmed the garrison at the fort, a detachment was sent out to effect
a rescue. They fired several volleys at the party of Indians; and the
Indians said that a bullet intended for them mortally wounded Jenny, and
she fell from her horse; and that they then stripped her of her clothing
and scalped her, that they might obtain the reward offered for those
things by Burgoyne.
"Mrs. M'Niel said that the Indians who were hurrying her along seemed to
watch the flash of the guns, and fell down upon their faces, dragging
her down with them. When they got beyond the reach of the firing, the
Indians stript the old lady of everything except her chemise, and
in that plight carried her into the British camp. There she met her
kinsman, General Frazer, who endeavored to make her due reparation
for what she had endured. Soon after, the Indians who had been left
to bring Jenny arrived with some scalps, and Mrs. M'Niel immediately
recognised the long bright hair of the poor girl who had been murdered.
She charged the savages with the crime, but they denied it, and
explained the manner of her death. Mrs. M'Niel was compelled to believe
their story, as she knew it was more to the interest of the Indians to
bring in a prisoner than a scalp.
"It being known in camp that Lieutenant Jones was betrothed to Jenny,
some lively imagination invented the story that he had sent the Indians
to bring her to camp, and that they quarrelled, and one of them scalped
her. This story seemed to be confirmed by General Gates' letter to
Burgoyne, and soon spread all over the country, making the people
more exasperated against the British than ever. Young Jones was
horror-stricken by the death of his betrothed, and immediately offered
to resign his commission, but they would not allow him. He bought
Jenny's scalp, and then, with his brother, deserted, and fled to
Canada."
"Did you ever hear what became of him?" enquired Mrs. Harmar.
"Yes; he was living in Canada the last time I heard of him," replied
Morton. "He never married; and, from being a lively, talkative fellow,
he became silent and melancholy."
"Poor fellow! It was enough to make a man silent and melancholy,"
remarked young Harmar. "I can imagine how I would have felt if deprived
of her I loved, in as tragical a manner." "Don't--don't mention it, my
dear!" exclaimed his wife, sensibly affected at the thought of her being
scalped.
"It was a horrible transaction," remarked Wilson; "and it had a stirring
effect upon our people. I can recollect when I first heard the story
with all its embellishments; I felt as if I could have eaten up all the
red varmints I should chance to meet."
"General Gates's version of the affair answered a good purpose," said
Higgins. "It roused our people to great exertions to defeat the designs
of a government which employed those savages."
"King George's government thought it had a right to make use of every
body--rascals and honest men--to effect its design of enslaving us; but
we taught 'em a thing or two," added Morton, with a gratified smile.
STORY OF THE DEFENCE OF SHELL'S BLOCK-HOUSE.
"I suppose," said young Harmar, "that, while you were up in New York,
you heard of many bloody affairs with the Indians and tories."
"Many a one," replied Morton. "Many a one, sir. I could interest you for
days in recounting all I saw and heard. The poor whigs suffered a great
deal from the rascals--they did. Those in Tryon county, especially, were
always exposed to the attacks of the savages. I recollect an affair that
occurred at a settlement called Shell's Bush, about five miles from
Herkimer village.
"A wealthy German, named John Shell, had built a block-house of his
own. It was two stories high, and built so as to let those inside fire
straight down on the assailants. One afternoon in August, while the
people of the settlement were generally in the fields at work, a
Scotchman named M'Donald, with about sixty Indians and tories, made an
attack on Shell's Bush. Most of the people fled to Fort Dayton, but
Shell and his family took refuge in the block-house. The father and two
sons were at work in the field when the alarm was given. The sons were
captured, but the father succeeded in reaching the block-house, which
was then besieged. Old Shell had six sons with him, and his wife loaded
the muskets, which were discharged with sure aim. This little garrison
kept their foes at a distance. M'Donald tried to burn the block-house,
but did not succeed. Furious at the prospect of being disappointed
of his expected prey, he seized a crowbar, ran up to the door, and
attempted to force it; but old Shell fired and shot him in the leg, and
then instantly opened the door and made him a prisoner. M'Donald was
well supplied with cartridges, and these he was compelled to surrender
to the garrison. The battle was now hushed for a time; and Shell,
knowing that the enemy would not attempt to burn the house while their
captain was in it, went into the second story, and began to sing the
favorite hymn of Martin Luther, when surrounded with the perils he
encountered in his controversy with the Pope."
"That was cool," remarked Higgins.
"Bravely cool," added old Harmar.
"Oh, it was necessary to be cool and brave in those times," said Morton.
"But to go on with my story; the respite was very short. The tories and
Indians were exasperated at the successful resistance of the garrison,
and rushed up to the block-house. Five of them thrust the muzzles of
their pieces through the loop-holes; but Mrs. Shell seized an axe, and,
with well-directed blows, ruined every musket by bending the barrels. At
the same time, Shell and his sons kept up a brisk fire, and drove the
enemy off. About twilight, the old man went up stairs, and called out in
a loud voice to his wife, that Captain Small was approaching from Fort
Dayton, with succor. In a few minutes, he exclaimed, 'Captain Small,
march your company round on this side of the house. Captain Getman, you
had better wheel your men off to the left, and come up on that side.'
This, you see, was a stratagem. The enemy were deceived, took to their
heels, and fled through the woods, leaving eleven men killed and six
wounded. M'Donald was taken to Fort Dayton the next day, where his leg
was amputated; but the blood flowed so freely that he died in a few
hours. On his person was found a silver-mounted tomahawk, which had
thirty-two scalp notches on the handle, to show how he had imitated the
savages."
"But what became of the two sons who were captured by the tories and
Indians?" inquired young Harmar.
"They were carried to Canada," replied Morton. "They afterwards asserted
that nine of the wounded tories died on the way. But some of the Indians
were resolved to have revenge for their defeat, and they lurked in the
woods near Shell's house. One day they found the wished-for opportunity,
and fired upon Shell and his boys while they were at work in the field.
One of the boys was killed, and Shell so badly wounded that he died soon
after, at Fort Dayton."
"Revenge seems a part of an Indian's nature," remarked young Harmar.
"Yes," said Higgins, "they will pursue one who has injured them in any
way until he has paid for it."
"Our people suffered much from them during the Revolution," added
Higgins, "and they want no instruction in regard to their character."
STORY OF BATE'S BEVENGE.
"I recollect," said old Harmar, "after our line went south, under
General Wayne, just after the surrender of Cornwallis, I met some of the
men who had passed through Green's campaign. They were the bitterest
kind of whigs--men who had seen their houses burnt over their heads, and
who could have killed and eaten all the tories they should meet. They
told me many wild stories of the black doings of those traitorous
rascals."
"Tell us one of them, won't you?" entreated Mrs. Harmar.
"Come, father, spin us one of those yarns, as the sailors say," added
her husband. The children also became clamorous for 'a story,' and the
old veteran was compelled to comply.
"Well, you shall hear. A man named Joe Bates told me how he had been
used by the enemy, and how he had been revenged. He joined the southern
army when Greene first took command of it, leaving his wife and two
children at his farm on the banks of the Santee River. His brother, John
Bates, promised to take care of the family and the farm. You see, John
used to help Marion's band whenever he could spare the time--he was so
anxious to do something for the good of his country, and he didn't know
how else he could do it than by going off on an occasional expedition
with Marion. Well, some how or other, Major Wernyss, the commander of
the royalists in the neighborhood, got wind of John's freaks, and also
of those of some other whig farmers, and he said he would put a stop
to them. So he sent a detachment of about twenty-five men to burn the
houses of the people who were suspected of being the friends of Marion.
John Bates heard of their coming, and collected about ten or a dozen
whigs to defend his house. He hadn't time to send the wife of Joe and
his children away to a safer place, or else he thought there was no
better place. However it was, they remained there. The house was barred
up, and everything fixed to give the red-coats a warm reception, should
they attempt to carry out their intention. The time they chose for it
was a moonlight night. The neighbors could see their houses burning
from the upper windows of the one where they were posted, and they kept
muttering curses and threats of vengeance all the time."
"Why didn't each man stay at home, and take care of his own house?"
enquired Mrs. Harmar.
"Of what use would that have been?" returned old Harmar. "By so doing,
they could not have saved any house, and would have lost the chance
of punishing the red-coats for their outrages. I forgot to tell you,
though, that some of the farmers had brought their wives and children
to Bates', and these were all put up-stairs out of the way. The little
garrison had made loop-holes on all sides of the house, and each man had
his rifle and knife ready to guard the post at which he was stationed.
John Bates was the captain, because he knew most about such fightin'
matters; he learned it of Marion. Well, at last the garrison caught
sight of the Britishers coming up steadily, the leader a little in
advance. They didn't seem to suspect that any body was in the house, for
they had found all the rest deserted. Still they thought it wise to be
careful. They surrounded the house at their leader's command, and were
getting their things ready to set fire to it, when the garrison, who had
kept still as death all the time, blazed away at them from all sides.
This staggered the whole party; four or five of their number were shot
dead, and as many more wounded. They rallied, however, and poured a
volley into the house. The garrison, under John's command, returned the
fire, and seemed to have decidedly the best of the matter. Joe's wife
couldn't content herself up-stairs with the women and children. She
wanted to be of some use in defending her own house. She would come down
and load the guns for John, while he kept a look-out on the movements of
the British party. Well, she had just loaded the gun, and was handing it
to John, when a bullet whizzed past him, struck her in the breast, and
she fell dead. John Bates looked through the loop-hole, and caught sight
of one of the red-coats running back from the house, and fired at him
but missed. He saw the man's face, though, and remembered it. John then
bore the corpse up-stairs. The women and children shrieked at the sight,
and thus discovered to the cowardly foe where they were placed. A volley
was sent through the upper part of the house, which killed one of Joe's
children and wounded the wife of a neighbor. But the enemy were losing
men too fast to continue the attack. I think Joe said they had lost half
their party in killed and wounded, while in the house only one man was
wounded. The red-coats that were left began to move off, dragging some
of their wounded with them. Then the farmers threw open the doors and
windows, and, giving a shout of triumph, sent a volley after them that
must have done some damage."
"Didn't they start a pursuit?" inquired Higgins.
"No: John thought his party was not strong enough, and that the glory of
defeating such a party of regulars was enough for once. But several of
the wounded red-coats were taken. Some of the farmers wanted to kill
them right off, but John wouldn't let them. He said there had been blood
enough shed already, and set them at work to bury the dead. Soon after,
John went to the army, and told Joe of the attack, and of the death
of his wife and child. Joe swore, by the most sacred oaths, to have
revenge; and made John describe the appearance of the man whom he had
seen running away from the house after firing the shot that had killed
Mrs. Bates. The man had peculiar features, and could not be mistaken.
"At the great Battle of Eutaw Springs, Joe was among the troops
who charged with trailed arms. He came upon a man who answered the
description given by John, and rushed upon him with such force that he
pinned him to the ground with his bayonet, and he then drew a knife
across his throat to make sure work of it. He told me that he stopped,
amid a tremendous storm of grape and musketry, to take a look at the
Britisher, and to be sure that he had no life in him."
"What bloody creatures war can make men," remarked young Harmar. "That
man was not sure he had killed the murderer of his wife."
"It made no difference to him," replied old Harmar. "He hated the
whole set, and he had no mercy on any of them. Joe Bates was a clever
fellow--as warm a friend and as quiet a companion as you would wish to
meet in time of peace; but he hated like he loved--with all his heart,
and would go through fire and death to get at a foe."
"I believe Joe Bates' conduct was a fair specimen of that of the whole
people of those parts, at that time," said Wilson. "I've been told that
the whigs and tories had no mercy on each other."
"Not a bit," added old Harmar. "It seems to me that the fighting up here
in the North was child's play in comparison with that in the South.
Every man on the American side that went into the battle of Eutaw
Springs, was so full of courage and the desire of revenge that he was
equal to two common men. Greene had difficulty in restraining their
ardor within the limits of prudence. I heard of Colonel Henry Lee and
his legion coming up with a body of tories who were assembled to
march to the British camp, and his men would slaughter them without
mercy, in spite of his efforts to restrain them."
"It was a bloody time," remarked Smith.
"God grant that we may never see its like again," added Morton.
"Up this way," said Wilson, "the tories were quite peaceable and
respectable; and some of them were badly treated without any reason for
it. They were honest men, and differed in opinion with those who judged
the Declaration of Independence and the assumption of arms, necessary
measures."
"Yes," replied Higgins; "its all very well for men to differ in
opinion--nobody finds fault with that; its taking up arms against their
own countrymen, and opposing their country's cause, that we grumble at.
We should all adopt Commodore Decatur's motto; 'Our country--right or
wrong.' If she be right, our support cannot be refused; if wrong, we
should endeavor to set her right, and not, by refusing our support, or
by taking up arms against her, see her fall."
"Bravo!" cried Mr. Jackson Harmar. "There's the true patriotic sentiment
for you. Allow me, Mr. Higgins, to shake hands with you over that
sentiment."
The veteran patriot extended his hand, and received the hearty shake of
the patriot of another generation.
STORY OF GENERAL WAYNE
"Grandfather," said Thomas Jefferson Harmar, "wont you tell us something
about Mad Anthony Wayne?"
"Who learnt you to call him Mad Anthony Wayne?" inquired Higgins.
"That's what grandfather calls him," replied the boy.
"Yes," said old Harmar; "we always called him Mad Anthony--he was such
a dare-devil. I don't believe, if that man, when alone, had been
surrounded by foes, they could really have made him afraid."
"He was a bold and skilful general," remarked Morton. "He was equal to
Arnold in those qualities, and superior to him in all others."
"I think I can see him now, at Morristown, in the midst of the
mutineers, with his cocked pistol in his hand, attempting to enforce
orders--an action that no other man would have thought of doing under
such circumstances." "He did his duty," said Wilson; "but the men cannot
be censured for their conduct. They had received no pay for many months,
were without sufficient clothing to protect them from the weather, and
sometimes without food. If they had not been fighting for freedom and
their country's rights, they never could have stood it out."
"One of the best things Wayne ever did," said Smith, "was that manoeuvre
of his in Virginia, where the British thought they had him surely in a
net."
"What manoeuvre was that?" inquired Mr. Jackson Harmar.