A NIGHT OF FIGHTING AND TERROR
In Fort Detroit the night after that of Gladwyn's dinner party was one
of sleeplessness, busy preparation, and intense, though suppressed
excitement. The expedition intended for the surprise and destruction
of Pontiac's village, and the rescue of the Hesters, was about to set
forth under command of Captain Dalzell. As it was believed that the
Indians would be less on their guard just before dawn than at any other
hour of the night, the line of march was not to be taken up until two
o'clock in the morning. At that hour the great gate of the fort was
thrown open and the selected troops, two hundred and fifty in number,
filed silently out into the intense darkness of the sultry night.
In close order and without the utterance of a word they marched up the
river road, the black waters gleaming dimly on their right. Their left
was bounded by the white houses of Canadian settlers, with their barns
and orchards and cornfields. From these they were saluted by the
clamorous barking of watch-dogs, while many a startled face peered
anxiously at them from the unshuttered windows. The frightened
inhabitants, roused from sleep by the unusual sound of marching troops,
were filled with uneasiness, and gathered in little groups by the
roadside to question each other and listen to the measured tramping as
it was borne faintly back to them on the damp night air.
Besides these there were other figures flitting behind the houses,
through the rustling cornfields and from tree to tree of the orchards,
as still and dark as shadows, but ever keeping pace with the marching
troops, and ever watching them. These were the scouts of Pontiac,
without whose knowledge no man had left the gates of Detroit by day or
night for more than a year. Out on the water was heard the muffled
sound of oars from the two bateaux, each armed with a swivel gun that
kept abreast of the troops close to the river bank.
Nearly two miles from the fort, Parent's creek, ever since that
memorable night called "Bloody Run," crossed the road at right angles
through a rough ravine, and entered the river a short distance below
amid a rank growth of sedge and wild rice. It was spanned by a rude
wooden bridge and beyond this the bank rose steeply. On its summit
were piled stacks of firewood provided for winter's use by the thrifty
Canadians; while from it stretched away another series of orchards and
fields, enclosed by stout fences. As the dark column of troops struck
the bridge, its hollow echoes rang ominously in their ears and a deadly
chill seemed to come into the air.
The advanced guard had crossed the bridge and breasted the steep ascent
to its summit. The narrow structure behind them was choked by the
passage of the main body. All were pressing eagerly forward, anxious
to gain the open ground beyond; when suddenly there arose, clear and
shrill from the blackness beside them, the terrible war-cry of Pontiac.
It was instantly answered by a burst of yells and a blaze of fire from
every wood-pile, fence, and tree, behind which the fierce Ottawa
warriors had been concealed for hours in anticipation of this moment.
Before that withering fire the advanced guard, leaving half their
number dead behind them, staggered back on the main body, and all
recoiled together. The little bridge became clogged beyond its
capacity with panic-stricken humanity, those in front striving to fly,
those in the rear endeavoring to advance, until dozens of dead,
wounded, and even of those untouched by bullet were forced over the
unrailed sides into the gloomy depths below. If at this moment an
attack had been made from the rear, not a man of Dalzell's force would
ever have regained Fort Detroit. This was what Pontiac had planned,
and, for want of allies whom he could more fully trust, he had
consigned this important duty to Mahng and his Ojibwas. Now, amid the
roar of battle, he listened with strained ears for the firing that
should denote the Ojibwa attack. But no sound came from that
direction, and the heart of the great warrior sank within him as he
realized that a vital part of his plan had miscarried.
He had scant time for reflection, however, for the brave Dalzell,
forcing his way to the front, raised his cheery voice with encouraging
shouts, rallied his bewildered men, and led them on a fierce charge up
the heights. One more crashing volley was poured into their ranks, but
it no longer came as a surprise, and mad with fury the redcoats swept
on to the summit. To their amazement, it was as deserted as though no
human being had ever trodden its soil. The place from which, a moment
before, Indian guns had flashed in their faces, was as silent as the
grave. The enemy had vanished in the blackness as though by magic, and
unaccustomed to the tactics of forest warfare, the newly arrived troops
became filled with a mysterious fear.
Still their leader urged them forward, and the uncertain march was
continued for a short distance until it became apparent that the fence
lines had been changed, so as to lead them from the road, and that they
were involved in a maze of outbuildings and enclosures. As they
blindly groped their way, starting nervously at every contact with each
other, and becoming each moment more confused, the shrill war-cry was
again raised, in their very ears; the guns of an unseen foe again
flashed in their faces, and they were furiously attacked from all sides
at once. They could not fight back; for if they sprang at the flash of
a gun, it was only to find an empty space. A cry arose that they were
being surrounded, and in another minute the whole force was in a
panic-stricken retreat, rushing pell-mell down the bank and across the
bridge which was still held by the rear guard under Captain Grant.
Here Dalzell managed to restore partial order and give his men a
certain degree of confidence by ordering the crews of the bateaux,
which had come up the creek, to sweep the opposite bank with grape from
their swivel guns. Thus the enemy was held in check while such of the
wounded as could be found were got into the boats. The moment this
task was accomplished the retreat was resumed, while the Indians sprang
in pursuit, pouring in a heavy fire from the rear and both flanks.
Every now and then the rear guard faced about and delivered a volley at
their yelling pursuers, who promptly returned it with interest. Still
the way was open to the fort, and no serious fears were entertained
that this would not eventually be reached, until, when half the
distance was covered, the main body came opposite to a newly dug
cellar. In this were concealed a strong force of Indians under Pontiac
himself, who had hurried them to this point with the hope of still
cutting off the retreat, and making good the previous failure of his
plan. The advance was allowed to pass. Then came again the terrible
signal-cry of the Ottawa chieftain. With it his warriors delivered
such an unexpected and scathing volley that the bewildered troops again
broke ranks, and, not knowing which way to fly, huddled together like
sheep in their frenzied efforts to escape the hail of bullets.
Dalzell, already twice wounded, threatened his men, pleaded with them,
beat them into line with the flat of his sword, and finally rallied
them in a charge that cleared the fatal cellar of its yelling inmates.
But the moment the retreat was resumed the attack became as fierce and
galling as ever. Pontiac distributed his warriors from house to house,
stationing them in such advantageous positions that their fire was
well-nigh unsupportable, and every rod of the road to safety must be
stubbornly contested.
It was now daylight, and through the morning mist the harassed soldiers
could see their agile foes darting forward to cut off stragglers,
despatch the wounded, or scalp the dead, leaping back, firing, and
running to new positions, all the time yelling like so many demons. A
strong party opening fire from behind a range of fences, Captain Gray
was ordered to dislodge them. He obeyed, and fell mortally wounded at
the head of his charging company. The moment his men turned their
backs, the active foe rushed to their old position, and their fire
became hotter than before.
The retreat was now resolved into a flight, the dead lay where they
fell, and the wounded were abandoned to their fate. A sergeant shot
through the hips raised himself on his hands and gazed despairingly
after the retiring battalion. Dalzell saw him. They had fought
together on many a stubborn field, and the commander could not leave
his old comrade to perish. He sprang to the rescue of the wounded man,
and was lifting him when struck and instantly killed by an Indian
bullet. Few saw him fall, and none dared attempt the recovery of his
body.
With the death of their gallant leader, the retreating troops became a
panic-stricken mob in which every one looked out for himself. Only
Grant's little company and Rogers' handful of rangers stood firm, and
by occupying house after house as they slowly fell back, protected
somewhat the flight of the main body.
The exhausted fugitives were still at a distance from the fort when
they were met by an irregular company of traders and their employees,
the sole force that Gladwyn dared spare from his slender garrison,
under command of Paymaster Bullen. The little man in buckskin
displayed such coolness and good judgment, and was so ably supported by
his motley following, that from that moment the disastrous retreat was
effectively covered. By eight o'clock, or after six hours of marching
and fighting, the disorganized remnant of the little army, that had set
forth to wipe Pontiac and his red followers from the face of the earth,
found themselves, as by a miracle, once more behind the sheltering
palisades of the fort, which for many months thereafter they had no
desire to leave.
About this time, the Ottawa chieftain who had won this signal victory,
returned to his village with so moody a brow, that even his own
followers durst not utter their rejoicings in his presence. He had
been so confident of destroying Dalzell's entire force and his plans
had been so well laid, that to have them miscarry through treachery,
aroused his utmost fury. Thus he now proposed to deal with the
traitors in such a manner that there would be no chance of their
example becoming contagious among the warriors who still acknowledged
his authority.