detached to make an examination of the position from different points
of view, but they evidently reported that the summit was accessible
only from the north. As no further attack was made, the defenders
concluded that the chiefs had decided to besiege them and starve them
out, or else to assault under cover of night. In order to frustrate
the latter design, Kenton, taking advantage of the cover of the rocks
and crawling upon his belly, contrived to collect a pile of sticks and
grass at a spot not much farther up the slope than his “dead line.”
When darkness set in, he lit this fire, intimating to the Indians that
they had little better chance of rushing the position than in daylight.
But long before this time Kenton had decided upon the future course
of the little party. The white squaw had declared her willingness to
guide them, and the scout readily placed himself in her hands. There
was one brief hour of darkness before the rising of the moon, and
although this increased the difficulty of descent, it was necessary
that they should avail themselves of it. As soon as their fire was
lit, the white squaw led them to the place at the edge of the plateau
of which she had spoken, leaving their bound captive upon the summit.
She dropped first, and alighted safely upon the ledge below. Kenton
followed and then helped Hardy down. The woman leading, they made the
slow descent of the precipitous rock with joined hands. At length they
were upon the plain and at the outskirts of the village.
All was quiet in Micmacto. The men were at the camp of the besiegers,
where many of the women had joined them out of curiosity and for the
purpose of cooking the evening meal. Two or three fires burned before
wigwams in the village, but the square was steeped in darkness. Kenton
admired the boldness and wisdom with which the woman led the way
directly into Micmacto. The move was calculated to avoid exciting the
dogs and it would most effectually hide their traces. A squaw accosted
them from the doorway of her cabin, but the reply of the white woman
satisfied her and they passed on through the village without further
incident.
Once beyond Micmacto, the party sped away; nor did they halt before
the sun was high in the heavens next day. The woman, who had been ten
years a captive, during which time she had not seen a white man until
encountering Kenton, was strong and active. Furthermore, her dread of
recapture lent her unnatural strength and she urged Kenton to push on
without consideration for her.
Kenton knew that they could not hope for more than six or seven hours’
start, for they had neglected to gag the Indian prisoner, and when
he should find himself alone at daybreak he would surely shout the
intelligence to the besiegers. The party, therefore, made all the haste
possible.
At the close of the third day they found themselves upon the bank of
the Ohio, and by good fortune at a spot which they recognized as not
far from the place where the canoe had been hidden. This was recovered
without difficulty, and before midnight they were in Kentucky. The
journey to Boonesborough was accomplished without mishap, and the
delighted white woman found herself once more in the company of her own
sex and race.
XVII.
A STRING OF DISASTERS
Colonel Bowman heads an expedition against the Indians--The attempted
surprise of Chillicothe--Somebody blundered--A bungling retreat--A
skirmish in the forest--Death of Blackfish, the Shawnee chief--General
Clark takes command of the military forces--The Indians, reinforced
by artillery, invade Kentucky--Ruddle’s and Martin’s Stations are
captured--And their people carried away to the Indian country--Clark
retaliates by attacking the Shawnee villages--Boone returns with his
family--Hardy is permitted to take up the life of the scout--Squire
Boone is slain by the savages.
Whilst Kenton was unable to report positively as to the conclusion of
the Indian council at Micmacto, his information, combined with that
derived from the rescued woman, pointed to a strong probability that
the Shawnees meditated a serious onslaught at an early date. Colonel
Bowman, in charge of the expedition that had been preparing for some
weeks past, determined to start immediately, in the hope of being
able to attack Chillicothe before the tribesmen could gather for the
invasion of Kentucky.
On an early day in July, three hundred men marched for the Indian
stronghold. Colonel Bowman was in chief command and had under him
Captains Harrod and Logan. The force made rapid progress and, in less
than a week’s time after starting, arrived at Chillicothe without the
enemy having gained any knowledge of their approach. Bowman halted
his men at the distance of about a mile from the town and arranged a
plan of action with his officers. Logan was instructed to take half
the force and proceed round the town westward, forming a cordon of
investment. Bowman undertook to perform a similar operation in the
opposite direction and to meet his lieutenant on the other side of the
place. Just before dawn the town was to be assaulted.
Logan set out shortly after midnight and executed his orders with
admirable precision. An hour before dawn his men were placed under
cover enveloping one half of the town. Time wore on but failed to
bring Bowman. At length day broke and the village was soon astir but
still no sign of his commander relieved the anxious Logan. Presently
a dog, straying on the outskirts of the town, scented one of the men
in ambush and set up a persistent barking. A warrior started for the
spot to investigate the cause of the animal’s excitement. The concealed
backwoodsman fired, in violation of his instructions, and in an instant
confusion reigned, not only in the village but also in the ranks of the
attackers.
It was now broad daylight and many men who sprang from their cover on
the alarm were plainly visible to the warriors and revealed to them the
fact that an attack in force was in progress. The squaws and children
went scuttling into the woods and the men, hastily picking up their
arms, ran into the council-house, which stood on an elevated spot at
one end of the square. The movement was performed with such unanimity
that it was clearly a prearranged resort for such an emergency.
Logan now advanced his men and took possession of the deserted cabins
upon the west side of the square. Under the instructions of their
leader they quickly formed the doors and other suitable material into
shields and under cover of them began to advance upon the Indian
stronghold. Most of the force were in the middle of the square, whilst
others were creeping up behind the cabins, when Bowman issued the
order to retire. Logan was amazed and his men were reluctant to obey.
However, the commander repeated the order in such peremptory terms that
there was no questioning it.
The backwoodsmen had little discipline and no formation. When they
retreated each man looked out for himself, and the movement was always
characterized by disorder and often by unnecessary loss. In this case
the men under Logan were at a distinct disadvantage. They had advanced
into the open to make an attack, and now there was nothing for it but
to throw down their breastworks and run. This they did, whilst the
Indians rained bullets upon them. Several lives were lost before the
force was once more united in the forest to the south of the town.
But this was only the beginning of a disgraceful rout that strikingly
exemplified the manner in which a body of brave men will go to pieces
in the hands of an incompetent commander. Nearly three hundred men
commenced a retreat in the face of not more than forty savages. The
Indians, under Blackfish, hung upon the rear and flanks of Bowman’s
party and picked off men at their leisure and without danger to
themselves. At length Bowman ordered a halt and turned to face the
pursuers.
Here was committed another of the series of blunders. After traversing
a stretch of the densest forest and undergrowth, the party was brought
to a stand just beyond it in comparatively open ground. The situation
gave the assailants even a greater advantage than they had enjoyed
whilst the force was on the march. A considerable proportion of the
whites could not secure adequate cover, whilst the redskins kept up
their fire without in the least exposing themselves. Bowman seemed
to be incapable of direction and the men were verging upon panic. An
overwhelming disaster would doubtless have ensued had not Logan and
Harrod, followed by Kenton, Hardy, and half a dozen others, mounted
the pack-horses and charged through the neighboring forest in every
direction, dislodging the lurking savages.
The turn of affairs aided the disconcerted whites to regain their
self-possession, and they turned upon the Indians with something like
their wonted energy and intelligence. As the redskins ran from cover
before the horsemen, many of them were brought down by the rifles of
the backwoodsmen, and when one of the bullets found a billet in the
heart of Blackfish, the Shawnees fled from the field of the action.
It is impossible to explain the bungling conduct of the commander of
this expedition. Attempts have been made, with indifferent success,
to exculpate Bowman. He was a man of proved courage, had a good
military record and had served with credit under Clark in the Illinois
campaign, but he returned to Kentucky on this occasion with a shattered
reputation.
Bowman’s feeble incursion to the Indian country was not calculated to
have the effect for which it was designed. The death of Blackfish,
however, induced the Indians to postpone the expedition into Kentucky
that had been contemplated. But they were eager for revenge and sought
the aid of the British in an attack upon the settlements, which was
timed to take place in the following spring. The authorities at Detroit
were smarting under a sense of humiliation occasioned by Clark’s
success at Vincennes, and they readily fell in with the proposition of
the Shawnees. Arrangements were made for the despatch of a joint force
against the hated Kentuckians.
In the year 1779, numbers of bona fide settlers came into Kentucky and
some thirty time-expired men, who had been with Clark in Illinois,
returned. The newcomers scattered over a wide area, many stations
being planted south and west of the Kentucky River from Boonesborough
to Louisville, and upon the forks of the Licking. Early in the year
Lexington was provided with a blockhouse and “three rows of cabins.”
A few months later Bryan’s Station was established at a point about
five miles northeast of Lexington. Kentucky was thus in a much better
condition to defend itself than it had been the year before, as might
be inferred from the fact of Bowman being able to muster three hundred
riflemen for a raid, whereas Boone could gather but seventy to repel
the attack upon Boonesborough.
Shortly after this time, Kentucky was divided into three counties.
General Clark was in command of the entire territory. He had the rank
of brigadier-general and held his headquarters at Fort Nelson, where
the city of Louisville now stands. John Todd was the colonel commanding
in Lincoln County, which contained Boonesborough, with Daniel Boone as
lieutenant-colonel.
These changes had not, however, taken place in the spring of 1778;
otherwise it is more than probable that a greater state of preparedness
against attack would have existed. Boone had not yet returned. Bowman
was still in command of the militia, and the settlers seem to have
entertained no apprehensions of reprisals on the part of the Indians.
The awakening was rude and sudden and the escape from dire disaster
entirely a matter of good fortune.
In May, six hundred Indians assembled at Detroit preparatory to the
expedition against the Kentucky settlements. At the close of the month
they took up the march, reinforced by a body of French-Canadians
under Colonel Byrd. The numerical strength of the force was unusually
great, but it was rendered especially formidable by the addition of
two field-pieces. The transportation of this artillery was a matter of
extreme difficulty. The guns and their carriages were first hauled from
Detroit to the waters of the Great Miami. They were then floated down
that stream to the Ohio; next up the Ohio to the mouth of the Licking,
and up that river to a landing place. From this point the invaders
were forced to cut a road through the forest for many miles to their
ultimate destination.
It is almost incredible that the slow advance of so large a body,
accompanied by the most obtrusive operations, should have been
accomplished without the knowledge of the settlers. Clearly, there
was not a scout out in the direction of the Indian country, although
the failure of Bowman’s movement of the previous summer should have
suggested the utmost precautions.
On the twenty-second of June the enemy appeared before Ruddle’s Station
and took the settlers completely by surprise. It is true that they
could not have made an effective defence even though they had received
warning of the attack. Stockades were helpless against artillery. But
the invading force might have been attacked with good effect whilst on
the march and encumbered by its heavy guns.
The garrison realized the futility of resistance, which could only
serve to infuriate the savages. The gates were, therefore, thrown open
in response to the demand to “surrender at discretion to the arms of
his Britannic Majesty.” The Indians rushed into the fort, made its
occupants prisoners, and secured all the property worth carrying off.
A few miles distant lay Martin’s Station. This was taken in a similar
manner. By this time the savages, who had agreed to spare the lives of
the captives, were getting out of hand and beyond the control of the
British officer. Already several of the settlers had been tomahawked
and scalped. Colonel Byrd now declined to support the Indians in
further operations. Thus deprived of the main element of their
strength, the chiefs decided to retreat to their own country. Had the
campaign been continued with vigor it is conceivable that the whites
might have been swept out of Kentucky.
No attempt was made to follow or intercept the victorious Indians. They
retired rapidly with their plunder and prisoners. All the adults among
the latter were compelled to carry loads, and many of them, especially
the women, fell exhausted under their burdens. These were promptly put
to death by their captors.
Of the settlers who survived the terrible ordeal of this march, some
were dispersed among the Indians, to meet with variously horrible fates
and in very few cases to regain their homes. Others, more fortunate,
were carried to Detroit, where they were held as prisoners of war until
the close of the Revolution.
This affair had a depressing effect upon the settlers, and particularly
upon those who were new to the country. It is probable that an exodus
would have commenced, but just at this juncture General Clark assumed
command and with his characteristic energy and ability put a different
complexion upon the situation.
Clark immediately mustered the militia and called for additional
volunteers. His splendid reputation insured a ready response, and he
was soon at the head of a force of several hundred men, with which
he made a rapid march into the Indian country. The expedition was
conducted with marked ability and met with the utmost success. Several
Indian towns were taken and destroyed and a considerable area laid
waste. Some shortsighted writers have characterized these ravages as
wanton cruelty, failing to realize that the destruction of the crops
and buildings of the Indians was one of the most effective means of
keeping their men at home to repair the damage and engage in hunting
for the subsistence of their families.
Despite the disasters at Ruddle’s and Martin’s, emigration continued
and several new stations were located during the year 1780. For
the most part, the newcomers were of a desirable class. They were
generally homeseekers and, like the first settlers, inured to the
hardships and exigencies of frontier life. In many cases they came down
the Ohio and formed settlements in the region between that river and
the Kentucky, so that Boonesborough was no longer in the front rank of
the defence presented to the Indians. Most of the new settlements were
small and weak but they depended upon aid from their neighbors in time
of trouble.
In October Boone returned with his family. Not only the settlement for
which he was responsible, but the whole country experienced an access
of confidence from the presence of this tower of strength. By the
people of Boonesborough he was, as always after an absence, welcomed
with joy. Hardy and Kenton, who entertained the strongest affection for
their leader, were of course delighted to have him with them again.
They had much to tell him of their own adventures and of the affairs of
the settlers.
Kenton gave what was, perhaps, a somewhat overdrawn account of Hardy’s
share in their joint scouting expeditions. Boone expressed as much
pleasure as his habitual reticence would permit, and when Hardy begged
to be allowed to continue upon the path he had entered under the
guidance of Kenton, his foster-father assented. Boone could see no
reason why Hardy should not regularly adopt the calling of the scout,
for which Kenton declared him to be admirably adapted. It was a time
when, next to good leaders, the greatest need of the community was
good rangers. And so it was arranged that Hardy should complete his
apprenticeship under the tutelage of Kenton.
“I wouldn’t undertake it, Captain,” said the scout, apologetically,
“only I suppose that you’ll be tied to the station most of the time.
What he learns from me in a twelvemonth won’t amount to as much as
you’d teach him in a week.”
“Make him as good a scout as yourself, Si, and he won’t find any
betters this side of the Alleghanies,” replied Boone.
Late in the fall, Daniel Boone and his brother Squire went on a hunt in
the country to the north of the settlement. One evening they were in
camp near the Blue Licks when a party of Indians opened fire upon them
from the neighboring brush. Squire fell dead at the first discharge
and Daniel Boone sprang to his feet and fled into the forest. He made
good headway and after going three or four miles had left his pursuers
considerably in the rear, but had not been able to shake off a hound
which the savages had set upon his track. At length he stopped and shot
the animal, after which his flight was continued without interference.
The death of his brother affected Daniel Boone deeply. They had been
companions in many hunting and scouting expeditions. They had shared
many dangers and difficulties. Before the entry of settlers Daniel and
Squire had spent months alone, exploring the wilds of Kentucky.
In his self-contained way Boone mourned many months for his brother.
But this severe blow was soon followed by a heavier one.
XVIII.
“THE BLOODY YEAR”
Whitaker and his men fall into an ambush--A number are killed but
the remainder rally and beat off the Indians--Colonel Floyd goes
in pursuit--He has a fight with the savages--His force is put to
flight with the loss of half its number--Captain Wells rescues his
commander--The McAfee brothers, noted Kentucky backwoodsmen--They have
an exciting adventure with a band of Indians--The “bloody year” is
ushered in by the loss of Laughrey’s party--One hundred and seven men
are killed or captured--Estill’s battle with the Wyandots--Another
defeat for the whites--The Indian tribes gather and plan a great
invasion of Kentucky under the leadership of two white men.
The winter of 1780-81 was long remembered in Kentucky as the “hard
winter.” The intensity of the cold confined the Indians more closely
than usual to their villages. But though the settlers were thus
exempted from the annoyance of marauding parties, they suffered
severely on account of the insufficiency of food. The crops of the
previous autumn had been in large part destroyed, and many immigrants
had arrived too late in the year to plough and sow. Buffalo meat, and a
scanty allowance of that, formed the main subsistence of the people for
several months.
With the opening of spring a number of Indian parties crossed into
Kentucky. One of these ambushed a body of men under Colonel William
Linn and killed four of the number, including the leader. Captain
Whitaker, with fifteen “guns,” pursued the Indians and trailed them to
the Ohio. Supposing them to have crossed the river, Whitaker commenced
to embark his men in canoes, with the object of following. Whilst thus
engaged, the whites were suddenly attacked in the rear by the redskins
who, instead of taking to their canoes, had stepped into the water and
walked some distance through it, returning finally to the bank, where
they formed an ambuscade.
It was a very pretty trap and the whites were completely caught in
it. Nine of their number fell in the course of a few minutes, but the
remainder rallied and attacked the Indians with such spirit that they
fled into the forest.
In the next month--April--the settlers at Shelbyville, a station that
had been established by Squire Boone, were warned by a scout of the
approach of a strong body of redskins. There were few men in the
place and the stockade was not in a fit condition for defence. It was
determined, therefore, to remove to a nearby settlement on Bear Creek.
This proved to be an unfortunate step, for the Indians assailed the
party _en route_, dispersing it and killing more than half its number.
Colonel Floyd hastily collected twenty-five men and went in pursuit of
this body of warriors, which numbered two hundred.
Whilst they were fearless fighters, most of the leaders among the
Kentucky settlers lacked the cool caution that characterized Boone’s
movements. Nor did they possess the intimate knowledge of the Indians’
habits and strategy which enabled him so successfully to cope with
the savages. Indeed, it may be said that the only military officer
in Kentucky at that time who in any degree approached Boone in these
respects was George Rogers Clark, and possibly Logan. As to the rest,
they were constantly blundering into ambuscades that should have been
avoided.
On this occasion, Floyd allowed his zeal to outrun his discretion.
In his eagerness to overtake the retreating warriors, he neglected
the ordinary precaution of scouting across his front and marched his
force into a carefully prepared ambush. Half his men were slain in the
fight that ensued, and the remainder retreated in the usual disorderly
fashion. Floyd’s horse had been shot under him and he was wounded. Weak
and exhausted, he began to lag behind and would most assuredly have
fallen into the hands of the pursuers had not Captain Wells, who was
well mounted, come to his aid. Wells insisted upon Floyd taking his
place in the saddle and himself ran alongside, holding a stirrup. Thus
both escaped from a very perilous situation.
A feeling of enmity had existed between these two, but this gallant
action of Captain Wells knit them in a close friendship that lasted
through life.
Among the most noted of the Kentucky backwoodsmen were three brothers
named Samuel, James, and Robert McAfee, who had planted a station in
the vicinity of Harrodsburg. One day in May, Samuel McAfee left the
fort with another man to visit a nearby farm. They had not proceeded
more than a quarter of a mile when they were fired upon and McAfee’s
companion fell dead. McAfee turned and ran towards the fort, but an
Indian sprang into the path to intercept him. The two men raised their
rifles with muzzles almost touching. They pressed the trigger at the
same instant. The redskin’s gun missed fire, whilst McAfee’s sent the
bullet home.
As Samuel McAfee started afresh for the shelter of the stockade his two
brothers ran out to meet him. Despite the warnings of the elder, Robert
insisted upon going forward to secure the scalp of the dead Indian.
By this time a number of warriors had placed themselves between the
brothers and the fort. Samuel sped on and, although many shots were
fired at him, reached the gate untouched.
Dodging from tree to tree and using his rifle when occasion offered,
Robert McAfee gradually gained to within one hundred yards of the fort,
when he made a dash for it and entered the stockade in safety.