THE STORMING OF SINQUEFIELD.
When the news of the massacre at Kimball's reached Fort Glass, a
detachment of ten men was sent out to recover the bodies, which they
brought to Fort Sinquefield for burial. The graves were dug in a little
valley three or four hundred yards from the fort, and all the people
went out to attend the funeral. The services had just come to an end
when the cry of "Indians! Indians!" was raised, and a body of warriors,
under the prophet Francis, dashed down from behind a hill, upon the
defenceless people, whose guns were inside the fort. The first impulse
of every one was to catch up the little children and hasten inside the
gates, but it was manifestly too late. The Indians were already nearer
the fort than they, and were running with all their might, brandishing
their knives and tomahawks, and yelling like demons.
There seemed no way of escape. Sam Hardwicke took little Judie up in his
arms, and, quick as thought calculated the chances of reaching the fort.
Clearly the only way in which he could possibly get there, was by
leaving his little sister to her fate and running for his life. But Sam
Hardwicke was not the sort of boy to do anything so cowardly as that.
Abandoning the thought of getting to the fort, he called to Tom to
follow him, and with Judie in his arms, he ran into a neighboring
thicket, where the three, with Joe, a black boy of twelve or thirteen
years who had followed them, concealed themselves in the bushes. Whether
they had been seen by the Indians or not, they had no way of knowing,
but their only hope of safety now lay in absolute stillness. They
crouched down together and kept silence.
"What's we gwine to do here, I wonder," whispered the black boy. "Whar
mus' we go, Mas Sam?"
Sam did not answer. He was too much absorbed in studying the situation
to talk or even to listen. The Indians were coming down upon the white
people from every side, and the only wonder was that Sam's little party
had managed to find a gap in their line big enough to escape through.
"Be patient, Joe," said little Judie, in the calmest voice possible.
"Brother Sam will take care of us. Give him time. He always does know
what to do."
"Be still, Joe," said Sam. "If you talk that Indian'll see us," pointing
to one not thirty steps distant, though Joe had not yet seen him.
A terrified "ugh!" was all the reply Joe could make.
Meantime the situation of the fort people was terrible. Cut off from the
gates and unarmed, there seemed to be nothing for them to do except to
meet death as bravely and calmly as they could. A young man named Isaac
Harden happened to be near the gates, however, on horseback, and
accompanied by a pack of about sixty hounds. And this young man, whose
name has barely crept into a corner of history, was both a hero and a
military genius, and he did right then and there, a deed as brilliant
and as heroic as any other in history. Seeing the perilous position of
the fort people, he raised himself in his stirrups and waving his hat,
charged the savages _with his pack of dogs_, whooping and yelling after
the manner of a huntsman, and leading the fierce bloodhounds right into
the ranks of the infuriated Indians. The dogs being trained to chase and
seize any living thing upon which their master might set them, attacked
the Indians furiously, Harden encouraging them and riding down group
after group of the bewildered savages. Charging right and left with his
dogs, he succeeded in putting the Indians for a time upon the defensive,
thus giving the white people time to escape into the fort. When all were
in except Sam's party and a Mrs. Phillips who was killed, Harden began
looking about him for a chance to secure his own safety. His impetuosity
had carried him clear through the Indian ranks, and the savages, having
beaten the dogs off, turned their attention to the young cavalier who
had balked them in the very moment of their victory. They were between
him and the gates, hundreds against one. His dogs were killed or
scattered, and he saw at a glance that there was little hope for him.
The woods behind him were full of Indians, and so retreat was
impossible. Turning his horse's head towards the gates, he plunged spurs
into his side, and with a pistol in each hand, dashed through the savage
ranks, firing as he went. Blowing a blast upon his horn to recall those
of his dogs which were still alive, he escaped on foot into the fort,
just in time to let the gate shut in the face of the foremost Indian.
His horse, history tells us, was killed under him, and he had five
bullet holes through his clothes, but his skin was unbroken.
[Illustration: SAM'S PARTY.]
Francis and his followers were balked but not beaten. Retiring for a few
minutes behind the hill, they rallied and came again to the assault,
more furiously than ever. Their savage instincts were thoroughly aroused
by the unexpected defeat they had sustained in the very moment of their
victory, and they were determined now to take the fort at any cost.
Their plan of attack showed the skill of their leader, who was really a
man of considerable ability in spite of his fanatical belief in his own
prophetic gifts. He avoided both the errors usually committed by Indian
leaders in storming fortified places. He refused, on the one hand, to
let his men waste their powder and their time in desultory firing, and,
on the other, he decided not to risk everything on the hazard of a
single assault. His plan was to take the fort by storm, but the storming
was to be done systematically. Dividing his force into two parts, he
sent one to the attack, and held the other back in the hope that the
first would gain a position so near the stockade as to make the assault
of the second, led by himself, doubly sure of success. The plan was a
good one, without doubt, and no man was better qualified than Francis to
carry it out.
When the storming party came, the people in the fort were ready for it.
Counting out the women and children, their numbers were not large, but
they were a brave and determined set of men and boys, who knew very well
in what kind of a struggle they were engaged. They reserved their fire
until the Indians were within thirty yards of the fort, and then
delivered it as rapidly as they could, taking care to waste none of it
by random or careless shooting. The fort consisted, as all the border
fortifications did, of a simple stockade, inside of which was a
block-house for the protection of the women and children, and designed
also as a sort of "last ditch," in which a desperate resistance could be
made, even after the fort had been carried. The stockade was made of the
trunks of pine-trees set on end in the ground, close together, but
pierced at intervals with port-holes, through which the men of the
garrison could fire. Such a stockade afforded an excellent protection
against the bullets and the arrows of the Indians, and gave its
defenders a great advantage over the assailing force, which must, of
course, be exposed to a galling fire from the men behind the barriers.
As the stockade was about fifteen feet high, climbing over it was almost
wholly out of the question, and the only way to take the fort was to
rush upon it with fence rails, stop up the port-holes immediately in
front, and keep so close to the stockade as to escape the fire from
points to the right and left, while engaged in cutting down the timber
barrier. If the Indians could do this, their superior numbers would
enable them to rush in through the opening thus made, and then the
block-house would be the only refuge left to the white people. The
block-house was a building made of very large timbers, hewed square,
laid close upon each other and notched to an exact fit at the ends. It
had but one entrance, and that was near the top. This could be reached
only by a ladder, and should the Indians gain access to the fort, the
whites would retire, fighting, to this building, and when all were in,
the ladder would be drawn in after them. From the port-holes of the
block-house a fierce fire could be delivered, and as the square timbers
were not easily set on fire, a body of Indians must be very determined
indeed, if they succeeded in taking or destroying a block-house. At Fort
Mims, however, they had done so, burning the house over the heads of the
inmates.
The reader will understand, from this description of the fort, how
possible it was for the people within it to withstand a very determined
attack, and to inflict heavy loss upon the savages, without suffering
much in their turn. Francis's men charged furiously upon the silent
stockade, but were sent reeling back as soon as they had come near
enough for the riflemen within to fire with absolute accuracy of aim.
Then the second body, under Francis himself, charged, but with no
better success. A pause followed, and another charge was made just
before nightfall.
This time some of the savages succeeded in reaching the stockade and
stopping up some of the port-holes. They cut down a part of the pickets
too, and had their friends charged again at once, the fort would
undoubtedly have been carried. As it was, Francis saw fit to draw off
his men, for the time at least, and retire beyond the hill. What was now
to be done? The attack had been repulsed, but it might be renewed at any
moment. The Indians had suffered considerably, while the casualties
within the fort were limited to the loss of one man and one boy. But the
obstinate determination of Francis was well known, and it was certain
that he had not finally abandoned his purpose of taking the little fort.
He had already demonstrated his ability to carry the place, and it was,
at the least, likely that he would come again within twenty-four hours,
probably with a larger force, and should he do so, the little garrison
was not in condition to repel his attack. To remain in the fort,
therefore, was certain destruction; but the country was full of savages,
and to attempt a march to Fort Glass, fifteen miles away, which was the
nearest available place, the other forts being difficult to reach, was
felt to be almost equally hazardous. A council was held, and it was
finally determined that the perilous march to Fort Glass must be
undertaken at all hazards. Accordingly, not long after nightfall the
whole garrison, men, women and children, stealthily left the fort and
silently crept away to the south.
Sam had seen the dog charge and the escape of the whites into the fort.
"What a fool I was!" he exclaimed, "not to stay where I was! We might
have got in with the rest of them."
"Why can't we go to de fort now, or leastways, as soon as de Injuns goes
away?" asked Joe.
"They ain't going away," said Sam. "They're going to storm the
fort,--look, they're coming right here for a starting-point, and 'll be
on top of us in a minute. Come!--don't make any noise, but follow me.
Crawl on your hands and knees, and don't raise your heads. Look out for
sticks. If you break one, the Indians 'll hear it."
"Mas' Sam--dey's Injuns ahead'n us an' a-comin right torge us too. Look
dar!"
Sam looked, and saw a body of Indians just in front of him coming to
reinforce the others. He and his friends were cut off between two bodies
of savages.
"Lie down and be still," he whispered. "It's all we can do--and I'm to
blame for it all!"