was busily employed rallying those who were indifferent about going to
the battle, and encouraging those who had volunteered; amongst other
persuasive arguments to volunteer, he made use of these, viz.: that
Fort Meigs was badly constructed and illy defended; asserting that
they could take it without the loss of a man. But, if this could not
be effected, he would then lead them on to Fort Wayne, which would
certainly fall an easy prey to them. He then left them, and went to the
Wabash to brings his warriors, who were stationed at that place.
Previous to the march of the Indians, they took bark of swamp willow,
and tobacco, mixed them together, and pulverized them. They then formed
a circle round a fire which had been prepared for that purpose, and one
rose and delivered a speech, I understood, relative to the war. At the
conclusion of the speech, they passed this powder around the circle,
each individual taking a pinch as it passed; each then snuffed a part
of this portion, and threw the remaining part in the fire. After this
had been performed with the greatest solemnity, one took the snuff
which yet remained in the vessel, and threw it in the fire. They then
took up their packs, raised the scalp halloo, waved their tomahawks
over their heads, and marched for battle.
There were three thousand who drew four days’ rations at Detroit. When
they left us, they told us to be good boys, and stay there till they
came back, and they would bring some more Yankees, who should cook,
and do all the hard work, and we might go with them hunting.
They left us in care of the squaws and a few old men.
We had no other way by which to get free from this unpleasant
situation, but deserting them; for they had been offered one hundred
dollars each, for four of us, by the citizens of Detroit, but refused
it. These four were Major Graves, Samuel Ganoe, John Davenport, and
myself.
Thinking this as favorable an opportunity as we could get, I requested
Samuel Ganoe to set off with me; he readily consented, and we set off
just at dark, and ran to Detroit, which was eight miles, and got to
the house of Mr. H., who concealed us in his cellar. He had a hole dug
in the bottom of his cellar six or eight feet deep, for the purpose
of keeping potatoes; and in this we were put, and he laid planks over
it, and threw dirt on the planks, which caused it to bear so nice a
semblance to the other part of the cellar, that the Indians could not
distinguish it from the common bottom. This dismal dungeon was our
abode for half a day, during which time the Indians came, and searched
carefully for us, but in vain. After they were gone, Mr. H. asked a
British officer if he would take the care of us. He replied in the
affirmative, and then sent us immediately to the fort at Detroit,
where we were kept two days, the Indians still searching for us. On the
second night about midnight, we were sent to Sandwich, and kept there
two days with but little to eat, and then sent to Malden. We found the
force at Malden to consist of sixty Canadian French, besides eighty who
had received wounds at the River Raisin, and who would no doubt remain
invalids for life. We also found stationed at Malden, James Girty, who,
I was informed, was brother to the infamous Simon Girty; his business
was to receive scalps from the Indians; his pay for this service was
three dollars per week. I saw here about half a bushel of scalps in a
kettle! the number I cannot guess at.
After every exertion to take Fort Meigs had failed, the British
returned to Malden, cursing Harrison for a rabbit, which they swore had
burrowed, and which they could not take in that situation.
From Malden we were taken across to Cleveland, on the 16th day of May,
1813.
The following prisoners were with the Indians at the time I was a
prisoner, viz.: Major Graves, Jarret Dougherty, Thomas Jones, Joseph
Foddre, and John Fightmaster; the latter of whom had deserted from us,
was brought back, and made to ride the wooden horse. He then deserted
to the Indians, swearing--he had rather stay with them than ride
Winchester’s _English mare_ again.
I heard of three other prisoners, but do not remember their names; two
of whom were about twenty miles from Detroit, and the other near Malden.
From Cleveland nothing worth relating occurred until I arrived at home,
in Bourbon county, Kentucky; where I found my friends all in good
health, my father excepted, who had gone to face the same enemy from
whom I had just made my escape.
NARRATIVE
OF
MR. JOHN DAVENPORT.
During the battle which was fought on the 18th of January, 1813,
between the American forces, under the command of Colonel Lewis, and
the combined British and Indians, I received a wound in my right leg
by a ball which fractured the bone, but did not entirely break it.
After the battle was over I, with many others who were also wounded,
was carried off the field and put in a house, where we remained until
after the battle of the 22d, when we were surrendered prisoners of war
to the British. I remained here during the night of the 22d, with the
expectation of being carried to Malden the next day, but in this I was
disappointed. On the morning of the 23d I witnessed the most horrid
scenes of cruelty imaginable; for the British, instead of sending
sleighs, as was most solemnly promised, to convey the wounded prisoners
to Maiden, sent the Indians, who, after selecting a few from amongst
the wounded, tomahawked and scalped the rest in the most savage and
cruel manner that malice could invent, or devils incarnate execute,
and set fire to the houses in which they had been and burned them to
ashes! Then, instead of going to Malden, they took me to Brownstown,
where I had nothing to eat except a little parched corn. While I was
at Brownstown an Indian asked me whether I had a squaw, to which I
answered in the negative. He then replied, “_We make an Indian of you,
and by’n by you have a squaw, by’n by you have a gun and horse and go
a hunting._” The next day we proceeded on our march until we came near
the River Rouge, where the Indians procured some provisions, consisting
of fresh meat, but no salt. From here we set off again and travelled
slowly (I rather think to favor the wounded) until we arrived at their
encampment, three or four miles from Detroit, at which place there were
a number of squaws and children who had taken up winter quarters.
As soon as we had arrived at this place I was presented to an old
squaw, whom the Indians instructed me to call by the appellation of
mother. This old witch, as I took her to be, had lost two sons at the
River Raisin; I had therefore to supply the place of one of them, and
thus had to become the adopted son of the most hideous of all animals
that ever roamed over the forests of North America. After this they
dressed my wound for the first time, which now appeared to be getting
well fast; in the next place they trimmed my hair off, except a small
quantity on the top of my head, and painted me; then adorned me with
ear-rings, bracelets, &c. and put a band of silver round my head. By
this time I began to look very stylish, or rather made as uncouth and
grotesque a figure as any of my _copper-colored brethren_.
While we remained at this place Mr. Gabriel Godfrey, a citizen of
Detroit, offered the Indians $100 for my ransom, which they refused.
I now began to conclude that there were no other means of extricating
myself from bondage, unless it were by flight, and therefore determined
to embrace the first opportunity that presented. In a few days after,
the Indians presented a squaw to me, who appeared to have little more
of humanity than the form, but equally as detestable as my _mother_,
although she was younger. This ugly looking creature the Indians told
me I should marry! I confess I never was so shocked at the thoughts of
matrimony in my life! I told them “_no good squaw_.” They then brought
several more of those inhuman looking creatures, whom I understood were
also candidates for conjugal felicity. I told them “_by’n by I have
a squaw_.” This appeared to satisfy them at the present time; in this
manner I frequently had to put them off.
They frequently solicited me to wear a breech-clout, which I always
refused. One time my mother discovered me mending my pantaloons;
thinking this a good opportunity to get me to wear one, she immediately
brought one, which I took hold of and said “no good,” then threw it
down and stamped it. At the sight of this she was very much enraged,
and scolded desperately to herself in her own Indian dialect. I have
often wondered since that they did not kill me for disobeying their
orders, for I was extremely obstinate, and scarcely ever complied with
their injunctions.
Notwithstanding my disobedience, the Indians treated me as well as was
in their power, especially my mother, who was very kind to me. Some
considerable time I had to eat my victuals without salt. I knew they
had none, yet I would always ask for some. My old mother, after some
time, procured some for me, which she kept hid to prevent the others
from making use of it, and never failed to give me a small portion when
I was eating.
Intoxication is practised by the squaws as well as the men; they
frequently have drunken frolics, at which times it is dangerous
for prisoners to be amongst them. During these frantic revels the
prisoners are kept hid by the squaws (a part of whom keep sober) to
keep them from being murdered. One night, after the rest had gone to
bed, my mother, who had stayed out later than usual, came in, sat
down, and began to sing; she did not appear to be in her senses; I
soon discovered that this old priestess of Bacchus had got very drunk.
In this mood she seized hold of the fire and threw it on those who
were sleeping round the fire, which soon caused them to rise; she then
jumped into the fire and danced until she had burned the soles of her
moccasons off.
They continued here about a month, and then removed about eight miles
on the River Rouge, in order to prepare for making sugar. While we were
employed at this business a Frenchman persuaded me to marry a squaw,
if they insisted, for I would then be treated with more respect, and
consequently would have greater liberties. After mature consideration,
I thought probably this would be the best plan I could adopt, in order
to make my escape, and therefore resolved to marry the next one that
was presented to me. It was not long before they brought me a squaw
(the most decent looking one I had seen), whom I resolved to marry
without hesitation. I however, when just on the point of forming a
connubial alliance with her, was prevented by an Indian, who claimed
her as _his_ squaw.
Several weeks before the battle of Fort Meigs, the Indians began to
collect and dance the _war-dance_.
Just before the Indians marched they prepared a number of hoops, both
ends of which they stuck in the ground and spread their blankets over
them. In this place they put hot stones, threw water on them, and then
went in themselves and remained until they were wet with sweat. This
I conjectured was done in the way of devotion, or in imploring the
assistance of the Great Spirit in their intended expedition.
When the Indians marched I was committed to the care of the squaws
and a few old invalids. Thinking this the most favorable opportunity
I could get, I was determined to put my plan in execution. At night
I lay down with the intention of starting when the moon arose, but
overslept my time and did not awake till daylight. I arose and started,
notwithstanding I was apprehensive of being discovered, and ran
directly to Detroit, a distance of about nine miles, probably in as
short a time as any Indian in the nation could have performed the same
journey.
As soon as I had arrived at Detroit I went to Mr. T. S’s, who had
persuaded me to run away, and he and his friends would conceal me,
which they did accordingly. It was but a short time before a Frenchman,
of the name of Shover, and some squaws, came in search of me, but could
not find me.
From here I was sent to Sandwich, and concealed there two days, and
suffered extremely for provisions. From Sandwich I was sent to Malden,
where I found six of my fellow-prisoners, who, together with myself,
were kept under close confinement in the fort for three weeks. While
we remained here we frequently heard from the Rapids, but the news
was always favorable on the British side. One morning an old man, who
looked as if he had just emerged from the lower regions, came into the
fort and exclaimed, “good news, gentlemen! good news! we have killed
_fifteen hundred Yankees_, and have taken Harrison and all the rest
that were at the fort prisoners!!” I was informed afterwards that this
old man was the notorious Simon Girty, so much renowned for cruelty
and slaughter, and who has delighted in the shrieks of dying women and
_expiring infants_!
From the most correct information I could obtain, their forces at the
siege of Fort Meigs, consisting of British regulars, Canadian militia,
and Indians, amounted to 5,000!
From Malden I was taken across to Cleveland, and from there I pursued
my journey towards the delightful regions of Kentucky, where I arrived
in Montgomery county, in June, 1813.
THE BATTLE OF RAISIN,
ON THE 22D OF JANUARY, 1813.
On Raisin darkness reigned around,
And silent was the tented ground,
Where weary soldiers slept profound,
Far in the wintery wilderness.
No danger did the sentry fear,
No wakeful watch at midnight drear;
But ah! the foe approaches near,
Through forests frowning awfully.
And ere the sun had risen bright,
Fast flashing ’mid the stormy fight,
The thundering cannon’s livid light
Glared on the eye most frightfully.
Then deadly flew the balls of lead!
Then many of the foemen bled,
And thrice their banded legion fled,
Before Kentucky’s bravery.
And long our heroes’ swords prevail:
But hist! that deep and doleful wail--
Ah! freedom’s sons begin to fail,
Oppressed by numbers battling.
Rise! rise! ye volunteers, arise!
Behold! your right hand column flies!
And hark! yon shout which rends the skies!
Where Indians yell tumultuously.
Rush o’er the bloody field of fame,
Drive back the savage whence he came!
For glory ’waits the victor’s name,
Returning home exultingly.
’Tis done. The dreadful fight is o’er;
Thick clouds of smoke are seen no more--
The snowy plain is red with gore,
Where fell the friends of liberty.
CAMPBELL.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] To prove that this surrender was not in consequence of the want
of ammunition and provisions, it is sufficient to state, upon the
authority of official information, that there were thirty-three pieces
of cannon, twenty-five of which were brass and eight iron, which were
well manned and supplied with ammunition.
For the muskets, seventy-five thousand cartridges were made up, besides
twenty-four rounds in the cartouch-box of each man.
In the magazine were sixty barrels of powder, and one hundred and fifty
tons of lead.
In the contractor’s store were at least twenty-five days’ provision;
and in the adjacent country considerable supplies could have been had,
besides three hundred head of cattle, under an escort commanded by
Captain Brush, at the River Raisin.
AN OHIO VOLUNTEER.
[B] Colonel Allen stopped at St. Mary’s for the remaining part of the
army.
[C] He died in a few days.
[D] Pronounced Rushdeboo.
[E] We learned since, the British officer was Col. Elliott’s son, and
was probably a Captain.
[F] The French, who were looking at us when we started, were heard to
say, we were not men enough.
[G] A Frenchman who lived in this village said when the word came
the Americans were in sight, there was an old Indian smoking at his
fireside; the Indian exclaimed, “_Ho, de Mericans come; I suppose Ohio
men come, we give them another chase_:” (alluding to the time they
chased Gen. Tapper from the Rapids.) He walked to the door smoking,
apparently very unconcerned, and looked at us till we formed the line
of battle, and rushed on them with a mighty shout! he then called out
“_Kentuck, by God!_” and picked up his gun and ran to the woods like a
wild beast.
[H] It would have been better for us if we had been contented with the
possession of the village, without pursuing them to the woods.
[I] This want of precaution was a great cause of our mournful defeat!
[J] When the right wing began to retreat, it is said orders were given
by some of the officers to the men in the eastern end of the picketing
to march out to their assistance. Capt. Price and a number of men
sallied out. Capt. Price was killed, and most of the men.
[K] Col. Proctor had informed Gen. Winchester he would afford him an
opportunity of surrendering his troops, and if not accepted he would
let loose the Indians on us, who would burn the town, and he would not
be accountable for their conduct. Gen. Winchester, not knowing how we
had resisted their efforts, thought probably it would be the case.
But why did not Col. Proctor make this proposition before he had
exerted all his skill in trying to burn the town and to set the Indians
on us? Proctor knew very well he had done all that was in his power
with the force he had then, and he was then less able to rout us from
the town than he was at first.
The British informed us afterwards that Col. Proctor had ordered a
general retreat to Malden, and that they had _spiked four pieces of
their cannon_! but he thought he would demand a surrender, according to
custom.
Our officers, knowing that we had but little ammunition, and the troops
being still exposed to the fire of the cannon, thought proper to
surrender.
[L] I was since informed that Col. Elliott instructed the interpreters
to leave the wounded, after dark, to the mercy of the savages. They all
went off, except one half-Indian.
[M] Upon taking a view of these scenes of wo, who can avoid some such
exclamation as the following? Why has the all-seeing, beneficent Ruler
of the universe delivered so many of our choice officers and brave
soldiers into the hands of our enemies, to be slain in battle, and to
lie unburied, to be dragged away in the galling chains of captivity,
and to be put to torturing deaths by monsters of cruelty? Not, I
presume, because of infidelity and injustice towards our enemies; but
owing to our ingratitude towards the God of armies; and to our want of
confidence in Jehovah--our pride, our too great confidence in our own
wisdom, valor, and strength; our unbelief--and a catalogue of vices too
tedious to enumerate. Aggravated national crimes have involved us in
heavy and complicated judgments!
[N] Here we met a number of the 41st regiment of British regulars, just
from Fort George, going to Malden to supply the places of those who
were killed on the 22d of January, at Frenchtown. They appeared to be
very sociable, generally of the Irish descent. One of their officers
said, “In a few weeks they would drive General Harrison and all his
army along there.” “Yes,” replied James Allen[O] (who was one of my
messmates), “before that time your Irish hides will be riddled so that
they would not hold hickory nuts.”
Another of that party said, “What nonsensical things those leather
stocks were which we wore, with the sign of the eagle pecking out the
eyes of the lion.” Said Allen, “This is only the shadow, the substance
will soon follow.”
[O] This Allen is the same who fought the duel with Fuller, near Fort
Massac, who was supposed to be a British spy, before the commencement
of the war. Fuller, after having been twice knocked down by Allen’s
balls, was found to have a Dutch blanket folded, and a quire of paper
over his COWARDLY breast as a shield. Allen was not injured.
[P] Six of us, who formed a mess, stopped at a Major Boon’s, and asked
him “if we might stay all night.” He said we could. His father, who
lived with him, let us know he had been a Tory major in the American
revolution. He said “he had lived in the Jerseys, and had one of Lord
Howe’s commissions in the house then, and was a half-pay officer.” He
said “the Americans would have no possible chance to take Canada, for
the British next spring would bring seventy thousand Indians from the
north-west, and as many negroes from St. Domingo, besides three hundred
thousand Turks!” Said James Allen, “I suppose you will set dogs on us
next!” The old fellow said “it was very evident the Lord was on their
side!” Then said Allen, “If the Lord has joined with the British,
savages, and negroes, to massacre his own people, it is surprising!
But I rather think it is only your Canadian lord that acts in this
manner.” The old fellow then ordered him out of the house. He told him
“he was very well suited in a room, and would stay till morning.” They
still continued arguing. The old fellow said “We had no business on
their soil,” alluding to Frenchtown. Allen told him “we were on our
own soil.” He said “it was a lie, for Michigan Territory was given up
to them by General Hull.” Said Allen, “Hull was such a fellow as the
d----l, who offered Christ all the kingdoms of the world if he would
fall down and worship him; when, poor old sneaking whelp, he did not
own a foot on earth.” Said Boon, “You had better stayed away, for all
you have done; the Major who commanded the Indians on the 18th was here
a few nights ago, and said there was not one killed, and but three
wounded.” Said Allen, “I would not believe my father if he were to tell
me so, for I saw a number that were killed and scalped and lay on the
snow for days; and if there were but three wounded, there must have
been an abundance of blood in them to have stained the snow for miles
square.” Said he, “Did you scalp them? you are bloody dogs.” “Yes,”
said Allen, “you might say so, if we had hired the savages to kill your
women and children, and massacre and burn your wounded, when we had
promised to take care of them.” He said “the British had never hired
the Indians to kill women and children; they were too humane a people
to do so.” “Yes,” said Allen, “they showed humanity in the time of the
American Revolution, when they paid the Indians for infants’ scalps
that were taken out of their mothers’ wombs; they call themselves
Christians, and when the Indians sent home to them scalps, from the
unborn infant to the gray hairs, in bales like goods, they had days of
feasting, rejoicing, and thanksgiving to the Lord, for the victory they
had gained--the d----l would be ashamed to acknowledge such a people
as any part of his offspring.” The old fellow again ordered him out
of the house; but Allen told him “he would go in the morning.” Allen
said “we had more friends in Canada than they had.” “Yes,” said he,
“there are men mean enough to join against their own country.” Allen
replied, “none but a mean, low-lived wretch would fight against his own
country.” The old fellow took the hint, as he had been a tory, and got
in a violent passion. He asked Allen “if he was not a Congressman?”
Allen said “No.” “Are you an Assemblyman?” “No.” “Are you a Yankee
lawyer?” “No.” “Well, you are a Yankee liar, then.” Allen said, “if
we were of an age, and on an equal footing, you would not give me the
lie so often.” The old fellow told Allen “he must be an antediluvian,
for he appeared to know all things that had passed, and all the crimes
that England ever committed seemed to be fresh on his mind; he supposed
he was one of the greatest enemies the British had.” Allen said “he
had done his best; and if he was exchanged he would shoot at them as
long as he could crook his finger to draw the trigger.” A young woman
who was in the house said “we were only coming to drive them off their
lands.” Allen said “we were only coming to set them free, so that
those lands might be their own, and not King George’s.” She said “the
Americans that were killed at Queenstown had deeds in their pockets for
all their best plantations.” Said Allen “I must believe it because you
say so, but if I had seen it myself I would not.”
The old fellow’s passion subsided, and Allen and he were friendly.
[Q] The second division, who had been used far better than the first,
arrived the day following, and were parolled in like manner, amounting
in all to five hundred and twelve.