The Peculiar Position of Boonesborough--Boone rejoins his Family in
North Carolina--Returns to Boonesborough--Robbed of a Large Amount
of Money--Increased Emigration to the West--Colonel Rogers and his
Party almost Annihilated--Captain Denham's Strange Adventure.
It must have caused Captain Duquesne great mortification to come to
this conclusion, after setting out with a force ten times as great as
that against which he contended, and with every reason to count upon
success; but his provisions were almost exhausted, and nearly every
time he heard the sharp crack of a rifle from the defences it meant
that he had one less warrior than before. The prospect of his triumph
was diminishing slowly, but none the less steadily, day by day.
Under such circumstances there was but one thing to do, and that was to
raise the siege. This was done at the close of the ninth day after the
attack, having lost, as is stated, thirty-seven men, with a much larger
number wounded.
Boonesborough was never again subjected to a formidable assault by
Indians. It had gone through its crucial period, and there was many a
day and hour when it seemed certain that the advanced station in the
wilderness must succumb to the hordes of Indians who, like so many
fierce bloodhounds, were bounding against the stockades.
A peculiar condition of the settlement of the West now acted as a
shield to Boonesborough. Between the site of the station and the Ohio
River were continually springing up smaller stations, and many of these
were so weak as to invite attack, while Boonesborough had proved her
powers of resistance.
The Indians were too wise to pass beyond the weaker stations with a
view of attacking one further away and much stronger. It therefore
came to pass, as already stated, that the siege of which we have made
mention was the last danger to which Boonesborough was subjected.
Something like peace and quietness came to the station, where every
stockade was pierced with bullets, and the settlers began more
earnestly the work of clearing the land for cultivation.
The opportunity having presented itself for the first time, Boone set
out for North Carolina to join his family. As they were mourning him
for dead, their excitement and delight possibly may be imagined, when
the hardy hunter came smilingly out of the woods, and, catching up his
little ones in his arms, kissed them over and over again and pressed
his happy wife to his heart.
He had a strange story to tell them of his captivity among the
Indians--his escape, his tramp through the forest, the attack upon
Boonesborough and the repulse of the British and Indians, and finally
his long journey over mountain and wood to rejoin them.
Boone stayed in North Carolina all winter with his family, who
doubtless would have been glad to remain there still longer; but the
fires of the Revolution were flaming and bringing great suffering and
privation, and the pioneer showed that Boonesborough could never again
be placed in serious peril.
The following summer, therefore, Boone and his family went back to
the station, where he set the good example of devoting his energies
to the cultivation of the tract of land which belonged to him, and to
assisting other immigrants that were pouring into the country. This
was a work as substantial in its way as roaming the woods in search of
game, as was his favorite custom in his earlier days.
And yet, while thus engaged, he was subjected to a great annoyance if
not humiliation. He was openly accused of cowardice for his surrender
of his party at the Blue Licks the preceding year. Colonel Richard
Callaway and Colonel Benjamin Logan brought charges against him, which,
as hinted in another place, led to his trial by court-martial. His two
friends were induced to do this as an act of justice to Boone, and with
a view of setting at rest the accusations continually made in certain
quarters.
Without giving the particulars of the court-martial, it is sufficient
to mention as its direct result, Captain Boone's promotion to the rank
of major and his increased popularity with all his citizens.
A misfortune, however, overtook the pioneer, which probably caused him
more mental suffering than anything that took place during his long,
eventful life.
A commission having been appointed by legislature to settle Kentucky
land claims, Major Boone attested his faith in the future of the young
State by gathering all his funds, with which he started for Richmond,
with the intention of investing the entire amount in lands.
On the road he was robbed of every dollar. Boone makes no mention of
the distressing circumstance in his autobiography, and none of the
particulars are known; but, as he had a great many sums entrusted to
him by friends, it will be understood that this misfortune amounted in
reality to a public calamity.
However, the robbery did not impair the confidence which was generally
felt in Boone's integrity. Those who knew him best, knew he was the
soul of honor,--one who would undergo privation and suffering at any
time rather than inflict it upon others.
The opinion of the people is best shown in the following letter written
by Colonel Thomas Hart, of Lexington, Kentucky, dated Grayfields,
August 3, 1780:
"I observe what you say respecting our losses by Daniel Boone. (Boone
had been robbed of funds in part belonging to T. and N. Hart). I had
heard of the misfortune soon after it happened, but not of my being
partaker before now. I feel for the poor people who, perhaps, are to
lose their preemptions; but I must say, I feel more for Boone, whose
character I am told suffers by it. Much degenerated must the people
of this age be, when among them are to be found men to censure and
blast the reputation of a person so just and upright, and in whose
breast is a seat of virtue too pure to admit of a thought so base and
dishonorable. I have known Boone in times of old, when poverty and
distress had him fast by the hand; and in these wretched circumstances,
I have ever found him of a noble and generous soul, despising every
thing mean; and therefore I will freely grant him a discharge for
whatever sums of mine he might have been possessed of at the time."
There was general peace, so to speak, along the frontier, and that part
of our country took immense strides in the march of civilization; and
yet the year 1779 is noted for the occurrence of one of the bloodiest
battles that ever was fought in that portion of the West.
In the autumn of the year, Colonel Rogers, who had been to New Orleans
to procure supplies for the posts on the upper Mississippi, made his
way back until he came opposite the present site of Cincinnati.
As he reached that point he discovered the Indians coming out of the
mouth of the Little Miami, in a large number of canoes, and crossing
to the Kentucky side of the Ohio. He determined at once to attempt a
surprise, with a view of cutting them off, as they effected a landing.
The Ohio was quite low at that season, and was very shallow on the
southern shore, a long sand-bar extending along the bank. Colonel
Rogers landed his men, some seventy in number, upon this bar, and
started them for a point a short distance away, where he hoped to
effect the capture of the entire party of Indians.
But Rogers had made a most fearful miscalculation.
They had scarcely started toward the spot, when they were fiercely
attacked by a large force of Indians, numbering fully two hundred. They
first poured in a terrible volley and then springing to their feet,
rushed upon the panic-stricken whites, with their knives and tomahawks.
Before this hurricane-like charge, Colonel Rogers and more than forty
of his men were almost instantly killed. Those who were not shot down,
made a frenzied flight to the river, with the warriors at their heels.
But the guards left in charge of the boats were so terrified by the
disaster, that they hurriedly rowed out in the river again, without
waiting to take their imperiled comrades aboard.
Caught thus between two fires, the remnants turned about, and, making
a desperate charge upon their enemies, succeeded in forcing their way
through the furious warriors, and those who survived managed to reach
Harrodsburg.
In this battle, or massacre, as it may well be called, sixty whites,
including the commander, Colonel Rogers, were killed, a loss only
equaled by that of the Blue Licks some time previous. The disaster
spread a gloom over the frontier, and awakened a dread in some
quarters that the Indians would be roused to combined action against
the settlements, and that a long series of disasters were likely to
follow.
It was at this battle that an incident took place, almost too
incredible for belief, but it is established upon the best authority.
Among those who were wounded by the terrific volley poured into the
whites was Captain Denham, who was shot through both hips in such a
manner that the bones were broken, and he was deprived of the use of
his legs. Nevertheless he managed to drag himself to the top of a
fallen tree hard by, where he hid himself until the battle was over and
the Indians gone.
His condition was deplorable, for as his friends had fled, he could not
expect any assistance, and it looked indeed as if it would have been a
mercy had he been killed outright.
However, he kept up a brave heart and was able to reach the side of
the river to drink, when his consuming thirst came upon him. Thus he
lived until the close of the second day, when he discovered that some
one else was hiding near him. Whoever he was, the captain concluded it
must be a wounded person and most likely one of his own race, inasmuch
as the Indians always take off their wounded when the opportunity is
presented them.
Accordingly the captain hailed him, and sure enough found it was a
comrade, who was wounded in both arms, so as to make them useless.
Both were plucky soldiers, and as there seemed to be a man "between
them," they formed a strange partnership.
The captain did the shooting, while his friend carried him about on his
shoulders, from place to place.
In this manner they existed until the 27th of September, when they
hailed a passing flat-boat, which took them to Louisville, where they
eventually recovered and lived many years afterward.