Colonel Bowman's Expedition--Its Disastrous Failure--Death of Boone's
Son--Escape of Boone--Colonel Byrd's Invasion--Capture of Ruddell's
and Martin's Station--Daring Escape of Captain Hinkston.
An invasion of the Indian country is always popular on the frontier,
and when Colonel Bowman, known to be a good soldier, issued his call
for volunteers, shortly after the massacre of Colonel Rogers and his
command, there was no lack of responses.
He requested them to meet at Harrodsburg, for the purpose of moving
against the Indian town of Chillicothe, and there in a short time
were gathered three hundred men, among them being the veteran Indian
fighters, Harrod and Logan, each holding rank as Captain, but Boone was
not a member of the expedition.
The company was a formidable one, and it started from Harrodsburg
in the month of July, pressing forward through the woods with such
celerity and skill that it reached the neighborhood of the Indian towns
at nightfall without its approach being suspected.
Here a consultation was held, and it was decided to attack the place at
the favorite hour of the savages--just before the break of day--and the
plan of assault was agreed upon.
Advancing close to the Indian town, the little army separated into two
equal divisions, Colonel Bowman retaining command of one, while Captain
Logan led the other. The latter officer was to move half way round the
town, while the Colonel was to go the other way, until they met, when
the superior officer would give the signal for an attack "all along the
line."
Captain Logan obeyed his orders promptly, and, reaching the point
agreed upon, halted and awaited his superior. But unaccountably Colonel
Bowman did not appear.
Logan remained motionless until his impatience gave way to uneasiness,
as he saw the minutes slipping by, and he determined to find out the
cause of the delay. His men were concealed in the long grass, when the
light of day broke over the woods, but Logan, moving here and there,
could learn nothing of his superior.
Several of his own men, in shifting their positions, the better to
hide themselves, attracted the attention of some Indian dogs, which
instantly set up a barking. This brought out a warrior, who moved
cautiously in the direction where the object that alarmed the canine
seemed to be. He probably had no thought that white men were near at
hand, and he might have been made prisoner, but, as is often the case,
and as seems to have been the rule on the frontier, at the very crisis
the whites committed a fatal piece of carelessness. One of the hunters
fired his gun.
As quick as lightning the truth flashed upon the warrior, and whirling
about, he ran like a deer to his cabin. In an incredibly short space of
time, the entire village was alarmed. Logan plainly heard the Shawanoes
hurrying the women and children to the woods, through the cover of a
ridge stretching between them and the other division of soldiers.
Meantime the warriors prepared themselves for the attack, by gathering
with their guns in a strong cabin, doubtless intended as a fort or
means of defence, while Logan and his men took possession of a number
of lodges from which the savages had withdrawn.
He determined upon using the material of these simple structures as
shields in reaching the stronghold of the Shawanoes, and his men were
about to make the advance, confident of success, when orders came from
Colonel Bowman to retreat at once.
The Colonel discovered that the Indians had not been completely
surprised, as was intended, and he thought it too dangerous to venture
upon an attack under such conditions--hence the order to Captain Logan
to extricate his force while there was opportunity of doing so.
The order was received with amazement, but there was no choice but to
obey, "though they knew some one had blundered." The position of the
assailants was such that an orderly retreat was difficult, and it soon
became impossible; the men felt that each must look out for himself,
and they broke and scattered for the wood, running the gauntlet of the
destructive fire of the warriors, who shot, as may be said, at their
leisure.
After the loss of several lives Logan's force got out of its dangerous
advanced position, joined the other division under command of Colonel
Bowman, and the retreat was continued in the direction of Harrodsburg
with some semblance of order.
But nothing gives a foe greater courage than the sight of a retreating
opponent, and when the Shawanoes saw the strong force of volunteers
hurrying away, they too rushed from their fort and assailed them. There
were less than fifty warriors, while the whites numbered almost six
times as many, and yet the retreat was continued in the face of the
insignificant number of savages, who fired upon them from every point
of vantage, the settlers continually falling back, as did the British
before the galling shots of the volunteers at Lexington.
There have been those who defended the course of Colonel Bowman in this
distressing affair, and who insist that his only course was to retreat
before the attack of a much more numerous force than his own, but it
seems clear he lost his head from the moment he came in sight of the
village. He failed to comply with his share of the movement as arranged
by himself, and when the Shawanoes rallied and pursued his men, instead
of turning about and scattering them, he continued retreating in a
disorderly fashion, giving no orders, but allowing every one to do as
he thought best.
But some of his subordinates were better officers than he, and when
the Colonel halted his force in the worst possible position, Logan,
Harrod, and several others mounted the pack-horses and dashed through
the woods in the direction of the galling shots. The noted Blackfish
was leading the warriors, and unless checked, the indications were that
the whites would be cut off to a man.
Captains Logan and Harrod, with their brave comrades, charged wherever
they caught sight of Indians, or whenever the flash of a gun was seen,
and after some vigorous work, they killed the chief Blackfish and
dispersed the rest of his warriors.
The road thus cleared, Colonel Bowman's crippled command continued its
retreat, and finally reached Harrodsburg without further molestation.
The expedition had proven itself one of that long list of failures
and disasters which mark the history of military expeditions against
the Indians on the frontier from the earliest settlement down to the
massacre of Custer and his command.
The Revolution was approaching its close, it being the year 1780, and
hundreds of settlers from the East had swarmed into Kentucky and taken
up land. In their eagerness to acquire possession, they almost forgot
the danger which hung over them, laying themselves so invitingly open
to attack, that the British and Indians took up the gauntlet which, it
may be said, was thus thrown in their faces.
The conquest of Kentucky was a favorite scheme with the British, and in
the summer of 1780, a formidable invasion was made under the direction
of Colonel Byrd, at the head of six hundred Indians and Canadians, and
with six pieces of artillery.
His first demonstration was against Ruddell's station, on the Licking.
This had a weak garrison, and when Captain Ruddell was confronted with
the formidable force and summoned to surrender, he saw that it would be
folly to refuse. The artillery at the command of his foe could speedily
batter the fort to pieces, and he agreed to capitulate on condition
that his garrison should be under the protection of the British.
Colonel Byrd readily agreed to this reasonable stipulation, and the
gates were thrown open.
The instant this was done, the Indians poured tumultuously in, and
laying hold of the soldiers claimed them as prisoners. Captain Ruddell
remonstrated indignantly with Colonel Byrd at this violation of his
agreement, but the British colonel, although he did his best to
restrain his Indians, was unable to do so.
Colonel Byrd seems to have been a gentleman, and, when the Indians
proposed to attack Martin's Station, a short distance off, and which
they were confident of capturing, he refused to move and threatened
to withdraw from Kentucky altogether, unless the chiefs and sachems
should pledge themselves that in every case the prisoners taken should
be given in charge of him, the Indians confining themselves entirely to
the plunder and booty obtained.
The agreement was made on the part of the leaders, and then Colonel
Byrd marched against Martin's Station. The artillery he took along
undoubtedly proved irresistibly persuasive in almost every instance,
for he captured the station with little difficulty, and the Indian
chiefs compelled their warriors to adhere to the pledge they had given.
The Indians now became eager to attack Bryant's Station, but Colonel
Byrd did not seem to have much enthusiasm over the invasion of
Kentucky, and he declined to go further. He collected his stores, and,
placing them upon boats, retreated to Licking Forks, where his Indians
withdrew, taking with them the prisoners captured at Ruddell's Station.
Among the captives was Captain John Hinkston, a noted Indian fighter,
who, as may be supposed, was on the alert for a chance to get away from
his captors, knowing, as he did, that he was liable to suffer torture
at their hands.
On the second night, succeeding the separation of the Indians from the
command of Colonel Byrd, the warriors halted close to the river. When
they started to build a camp-fire, the fuel was found to be so wet that
it was fully dark before they could get the flames going, and so many
of the guard were called upon to assist in the difficult work that
Captain Hinkston made a sudden dash, broke through the lines, and amid
a storm of hastily aimed bullets succeeded in reaching the shelter of
the woods.
As night had just settled, Hinkston felt secure in his escape, though
the Indians immediately scattered and began such a vigorous search that
he heard them moving in all directions about him, sometimes so close
that he could almost touch them, and was forced to stand as motionless
as the tree trunks beside him, lest they should detect his cautious
movements.
But he gradually worked away from the Indian camp, when the vigor
of the hunt had relaxed somewhat, and, starting in the direction of
Lexington, kept going all night; for, as he was confident the Shawanoes
would take his trail at daylight, it was important that he should make
all progress while the opportunity was his.
His hopes rose as hour after hour passed, and he was congratulating
himself on the goodly distance made, when to his consternation he came
directly up to the very Indian camp from which he fled long before. He
had committed that error which people lost in the woods are so prone to
commit, that of walking in a circle instead of in a straight line.
As may be supposed, Hinkston was startled, and he did not stand long
surveying the smoking camp-fires, with the grim warriors gathered about
them; but turning once more, he re-entered the woods, making his way
with so much caution, that whatever might happen, he was sure of not
repeating the blunder committed.
The night was so cloudy and dark, that he was deprived of the compass
of the hunter, the stars in the sky, and he wet his finger and held
it over his head. This enabled him to tell the direction of the wind
which was gently blowing, and by repeating the act, he was enabled to
pursue substantially the same direction through the night, so that when
daylight came, he was sure of one thing, he had placed a goodly number
of miles between him and his enemies.
He was so worn out that he crept close to a fallen tree, where he slept
several hours. When he awoke he found he was surrounded by a dense
fog, which shut out objects a dozen feet distant. The moisture was
dripping from the leaves, and the day was as dismal as can be imagined;
but such weather served to help conceal his trail, and he was hopeful
that none of the keen-eyed Indians would succeed in tracing him to his
resting-place.
But the Shawanoes were prosecuting a most vigorous search, and he
stepped along with the greatest care, glancing to the right and left,
expecting every minute to see some brawny warrior suddenly spring out
of the fog upon him.
On the right he would hear the call of a turkey, answered a moment by
another on the left, followed perhaps by a general chorus from all
points of the compass.
Those wild turkeys were Indians signaling to each other, and they
frequently approached so close, that more than once Hinkston felt it
impossible to break through the fiery ring that was closing about him.
Sometimes the pursuers varied their signals by imitating the howling of
wolves, or the bleating of fawns, and they were often so close that
discovery would have been inevitable but for the London-like vapor
which enveloped the trembling fugitive.
But good fortune waited on Captain Hinkston, and he finally extricated
himself from the perilous vicinity and reached Lexington without harm.