SIMON KENTON.
MURPHY SAVING THE FORT.
BRANT AND THE BOY.
MRS. AUSTIN AND THE BEAR.
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
NEW YORK: 118 WILLIAM STREET.
LONDON: 44 PATERNOSTER ROW.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New York.
SIMON KENTON,
AND HIS
INDIAN TORTURE-RIDE.
Foremost among the wild and terrific scenes which arise before our
startled eyes when we turn the pages of border warfare, is the ride of
Simon Kenton—not that the cruelty of its devisers was so atrocious, nor
the final results so dreadful, as in many other instances; but the
novelty, the unique savageness of the affair, strikes upon the
imagination, as if it were one of those thrilling stories related of
ages and people which never were, instead of an event that actually
occurred to one of our own countrymen in one of our own territories.
In the early light of morning breaking through the trees which surround
them, a group of Indians are preparing to resume their march, after a
night of repose. They have with them a solitary prisoner. Corraled about
them are numbers of horses, the recovery of which has been the object of
the expedition. Before these are released and the day's march resumed,
the prisoner must be disposed of. While his captors are deciding this
important matter, we will discover who he is and what has brought him
into his present state.
About the first of September, 1778, Simon Kenton—the friend and younger
coadjutor of Boone, who had been with the latter for some time at
Boonesborough Station, employed in protecting the surrounding country,
and engaging in occasional skirmishes with the Indians—becoming tired of
a temporary inactivity which his habits of life rendered insupportable,
determined to have another adventure with the Indians. For this purpose
he associated with Alex. Montgomery and George Clark, to go on an
expedition for stealing horses from the Shawnees.
The three brave scouts reached old Chilicothe without meeting with any
thing exciting. There they fell in with a drove of Indian horses,
feeding on the rich prairie, and securing seven of the drove, started on
their return. Reaching the Ohio, they found the river lashed into fury
by a hurricane, and the horses refused to cross. Here was an
unlooked-for dilemma. It was evening; they felt sure of being pursued;
no time was to be lost. As the only resource, they rode back to the
hills, hobbled the animals, and then retraced their steps to see if they
were followed. Finding as yet no signs of pursuit, they took what rest
their anxiety would allow them. The next morning, the wind having
subsided, they sought their horses and again attempted to cross the
river, but with the same result; the horses, from fright, refused to
take to the water, and they were driven to the alternative of parting
with them. Selecting each one of the best, they turned the others loose,
and started for the Falls of the Ohio, (now just below Louisville); but
disliking thus to abandon the fruits of their expedition, they unwisely
returned again, to attempt to retake and lead the others. This was by no
means an easy task, and while engaged in the endeavor, they were
surprised by a party of mounted savages, who had followed their trail
with vengeful pertinacity. The whites were separated; and Kenton,
hearing a _whoop_ in the direction of his comrades, dismounted, creeping
cautiously in the direction of the sound, to discover, if possible, the
force of the enemy. Dragging himself forward on his hands and knees, he
came suddenly upon several Indians, who did not discover him at the
moment. Being surrounded, and thinking the boldest game the best, he
took aim at the foremost and pulled trigger, but his gun missed fire.
This, of course, discovered his position, and he was instantly pursued.
Taking advantage of some fallen timber, he endeavored to elude his
pursuers, by dodging them, and hiding in the underbrush, where their
horses could not follow; but they were too cunning, or rather too many
for him. Dividing their forces and riding along either side the timber,
they "beat it up," until, as he was emerging at the further end, he was
confronted by one of the savages, who, the moment he discovered his
white foe, threw himself from his horse and rushed upon Kenton with his
tomahawk. Kenton drew back his arm to defend himself with the butt end
of his gun; but as he was about to strike, another stalwart savage, whom
he had not observed, seized him in his powerful grasp, preventing the
descending blow. He was now a prisoner, compelled to yield, with such
grace as he could, to superior numbers. While they were binding him, his
companion, Montgomery, made his appearance, firing at one of the
savages, but missing his mark. He was immediately pursued; in a few
moments one of the pursuers returned, shaking the bloody scalp of his
friend in Kenton's face. Clark succeeded in making his escape, and
crossing the river, arrived in safety at Logan's Station.
That night the Indians encamped on the banks of the river; in the
morning they prepared to return with their unfortunate prisoner, who had
passed an uneasy night, bound to the ground, and not knowing precisely
what vengeance his enemies might be pleased to visit upon him. Some of
them knew him well, and he realized that there were long scores to be
wiped off against him. However, the red-man had a keen appreciation of
bravery, and he did not anticipate any severer fate upon that account.
Some little time elapsed before they succeeded in catching all their
horses. The day had well advanced before they were ready to march, and
the annoyance consequent upon this delay so exasperated them, that they
determined to make their captive pay the full penalty of the trouble he
had caused them. They therefore selected the wildest and most restive
horse among their number, and proceeded to bind Kenton upon his back.
Their mode of proceeding was as follows: a rope was first passed round
the under jaw of the horse, either end of which was held by an Indian;
yet even with this advantage, it required the assistance of others to
control the vicious beast, which was determined not to receive its
burden. Kenton was first seated upon the horse with his face toward the
tail, and his feet tied together under the animal. Another rope confined
his arms, drawing the prisoner down upon his back. A third, secured
about his neck, was fastened to the horse's neck, thence extending
longitudinally down his person to the animal's tail, where it was
secured, and answered well for a crupper. In this way he was fastened to
the wild and frantic steed, beyond the possibility of escape. To make
the matter sure against contingencies, the now delighted savages passed
another rope about his thighs, securing it to the one which served as a
girth. They then fastened a pair of moccasins upon his hands to prevent
his defending his face. During the time they were thus preparing him for
his Mazeppa-like ride, they taunted him by asking if he wanted to steal
any more horses. They danced around him, yelped and screamed, and, in
every possible manner, expressed their infernal delight at the
anticipated sufferings of their victim. The heart of Simon Kenton seldom
quailed before any danger; but it must have been supernaturally
strengthened not to have sickened during those moments of preparation
and anticipation. To be bound to unspoken torture, which could end, at
the last, only in death—death long deferred, perhaps into hours and
days, whose every minute and second would be sharp with anguish—to be so
helpless to resist the evils which were sure to come, with the close
rope strangling the breath in his throat whenever he attempted to raise
his head to see the cruelties which he _felt_—to add all the mental
miseries of suspense to the horrible realities before him—this was
enough surely to shake even the sturdy spirit of the defiant pioneer.
For a moment he was inclined to beg of his tormentors to tomahawk him
then and there; but he knew that such an appeal would gratify their
malice while it would produce no other effect; and he closed his lips
tightly, resolved that they should enjoy no sign of fear or dismay to
enhance their inhuman delight. One glance at the blue sky smiling down
between the lightly-waving branches of the trees—one scornful look into
the demon-faces about him, and, for an instant, his eyes closed; he felt
like one falling from a precipice into terrific depths yawning to
receive him.
With stripes and demoniac yells they at length turned loose the almost
savage horse, which was goaded to desperation by the tumult and the
blows. The infuriated beast at once bounded away on its aimless, erratic
course, anxious only to rid itself of its strange burden.
"'Twas scarcely yet the break of day,
And on he foamed—away!—away!—
The last of human sounds which rose,
As he was darted from his foes,
Was the wild shout of savage laughter
Which on the wind came roaring after."
Frantic with fright, the noble animal went careering through the woods,
rearing and plunging in his madness, inflicting upon his tortured rider
countless wounds and blows as he endeavored to dash him against the
trees, or rushed through the tangled brush, lacerating the flesh of both
with innumerable thorns and briers. In one of the mad dashes which the
horse gave through the unpitying forest, Kenton's arm came with such
force against a tree that it was broken—he knew it by its becoming so
limp and helpless, as well as from the knife-like pain which darted from
it. The wretched man could only hope that the horse would some time
tire; that, wearied out with its useless efforts to free itself from its
burden, it would subside into some quiet, which might give a moment's
ease to his aching and mangled limbs; but he hoped in vain!
"Each motion which he made to free
His swollen limbs from their agony,
Increased its fury and affright;
He tried his voice—'twas faint and low,
But yet it swerved, as from a blow;
And, starting at each accent, sprang
As from a sudden trumpet's clang.
Meanwhile the cords were wet with gore,
Which, oozing from his wounds, ran o'er;
And on his tongue the thirst became
A something fiercer far than flame."
Oh, that horrible _thirst_ which takes possession of the person
suffering exquisite pain, until the torture seems to exceed that of the
anguish which causes it. None but those who have experienced this
extremity of mortal suffering can picture it; none but those who have
suffered the horrible pangs of thirst can sympathize with the
unutterable pain which Simon Kenton endured for the next few hours. Yes,
for hours! The harassed steed, at length, with wasted strength and
trembling limbs, returned to the point from which he had started, with
his now almost inanimate rider, who must have sunk into insensibility
long before, had not the fever of his pain kept him from that blessed
relief. The hunter hoped that now he would either be killed outright, or
relieved of his present position; but such was not the intention of the
red devils who had him in their power.
Worn out with fatigue, and satisfied of his inability to rid himself of
his unwelcome burden, the exhausted horse took his place in the
cavalcade, which had already started for its home. The only mercy they
vouchsafed the prisoner was to give him, twice or thrice, some water.
His sufferings had only commenced—death, in its worst form, would have
been preferred to the ordeal through which he had yet to pass. To feel
certain of death—to count the lingering hours as they pass—to know that
each is but a step toward a certain doom—to feel that doom impending day
by day, and yet to see it postponed through miserable stretches of
suffering—to endure continually all the anguish of which the human frame
is capable, and all this time to know that hope has fled beyond
recall—that all this protracted agony must end in inevitable death, is
too terrible to contemplate.
All this Simon Kenton bore for three days and nights. It seems
incredible that life should have held out so long; but his previous
training in the schools of endurance seemed only to have fitted him now
to hold out through what no other man could have borne. Through three
nights he lay in his cradle of anguish; through three days he was racked
by the motion of the animal which bore him; and when the Indians reached
their village, he was still alive.
It had been the intention of the savages to procure his death by means
of the wanton torture they had instituted; but when he reached his
destination alive, owing to some custom or superstition of their own,
they delivered him over to the care of their squaws. These took him from
the rack, bathed his disfigured body, set his broken arm, bandaged his
wounds, made soothing and healing washes from the herbs of the forest,
nourished him with drinks and food, and gradually restored him to
health. Not only was his life saved, but his iron constitution remained
unbroken by the fearful trial through which it had passed. As soon as
his renewed strength warranted the attempt, he set about planning the
mode of his escape, which he successfully accomplished, returning to the
friends who had long since given him up for lost, to relate to their
almost incredulous hearts the story of his sufferings.
This remarkable episode is but one of countless adventures in which
Simon Kenton was engaged. Our readers may hear from him again in scenes
equally thrilling. He was, without doubt, one of the bravest and most
interesting of the western pioneers; he was excelled by none, and
scarcely equaled by his precursor, Daniel Boone. His biography, as far
as it has been preserved, will be read with interest by all; his name
will never be forgotten in the valley of the great West. He was the
coadjutor of Boone throughout the protracted struggle for the occupancy
of the rich forests and prairies on either side of the Ohio. The almost
incessant exposure and life of self-denial which these resolute
adventurers endured can scarcely be appreciated by us of this generation
who enjoy in peace the fruits of their sufferings.
While the United States were British Colonies, and Kentucky and Ohio
still were primeval in their solitudes, filled with Indians, and wholly
destitute of white inhabitants, these two heroic men, Boone and Kenton,
as if moved by the finger of Providence, left the shades of
civilization, entire strangers to each other, and ventured into the
midst of a boundless wilderness, neither having any knowledge of the
purpose or movement of the other. Boone led the way from North Carolina,
crossed the mountains, and entered the valley of Kentucky in 1769;
Kenton followed from Virginia, in 1773. The former emigrated from
choice, to gratify his natural taste, after full deliberation, and after
having calculated the consequences. Not so with Kenton; he fled to the
wilderness to escape the penalty of a supposed crime. He had,
unfortunately, become involved in a quarrel with a young man of his
neighborhood, with whom he had lived in habits of great intimacy and
friendship, and, as he supposed, had killed him in a personal conflict.
To avoid the consequences of that imaginary homicide, and to escape, if
possible, from the distress of his own feelings, he left home and
friends, without waiting to ascertain the result. Unaccompanied by any
human being, he crossed the mountains and descended into the valley of
the Big Kanawha, under the assumed name of Simon Butler. He retained
that name several years, until he received information that the friend
whom he supposed had fallen under his hand, had recovered from the blow,
and was alive and in health. He then resumed his proper name, and
disclosed the reason which had led him to assume that of Butler; but a
love for the wild life to which he had exiled himself had now taken such
strong hold of him that he made no effort to return to the ties from
which he had so hastily fled.
It is a matter of regret that so small a portion of the achievements of
this interesting man have been perpetuated. This may be accounted for by
the fact that so large a portion of his life was spent in the
wilderness, either in solitude, or associated with others of the same
adventurous cast with himself; and it explains the reason why we are not
only without a connected record of his life, but have so few of its
isolated transactions preserved. It is known, however, that, after he
joined the adventurers in the district of Kentucky, about two years
before the Declaration of American Independence, he engaged in most of
the battles and skirmishes between the white inhabitants and the savages
which followed, during 1774 to 1783. He became an enterprising leader in
most of the expeditions against the Indian towns north-west of the Ohio.
These conflicts, indeed, continued during the long period of twenty
years, intervening between their commencement and the decisive victory
of "Mad Anthony" Wayne at the rapids of the Maumee, in August, 1794,
which was followed by the celebrated treaty of Greenville, and peace to
the afflicted border. Kenton was always considered one of the boldest
and most active defenders of the western country, from the commencement
of its settlement until the close of Indian hostilities. In all their
battles and expeditions he took a conspicuous part. He was taken
prisoner several times and conveyed to the Shawnee towns, but in every
instance he made his escape and returned to his friends.
On one occasion he was captured when on an expedition against the Wabash
(Miami) villages, and taken to one of the remote Indian towns, where a
council was held to decide on his fate. Again he was fated to endure one
of their cruel and peculiar modes of inflicting punishment. He was
painted black, tied to a stake, and suffered to remain in this painful
position for twenty-four hours, anticipating the horrors of a slow and
cruel death, by starvation or fire. He was next condemned to run the
gauntlet. The Indians, several hundred in number, of both sexes, and
every age and rank, armed with switches, sticks, bludgeons and other
implements of assault, were formed in two lines, between which the
unhappy prisoner was made to pass; being promised that, if he reached
the door of the council-house, at the further end of the lines, no
further punishment would be inflicted. He accordingly ran, with all the
speed of which his debilitated condition rendered him capable,
dreadfully beaten by the savages as he passed, and had nearly reached
the goal, when he was knocked down by a warrior with a club; and the
demoniac set, gathering around the prostrate body, continued to beat him
until life appeared to be nearly extinguished.
In this wretched condition, naked, lacerated and exhausted, he was
marched from town to town, exhibited, tortured, often threatened to be
burned at the stake, and compelled frequently to run the gauntlet. On
one of these occasions he attempted to make his escape, broke through
the ranks of his torturers, and had outstripped those who pursued him,
when he was met by some warriors on horseback, who compelled him to
surrender. After running the gauntlet in thirteen towns, he was taken to
the Wyandot town of Lower Sandusky, in Ohio, to be burned. Here resided
the white miscreant, Simon Girty, who, having just returned from an
unsuccessful expedition against the frontiers of Pennsylvania, was in a
particularly bad humor. Hearing that there was a white prisoner in town,
the renegade rushed upon him, struck him, beat him to the ground, and
was proceeding to further atrocities, when Kenton had the presence of
mind to call him by name and claim his protection. They had known each
other in their youth; Kenton had once saved the life of Girty; and deaf
as was the latter, habitually, to every dictate of benevolence, he
admitted the claim of his former acquaintance. Actuated by one of those
unaccountable caprices common among savages, he interceded for him,
rescued him from the stake, and took him to his own house, where, in a
few days, the prisoner recovered his strength. Some of the chiefs,
however, became dissatisfied; another council was held, the former
decree was reversed, and Kenton was again doomed to the stake.
From this extremity he was rescued by the intercession of Drewyer, a
British agent, who, having succeeded in obtaining his release, carried
him to Detroit, where he was received by the British commander as a
prisoner of war. From that place he made his escape, in company with two
other Americans; and, after a march of thirty days through the
wilderness, continually exposed to recapture, had the good fortune to
escape all perils, and to reach the settlements of Kentucky in safety.
Hall, from whose sketches of the West we have gathered this account of
his running the gauntlet, states that all those horrors were endured
upon the occasion of his captivity following his Mazeppa-like ride,
although Burnet, in his "Notes," speaks of it as upon another and a
future occasion.
After the fall of Kaskaskia, which took place in 1778, and in the
expedition against which Kenton took an active part, he was sent with a
small party to Kentucky with dispatches. On their way the rangers fell
in with a camp of Indians, in whose possession were a number of horses,
which the daring fellows took and sent back to the army, then in great
need of the animals.
Pursuing their way by Vincennes, they entered that French-Indian town at
night, traversed several of the streets, and departed without being
discovered, taking from the inhabitants two horses to each man. When
they came to White river, a raft was made on which to cross, while the
horses were driven in to swim the river. On the opposite shore a party
of Indians was encamped, who caught the horses as they ascended the
bank. Such are the vicissitudes of border incident! The same horses
which had been audaciously taken only the night before from the interior
of a regularly garrisoned town, were lost by being accidentally driven
by their captors into a camp of the enemy! Kenton and his party, finding
themselves in the utmost danger, returned to the shore from which they
had pushed their raft, and concealed themselves until night, when they
crossed the river at a different place, reaching Kentucky in safety.
The expedition against Kaskaskia was one of the earliest made by the
Americans beyond the Ohio. This place, as well as the posts upon the
Lakes, was then in possession of the British, with whom we were at war.
Being one of the points from which the Indians were supplied with
ammunition, and thus enabled to harass the settlements in Kentucky, its
capture was considered so important that the legislature of Virginia
were induced to raise a regiment for the purpose. The command was given
to Colonel George Rogers Clarke, the young military hero, to whom, more
than to any other one person, Kentucky owes her successful foundation as
a State. He was, as a military leader, what Kenton was as a scout and
skirmisher—one of those men who seemed raised up, providentially, to
master great difficulties.
The story of the campaign by which he took Kaskaskia is one of the most
interesting of our border experiences. With two or three hundred men,
mostly raised in Virginia, he crossed the mountains to the Monongahela,
and descended by water to the Falls of the Ohio, where he was joined by
some volunteers from Kentucky, among whom was Simon Kenton. After a halt
of a few days to refresh his men, he proceeded down the Ohio to the
neighborhood of Fort Massac, a point about sixty miles above the mouth
of that river, where he landed and hid his boats, to prevent their
discovery by the Indians. He was now distant from Kaskaskia about one
hundred and thirty miles. The intervening country must have been, at
that time, almost impassable. His route led through a flat region,
overflowed by the backwater of the streams, and entirely covered with a
most luxuriant vegetation, which must have greatly impeded the march of
his troops. Through this dreary region, the intrepid young leader
marched on foot, at the head of his gallant band, with his rifle on his
shoulder and his provisions on his back. After wading through swamps,
crossing creeks by such methods as could be hastily adopted, and
sustaining two days' march after the provisions were exhausted, he
arrived in the night before the village of Kaskaskia. Having halted and
formed his men, he made them a speech, which contained only the brief
sentence: "The town must be taken at all events." Accordingly it was
taken, and that without striking a blow; for, although fortified, the
surprise was so complete that no resistance was attempted. This exploit
was followed up by a series of the same character; in all of which
Kenton played his part, being chosen, as we have seen, after this
expedition, to be the bearer of important dispatches through a hostile
country. In all emergencies like this, his aid was invaluable.
Simon Kenton was a striking example of cool, deliberate bravery, united
with a tender, sympathizing heart. In times of danger and conflict, all
his energies were enlisted in the struggle. He fought for victory,
regardless of consequences; but the moment the contest was over, and his
feelings resumed their usual state, he could sit down and weep over the
misery he had assisted in producing. Doubtless this extreme sensibility
was the cause of his being driven into the wilds of the West—the
wretchedness he suffered on account of the blow he had dealt in a moment
of passion being such as permitted his mind no repose for a long period
after the deed was committed. Such tenderness of heart is not
incompatible with the sternest bravery—indeed, the most heroic are,
usually, also the most gentle and generous in times of repose. During a
large portion of his life, solitude, danger and want were his
attendants; necessity had so familiarized him to privation, that he
could endure abstinence from food, and subsist on as small a quantity of
it, without detriment to health or strength, as the savages themselves.
During his residence in the wilderness, the land-warrants issued by the
commonwealth of Virginia were easily obtained. After the holders were
permitted to locate them west of the mountains, he found no difficulty
in possessing himself of as many of them as he desired; and having
traversed the wilderness in every direction, his topographical knowledge
enabled him to select for location the best and most valuable lands in
the country. Well, too, had he earned these estates, for his hand had
opened them not only to himself but for thousands of others to possess
and enjoy. Had he possessed the information necessary to enable him to
make his entries sufficiently special to stand the test of legal
scrutiny, his locations would have been the foundation of a princely
fortune for himself and his descendants. Unfortunately, however, he was
uneducated; and, although his locations were judicious, and his entries
were made in the expressive language suggested by a vigorous mind, yet
they were not sufficiently technical; in consequence of which the
greater part of them were lost, by subsequent entries more specifically
and technically made. He succeeded in retaining a few of them however,
and these were sufficient to make him entirely independent.
The first authentic information we have of him, after he left the place
of his nativity, is that he was engaged in the great battle fought at
the mouth of the Big Kanawha, between the Indians and the troops of Lord
Dinsmore, while he was Governor of the Province of Virginia; in which
he, Kenton, was distinguished for his bravery.
The next intelligence is, that in 1775, he was in the district of
Kentucky commanding a station, near the spot where the town of
Washington now stands. Not long after that work was done, the station
was discovered, attacked and destroyed by the Indians, and it does not
appear that he made any effort to reoccupy it until the year 1784, after
the treaty of peace with Great Britain. In that year he rebuilt his
block-house and cabins, and proceeded to raise a crop; and though
frequently disturbed by the Indians, he continued to occupy and improve
it, until he removed his family to Ohio, some eight or ten years after
the treaty of Greenville.
At the commencement of the war of 1812, Kenton was a citizen of Ohio,
residing in the vicinity of Urbana. He then bore on his person the scars
of many a bloody conflict; yet he repaired to the American camp and
volunteered in the army of Harrison. His personal bravery was
proverbial; his skill and tact in Indian warfare were well known; and as
the frontier at that time abounded with Indians, most of whom had joined
the British standard, the services of such an experienced Indian-fighter
as Simon Kenton were highly appreciated by General Harrison and Governor
Meigs, each of whom had known him personally for many years. His offer
was promptly accepted, and the command of a regiment conferred upon him.
While a portion of the army was stationed at Urbana, a mutinous plan was
formed by some of the militia to attack an encampment of friendly
Indians, who, threatened by the hostile tribes, had been invited to
remove their families within our frontier settlements for protection.
Kenton remonstrated against the movement, as being not only mutinous,
but treacherous and cowardly. He appealed to their humanity, and their
honor as soldiers. He told them that he had endured suffering and
torture at the hands of these people again and again, but that was in
time of war; and now, when they had come to us under promise of safety,
he should permit no treachery toward them. Finding the mutineers still
bent on their purpose, he took a rifle and called on them to proceed,
declaring that he should accompany them to the encampment, and shoot
down the first man who attempted to molest it. Knowing that the veteran
would keep his promise, no one ventured to take the lead. Thus generous
was Kenton in times of peace; thus brave in times of war.
We have said that he secured enough land—despite of the entries made
after and upon his—to render him independent for life; but there were
not wanting those, in his latter days, base enough to defraud the
confiding and noble old hero out of the remainder of his affluence. In
1828 Congress granted him a pension, dating back many years, which
afforded him an ample support the remainder of his life.
The records of such lives as his should be carefully preserved, that the
luxurious and effeminate young men of to-day, and those of the future,
may know by what courage and hardships their ease has been secured to
them.