THE CHIEFTAIN S APPEAL.
THE IMPLACABLE GOVERNOR.
Mrs. SLOCUMB AT MOORE'S CREEK.
BRADY'S LEAP.
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,
118 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1864,
by BEADLE AND COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of
the United
States for the Southern District of New York.
THE
CHIEFTAIN'S APPEAL.
Sullivan's campaign into the Indian country, in the fall of 1779,
realized none of the anticipations regarding it; for, although the
severity of the ensuing winter, and the privations they suffered from
the destruction of their homes and their crops, kept the Indians from
making any predatory excursions upon the settlements, yet, on the
opening of spring, they swept over the country in clouds, burning with
revenge, and breathing vengeance against the pale-faces.
Early in April, a party of forty or fifty Indians and Tories, under the
command of Captain Brandt, the Mohawk chief, made an incursion against
Harpersfield, which they surprised and destroyed. Most of the
inhabitants, however, had, owing to their exposed situation, left the
place, and nineteen prisoners and a small amount of plunder was all that
graced their triumph. On his way from Niagara, Brandt had detached a
party of eleven Indians, under a young chief called Cheyendowah, to
attack the settlement at Minisink, and bring in some prisoners. This was
successfully accomplished, and five of its male inhabitants were led
captive into the wilderness, as far as Tioga Point. Here, however, they
rose upon their captors while asleep, and in a few moments nine of them
lay in the agonies of death, while the other two fled, one being
mortally wounded. At the time that Harpersfield was destroyed, a party
of fourteen militiamen, under command of Captain Alexander Harper, were
in the woods making maple-sugar for the garrison at Old Schoharie. Not
dreaming of the proximity of an enemy, they were attacked by the party
under Brandt, and two of their number shot down before they could seize
their arms; and when they attempted to reach them, they found themselves
completely cut off and surrounded. Nothing remained, therefore, but to
surrender. The Tories composing a part of Brandt's party, were opposed
to taking prisoners, and wished to kill them at once, that they might
not be an incumbrance at the attack of the Schoharie Fort, which was one
object of the expedition. A frightful massacre would have ensued,
without doubt, had not Brandt's forethought prevented it. He had raised
his tomahawk to strike Captain Harper, which would have been the signal
for the death of the others, when, thinking he might get valuable
information from him, he lowered his weapon, and, looking the other
sternly in the eye, he asked: "How many regular troops are there in the
fort?" Harper saw the object of the chief, and, without any hesitation
or prevarication, told him that three hundred Continentals had arrived
but a few days before to garrison the forts. This was not true, but the
manner in which Harper told it imposed upon the chief, who, by the way,
had been a schoolmate of his, and, although the circumstance
disconcerted his plans, yet he was induced to believe him. One of
Harper's men, fearing that the Indians would put them all to death if
they should discover the fraud, informed the chief of the true state of
the case; but he, thinking it a ruse to lead him into danger, and thus
facilitate the escape of the prisoners, put no faith in his story, but,
on the contrary, was the more convinced of Harper's truthfulness. A
conference was held between Brandt and his subordinate chiefs in regard
to the disposal of the prisoners. The former was in favor of taking them
to Niagara, but the latter, disappointed at the failure of the main part
of their enterprise, and thirsting for blood, were for massacring them
at once. During the controversy, the prisoners, bound hand and foot,
were thrust into a pen of logs, where they were kept under guard of the
Tories and their leader, an infamous wretch by the name of Becraft. The
pen was near enough to the council to hear what was going on, and Harper
understood enough of the Indian language to catch the import of their
"talk." Becraft took pains, too, to inform them of the wishes of the
majority of the Indians, and in abusive language told them that they
would "all be in hell before morning." The influence of Brandt—at all
times powerful—enabled him to prevent bloodshed, and the others were
induced to forego their bloodthirsty desires, for the present, at least.
In the morning, Harper was again brought before the chief and
interrogated. With great presence of mind he reasserted his story, and,
although the other eyed him with the most searching gaze, he betrayed no
evidence of indecision; and at length the chief, convinced, apparently,
of the truth, gave the order to commence their march for Niagara. The
prisoners were not allowed to reach their destination, without passing
through fearful ordeals. One day they stopped at a mill kept by a Tory,
who, with both of his daughters, counseled Brandt to destroy "the
infernal Whigs." This coinciding with the desires of the Tories and a
majority of the Indians, the chief found it difficult to restrain them,
and prevent the sacrifice. On another occasion they met a loyalist, who
was well acquainted with Brandt and Harper, who told the former that he
had been deceived—that there were no troops at Schoharie. This led to
another searching inquiry, but Harper persisted in his story with so
much apparent candor as again to elude detection. But when the party
reached the Chemung River, they had to pass a still more fearful trial.
On reaching this point, Brandt and his warriors raised a whoop, as is
customary with the Indians when they have prisoners—it was answered by a
single _death yell_! In a few moments a single Indian made his
appearance, who proved to be the young chief Cheyendowah. His story was
soon told. Of the eleven who started for the Minisink settlement, he
alone was left so tell the tale of their massacre at the hands of their
prisoners. The others had gathered about him, excited listeners to the
melancholy narrative, and the effect of the recital upon these already
implacable warriors was fearful in the extreme. "Revenge!" seemed to
leap from every tongue, and their faces were wrought into an expression
of the fiercest determination to immolate the unhappy prisoners on the
spot. Every hand sought a weapon simultaneously, and the glittering
tomahawk and keener scalping-knife leaped into the air, while their eyes
glared ferociously upon Harper and his companions, who, conscious that
their fate was inevitable, awaited it with what composure they could
command. With one accord, the savages rushed in a tumultuous throng,
with uplifted weapons, upon their victims. Brandt had no power to
control the storm, and did not attempt it. As well might he attempt to
stay the whirlwind in its fury, or beat back the mountain torrent in its
course; the doom of the white men was apparently sealed, It was to the
magnanimity of one from whom they could least anticipate such
forbearance, that they were indebted for their lives. Rushing between
the infuriated warriors and their anticipated prey, the young chief
Cheyendowah waved back the crowd with an imperious gesture which
commanded attention. When silence was restored, he surprised his
auditors by an urgent appeal in behalf of the prisoners. "It was not
they," he said, "who had killed their brethren, and to take the lives of
innocent men would not punish the guilty. The Great Spirit would be
angry with them if they should do this wicked thing." Pointing upward,
in words of majestic eloquence, he told them that "Manitou was looking
upon them, and would send his thunders to destroy their families, their
homes, and themselves, if they sacrificed the white men in their
vengeance." He told them it was cowardly to kill men who could not
defend themselves, and none but squaws would take such an advantage.
Appealing thus alternately to their fears, their humanity, and their
superstition, he wrought upon their better nature, and was successful in
inducing them to forego their anticipated vengeance. One by one their
weapons were returned to their accustomed places, and with subdued and
less excited feelings, they recommenced their onward march to Niagara,
which they reached at length; not, however, without the severest
suffering by the way.
The eloquence of the red-man is proverbial. Many a time has the captive
trembled when it has been exercised against him; and thrilled with joy,
when it was exerted in his behalf. In the swift future, when all traces
of his existence, who was once the master of this mighty continent, is
swept away, and our children's children read of him, as an ancient and
perished myth, the records of his eloquence shall be left alive. One of
the best specimens of Indian rhetoric, is the speech of Tecumseh, at the
grand council of the Creeks. One, who was present, and heard it as it
fell from his lips, General Dale, says:
"I have heard many great orators, but I never saw one with the vocal
powers of Tecumseh, or the same command of the muscles of the face. Had
I been deaf, the play of his countenance would have told me what he
said. Its effect on that wild, untutored, superstitious, and warlike
assemblage, may be conceived: not a word was said, but stern warriors,
the 'stoics of the wood,' shook with emotion, and a thousand tomahawks
were brandished in the air. Even the big warrior, who had been true to
the whites, and remained faithful during the war, was, for the moment,
visibly affected, and more than once I saw his huge hand clutch,
spasmodically the handle of his knife."
But, to the speech:
"In defiance of the white warriors of Ohio and Kentucky, I have traveled
through their settlements, once our favorite hunting-grounds. No
war-whoop was sounded, but there is blood upon our knives The pale-faces
felt the blow, but knew not whence it came.
"Accursed be the race that has seized on our country and made women of
our warriors. Our fathers, from their tombs, reproach us as slaves and
cowards. I hear them now in the wailing winds.
"The Muscogee was once a mighty people. The Georgians trembled at your
war-whoop, and the maidens of my tribe, on the distant lakes, sung the
prowess of your warriors, and sighed for their embraces.
"Now, your very blood is white; your tomahawks have no edges; your bows
and arrows were buried with your fathers. Oh! Muscogees, brethren of my
mother, brush from your eyelids the sleep of slavery; once more strike
for vengeance—once more for your country. The spirits of the mighty dead
complain. Their tears drop from the skies. Let the white man perish.
"They seize your land; they corrupt your women; they trample on the
ashes of your dead. Back, whence they came, upon a trail of blood, must
they be driven.
"Back! back, ay, into the great waters whose accursed waves brought them
to our shores.
"Burn their dwellings! destroy their stock! Slay their wives and
children! The red-man owns the country, and the pale-face must never
enjoy it.
"War! war! War forever! War upon the living! War upon the dead! Dig
their very corpses from the grave. _Our_ country must give no rest to a
white man's bones.
"This is the will of the Great Spirit, revealed to my brother, his
familiar, the Prophet of the Lakes. He sends me to you.
"All the tribes of the North are dancing the war-dance. Two mighty
warriors across the seas will send us arms.
"Tecumseh will soon return to his country. My prophets shall tarry with
you. They will stand between you and the bullets of your enemies. When
the white men approach you, the yawning earth shall swallow them up.
"Soon shall you see my arm of fire stretched athwart the sky. I will
stamp my foot at Tippecanoe, and the very earth shall shake."
It appears that the wily orator had been informed by the British that a
comet was shortly to appear; and the earthquake, of 1811, had commenced
as he came through Kentucky; so that, when the arm of fire was actually
stretched forth, and the earth did shake under old Tippecanoe, his
auditors attributed it to Tecumseh's supernatural powers, and
immediately took up arms.
We think the speech of Weatherford, one of the Creek war-chiefs, engaged
against General Jackson, an equally fine example of their oratory, while
it illustrates the remarkable dignity of mind which enabled him to
support his humiliating position with such grandeur. It was after our
doughty General had nearly annihilated the tribes in his department, the
Indians, seeing all resistance at an end, came forward and made their
submission; Weatherford, however, and many who were known to be
desperate, still holding out.
General Jackson, determined to test the fidelity of those chiefs who had
already submitted, ordered them to deliver, without delay, Weatherford,
bound, into his hands, to be dealt with as he deserved. When they made
known to the sachem what was required of them, his high spirit would not
submit to such degradation; and, to hold them harmless, he resolved to
give himself up without compulsion.
Accordingly, he proceeded to the American camp, unknown, until he
appeared before the commanding General, to whose presence, under some
pretence, he gained admission. Jackson was greatly surprised when the
chief said:
"I am Weatherford, the chief who commanded at the capture of Fort Mimms.
I desire peace for my people, and have come to ask it."
The General had doubtless resolved upon his execution, when he should be
brought, bound; but, his unexpected appearance in this manner, saved
him; he said to the chief that he was astonished at his venturing to
appear in his presence, as he was not ignorant of the warrior having
been at Fort Mimms, nor of his inhuman conduct there, for which he
richly deserved to die.
"I ordered," continued the General, "that you should be brought to me
bound; had you been brought as I ordered, I should have known how to
treat you."
In answer to this, Weatherford replied:
"I am in your power; do with me as you please; I am a soldier. I have
done the whites all the harm I could. I have fought them, and fought
them bravely. Had I an army, I would yet fight—I would contend to the
last; but, I have none. My people are all gone. I can only weep over the
misfortunes of my nation."
Jackson was of too audacious a nature himself, not to be pleased with
this fellow, and told him that he would take no advantage of his present
situation; that he might yet join the war-party, and contend against the
Americans, if he chose, but to depend upon no quarter, if taken; and
that unconditional submission was his, and his people's only safety.
Weatherford rejoined, in a tone both dignified and indignant:
"You can safely address me in such terms, now. There was a time when I
could have answered—there was a time when I had a choice—I have none
now. I have not even a hope. I could once animate my warriors to the
battle—but I can not animate the dead. My warriors can no longer hear my
voice. Their bones are at Talladega, Tallashatches, Emucklaw, and
Tohopeka. I have not surrendered myself without thought. While there was
a single chance of success, I never left my post nor supplicated peace.
But my people are gone; and I now ask it, for my nation, not for myself.
I look back with deep sorrow, and wish to avert still greater
calamities. If I had been left to contend with the Georgian army, I
would have raised my corn on one bank of the river and fought them on
the other. But your people have destroyed my nation. You are a brave
man. I rely on your generosity. You will exact no terms of a conquered
people, but such as they should accede to. Whatever they may be, it
would now be madness and folly to oppose them. If they are opposed, you
will find me among the sternest enforcers of obedience. Those, who would
still hold out, can be influenced only by a mean spirit of revenge. To
this, they must not, and shall not, sacrifice the last remnant of their
country. You have told our nation where we might go and be safe. This,
is good talk, and they ought to listen to it. They shall listen to it."
Weatherford is described as having possessed a noble person and a
brilliant intellect. After peace was declared, he settled amid the
whites, and General Dale, who had fought against him often, had the
pleasure of standing as groomsman at his wedding.