Captain Samuel Brady was the Daniel Boone of Ohio, and was as efficient
in the settlement of that State as his illustrious cotemporary was in
establishing the domain of the white man in the State of Kentucky. He
entered the army at the commencement of our Revolutionary struggle, and
was engaged at the siege of Boston, as well as in many other important
contests, during the war for independence. He was a Lieutenant under
Wayne at the massacre of Paoli, when that officer was surprised, and the
greater portion of his command cut to pieces and destroyed in cold
blood. Toward the close of the war, he was Captain of a corps of rangers
at Fort Pitt, under General Brodhead, and rendered effectual service
against the Indians, who were in league with the British. He had lost a
father and brother at the hands of the red-skins, and swore to take a
terrible revenge.
To a mind fertile in expedient, and quick as a flash of light in its
deliberations, he added a frame well-knit, though slight, and a
constitution of iron mold. He was an Indian-fighter _con amore_, and the
greater portion of his time was spent in the war-path. Many are the
deeds of daring and thrilling adventure related of him. A volume might
be written embracing the adventures and hair-breadth escapes of the
gallant Captain; but, in common with an immense mass of unwritten
tradition equally valuable and interesting, they are fast being
forgotten and buried in the graves of the past generation.
On one occasion, while out with a small party of his rangers in pursuit
of the Indians, he had gone as far as Slippery Rock Creek, a branch of
Beaver River, in Western Pennsylvania, without seeing any signs of his
foe. Here, however, he struck upon a fresh trail, which led up the
creek, and he hastened in pursuit of the savages, who were some distance
in advance. He followed the trail until evening, when he was obliged to
wait the return of daylight before he could pursue it further. At the
earliest dawn he started afresh, and without stopping to break his fast,
he hurried on, bent on coming up with the enemy before they could reach
their towns. His precipitancy had nearly cost him his life, for although
the party in front did not dream of his proximity, yet a body of
warriors, far outnumbering his own small band, had discovered _his_
trail, and were following it with as much avidity as he was pursuing
their comrades.
Brady discovered those in front, just as they were finishing their
morning meal and preparing to renew their journey. Placing his men in
such a manner as to intercept them, should any attempt to escape, at a
given signal they delivered a close and well-directed volley, and
started up to rush upon the enemy with their tomahawks, when the band in
their rear fired upon them in turn, taking them completely by surprise,
killing two of their number, and throwing the remainder into confusion.
Finding himself thus between two fires, and vastly outnumbered, there
was nothing left but flight; and Brady, directing his men to look out
for themselves, started off at his topmost speed in the direction of the
creek.
The Indians had a long and heavy account to settle with him, however,
and deemed this the opportunity to wipe it out with his blood. For this
purpose they desired to secure him alive, and fifty red-skins,
regardless of the others, who had scattered in every direction, dropped
their rifles and followed him. The Indians knew the ground, Brady did
not, and they felt secure of their victim when they saw him run toward
the creek, which was at this point a wide, deep, and rapid stream. A
yell of triumph broke from them as he arrived at the bank and
comprehended his desperate situation. There was apparently no escape,
and for a moment the Captain felt that his time had come. It was but for
an instant, however. He well knew the fate which awaited him should he
fall into the hands of his enemies, and this reflection nerved him to a
deed which, perhaps, in his calmer moments, he would have found himself
incapable of performing. Gathering all his force into one mighty effort,
as he approached the brink of the stream, and clinging with a death-grip
to his trusty rifle, he sprung across the chasm through which the stream
run, and landed safely upon the other side, with his rifle in his hand.
Quick as thought, his piece was primed, and he commenced to reload. His
feet had barely made their imprint upon the soft, yielding soil of the
western bank, before his place was filled by the brawny form of a
warrior, who, having been foremost in the pursuit, now stood amazed as
he contemplated the gap over which the Captain had passed. With a
frankness which seemed not to undervalue the achievement of an enemy,
the savage, in tolerable good English, exclaimed: "Blady make good jump!
Blady make very good jump!" His conflicting emotions of regret at the
escape of his intended victim, and admiration of the deed by which that
escape had been accomplished, did not hinder the discovery that Brady
was engaged in loading his piece; and he did not feel assured but that
his compliment would be returned from the muzzle of the Captain's rifle.
He incontinently took to his heels as he discovered the latter ramming
home the bullet, which might the next moment be searching out a vital
part in his dusky form; and his erratic movements showed that he
entertained no mean idea of his enemy's skill at sharp-shooting. The
outline of the most intricate field fortification would convey but a
slight idea of the serpentine course he pursued, until satisfied that he
was out of rifle shot. Sometimes leaping in the air, at others squatting
suddenly on his haunches, and availing himself of every shelter, he
evinced a lively fear, which doubtless had its origin in a previous
knowledge of the fatal accuracy of the Captain's aim. Brady had other
views, however, and was not disposed to waste time and powder upon a
single enemy, when surrounded by hundreds, and when the next moment an
empty barrel might cost him his life; and while the savage was still
displaying his agility on the opposite bank, he darted into the woods,
and made his way to a rendezvous previously fixed upon, where he met the
remainder of his party, and they took their way for home, not more than
half defeated. It was not a great while before they were again on the
war-path, in search of further adventures.
Brady afterward visited the spot, and, out of curiosity, he measured the
stream at the place where he jumped, and found it to measure
twenty-three feet from shore to shore, and the water to be twenty feet
deep.
A similar incident is related of Brady in the "Historical Collections of
Ohio," as having occurred on the banks of the Cuyahoga, in which it is
stated that, as he was crawling up the opposite bank, the Indians fired
upon him, and wounded him in the hip, but he managed to stanch the wound
and escape, by hiding himself in the hollow trunk of a tree until the
search for him was over, when he crawled out, and, after incredible
hardship and fatigue, arrived safe at his quarters. The two stories may
have had their origin in the same occurrence, but the details are so
dissimilar, except in the distance, which is in both cases about
twenty-three feet, that it is possible, nay, more than probable, that
the Captain was called upon to exert his great powers on two separate
occasions to save himself from the torture or the stake.
At the time of this famous occurrence, Brady was under orders from
General Brodhead. The Indians did not return that season to do any
injury to the whites; and early that fall, moved off to their friends,
the British, who had to keep them all winter, their corn having been
destroyed by Brodhead.
When the General found the Indians were gone, at the suggestion of
Brady, three companies were ordered out, with a sufficient number of
pack-horses, to kill game for the supply of the garrison. These
companies were commanded by Captains Harrison, Springer and Brady. Game
was very plenty, for neither whites nor Indians ventured to hunt, and
great quantities were put up.
In putting up his tent, Captain Brady's tomahawk had slipped and cut his
knee, by which he was lamed for some time. This occasioned him to remain
at the tents until he got well, which afforded him the opportunity of
witnessing some of the peculiar superstitions of his Indian allies, for
he had his Indians and their families along with him.
One of these Indians had assumed the name of Wilson. The Captain was
lying in his tent one afternoon, and observed his man, Wilson, coming
home in a great hurry, and that, as he met his squaw, he gave her a
kick, without saying a word, and begun to unbreech his gun. The squaw
went away, and returned soon after, with some roots, which she had
gathered; and, after washing them clean, she put them into a kettle to
boil. While boiling, Wilson corked up the muzzle of his gun, and stuck
the breech into the kettle, and continued it there until the plug flew
out of the muzzle. He then took it out and put it into the stock. Brady,
knowing the Indians were very "superstitious," as we call it, did not
speak to him until he saw him wiping his gun. He then called to him, and
asked what was the matter. Wilson came to the Captain, and said, in
reply, that his gun had been very sick—that she could not shoot; he had
been just giving her a vomit, and she was now well. Whether the vomit
helped the gun, or only strengthened Wilson's nerves, the Captain could
not tell, but he averred that Wilson killed ten deer the next day.
Beaver Valley was the scene of many of Captain Brady's stirring
adventures. We have heard from many of the older citizens their accounts
of his thrilling exploits. They speak in unbounded terms of admiration
of his daring and success; his many hair-breadth escapes by "field and
flood;" and always concluded by declaring that he was a greater man than
Daniel Boone or Lewis Wetzel, either of whom, in the eyes of the old
pioneers, were the very embodiment of dare-devilism.
The following, illustrating one of Brady's adventures in the region
referred to, we give from a published source. In one of his trapping and
hunting excursions, he was surprised and taken prisoner by Indians who
had closely watched his movements.
"To have shot or tomahawked him would have been but a small
gratification to that of satiating their revenge by burning him at a
slow fire, in presence of all the Indians of their village. He was,
therefore, taken alive to their encampment, on the west bank of the
Beaver River, about a mile and a half from its mouth. After the usual
exultations and rejoicings at the capture of a noted enemy, and causing
him to run the gauntlet, a fire was prepared, near which Brady was
placed, after being stripped, and with his arms unbound. Previous to
tying him to the stake, a large circle was formed around of Indian men,
women and children, dancing and yelling, and uttering all manner of
threats and abuses that their small knowledge of the English language
could afford. The prisoner looked on these preparations for death and on
his savage foe with a firm countenance and a steady eye, meeting all
their threats with truly savage fortitude. In the midst of their dancing
and rejoicing, a squaw of one of their chiefs came near him with a child
in her arms. Quick as thought, and with intuitive prescience, he
snatched it from her, and threw it into the midst of the flames.
Horror-stricken at the sudden outrage, the Indians simultaneously rushed
to rescue the infant from the fire. In the midst of this confusion,
Brady darted from the circle, overturning all that came in his way, and
rushed into the adjacent thicket, with the Indians yelling at his heels.
He ascended the steep side of a hill amid a shower of bullets, and
darting down the opposite declivity, secreted himself in the deep
ravines and laurel thickets that abound for several miles in the West.
His knowledge of the country and wonderful activity enabled him to elude
his enemies, and reach the settlements in safety."
Shortly after he entered the service of General Broadhead, he was sent,
on a scout, as far west as Sandusky. Captain Brady was not insensible to
the danger, or ignorant of the difficulty of the enterprise. But he saw
the anxiety of the father of his country to procure information that
could only be obtained by this perilous mode, and knew its importance.
His own danger was an inferior consideration. The appointment was
accepted, and, selecting a few soldiers, and four Chickasaw Indians as
guides, he crossed the Allegany river, and was at once in the enemy's
country.
It was in May, 1780, that he commenced his march. The season was
uncommonly wet. Every considerable stream was swollen; neither road,
bridge nor house facilitated their march, or shielded their repose. Part
of their provision was picked up by the way, as they crept, rather than
marched through the wilderness by night, and lay concealed in its
branches by day. The slightest trace of his movement, the print of a
white man's foot on the sand of a river, might have occasioned the
extermination of the party. Brady was versed in all the wiles of Indian
"strategy," and, dressed in the full war dress of an Indian warrior, and
well acquainted with their languages, he led his band in safety near to
the Sandusky towns, without seeing a hostile Indian.
The night before he reached Sandusky he saw a fire, approached it, and
found two squaws reposing beside it. He passed on without molesting
them. But his Chickasaws now deserted. This was alarming, for it was
probable they had gone over to the enemy. However, he determined to
proceed. With a full knowledge of the horrible death that awaited him if
taken prisoner, he passed on, until he stood beside the town, and on the
bank of the river.
His first care was to provide a place of concealment for his men. When
this was effected, having selected one man as the companion of his
future adventures, he waded the river to an island partially covered
with driftwood, opposite the town, where he concealed himself and
comrade for the night.
In constancy of purpose, in cool, deliberate courage, the Captain of the
Rangers will compare with any hero of this age, or any other. Neither
banner nor pennon waved over him. He was hundreds of miles in the heart
of an enemy's country—an enemy who, had they possessed it, would have
given his weight in gold for the pleasure of burning him to death with a
slow fire—adding to his torments, both mental and physical, every
ingredient that savage ingenuity could supply.
Who that has poetry of feeling, or feeling of poetry, but must pause
over such a scene, and, in imagination, contemplate its features! The
murmuring river; the sylvan landscape; as each was gazed upon by that
lonely, but dauntless warrior, in the still midnight hour.
The next morning a dense fog spread over hill and dale, town and river.
All was hid from Brady's eyes, save the logs and brush around him. About
eleven o'clock it cleared off, and afforded him a view of about three
thousand Indians, engaged in the amusements of the race ground.
They had just returned from Virginia or Kentucky with some very fine
horses. One gray horse in particular attracted his notice. He won every
race until near evening, when, as if envious of his speed, two riders
were placed on him, and thus he was beaten. The starting post was only a
few rods above where Brady lay, and he had a pretty fair chance of
enjoying the amusement, without the risk of losing any thing by betting
on the race.
He made such observation through the day as was in his power, waded out
from the island at night, collected his men, went to the Indian camp he
had seen as he came out; the squaws were still there; he took them
prisoners, and continued his march homeward.
The map furnished by General Broadhead was found to be defective. The
distance was represented to be much less than it really was. The
provisions and ammunition of the men were exhausted by the time they got
to the Big Beaver, on their return. Brady shot an otter, but could not
eat it. The last load was in his rifle. They arrived at an old
encampment, and found plenty of strawberries, which they stopped to
appease their hunger with. Having discovered a deer track, Brady
followed it, telling the men he would perhaps get a shot at it. He had
gone but a few rods when he saw the deer standing broadside to him. He
raised his rifle and attempted to fire, but it flashed in the pan, and
he had not a priming of powder. He sat down, picked the touch-hole, and
then started on. After going a short distance the path made a bend, and
he saw before him a large Indian on horseback, with a white child
before, and its captive mother behind him on the horse, and a number of
warriors marching in the rear. His first impulse was to shoot the Indian
on horseback, but, as he raised his rifle, he observed the child's head
to roll with the motion of the horse. It was fast asleep, and tied to
the Indian. He stepped behind the root of a tree, and waited until he
could shoot the Indian, without danger to the child or its mother.
When he considered the chance certain, he shot the Indian, who fell from
his horse, and the child and its mother fell with him. Brady called to
his men with a voice that made the forest ring, to surround the Indians
and give them a general fire. He sprung to the fallen Indian's
powder-horn, but could not pull it off. Being dressed like an Indian,
the woman thought he was one, and said:
"Why did you shoot your brother?"
He caught up the child, saying:
"Jenny Stupes, I am Captain Brady; follow me, and I will secure you and
your child."
He caught her hand in his, carrying the child under the other arm, and
dashed into the brush. Many guns were fired at him by this time, but no
ball harmed him, and the Indians, dreading an ambuscade, were glad to
make off. The next day he arrived at Fort McIntosh with the woman and
her child. His men had got there before him. They had heard his
war-whoop, and knew it was Indians he had encountered, but, having no
ammunition, they had taken to their heels, and ran off. The squaws he
had taken at Sandusky, availing themselves of the panic, had also made
their escape.
In those days Indian fashions prevailed, in some measure, with the
whites, at least with rangers. Brady was desirous of seeing the Indian
he had shot, and the officer in command of Fort McIntosh gave him some
men in addition to his own, and he returned to search for the body. The
place where lie had fallen was discovered, but nothing more. No pains
were spared to search, but the body was not found. They were about to
leave the place, when the yell of a _pet_ Indian, that came with them
from the fort, called them to a little glade, where the grave was
discovered. The Indians had interred their dead brother there, carefully
replacing the sod in the neatest manner. They had also cut brushes and
stuck them into the ground, but the brushes had withered, and instead of
concealing the grave, they led to the discovery.
He was buried about two feet deep, with all his implements of war about
him.
All his savage jewelry, his arms and ammunition were taken from him, and
the scalp from his head, and then they left him, thus stripped, alone in
his grave. It is painful to think of such things being done by American
soldiers, but we cannot now know all the excusing circumstances that may
have existed at the time. Perhaps the husband of this woman, the father
of this child, was thus butchered before his wife and children; and the
younger members of the family, unable to bear the fatigues of traveling,
had their brains dashed out on the threshold. Such things were common,
and a spirit of revenge was deeply seated in the breasts of the people
of the frontiers. Captain Brady's own family had heavily felt the
merciless tomahawk. His brave and honored father, and a beloved brother,
had been treacherously slain by the Indians, and he had vowed vengeance.
After refreshing himself and men, they went up to Pittsburg by water,
where they were received with military honors. Minute guns were fired
from the time Brady came in sight until he landed.
The Chickasaw Indians had returned to Pittsburg, and reported that the
Captain and his party had been cut off near Sandusky town by the
Indians. When General Broadhead heard this, he said Brady was an
aspiring young man, and had solicited the command. But on Brady's
arrival in Pittsburg, the General acknowledged that the Captain had
accepted the command with much diffidence.
A few days after Brady had left Sandusky with his squaw prisoners,
keeping a sharp look-out in expectation of being pursued, and taking
every precaution to avoid pursuit, such as keeping on the dryest ridges,
and walking on logs whenever they suited his course, he found he was
followed by Indians. His practised eye would occasionally discover in
the distance, an Indian hopping to or from a tree, or other screen, and
advancing on his trail. After being satisfied of the fact, he stated it
to his men, and told them no Indian could thus pursue him, after the
precautions he had taken, without a dog on his track.
"I will stop," said Brady, "and shoot the dog, and then we can get along
better."
He selected the root of a tall chestnut tree which had fallen westward,
for his place of ambush. He walked from the west end of the tree or log
to the east, and sat down in the pit made by the raising of the root. He
had not been long there when a small slut mounted the log at the west
end, and, with her nose to the trunk, approached him. Close behind her
followed a plumed warrior. Brady had his choice. He preferred shooting
the slut, which he did; she rolled off the log, stone dead, and the
warrior, with a loud whoop, sprung into the woods and disappeared. He
was followed no further.
Many of Captain Brady's adventures occurred at periods of which no
certainty as to dates can now be had. The following is of that class:
His success as a partisan had acquired for him its usual
results—approbation with some, and envy with others. Some of his brother
officers censured the Commandant for affording him such frequent
opportunities for honorable distinction. At length an open complaint was
made, accompanied by a request, in the nature of a demand, that others
should be permitted to share with Brady the perils and honors of the
service, abroad from the fort. The General apprised Brady of what had
passed, who readily acquiesced in the proposed arrangement; and an
opportunity was not long wanting for testing its efficiency.
The Indians made an inroad into the Sewickly settlement, committing the
most barbarous murders of men, women, and children; stealing such
property as was portable, and destroying all else. The alarm was brought
to Pittsburg, and a party of soldiers under the command of the emulous
officers dispatched for the protection of the settlement, and
chastisement of the foe. From this expedition Brady was, of course,
excluded; but the restraint was irksome to his feelings.
The day after the detachment had marched, he solicited permission from
the commander to take a small party for the purpose of "catching the
Indians," but was refused. By dint of importunity, however, he at length
wrung from him a reluctant consent, and the command of five men; to this
he added his _pet_ Indian, and made hasty preparation.
Instead of moving toward Sewickly, as the first detachment had done, he
crossed the Alleghany at Pittsburg, and proceeded up the river.
Conjecturing that the Indians had descended the stream in canoes, till
near the settlement; he was careful to examine the mouths of all creeks
coming into it, particularly from the Southeast. At the mouth of Big
Mahoning, about six miles above Kittanning, the canoes were seen drawn
up to its western bank. He instantly retreated down the river, and
waited for night. As soon as it was dark, he made a raft, and crossed to
the Kittanning side. He then proceeded up the creek, and found that the
Indians had, in the meantime, crossed the creek, as their canoes were
drawn to its upper or north-eastern bank.
The country on both sides of Mahoning, at its mouth, is rough and
mountainous, and the stream, which was then high, very rapid. Several
ineffectual attempts were made to wade it, which they at length
succeeded in doing, three or four miles above the canoes. Next, a fire
was made, their clothing dried, and arms inspected; and the party moved
toward the Indian camp, which was pitched on the second bank of the
river. Brady placed his men at some distance on the lower or first bank.
The Indians had brought from Sewickly a stallion, which they had
fettered and turned to pasture on the lower bank. An Indian, probably
the owner, under the _law of arms_, came frequently down to him, and
occasioned the party no little trouble. The horse, too, seemed willing
to keep their company, and it required considerable circumspection to
avoid all intercourse with either. Brady became so provoked that he had
a strong inclination to tomahawk the Indian, but his calmer judgment
repudiated the act, so likely to put to hazard a more decisive and
important achievement.
At length the Indians seemed quiet, and the Captain determined to pay
them a closer visit, which he succeeded in doing, then returned, posted
his men, and in the deepest silence all awaited the break of day. When
it appeared, the Indians arose and stood around their fires, exulting
doubtless in the scalps they had taken, the plunder they had acquired,
and the injuries they had inflicted on their enemies. Precarious joy!
short-lived triumph! the avenger of blood was beside them. At a signal
given, seven rifles cracked, and five Indians were dead ere they fell.
Brady's well-known war-cry was heard, his party were among them, and
their rifles (mostly empty) were all secured. The remaining Indians
instantly fled and disappeared. One was pursued by the trace of his
blood, which he seems to have succeeded in staunching. The pet Indian
then imitated the cry of a young wolf, which was answered by the wounded
man, and the pursuit was again renewed. A second time the wolf cry was
given and answered, and the pursuit continued into a windfall. Here he
must have espied his pursuers, for he answered no more. Brady found his
remains three weeks afterwards, being led to the place by ravens that
were preying on the carcass.
The horse was unfettered, the plunder gathered, and the party commenced
their return to Pittsburg, most of them descending in the Indian canoes.
Three days after their return, the first detachment came in. They
reported that they had followed the Indians closely, but that the latter
had got into their canoes and made their escape.
Captain Brady married a daughter of Captain Van Swearengen, of Ohio
County, who bore him two children, John and Van S., both of whom are
still living. He possessed all the elements of a brave and successful
soldier. Like Marion, "he consulted with all his men respectfully, heard
them patiently, weighed their suggestions, and silently approached his
own conclusions. They knew his determination only by his actions." Brady
had but few superiors as a woodsman; he would strike out into the heart
of the wilderness, and with no guide, but the sun by day, and the stars
by night, or in their absence, then by such natural marks as the barks
and tops of trees he would move on steadily, in a direct line toward the
point of his destination. He always avoided beaten paths and the borders
of streams; and never was known to leave his track behind him. In this
manner he eluded pursuit, and defied detection. He was often vainly
hunted by his own men, and was more likely to find them, than they him.