THE GREATEST OF INDIAN CONSPIRATORS
PONTIAC, CHIEF OF THE OTTAWAS
We are now to learn of another great American Indian,--one who ranks
beside King Philip and Tecumseh, and whose career stamped itself upon
the history of the frontier. This native leader was Pontiac, chief of
the Ottawas.
[Illustration]
Down to the opening of the last half of the eighteenth century, England
and France were the leading rivals in colonizing America. The English
planted their settlements along the coast, while the vast territory to
the westward remained a wilderness, trodden only by the red men and
wild beasts. France settled Canada, but, while doing so, she dreamed of
founding a mighty empire, reaching from the Great Lakes to the Gulf of
Mexico. She sent her surveyors into the Mississippi Valley, and they
buried leaden plates at different points to let every one know that the
country belonged to the King of France. They also built forts to the
number of sixty or more throughout that vast region, leaving no doubt
that they meant to hold it if necessary by force of arms.
French trappers, hunters and explorers began pushing eastward into
the valley of the Ohio. At the same time some of the English pressed
westward. These pioneers of two civilizations met in the gloomy
solitudes, and fighting and bloodshed followed. Neither would yield,
and war was certain to come. You know that the building of Fort Le
Bœuf, in the far northwest corner of Pennsylvania, was looked upon by
Virginia as an invasion of her territory, and Governor Dinwiddie sent a
messenger, named +George Washington+, with a letter protesting against
the act. The gallant young Virginian came back with word from the
French officer that he not only meant to stay there, but would drive
out every Englishman who showed himself in the country which belonged
to the King of France.
The French and Indian War followed, ending with the triumph of
England. France gave up every foot of soil she had held on the Western
Hemisphere, except a little fishing station or two, and agreed to turn
over all the western posts to her conqueror. It was this change of
masters that brought Pontiac forward and caused one of the greatest
crises in the history of that region.
A short time after the surrender of Quebec, General Amherst sent an
armed force to the leading post, Detroit, to receive its submission,
and that of the other forts on the frontier. This body was under the
command of Major Robert Rogers of New Hampshire, who had acted a
prominent part in the war, and who gained still greater fame (though
unfortunately it was afterward tarnished) in the Revolution at the head
of his famous Rangers.
Major Rogers coasted along southern Lake Erie late in the autumn of
1760. For a time the weather was crisp and pleasant, but when near the
site of the present city of Cleveland, a cold, dismal storm broke, and
the party put ashore and went into camp until the skies should clear.
While resting, a score of Ottawa Indians visited the camp. They were
led by a chief of striking appearance, whose identity Rogers suspected
the moment he saw him. The officer had had dealings with red men, and
none knew better than he how to treat with them. He showed the visitors
every courtesy, and put on a meekness which it is safe to say he was
far from feeling. He had heard of Pontiac, who now stood before him,
and knew him to be one of the foremost of his race. The veteran meant
to win his good will, if such a thing were possible.
Pontiac asked by what right these white soldiers dared to enter the
country which belonged to him. Rogers explained that the war which
had been going on for several years (and in which the great chief had
played so honorable a part) was now ended by the victory of the English
over the French. Rogers was on his way to Detroit to tell the news to
the French commandant there, who would give up the post to the English,
as soon as he learned the truth. There was no way of getting to Detroit
except by passing through the country of the mighty Pontiac; he assured
the great and good chief that no harm should be done to any of his
people; he hoped he would not take offence, for the visitors would go
back to their homes as soon as their task was over. Meanwhile he begged
Pontiac to accept a few slight tokens of the good will of their Father
across the water.
Rogers won Pontiac's good will by his flattery and presents, and the
chief told the visitors that so long as they acted rightly, no harm
would befall them from his warriors. So Rogers and his party embarked
in their whale boats once more, and in due time reached Detroit.
The news they carried thither proved bitter medicine to the French
commandant, and for a time he refused to swallow it, but there was no
help for it, and in the end he submitted with the best grace possible.
Few of the scowling Indians gathered round grasped the full meaning
of this surrender. They could not understand how it was that a force
so much larger than the English could yield to them. Another mystery
was, why, after the French had submitted and laid down their arms, the
English did not put every one to death. _That_ was the fashion among
the red men, with whom mercy is a failing of which few are guilty at
any time.
[Illustration: ON THE WARPATH]
There was one, however, in the dusky swarm who understood it all.
"Because the English have conquered the French everywhere else,"
thought Pontiac, "those that are here are compelled to yield. The
English will now become the masters of the Indians, and we have much
more reason to hate them than we have to hate the French."
The words of the Ottawa were true. The French from the first were wiser
than their rivals in dealing with the red men. Naturally, therefore,
the latter were generally the allies of the French in the wars between
the two nations. Believing that the new masters would act cruelly--and
there was good ground for such belief--Pontiac formed his great
conspiracy. Like King Philip, three-quarters of a century before, his
plan was to unite all the tribes he could reach into a confederation
for keeping Detroit and all the western posts in the hands of the
French, who had treated them better than the English. It was a plot of
magnitude.
In the formation of this conspiracy, Pontiac had the aid, to a certain
extent, of the French themselves. They were soured because of their
defeat, and many of the officers could not justify France in thus
throwing away a continent. They were sure that with the help of the
Indians, it could have been held against their rivals. Such, also, was
the unshakable belief of Pontiac. But he went farther than his white
friends. He was certain that although some of the forts had been given
up, they could be retaken from the English and turned over again to
the French. In reaching this belief, the Ottawa forgot the laws of
civilized warfare. He reasoned as an Indian.
Like King Philip also, he understood the necessity of thorough
preparation. The plot would be ruined by impatience or by a blow
delivered too soon. Weeks and months, and possibly years, were
necessary to bring his plans to a head. He would not require the time
taken by Opecancanough, but he meant to use all that was needed.
Pontiac's plan in brief was that the blow at all the western posts
should be struck on the same day. Thus there would be no time for the
forts to send warning to one another, or to give mutual help. Indeed,
these forest garrisons were as a rule so weak that they were sure to
have all they could do, after being warned of their danger, to defend
themselves.
Pontiac set grimly to work. He held under his direct control the
Ottawas, Ojibwas and Pottawatomies,--all powerful tribes, who could
be counted upon to do his will. But he needed many more warriors, and
he set out to gain them. He plotted and schemed for nearly two years
before sending his ambassadors to the more distant tribes. To each he
gave as his credentials a tomahawk painted red, and a wampum war belt.
Active and ceaseless as was the chieftain, he could not do more than
a fraction of the work alone. It was necessary to travel hundreds of
miles through the trackless wilderness, often in the depth of winter,
or when the floods descended and the hurricanes uprooted the forest
trees. But while he was forever planning, his faithful ambassadors were
busy, and so perfect was the work done by him and them, that every
tribe between the Ottawa and Lower Mississippi was visited, and many
were won to the support of the iron-willed chieftain.
[Illustration: THE WAMPUM OF PEACE BELT]
Sir William Johnson held the Six Nations in New York in a tight grasp.
He suddenly found Pontiac's messengers among them and doing dangerous
work; but he was a warm friend of the English, as he proved when the
Revolution broke out, and he succeeded in keeping his warlike wards
from going to the support of the Ottawa leader, excepting only the
fierce Senecas, who pledged the ambassadors that when Pontiac called
them, they would be ready to fight against the English. He fixed upon
May 7, 1763, as the day when the general attack should be made upon all
the forest garrisons covering a wide area.
Now, every one must see the impossibility of keeping secret this
far-reaching conspiracy. The situation was different from that of
Opecancanough in Virginia. That hoary leader of the Powhatans was able
to do all his plotting in the depths of the woods, and his objective
point was the settlements along the James. Pontiac's area of operations
covered thousands of square miles; some of the tribes to whom he
appealed were unfriendly to him, and the score and more of forts were
widely separated. Here and there, the commandants, or those under them,
had made warm friends of the red men, who could be counted upon to give
them notice of any danger. It was impossible, therefore, to keep the
plot secret during the two years it was coming to a head; the wonder is
that it did not become generally known much earlier than was actually
the fact.
The records of all wars with savages betray a strange blindness on the
part of the whites to the signs of danger around them. This blindness
may be due to their unwillingness to believe ill of those who have
acted well for a long time, but none the less, it is hard to understand
why it should deceive those who ought to be the last ones in the world
to be caught off their guard in such surroundings.
Ensign Holmes had charge of the small garrison at Fort Miama,
where Fort Wayne, Indiana, now stands. One day, an Indian of the
neighborhood, who had shown a strong liking for the officer, came to
him with the war belt that had been brought to his tribe by one of
Pontiac's messengers. The Ensign's suspicions were roused, and he
questioned his dusky friend closely. He revealed the whole plot.
[Illustration: THE INDIAN MASSACRE IN WYOMING VALLEY, PENNSYLVANIA.
On July 3, 1778, Major Butler, commanding a force of Indians,
British and Tories, descended upon the beautiful Wyoming Valley, in
Pennsylvania, to dispossess the Continentals. The Indians could not be
restrained and a brutal massacre of men, women and children followed
the battle.]
[Illustration: CHIEF BRANDT AND HIS INDIANS MASSACRE THE SETTLERS.
Cherry Valley, New York, was the scene of a sudden attack by the
Indians in 1778, when women and children were murdered in presence of
their husbands and fathers.]
Holmes sent the war belt to Major Gladwyn, commandant at Detroit, with
a letter telling all that he had learned, and asking him to send the
news to General Amherst. Mischief was in the air, and precautions could
not be taken too soon. Gladwyn, as requested, sent a runner to Amherst,
bearing a letter which told what Ensign Holmes thought he had found
out. The major took pains to add that he did not credit the story and
was sure there was no danger! It was the same old blunder that has been
made times without number, and doubtless will continue to be made to
the end of all things.
[Illustration: OLD WAY OF BROILING FISH
From the Original Drawing in the British Museum, made by John White in
1585.]
Our interest for the present is with Pontiac. Ten days before the date
fixed for the general uprising and attack, he called his warriors
together some miles from the fort, and made them a fiery address which
aroused them to hurricane ardor. He had chosen as the special object
of their attention, Detroit itself. He was allowed to come and go
unquestioned, and had used the chance to study every point connected
with the fort,--every weak and strong spot. This town was laid out in
the form of a square, enclosed on every side by a high palisade, with
a wooden bastion at every corner. Upon these bastions several small
pieces of artillery were mounted, and there were blockhouses over the
gateway. The dwellings, about a hundred in number, were of wood, that
would burn furiously if the torch were once applied. The garrison
numbered a hundred and twenty men, and a third more could bear arms if
necessary.
The watchful Pontiac had seen that Major Gladwyn was unsuspicious of
his danger, and therefore had taken no precautions. It would seem that
the capture and destruction of Detroit would prove as easy as "rolling
off a log."
The chieftain explained his plan, which had the merit of simplicity,
if of nothing else. He would call upon Major Gladwyn with a number of
his chiefs and picked warriors, and make the usual Indian address,
professing eternal friendship to the white man. At a certain point in
his speech, he would present the officer with a wampum belt, but, in
doing so, would hold it in a reversed position.
This was to be the signal. The moment it was given, each Indian was
to whip out from under his blanket, his gun, whose barrel had been
shortened, and make an assault. The Ottawas on the outside would also
attack upon hearing the firing, and it looked as if nothing could save
the garrison.
Such most likely would have been the result, had not an Indian woman
revealed the whole plot to Major Gladwyn the evening before. He had
made every preparation, as Pontiac himself saw the moment he passed
through the gate at the head of his sixty warriors. What furious
chagrin must have gnawed at his heart when he saw the defeat of
his plans! Still, with wonderful self-control, he kept an outward
appearance of calmness, greeted Gladwyn with a smile, and placing his
party in the form of a semi-circle in front of the officer's quarters,
began his speech.
Gladwyn knew what the signal was to be. He kept his eyes upon the black
orbs of the chieftain, who looked straight into his face. The critical
moment came, when, the Ottawa decided after all to give the signal and
stake everything upon the result; but the watchful Gladwyn read his
purpose, and suddenly raised his hand. He and each of his officers drew
their swords, the clicks of the gunlocks were heard in the hush, and
the soldiers leveled their muskets at the visitors. Pontiac handed the
wampum belt in proper form, and the tense situation was lifted for the
time.
[Illustration: OUTSIDE THE GARRISON GATES]
But Gladwyn was angry. He replied that the friendship of which the
chief talked depended wholly upon him. So long as he and his people
acted with honesty, they would be well treated, but if they proved
unworthy, they should suffer. He left it to the chief himself to decide
upon his course.
Pontiac still hoped to deceive the English commandant. He repeated his
words of good will, saying that as evil birds had sung in the ears
of his great ally, he would prove to him by his deeds that he should
not listen to them. This sort of talk was kept up until Gladwyn lost
patience, and gave orders that neither Pontiac nor his warriors should
be allowed again to enter the gate.
Unsuspicious of anything of the kind, the chief appeared with a number
of his men at the gate soon afterward, and was instantly ordered by the
guard to keep away, unless he chose to come alone. The rebuff threw
Pontiac into a rage. He saw it was useless to keep up the farce any
longer, and threw all disguise aside. He dashed off at the head of his
indignant warriors with whoops of defiance. They fired their guns at
the garrison, who replied without effect, and ran to the house of an
old English woman and her two sons, whom they tomahawked, and whose
scalps they swung aloft in sight of the garrison. Then they sped to Hog
Island, where an old sergeant lived, and slew him. The war had begun.
Pontiac had planned that attacks should be made on the same day upon
all the British posts on the Lakes,--St. Joseph, Ouiantenon, Green
Bay, Michilimackinac, Detroit, the Maumee, and the Sandusky, as well
as the forts of Niagara, Presque Isle, Le Bœuf, Venango and Pittsburg.
It was a far-reaching conspiracy, and, if successful, would have been
the severest blow that could be dealt the frontier. Before giving the
history of the siege of Detroit, let us glance at the fate of one other
of the forest garrisons.
Michilimackinac (Mackinaw) stood, as we know, on the south side of the
strait of the same name, between Lakes Huron and Michigan. It was there
the traders gathered on their journey to and from Montreal, and it
was one of the most important posts in the West. It had about thirty
families in as many different houses, and the garrison numbered nearly
a hundred men. Its capture was left to the Chippewas, who were aided by
the Sacs. They formed a cunning plan, which was kept secret from the
garrison. It was to engage in a game of Indian ball, like lacrosse. Two
posts were set up a long distance apart, and the ball was laid on the
ground midway between them. The parties placed at the ends strove to
bat the ball towards the opposite post, whose defenders tried equally
hard to send the sphere into the other's territory. Like all games of
this character a great deal of excitement is developed, and it was this
fact upon which the Indians counted to surprise the garrison.
The men gathered outside on the broad plain to watch the contestants,
and soon caught their ardor. They saw the ball roll back and forth,
chased by the shouting players, and they joined in the cheers over the
skill shown by them. More than three hundred brawny warriors were in
the sport running to and fro, striking strong, quick blows with their
bats, tumbling over one another, and acting for all the world like so
many football players. For that which followed we are indebted to a
trader named Alexander Henry, who was at Mackinaw at the time.
In the midst of the exciting scene, some one struck the ball a hard
blow. It rose high in air, and circling over, dropped inside the
pickets of the fort. It was the most natural thing in the world for the
players to dash headlong after it, and the officers and soldiers who
were looking on suspected nothing when they saw the panting horde swarm
through the gates and inside the stockades.
The knocking of the ball over the pickets was not an accident, but had
been agreed upon beforehand. It was the trick by which the Indians
gained a fatal advantage without rousing the distrust of their victims.
In a twinkling the players turned from the ball, and drawing their
hidden weapons, attacked the garrison. They cut down and scalped the
Englishmen, who were taken so by surprise that no defence could be
offered. It was a heartrending massacre.
Henry was not among those who were watching the game, but was in a
room in one of the houses, writing letters to send to Montreal by
a trader who was about to leave the post in his canoe. Hearing the
unusual racket outside, he rose from his chair and looked out of the
window. A horrifying sight met his gaze. He saw his countrymen falling
on every hand, the Indians slaying and scalping them without mercy. On
the outskirts of the slayers and victims, stood a number of Canadian
villagers calmly looking on, as if they felt no special interest in the
awful tragedy.
Henry saw his own peril, and the thought came to him that the only
place of possible safety was in one of the houses of the Canadians. It
would not do to stay where he was, for the Indians had already begun
searching the dwellings of the English for more victims. Bounding
down stairs, he dashed out of the rear, and climbed a low fence which
divided his yard from that of his next door neighbor, who was a
Canadian. Plunging into the rear of the house, he saw the Canadian and
members of his family gathered at the front and watching the fearful
deeds from the windows.
Henry appealed to the man to give him shelter until the outburst had
spent itself. If he would hide him for the time, the trader would be
safe, for the Indians did not offer any harm to the Canadians. The
neighbor looked at Henry for a moment, and then coolly saying he could
do nothing for him, shrugged his shoulders and turned back to view the
dreadful scenes in front of his dwelling.
[Illustration: THE SETTLERS' DEFENCE]
In this moment of despair, a Pawnee woman, a servant of the family,
beckoned to Henry to follow her. He passed softly through the door,
and, on the outside, she opened another door, whispering that it led
to the garret where he should hide himself. He quickly did so, and
she, keeping at his heels, locked the upper door behind him, and came
down stairs, taking the key with her. The room was so loosely built
that the fugitive could peer through between the cracks and watch the
massacre on the open plain in front. While he was doing so, several of
the savages, seeing that no more victims were left, ran to the building
in which the trader was hiding. He peered through the crevices in the
floor, and heard the visitors ask the head of the house whether any
Englishmen were inside.
"I do not know of any," replied the Canadian, speaking the truth, for
he had not seen what his servant did. "If you have any doubts, search
for yourselves."
Acting on the hint, the warriors went up the stairs, and who shall
picture the feelings of the poor man, when he heard their footsteps and
the next moment their hands trying the door? The absence of the key
caused delay, which he quickly turned to account. In the corner of the
room was a heap of birch vessels used in making maple sugar. He crawled
under these, covering himself as best he could.
He had barely time to do so, when four Indians, covered with the blood
of their victims, stalked into the room. They walked about the garret,
peering here and there, one of them coming so close that the trembling
white man could have touched his moccasin. But the twilight of the room
(it had no windows) and the dark clothing of Henry helped him, and the
Indians went down stairs without finding him. In the end, he made his
escape, as has been stated, and we are indebted to him for the story of
the fall of Mackinaw.