A BESIEGED GARRISON
THE ATTACK ON DETROIT
Let us now return to Detroit. Its experience is without a parallel
in the history of our country. Never before was a town of importance
held in a state of siege for more than a year by Indians. That such
a remarkable thing took place was due to the genius of the master
mind, who held the turbulent savages to their work, when the task of
waiting is the most distasteful that can befall their race. Pontiac
had to foresee the means of providing his forces with food, and he did
it. He was the first American savage--so far as we have been able to
learn--who gave promissory notes for the supplies he had to take from
the neutral French residents outside of Detroit. Whenever he did this,
he handed a memorandum of what had been taken, marked on the inside of
a piece of bark, to which was added his totum, the sign of an otter.
Moreover, this aboriginal financier redeemed every one of those notes,
thereby setting a good example to his white brethren.
The Ottawa, upon being refused admittance within the stockade, had
thrown aside all pretence of friendship or neutrality, and pressed his
designs with a skill that even the defenders admired. The red skins
crouched behind outbuildings, stumps and earth, and opened a hot fire
which lasted for several hours. The garrison replied as best they
could, but little injury was done on either side. Finally, a cannon
was loaded to the muzzle with red hot slugs, and the bits of iron when
discharged, set fire to the principal outbuildings. As the savages
scampered for cover, the garrison picked off a number of the most
conspicuous.
Naturally the Indians made many attempts to burn the fort and other
defences. If the flames were once fairly started, nothing could stay
them, but the vigilance of the garrison night and day defeated every
effort of this nature. Days and weeks passed without any marked change
in the situation. The defenders held out grimly and the besiegers did
not loose their grip. The supply of provisions began to run low, and,
but for the help of the Canadians on the other side of the river, the
garrison, who had long been on short rations, must have suffered for
food. These friends came over at night, for had Pontiac known what they
were doing, he would have stopped their practices and punished them.
At the wharf near the fort lay two schooners, which gave much help
in fighting off the besiegers. The critical situation of Detroit
had become known to the authorities, who were expected to send
reinforcements and supplies to the post by way of Lake Erie. These
were so slow in coming, that Major Gladwyn sent one of the vessels to
hasten them. Several days later, the lookout at Detroit called out the
glad tidings that the supply boats were in sight. When all faces were
glowing with expectation, an alarming thing was seen. In one of the
boats, a white man was desperately fighting with an Indian. In each
craft were a number of warriors, who were lying down, in order to reach
the fort undiscovered. In fact, all the boats with their supplies had
been captured by the redskins. It was a clever ruse.
The schooner which had been sent to hurry the boats missed them, and
sailed on to Niagara, while the relief expedition had coasted Lake
Erie to the mouth of Detroit River. At that place they landed and were
making camp, when they were attacked by a force of Wyandots, who killed
many and took sixty prisoners. Two boats escaped with forty men, in one
of which was Lieutenant Cuyler, in charge of the company. They made
their way back to Niagara, while the prisoners were compelled to row to
Detroit.
Meanwhile, a second expedition was fitted out at Niagara, and sailed in
the schooner that had been sent thither by Major Gladwyn. She reached
the Detroit River, but while still some miles below the fort, the wind
died out and she dropped anchor. Every one on board was aware of their
peril. The banks were lined with warriors, who would not let such a
golden opportunity pass. It was about midnight, that a large number of
canoes put out from the shores, and silently approached the schooner.
The watchful crew allowed them to come within a few rods, when a
broadside of grape and a volley of musket balls killed and wounded
nearly two-score. The others leaped overboard or rowed frantically to
land, and the next morning the vessel made her way to the wharf below
the fort, much to the chagrin of the red men.
The presence of the two vessels was intolerable to Pontiac. He made
several fire rafts, piled them with brush, set them ablaze and started
them down stream. But the white men were looking for such an attempt,
and by their quickness steered the flaming craft harmlessly past the
schooners. Pontiac repeated the effort, but without success, and then
gave it up as useless strategy.
As the weeks and months passed, without anything being done, many of
the Indians grew tired of the siege. The Pottawatomies and Wyandots
proposed peace and exchanged prisoners with Major Gladwyn, who placed
little faith in the promise of the savages. Pontiac, however, held his
Ottawas and Ojibwas as strongly in hand as ever.
In the latter part of July, twenty-two barges, containing two hundred
and eighty men, in charge of Major Dalzell, entered the Detroit River.
A fog hung over the stream, and when the boats were opposite the
Wyandot and Pottawatomie village, they received a fire which killed
and wounded several men. It will be remembered that these were the
tribes that had made an agreement of peace with Major Gladwyn only a
few days before. They were partly punished by the return volleys of the
reinforcements, which brought down a number of Indians and scattered
the others in a headlong panic.
The arrival of such a large body of friends raised the hopes of the
defenders to the highest point. Major Dalzell himself was ardent, and
declared it a disgrace to submit longer to such a state of affairs. The
idea of so large a force of white men being cooped up in the defences
by a horde of painted Indians, was too much to be borne. He insisted
upon attacking the besiegers, not doubting for a moment that he would
send the whole lot flying. Major Gladwyn understood the situation
better than his friend, and shook his head. He could not share the
confidence of the officer. But Dalzell still urged, and finally,
Gladwyn, against his own judgment, gave his consent to the plan for
ending the siege of Detroit.
[Illustration: "_WHO IS THERE TO MOURN FOR LOGAN? NOT ONE._"]
Just as the first streakings of day were beginning to show in the east,
two hundred and fifty men moved out of the fort, and stole like so many
phantoms through the forest, toward Pontiac's encampment. They kept
along shore, while two bateaux, each with a swivel gun at its bow, held
their places abreast of the soldiers. The expedition would have been
successful, and a crushing blow given, had not the scheme become
known to some of the Canadians, who revealed it to the Ottawa chief. He
had time to make his preparations which he did thoroughly.
The soldiers moved forward, every heart beating high with hope. Not an
Indian was seen until they reached the bridge spanning Parent's Creek.
Then the hundreds of crouching warriors opened fire. Half the advance
guard fell, when Dalzell, as the only means of saving the remainder,
ordered a retreat. In the confusion, the soldiers were surrounded by
the Indians. When it looked as if not one could escape, Major Rogers,
with a number of men as brave as himself, took possession of a house
swarming with fugitives, and defeated every assault, while the troops
were fighting their way back to the fort. The bateaux aided Rogers by
their fire, and he and his little company succeeded in reaching the
post. The English loss was fifty-nine killed and wounded. Major Dalzell
was slain while trying to save a wounded sergeant. This sad affair has
passed into history as the battle of Bloody Ridge.
[Illustration: AN INDIAN APOLLO]
The disaster cast gloom over the garrison and the survivors. While the
force that remained felt able to hold out, the besiegers were greatly
elated. Many of the Indians who were on the point of going to their
homes, gained new ardor in their support to Pontiac and his cause. They
were certain to retain this enthusiasm for a long time.
On the night of August 4, a sloop arrived in sight of the fort with
despatches from Niagara. The crew numbered barely a score, and the
slackness of the wind forced the captain to drop anchor before he could
reach a point of safety. Unfortunately, too, the night was very dark,
so that an attack by their enemies was one of the certainties.
Sure enough, two hundred warriors stole forward in the gloom which
allowed them to reach the sloop before they were seen. When discovered
they were swarming over the gunwales at the bow, stern and sides. The
crew fought with the energy of desperation, but could not withstand the
furious assault. Seeing that all was lost, the mate shouted to one of
the sailors to fire the magazine, that in their own destruction they
might kill many of their enemies. Now, it so happened that among the
Indians were several who knew enough English to understand the command,
and they repeated it to the others. On the instant, every one leaped
overboard, diving, swimming and struggling with frantic haste to save
himself. With the loss of the captain and several of the crew, the
sloop soon after reached Detroit.
By and by, impatience and discontent again spread among the Indians.
That race in certain circumstances displays the perfection of patience,
but not often does it do so in military operations. An Indian is eager
for results, and when they are slow in coming, he loses interest in
the affair itself, whatever it may be. Cold weather was at hand, and
about the middle of October, all the tribes, except the Ottawas, sent
messengers to Major Gladwyn with a request for peace. He replied
that he had not power to make peace, but would agree to a truce. They
consented, and the officer made the best use of the time to gather food
and supplies for consumption during the coming winter.
Pontiac saw signs of dissatisfaction among his own tribe, but his iron
will still held his warriors well in hand. The crushing blow came near
the close of October in a message from the French commandant at Fort
Chartres, on the Mississippi. He told Pontiac that peace had been made
between France and England, and gave him clearly to understand that
he could expect no help from the French in the continuance of his
causeless warfare.
Even then the resolute leader did not yield. He left the vicinity of
Detroit with a number of his sub-chiefs and warriors, and visited the
Maumee country, where he used all his eloquence and logic to draw these
tribes into the war. He met with some success, but it was slight. The
French commandant did more than notify him of the close of hostilities.
He sent messengers with wampum belts and calumets to the principal
tribes between the Ohio and the lakes, warning them to have nothing to
do with Pontiac and his scheme, which was highly displeasing to the
French. Finally, representatives of the leading tribes met Sir William
Johnson at Oswego, and signed a treaty of peace and friendship with the
English. Among those who took part in the important proceedings was
Pontiac, once the great sachem of the Ottawas.
Pontiac returned to his own country, and was believed to be a good
friend of the English, who it is said, gave him a pension, though this
is not certain. His inclinations were to help the Americans in the
Revolution, but he was held back by General Hamilton at Detroit. While
attending an Indian council, the chief was watched by a spy for the
English who had become suspicious of him. Pontiac had grown fond of
"fire water," and while under its influence, he betrayed his enmity
to the English. Because of this he was treacherously killed by the
spy, who had been bribed to do the deed by a trader. Thus Philip and
Pontiac, two of the foremost of American Indians, were each slain by
one of his own race.
[Illustration: SAVED BY THE SPIDER'S WEB]