On the site of the present city of Chicago, a fort was erected in 1803.
Feeling secure under this protection, several families built cabins and
began to cultivate the ground in the vicinity. The large and powerful
tribe of Pottawatomies occupied the neighboring country. When the war of
1812 broke out, the fort at Chicago was garrisoned by about fifty men,
under the command of Captain Heald, and as it was so remote from the other
American posts, General Hull determined that it should be abandoned. The
following account of the subsequent disastrous events is abridged from
Brown's History of Illinois.
On the 7th of August, 1812, in the afternoon, Winnemeg, or Catfish, a
friendly Indian of the Pottawatomie tribe, arrived at Chicago, and brought
dispatches from General Hull, containing the first, and, at that time, the
only intelligence of the declaration of war. General Hull's letter
announced the capture of Mackinaw, and directed Captain Heald "to evacuate
the fort at Chicago, if practicable, and, in that event, to distribute all
the United States property contained in the fort, and the United States
factory or agency, among the Indians in the neighborhood and repair to
Fort Wayne." Winnemeg having delivered his dispatches to Captain Heald,
and stated that he was acquainted with the purport of the communication he
had brought, urged upon Captain Heald the policy of remaining in the fort,
being supplied, as they were, with ammunition and provisions for a
considerable time. In case, however, Captain Heald thought proper to
evacuate the place, he urged upon him the propriety of doing so
immediately, before the Pottawatomies (through whose country they must
pass, and who were as yet ignorant of the object of his mission) could
collect a force sufficient to oppose them. This advice though given in
great earnestness, was not sufficiently regarded by Captain Heald; who
observed, that he should evacuate the fort, but having received orders to
distribute the public property among the Indians, he did not feel
justified in leaving it until he had collected the Pottawatomies in its
vicinity, and made an equitable distribution among them. Winnemeg then
suggested the expediency of marching out and leaving every thing standing;
"while the Indians," said he, "are dividing the spoils, the troops will be
able to retreat without molestation." This advice was also unheeded, and
an order for evacuating the fort was read next morning on parade. Captain
Heald, in issuing it, had neglected to consult his junior officers, as it
would have been natural for him to do in such an emergency, and as he
probably would have done had there not been some coolness between him and
Ensign Ronan.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN HEALD IN COUNCIL WITH THE POTTAWATAMIES.]
The lieutenant and ensign, after the promulgation of this order, waited on
Captain Heald to learn his intentions; and being apprized; for the first
time, of the course he intended to pursue, they remonstrated against it.
Heald, however, deemed it advisable to assemble the Indians and distribute
the public property among them, and ask of them an escort thither, with
the promise of a considerable sum of money to be paid on their safe
arrival; adding, that he had perfect confidence in the friendly
professions of the Indians, from whom, as well as from the soldiers, the
capture of Mackinaw had studiously been concealed. From this time forward,
the junior officers stood aloof from their commander, and, considering his
project as little short of madness, conversed as little upon the subject
as possible. Dissatisfaction, however, soon filled the camp; the soldiers
began to murmur, and insubordination assumed a threatening aspect.
The savages, in the mean time became more and more troublesome; entered
the fort occasionally, in defiance of the sentinels, and even made their
way without ceremony into the quarters of its commanding officer. On one
occasion an Indian, taking up a rifle fired it in the parlor of Captain
Heald; some were of opinion that this was intended as the signal for an
attack. The old chiefs at this time passed back and forth among the
assembled groups, apparently agitated; and the squaws seemed much excited,
as though some terrible calamity was impending. No further manifestations,
however, of ill-feeling were exhibited, and the day passed without
bloodshed. So infatuated at this time was Captain Heald, that he supposed
he had wrought a favorable impression upon the savages, and that the
little garrison could now march forth in safety.
The Indians from the adjacent villages having at length arrived, a council
was held on the 12th of August. It was attended, however, only by Captain
Heald on the part of the military; the other officers refused to attend,
having previously learned that a massacre was intended. This fact was
communicated to Captain Heald; he insisted, however, on their going, and
they resolutely persisted in their refusal. When Captain Heald left the
fort, they repaired to the block-house, which overlooked the ground where
the council was in session, and opening the portholes, pointed their
cannon in its direction. This circumstance and their absence, it is
supposed, saved the whites from massacre.
[Illustration: BATTLE BETWEEN MOUNTED TROOPS AND THE INDIANS.]
Captain Heald informed the Indians in council, that he would next day
distribute among them all the goods in the United States factory, together
with the ammunition and provisions with which the garrison was supplied;
and desired of them an escort to Fort Wayne, promising them a reward on
their arrival thither, in addition to the presents they were about to
receive. The savages assented, with professions of friendship, to all he
proposed, and promised all he required.
The council was no sooner dismissed, than several observing the tone of
feeling which prevailed, and anticipating from it no good to the garrison,
waited on Captain Heald in order to open his eyes, if possible, to their
condition. The impolicy of furnishing the Indians with arms and ammunition
to be used against themselves, struck Captain Heald with so much force,
that he resolved, without consulting his officers, to destroy all not
required for immediate use.
On August 13th, the goods in the factory store were distributed among the
Indians, who had collected near the fort; and in the evening the
ammunition, and also the liquor, belonging to the garrison, were carried,
the former into the sally-port and thrown into the well, and the latter
through the south gate, as silently as possible, to the river bank, where
the heads of the barrels were knocked in, and their contents discharged
into the stream. The Indians, however, suspecting the game, approached as
near as possible and witnessed the whole scene. The spare muskets were
broken up and thrown into the well, together with bags of shot, flints,
and gun-screws, and other things; all, however, of but little value.
On the 14th, the despondency of the garrison was for a while dispelled by
the arrival of Captain Wells and fifteen friendly Miamies. Having heard at
Fort Wayne of the error to evacuate Chicago, and knowing the hostile
intentions of the Pottawatomies, he hastened thither in order to save, if
possible, the little garrison from its doom. Having, on his arrival,
learned that the ammunition had been destroyed, and the provisions
distributed among the Indians, he saw there was no alternative.
Preparations were therefore made for marching on the morrow.
In the afternoon a second council was held with the Indians, at which they
expressed their resentment at the destruction of the ammunition and liquor
in the severest terms. Notwithstanding the precautions which had been
observed, the knocking in of the heads of the whisky-barrels had been
heard by the Indians, and the river next morning tasted, as some of them
expressed it, "like strong grog." Murmurs and threats were everywhere
heard; and nothing, apparently, was wanting but an opportunity for some
public manifestation of their resentment.
The morning of the 15th dawned as usual; the sun rose with uncommon
splendor, and Lake Michigan "was a sheet of burnished gold." Early in the
day a message was received in the American camp from To-pee-na-bee, a
chief of the St. Joseph's band, informing them that mischief was brewing
among the Pottawatomies, who had promised them protection.
[Illustration: TO-PEE-NA-BEE.]
About nine o'clock, the troops left the fort with martial music, and in
military array. Captain Wells, at the head of the Miamies, led the van,
his face blackened after the manner of the Indians. The garrison, with
loaded arms, followed, and the wagons with the baggage, the women and
children, the sick and the lame, closed the rear. The Pottawatomies, about
five hundred in number, who had promised to escort them in safety to Fort
Wayne leaving a little space, afterward followed. The party in advance
took the beach road. They had no sooner arrived at the sand-hills which
separate the prairie from the beach, about a mile and a half from the
fort, when the Pottawatomies, instead of continuing in rear of the
Americans, left the beach and took to the prairie; the sand-hills of
course intervened, and presented a barrier between the Pottawatomies and
the American and Miami line of march. This divergence had scarcely been
effected, when Captain Wells, who, with the Miamies was considerably in
advance, rode back and exclaimed, "They are about to attack us; form
instantly and charge upon them." The word had scarcely been uttered,
before a volley of musketry from behind the sand-hills was poured in upon
them. The troops were brought immediately into a line and charged upon the
bank. One man, a veteran of seventy, fell as they ascended. The battle at
once became general. The Miamies fled in the outset; their chief rode up
to the Pottawatomies, charged them with duplicity, and, brandishing his
tomahawk, said, "he would be the first to head a party of Americans, and
return to punish them for their treachery." He then turned his horse and
galloped off in pursuit of his companions, who were then scouring across
the prairie, and nothing was seen or heard of them more.
The American troops behaved gallantly; though few in number, they sold
their lives as dearly as possible. They felt, however, as if their time
had come, and sought to forget all that was dear on earth.
While the battle was raging, the surgeon, Doctor Voorhes, who was badly
wounded, and whose horse had been shot from under him, approaching Mrs.
Helm, the wife of Lieutenant Helm, (who was in the action, participating
in all its vicissitudes,) observed, "Do you think," said he, "they will
take our lives? I am badly wounded, but I think not mortally. Perhaps we
can purchase safety by offering a large reward. Do you think," continued
he, "there is any chance?"
"Doctor Voorhes," replied Mrs. Helm, "let us not waste the few moments
which yet remain in idle or ill-founded hopes. Our fate is inevitable; we
must soon appear at the bar of God; let us make such preparations as are
yet in our power."
"Oh," said he, "I cannot die; I am unfit to die! If I had a short time to
prepare! Death! oh, how awful!"
At this moment, Ensign Ronan was fighting at a little distance with a tall
and portly Indian; the former, mortally wounded, was nearly down, and
struggling desperately upon one knee. Mrs. Helm, pointing her finger, and
directing the attention of Doctor Voorhes thither, observed, "Look," said
she, "at that young man; he dies like a soldier."
"Yes," said Doctor Voorhes, "but he has no terrors of the future; he is an
unbeliever."
[Illustration: THE MASSACRE.]
A young savage immediately raised his tomahawk to strike Mrs. Helm. She
sprang instantly aside, and the blow intended for her head fell upon her
shoulder; she thereupon seized him around his neck, and while exerting all
her efforts to get possession of his scalping-knife, was seized by another
Indian and dragged forcibly from his grasp. The latter bore her,
struggling and resisting, toward the lake. Notwithstanding, however, the
rapidity with which she was hurried along, she recognized, as she passed,
the remains of the unfortunate surgeon stretched lifeless on the prairie.
She was plunged immediately into the water and held there, notwithstanding
her resistance, with a forcible hand. She shortly, however, perceived that
the intention of her captor was not to drown her, as he held her in a
position to keep her head above the water. Thus reassured, she looked at
him attentively, and, in spite of his disguise, recognized the "white
man's friend." It was Black Partridge.
When the firing had ceased, her preserver bore her from the water and
conducted her up the sand-bank. It was a beautiful day in August. The
heat, however, of the sun was oppressive; and, walking through the sand,
exposed to its burning rays, in her drenched condition--weary, and
exhausted by efforts beyond her strength--anxious beyond measure to learn
the fate of her friends, and alarmed for her own, her situation was one of
agony.
The troops having fought with desperation till two-thirds of their number
were slain, the remainder twenty-seven in all, borne down by an
overwhelming force, and exhausted by efforts hitherto unequalled, at
length surrendered. They stipulated, however, for their own safety and for
the safety of their remaining women and children. The wounded prisoners,
however, in the hurry of the moment, were unfortunately omitted, or rather
not particularly mentioned and were therefore regarded by the Indians as
having been excluded.
One of the soldiers' wives, having frequently been told that prisoners
taken by the Indians were subjected to tortures worse than death, had from
the first expressed a resolution never to be taken; and when a party of
savages approached to make her their prisoner, she fought with
desperation; and, though assured of kind treatment and protection, refused
to surrender, and was literally cut in pieces and her mangled remains left
on the field.
After the surrender, one of the baggage wagons, containing twelve
children, was assailed by a single savage and the whole number were
massacred. All, without distinction of age or sex, fell at once beneath
his murderous tomahawk.
Captain Wells, who had as yet escaped unharmed, saw from a distance the
whole of this murderous scene; and being apprized of the stipulation, and
seeing it thus violated, exclaimed aloud, so as to be heard by the
Pottawatomies around him, whose prisoner he then was, "If this be your
game, I will kill too!" and turning his horse's head, instantly started
for the Pottawatomie camp, where the squaws and Indian children had been
left ere the battle began. He had no sooner started, than several Indians
followed in his rear and discharged their rifles at him as he galloped
across the prairie. He laid himself flat on the neck of his horse, and was
apparently out of their reach, when the ball of one of his pursuers took
effect, killing his horse and wounding him severely. He was again a
prisoner; as the savages came up, Winnemeg and Wa-ban-see, two of their
number, and both his friends, used all their endeavors in order to save
him; they had disengaged him already from his horse, and were supporting
him along, when Pee-so-tum, a Pottawatomie Indian, drawing his
scalping-knife, stabbed him in the back, and thus inflicted a mortal
wound. After struggling for a moment he fell, and breathed his last in the
arms of his friends, a victim for those he had sought to save--a sacrifice
to his own rash intentions.
[Illustration: WINNEMEG, OR THE CATFISH.]
The battle having ended, and the prisoners being secured, the latter were
conducted to the Pottawatomie camp near the fort. Here the wife of
Wau-bee-nee-mah, an Illinois chief, perceiving the exhausted condition of
Mrs. Helm, took a kettle, and dipping up some water from the stream which
flowed sluggishly by them, threw into it some maple sugar, and, stirring
it up with her hand, gave her to drink. "It was," says Mrs. Helm, "the
most delicious draught I had ever taken, and her kindness of manner, amid
so much atrocity, touched my heart." Her attention, however, was soon
directed to other objects. The fort, after the troops had marched out,
became a scene of plunder. The cattle were shot down as they ran at large,
and lay dead, or were dying around her. It called up afresh a remark of
Ensign Ronan's, made before; "Such," said he, "is to be our fate--to be
shot down like brutes."
The wounded prisoners, we have already remarked, were not included in the
stipulation made on the battle-field, as the _Indians understood it_. On
reaching, therefore, the Pottawatomie camp, a scene followed which beggars
description. A wounded soldier, lying on the ground, was violently
assaulted by an old squaw, infuriated by the loss of friends or excited by
the murderous scenes around her--who, seizing a pitchfork, attacked the
wretched victim, now helpless, and exposed to the burning rays of the sun,
his wounds already aggravated by its heat, and he writhing in torture.
During the succeeding night, five other wounded prisoners were
tomahawked.
Those unwounded remained in the wigwams of their captors. The work of
plunder being now completed, the fort next day was set on fire. A fair and
equal distribution of all the finery belonging to the garrison had
apparently been made, and shawls and ribands and feathers were scattered
about the camp in great profusion.
After suffering many hardships, Mrs. Helm, Mrs. Heald, and the surviving
male prisoners were ransomed and sent back to their friends. A few of
them, however, were not set at liberty until after the battle of the
Thames.