It was a curious sight--one that could only have been witnessed in
a military community, used to scenes of excitement and ever prepared
for danger--to see under the roof of the commanding officer of Fort
Dearborn, not only men but delicate and educated and highly
accomplished women, partaking, with seeming unconcern, of a meal
which each felt might be the last but one they were fated to taste
on earth, and as it were with the sword of Damocles suspended over
their heads. There was an evident desire to banish from the mind
any thought of the morrow--to sustain each other, yet with the
conviction strong at their hearts that none of them would ever
live to see Fort Wayne. They, nevertheless, talked seriously and
deprecatingly of the change they would find between the two
quarters--the one just overtopping the wild flats of Ohio, like a
solitary oasis in the desert; the other, that which they were about
to leave--rich in rides and drives, offering every facility and
amusement to the lover of the gun and of the rod--to those whose
taste led them to prefer rowing over the comparatively tiny waters
of the Chicago, or sailing along the broad expanse of the noble
Michigan. But they could not wholly succeed in cheating themselves
into temporary forgetfulness of the much that was to intervene
before that change could be effected. Now and then there would be
a painful pause in the conversation; and then as each glanced into
the eyes of each, and could distinctly read the dominant thought
that was passing in his mind, another attempt would follow to give
a tone of indifference to the subject.
Not so with the humbler portion of the garrison. On the contrary,
there was no attempt to conceal from each other, or from themselves,
the magnitude and extent of the danger that awaited them; but in
proportion as they even magnified the peril, so was their
determination increased to defend themselves and families if
attacked, to the last. The single men talked in groups, and hesitated
not to condemn in strong language, the course pursued by their
commanding officer, for it was obvious to all that had he at the
first decided on defending the fort, the Indians never would have
acted in the insolent and hostile manner they had manifested; and
even if they had, the provisions and ammunition preserved, they
might, with this newly arrived strength, have made a defence of
months against their treachery. The principal spokesmen were Serjeant
Nixon, Corporals Green and Weston, and Phillips, Case, Watson, and
Degarmo, who having been the last whose fortune it had been to
smell powder against the Indians, were considered as being more
immediately competent to speak on the occasion. Such of the married
men as were off guard passed what hours they could in consoling
and sustaining the courage of their poor wives, who wept bitter
tears and uttered ceaseless lamentations, not so much on account
of the trials that awaited themselves as their helpless children,
in a distressing march through the wilderness, which they regarded
with nearly as great horror as the tomahawk of the Indian itself.
To return, however, to the quarters of the commandant. It must not
be assumed that because the excellent claret of that officer, to
which had been added a few bottles saved from Mr. McKenzie's private
stock, was enjoyed with a gusto not habitual to men in the same
position with our little band of martyrs, there was the disposition
to drown care through that very tempting medium, or to indulge in
the slightest degree in excess; or if there was an exception it
was to be found in Von Voltenberg, who managed now and then
dexterously to top off an extra glass, until by repeated little
manoeuvres of this kind he had in the end been one bottle ahead of
his companions. Soon after dinner Ronayne, whose spirits had been
cheered on the one hand and depressed on the other by the letter
of his wife, had, at the suggestion of Mrs. Headley, read for the
satisfaction and information of all the document addressed to
himself; and when this was concluded, exciting in the minds of all,
and particularly those yet unacquainted with the contents, renewed
interest in her fate, the ladies withdrew to complete such of their
arrangements for the march as were still necessary. On their
departure followed by the customary and, in this instance,
heart-impelled honors, and the health of the newly-arrived guest
being drunk, as "The Hero of the Valley of the Miami," Mr. McKenzie
took the occasion to remark:
"I have heard much of the prowess evinced by Captain Wells, both
against General St. Clair's army and while acting with that of
General Wayne, and should like much to know from his own lips
whether report speaks correctly of him or not. Come, captain, the
opportunity may not soon occur again--will you indulge us?"
"Willingly," returned the captain, raising his tall and herculean
frame in his chair and draining off his claret; "As you say, the
opportunity may not again soon occur; there is something here,"
and he pointed with his finger to his breast, "that tells me that
of the many fights in which I have been engaged, that of to-morrow
will be the last."
All looked grave, but no one answered. Each seemed to think that
such would be his own individual case.
"Pass the wine, Headley," resumed his relative. "Gentlemen, you
must not expect me to enter into a history of all my old fights,
both against and in defence of my own country. That would occupy
me until to-morrow morning; and you know we have other work cut
out for us. I will simply give you an outline--a very skeleton of
the causes which found me first fighting against St. Clair, and
subsequently in the ranks of Wayne."
Without encroaching on the patience of the readers of this tale by
using his precise words, it can only be necessary here to give an
epitome of the military career of Captain William Wells, which was
indeed one of no ordinary kind. He was a native of Kentucky, and
in early boyhood--being scarcely ten years of age--had been taken
prisoner, during a foray into that then wild state by the Miami
Indians. Being a boy of remarkable symmetry, resolution, and
intelligence, he was greatly noticed by one of the principal chiefs
of the tribe, who adopted him as a son, and trained him to battle,
into which he invariably went whenever most was to be done. This
mode of life young Wells loved so greatly, and the kindness shown
him was such that he never entertained the slightest regret at the
loss of old associations, or a desire to return to them. At the
time of the great battle between the Indians and General St. Clair,
he had gained the reputation of being one of the most formidable
warriors, both from his skill and great personal strength in the
ranks of the Miamis; and entertaining no scruple of conscience,
simply because he had not taken the trouble to reflect on the
subject, entered with all the ardor of his nature into that contest,
and it was said that a greater number of the American soldiers fell
by his hand than any other individual warrior engaged, and now he
rose higher than ever in the estimation of his tribe. But the very
circumstance of his prowess and success had the effect of dissociating
him for ever from those in whose cause he had triumphed. After that
sanguinary battle, so fatal to the American arms, he for the first
time began to reflect on the great wrong he had done to his own
race, and resolved to atone for the past by killing, in fair fight,
one Indian at least for every American that had fallen beneath his
tomahawk and rifle. Acting promptly on this suddenly-formed resolution
he at once abandoned his adopted father, and his Indian wife and
children, and hastened to Gen. Wayne, to whom he offered his
services. By that officer he was gladly employed, principally as
a scout, almost up to the close of the war; and during its
continuance many were the daring feats he performed. One example
must suffice.
A short time previous to the great battle of 1794, Wells, on whom
General Wayne had conferred the rank of captain, took with him a
subaltern and eleven men, for the purpose of watching the movements
of his old companions in arms. His men were all well trained to
the peculiar duty they were called upon to perform, and, after
having marched three days with a caution and knowledge of the forest
scarcely surpassed by the Indians themselves, found that they were
on the fresh trail of the enemy, although how many in number they
could not tell. They followed leisurely until night, when having
seen but one large encampment, Capt. Wells came to the determination,
if the disparity of numbers should not be too great, of attacking
them. Every disposition was made. The party crept cautiously near
them and then lay down in ambush, while their leader, as had been
arranged, entered their camp fearlessly and as a friend, and sat
himself down on the right of the circle, rapidly counting their
numbers as he did so. There were found to be twenty-two warriors
with one squaw. On being interrogated he stated that he had just
come from the British Fort Miami, and was on his way to stir up
the Indians to fight General Wayne. As he declared himself very
hungry the squaw hospitably put some hominy on the fire to warm
for his supper, of which he had intended to partake abundantly had
not a misapprehension on the part of his men hastened the moment
of action, and embittered all the satisfaction he would otherwise
have derived from his success. A motion of his hand was to have
been a signal to fire, each selecting his man; and the party,
conceiving that he had given this, acted prematurely, not only
depriving him of his supper, which was not yet ready, and of which
he stood in great need, but killing the unfortunate squaw who was
standing up stirring it at the time, and whom he had intended to
save. The next moment the formidable and dreaded tomahawk of the
captain went to work among the survivors, and out of the twenty-two
warriors but three escaped; he himself receiving a wound from a
ramrod shot through his wrist, and his lieutenant being hit by a
bullet in the thigh. The greatest havoc committed on this occasion
was by Wells himself, and it was his boast that in Wayne's war he
had slain a far greater number of Indians than he had killed
Americans throughout the contest with St. Clair; and cool indeed
must have been the determination of the man who could composedly
sit down alone and in the face of twenty-two warriors, some of whom
it might have been expected would have recognised him, or to whom
accident might have betrayed the proximity of his party, and resolve
to dispatch an ample supper before proceeding to the work of blood.
But these were the usages of the war in which he had been educated,
and a nobler and more generous heart than that of Captain Wells
never beat beneath the war-paint of an Indian.
Such was the man, the outline of whose story we have necessarily
condensed, who now, at the head of those Indians whom he once fought
for, and subsequently against, came to proffer his aid to the
unfortunate garrison of Fort Dearborn. What such an arm and such
daring might have accomplished, had circumstances combined to second
his efforts, can easily be surmised; but, unfortunately, all was
now of no avail, for the very sinews of success had been wrung from
him, and he felt that the utmost desperation of courage must
be insufficient to stem the tide of numbers that would lie in wait
for their prey on the morrow. But although h was not mad enough to
expect that if attacked anything but defeat and slaughter could
ensue, nothing would have pleased him more than an encounter on
the open prairie with the false Pottowatomies, notwithstanding
their great odds, had not the lives of women and helpless children
been at stake. These were the considerations that weighed with him
the most; for independently of his strong affection for his noble
niece, and his interest in her companions, he had never forgotten
the occasion when the poor Indian squaw was shot down across the
fire over which she was performing an act of kindness to himself;
and often and often, during his after life of repose from the
toils of war, had her blood risen to his imagination as if in
reproach for the act. If this could be called a weakness, it was
the only weak point that could be found in his character.
As there was little reason to apprehend that the Indians would
occasion any annoyance during the night to those whom they were so
certain to take at an advantage in the morning, when far removed
from their defences, Captain Headley had caused the garrison to be
divided into two watches--the one being stationed on the ramparts
until midnight, when they were ordered to be relieved by the second
party, who in the meantime slept--thus affording to all a few hours
of that repose of which for the last week they had scarcely tasted.
Midnight had arrived. The watches had been changed, and Corporal
Collins being of the new relief, had, after disposing his men in
the most advantageous manner to detect an approach, taken his own
station near the flag-staff, a point where the greater vigilance
was necessary, by reason of the storehouses and other outbuildings
of Mr. McKenzie; under cover it was not difficult for a cautious
enemy to approach the place unperceived.
He had not been at this point half an hour when he fancied he could
discover in the darkness the outline of a man moving cautiously
across the ground which had been used for the council, and seemingly
endeavoring to gain the rear of the factory. He challenged loudly
and abruptly, but there was no answer. Expecting to see the same
figure emerging from the opposite cover of the building, he fixed
his keen eye on that spot, when, as he had conjectured, it fell
upon the same, outline, but now performing a wider circuit. The
challenge was repeated, but the figure instead of answering remained
perfectly stationary. A third time the corporal challenged, and no
answer being returned he very indiscreetly fired, when the figure
fell to the earth apparently shot dead.
The report at that hour of the night naturally caused a good deal
of commotion, and brought every one to the spot--not only the
officers from their rooms but the watch that had thrown themselves,
accoutred as they were, upon their beds. Ronayne, who had retired
early for the purpose, was at the time in the act of completing a
long letter which he had written in reply to his wife, in which,
after pouring forth his soul in the most impassioned expressions
of devotion, he urged her in the strongest manner, and by every
hope of future happiness on earth, not to adopt the rash step she
had threatened, and paralyse his courage, and lessen his fortitude
to bear, by her presence in the midst of danger, but to remain
secure where she was, with Wau-nan-gee's mother, until the crisis
had passed. "I shall fight valiantly and successfully," he
concluded, "if you are not near to distract me by a knowledge of
your proximity to danger. If, on the contrary, you, in your great
and dear love, persist in your design, I feel that I shall perish
like a coward. I inclose you a part of myself, in the meantime--a
lock of my hair."
On hearing the report of the musket a fearful misgiving had oppressed
him, for he knew that this was about the hour when Wau-nan-gee had
promised to come for his letter, and he hurried to ascertain what
had occasioned the discharge. The result of his inquiry was not
satisfactory. Had the whole Indian force been discovered stealing
upon and surrounding them for a night attack, they would not have
carried half the dismay to his soul that he experienced when Corporal
Collins told him that he had fired at a solitary individual who
was creeping up to the fort and would not answer, although challenged
three times.
"Corporal," he said, in a low tone, "I have ever been a staunch
friend to you, and by that unlucky shot you have destroyed me. The
person you fired at was Wau-nan-gee, I feel assured. He was coming
for a letter from me to Mrs. Ronayne who is a prisoner, not with
other Indians as we had supposed, but in the Pottowatomie camp.
The only way you can repair this wrong is by going out secretly
through the sally-port and examining the body to see if it really
is he."
"Look, look, look!" said the corporal, who had kept his eye fixed
on the dark shadow hitherto motionless on the ground; "he is not
dead--see, he rises, and walks rapidly but stealthily in the
direction he was taking when I fired."
"And that is to the rear of the stockade, where he has discovered
some secret entrance, perhaps in consequence of the picketing having
rotted away below. Not a word of this, Collins. If it is he, as I
feel assured it is, he will go out again soon, and you must see
that he is not interfered with. He must bear my letter to my wife."
"You may depend upon it, Mr. Ronayne, he shall not be touched. I
will again keep that post myself."
The Virginian was right. He had not two minutes regained his room,
when a slight tap at the window announced his young and faithful
visitor. He flew to the door, opened it, and taking the boy by
the hand, let him in. He was paler than usual, and the expression
of his countenance denoted emotion and anxiety. As Ronayne cast
his eye downwards he remarked that his left hand was bound round
with, a handkerchief of a light color, through which the blood was
forcing its way.
"My God! Wau-nan-gee, is it possible?" he exclaimed, as he grasped
him fervently by the opposite palm; "were you hurt by that shot
fired just now?"
The Indian nodded his head affirmatively, as with an air of chagrin
and disappointment, he said, "No good fire, Ronayne--Wau-nan-gee
no mind him blood--Ingin Pee-to-tum hear gun fire--see Wau-nan-gee
hand--know Wau-nan-gee visit fort."
Ronayne, seeing that the youth was mortified at the manner of his
reception after the service he had rendered, explained to him fully
the facts of the case. He, however, told him that he had spoken to
the man who had fired at him under the idea of his being a spy,
and that he might rely that nothing of the sort would happen
on his return. Anxious to see the extent of the injury he had
received, he untied the handkerchief, washed the wound, and found
that the bullet had cut away the fleshy part of the palm just under
the thumb, but without touching the bone. A little lint and diachylon
plaster soon afforded a temporary remedy for this, and the whole
having been covered with a light linen bandage, he gave the youth
a half worn pair of loose gauntlets to wear if he felt desirous to
conceal the wound from the observation of his fellow warriors. This
done, and his letter to his wife folded and given to the safe
guardianship of the boy, with whom he made his final arrangements
for a reunion as circumstances might render prudent and expedient,
he finally drew him to his heart, and expressed in tones that could
not fail to carry conviction of their truth as well as deep
gratification to the generous heart of Wau-nan-gee the extent of
his gratitude and friendship.
When the young Indian had departed, not before renewing his strong
persuasion to induce the officer to accompany him to his wife,
Ronayne, determining that no mistake should occur in the compliance
of both his directions to Corporal Collins, once more ascended to
the bastion from which, he had soon the satisfaction to see
Wau-nan-gee glide away in the direction of his encampment, until
his figure was soon lost in the distance.