"He that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood."
--_All's Well._
"What nearer debt in all humanity, than wife is to the husband."
--_Troilus and Cressida._
It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, and a burning sun
threw its strong rays upon the sandhill where stood prepared, for
whatever further emergency might occur, the little band of American
soldiers now reduced to less than one half of their original number.
The acquisition of the three-pounder had greatly encouraged them
for the moment, but, during the inaction that succeeded to the
death and removal of the body of the fierce Chippewa, each had
leisure to reflect on the but too probable issue of the struggle.
As long as day remained to them, they felt that they could, while
possessed of the gun and a sufficient quantity of ammunition, defend
themselves; but when the darkness of night should come on, enabling
their enemies to approach and surround them from all quarters, it
must be vain to expect they could maintain the contest with the
same success that had hitherto attended their extraordinary efforts.
Inactivity, in a position of that kind, ever brings despondency,
and from one evil the mind is prone to revert to another. The
married men thought of their wives and children and the horrible
fate that awaited them, and from the men of strong nerve which they
had manifested themselves to be while in positive action, they now
were fast becoming timid, and irresolute, and anxious. The sight
of the many dead and scalped bodies of their comrades around them
was not much calculated to reassure them.
Meanwhile, Captain Headley had kept his glass almost constantly
directed towards that part of the common adjoining the fort, where
the great body of the Indians had now collected, and appeared to
be in earnest deliberation. Among the number of those assembled
he could distinctly make out Winnebeg, Waubansee, and Tee-pee-no-bee,
the former of whom seemed to be addressing the younger Pottowatomies
in energetic terms, while he frequently pointed to the blanket
which contained the body of the slain Chippewa. At length,
when he had been succeeded by the two other chiefs just named, who
seemed to deliver themselves in a similar spirit, a yell apparently
of assent and approval came from the dark mass, and in a few minutes
a party of about a hundred detached themselves from the group, and
preceded by the same flag that had been raised by the immediate
followers of Pee-to-tum, slowly advanced towards the little square.
"Courage, men," said Captain Headley, "we have not fought our steady
battle for nothing; but let us give the credit of success where
most it is due, We owe our preservation, if we are preserved, wholly
to the gallantry of Ensign Ronayne. Had he not removed the spike
from that gun, and fired it at the eventual sacrifice of his own
life--nay more, had he not slain Pee-to-tum, our most bitter and
relentless enemy--we should all have slept upon this field--that
sight we should never have seen;" and he pointed to the rude flag
of which Winnebeg was the bearer, and which was then half way from
the point of departure of the band.
"Even so," observed Lieutenant Elmsley--"to poor Ronayne, if this
rag means anything pacific, and, from the fact of its being borne
by Winnebeg, I have no doubt it does, must be ascribed our exemption
from the fate of our unhappy comrades. Your ball was well aimed,
Captain Headley, and hastened the death of the loathsome and
vindictive savage; but never could he have survived that bayonet
wound. Life must have ebbed away with the blood that followed its
removal; yet," and this was said with a significance which his
commanding officer seemed to understand, "it must be not a little
satisfactory to you to know that your shot saved him from the
tomahawk that was already raised to dispatch him."
"Would that in doing so I had saved his life," returned Captain
Headley, seriously. "How doubly unfortunate is our position--without
a surgeon to attend the wounded. Von Voltenberg I have not seen
during the day--I greatly fear he has fallen also."
At this moment the Indians had come within about twenty paces of
the square, one face of which Captain Headley had ordered to be
opened to make a display of the gun behind which stood a man with
a lighted match. Here they halted, looking with mixed regret, awe,
and anxiety upon what they had so recently had in their own
possession, while Winnebeg advanced a few paces to the front.
"What would the chief Winnebeg?" asked Captain Headley, with dignity.
"He brings with him a flag. Are the Pottowatomies sick with blood?"
"The Pottowatomies are strong," returned the old warrior, in the
figurative language of his race, "but they would not slay the brave.
If the warriors of the white chief will lay down their arms and
surrender themselves prisoners, their lives shall be spared."
"This is well to promise," rejoined the commanding officer; "but
what reason have we to believe that the Pottowatomies are serious?
They know that we will fight to the last, and they seek to save
their own lives by fair words."
"On the faith of a chief, I pledge myself that their word shall be
kept. Pee-to-tum is dead--he has no longer power over the young
men, and they will now obey the voice of their own leaders."
"The word of Winnebeg is always good," replied Capt. Headley, "but
I distrust his young men; they received presents from their
Great Father, and promised to escort his soldiers to Fort Wayne.
How have they kept their word? Look around. More than half my
soldiers lie there; but, not alone. If the Pottowatomie count well,
they will find more than two Indians for every white man."
"Our Father's warriors are brave," returned the chief, "and so the
Pottowatomies would spare their blood. If they surrender their
arms, I promise, in their name, that no more shall be spilt."
"I will consult my brave soldiers--they shall decide," observed
the commandant, "not that I doubt your word or your good intentions,
Winnebeg, but as you had not the power to restrain your young men
at first, how am I to know that you can do so now? At present we
have arms in our hands, and can defend ourselves; but if we yield
them up, we may be tomahawked the next moment. However, as I said
before, my brave, followers shall decide."
"Mr. Elmsley," he added, turning coolly to his subaltern, "count
up our little force, and ascertain how many men of the detachment
remain."
"Two-and-twenty, sir," returned his subaltern, who had taken but
a few minutes to enumerate them.
"Two-and-twenty out of sixty with whom we advanced to the charge
this morning, besides two officers--one mortally wounded, the other
missing. Well, this is rather hot work; but you see, Winnebeg,
that if our loss has been more than forty, including the Miamis,
the Pottowatomies killed are more than double in number."
Winnebeg replied not, but he looked imploringly at Captain Headley,
as if desirous that he should accept the offered terms without
irritating his people with allusions to their heavy loss.
"Well, men," continued that officer, who had remarked the particular
expression of the countenance of the chief, "what is your decision?
I am perfectly ready to act as you shall say, either to fight to
the last, or to surrender, with the chance of being knocked on the
head afterwards."
"Had we not better put it to vote, sir?" suggested Lieut. Elmsley;
"the responsibility will then rest with the majority."
"A good idea, Mr. Elmsley. So be it. The majority of votes shall
decide whether we fight or surrender."
The votes were accordingly taken, and the result was an equal
division--eleven for surrendering and taking the chances of good
faith--the other eleven, chiefly the unmarried men, for fighting
to the last.
"The casting vote is with you, Mr. Elmsley; that given, we return
our answer," remarked Captain Headley.
"Winnebeg," said the lieutenant, addressing him for the first time,
"one question I would ask you first: know you anything of our
wives--are they dead--and where is Mr. McKenzie?"
"They are all alive," returned the chief with animation--"bad wound,
though--Winnebeg help save him himself."
Human nature could stand no more. Both officers, as if actuated by
the same common impulse, met and embraced each other warmly. A
mountain weight seemed to be taken from their oppressed hearts,
and those two men, who had preserved the most cool and collected
courage through the fearful, the appalling scenes of that day,
stilling all their more selfish feelings, now suffered the
warm tears to gush in silence from their eyes. The men beheld this
sight with an emotion little inferior to their own, and many a tear
trickled over their faces and moistened and mixed with the dark
deposit left by the bitten cartridge, as they too rejoiced in the
safety of those brave and noble women.
"There can be no doubt what my decision in this matter will be
now," remarked the lieutenant, when he had a little recovered from
his emotion. "The good Winnebeg who has done thus much--saved
those most dear to us--cannot want the power to save ourselves. My
vote is for the surrender."
"Winnebeg," said Captain Headley, with great feeling, "whatever
doubts may have existed in our minds as to the propriety of
surrendering, they are now wholly removed. We know your worth and
humanity, and commit ourselves wholly to your good faith. Indeed,
from the moment I saw you coming at the head of this party, after
the death of the black-hearted Pee-to-tum, I felt that we were safe
from further attack. Still, it was my duty to consult the men who
had so bravely fought with me. We consent to become your prisoners,
on three conditions--first, that we be suffered to retain our
colors, which you see there wrapped round the dying body of Mr.
Ronayne, the friend of your son; secondly, that we be permitted to
bury our dead comrades; and thirdly, that we be surrendered to the
nearest British post at the earliest opportunity."
Winnebeg, after looking at the spot where the young officer lay,
spoke for a few moments with his followers, who did not seem to
relish the arrangement, for a good deal of animated conversation
ensued between themselves; but at length the point was satisfactorily
settled, and the former assented to the conditions of surrender
Captain Headley had imposed. To have reposed any faith in the
warriors themselves after what had occurred, that officer was now
fully sensible would have been an act of madness; but he confidently
hoped that, although Winnebeg and the other friendly chiefs might
not have had the power to restrain the excitement of their young
men in the first outburst of their rage for blood, their influence
would to a certain extent be regained, now that the fiercest act
in the drama had been played, and the chief actor was no more. The
only thing that created uneasiness in him was the apprehension that
the severity of their own loss might induce such a desire of
vengeance in the minds of the warriors as to cause in them a renewal
of their fury, and an utter disregard of the pledges of their
leaders. Something however--indeed much--must be left to chance.
As prisoners they might and would be saved, if the influence of
their sager warriors and their own better feelings prevailed, while,
as combatants, every man, without an exception, must have fallen.
Moreover, the reason which had decided Lieutenant Elmsley in giving
his vote had an equal influence in sustaining himself in the
expediency of surrender. Their wives were prisoners, and a reunion
with them was not impossible; whereas if they had resolved on
defending themselves with the obstinacy of despair, that hope must
have been for ever cut off, and the noble women--not to speak of
the partners of their brave and humble followers--who had taken so
prominent a share in the combat, wounded and sustained only by the
faint possibility of a meeting with their husbands, would assuredly
be made to undergo a similar fate.
And now commenced the most humiliating part of the movements of
the day--the breaking up of the gallant little square, and the
return, flanked by their Indian captors, of the remains of the
detachment to the fort. In compliance with the wish of Captain
Headley, expressed at the suggestion of his men, instead of taking
the route selected by Winnebeg in his advance, the party were
suffered to return past the wagons. The scene which took place here
was one of mingled consolation and despair. Such of the married
men as had survived the conflict anxiously sought their wives, many
of whom, with pale cheeks and sunken eyes, and hearts nearly crushed
by the pitiless murder of their children, still wrung comfort in
the midst of their despair, as they gazed once more on the features
of those whom they had given up as lost for ever. But then, on the
other hand, was the soul's misery complete of the poor women,
widowed within the past few hours, who sought eagerly but in vain
to distinguish the features of him who alone could console her
under a similar bereavement, and who, with tears and sobs, sank
back again into the wagon, in all the agony of increased and
confirmed despair. It required stern hearts to behold all this
unmoved; but the knowledge that their wives had been unharmed,
whatever the savage destruction of their children, brought some
little relief to the overcharged hearts of such of the married men
as had been spared, and in their secret hearts they returned thanks
to the Providence that had guarded not only their own lives, but
the lives of those most dear to them.