Night invasion of Johnstown, by Sir John Johnson, with an army of Indians
and loyalists--The Visschers--The route of Sir John--Arrest of the
Sammons family--Destruction of their property--March along the
river--Burning of buildings, and murders of aged people--Destruction of
Caughnawaga--Return to Johnson Hall--Proceedings there--Thomas Sammons
escapes--Sir John moves off--Sampson Sammons applies for his
liberty--His speech--The object of the expedition--Recovery of the
Baronet's plate--A faithful slave--Character of the expedition--Sir
John returns to Montreal--Jacob and Frederick Sammons carried into
captivity--Imprisoned at Chamblee--Conspiracy to escape--Prisoners
refuse to join them--The brothers escape alone--The pursuit--
Separation--Journey, adventures and sufferings of Jacob
Sammons--Arrives at Schenectady--The narrative returns to
Frederick--Perils of his escape--Prosperous commencement of his
journey--Dreadful sickness--His recapture--Confined in irons at
Chamblee--Removed to an Island--Projects an escape--Plot
discovered--Ironed again--Second plan of escape--Perilous leap into the
St. Lawrence--Swimming the Rapids--Other surprising adventures, by
flood and field--Crossing the woods to Schenectady--Remarkable
fulfillment of a dream--Direct history of the Mohawk country
resumed--Destruction of Canajoharie by the Indiana--Conduct of
Brant--Case of doubtful courage.
Although the struggle had now been maintained more than five years, still
the people of the lower section of the Mohawk Valley, severely as they
had experienced the calamities of the war, had not yet by any means
received the full measure of their suffering. Harassed by perpetual
alarms, and oppressively frequent calls to the field--their numbers
reduced by death and desertion, and by removals from a country so full of
troubles--their situation was far from being enviable. Though unconscious
of immediate danger from a formidable invasion, they were nevertheless in
more peril than at any former period, from their diminished ability of
self-protection. Hitherto, with the exception of small forays upon the
outskirts, the lower valley, containing by far the largest amount of
population, had not been traversed by an invading enemy. But it was their
lot, in the course of the present season, repeatedly to experience the
tender mercies of an exasperated enemy, armed with knife, and tomahawk
and brand, and to see their fairest villages laid waste, their fields
desolated, and their dwellings reduced to ashes.
The first blow was as sudden as it was unexpected--especially from the
quarter whence it came. On Sunday the twenty-first of May, at dead of
night, Sir John Johnson entered the north part of Johnstown at the head
of five hundred men, composed of some British troops, a detachment of his
own regiment of Royal Greens, and about two hundred Indians and Tories. Sir
John had penetrated the country by way of Lake Champlain to Crown Point,
and thence through the woods to the Sacondaga river; and so entirely
unawares had he stolen upon the sleeping inhabitants, that he arrived in
the heart of the country undiscovered, except by the resident loyalists,
who were probably in the secret. Before he reached the old Baronial Hall
at Johnstown--the home of his youth, and for the recovery of which he
made every exertion that courage and enterprise could put forth--Sir John
divided his forces into two detachments, leading one in person, in the
first instance, directly to the Hall, and thence through the village of
Johnstown; while the other was sent through a more eastern settlement,
to strike the Mohawk river at or below Tripe's Hill, from whence it was
directed to sweep up the river through the ancient Dutch village of
Caughnawaga, [FN-1] to the Cayadutta Creek--at which place a junction was
to be formed with Sir John himself. This disposition of his forces was
made at the still hour of midnight--at a time when the inhabitants were
not only buried in slumber, but wholly unsuspicious of approaching danger.
What officer was in command of the eastern division is not known, but it
was one of the most stealthy and murderous expeditions--murderous in its
character, though but few were killed--and the most disgraceful, too, that
marked the progress of the war in that region. During the night-march of
this division, and before reaching the river, they attacked the
dwelling-house of Mr. Lodowick Putnam, who, together with his son, was
killed and scalped. The next house assailed was that of a Mr. Stevens,
which was burnt, and its owner killed. Arriving at Tripe's Hill, they
murdered three men, by the names of Hansen, Platts, and Aldridge. Hansen,
who was a captain of militia, was killed by an Indian to whom he had
formerly shown great kindness, and who had in return expressed much
gratitude. The houses of all, it is believed, were plundered before the
application of the torch. Proceeding toward Caughnawaga, about day-light
they arrived at the house of Colonel Visscher--occupied at the time by
himself, his mother, and his two brothers. It was immediately assaulted.
Alarmed at the sounds without, the Colonel instantly surmised the cause,
and being armed, determined, with his brothers, to defend the house to
the last. They fought bravely for a time, but the odds were so fearfully
against them, that the house was soon carried by storm. The three brothers
were instantly stricken down and scalped, and the torch applied to the
house. Having thus completed their work, the enemy proceeded on their way
up the river. Fortunately, however, the Colonel himself was only wounded.
On recovering from the shock of the hatchet, he saw the house enveloped
in flames above and around him, and his two brothers dead by his side.
But, grievously wounded as he was, he succeeded in removing their mangled
bodies from the house before the burning timbers fell in. His own wounds
were dressed, and he lived many years afterward. Mrs. Visscher, the
venerable mother of the Colonel, was likewise severely wounded by being
knocked on the head by an Indian; but she also survived. The slaughter
along the Mohawk, to the village of Caughnawaga, would have been greater,
but for the alertness of Major Van Vrank, who contrived to elude the
enemy, and by running ahead, gave the alarm, and enabled many people to
fly as it were in _puris naturalibus_ across the river. [FN-2]
* * * * *
[FN-1] More anciently still, the residence of the Caughnawaga clan of the
Mohawk Indians, who at so early day moved into Canada, and established
themselves on the St. Lawrence above the Lachine rapids.
[FN-2] The Visschers were important men among the Whigs of Tryon county.
There were four brothers of them at the commencement of the war, vis.
Frederick, (the Colonel,) John, William Brower, and Harmanus. William B.
died of scarlet fever in the Winter of 1776. A very bitter hostility
existed against this family among the loyalists, having its origin in
an unpleasant altercation between Colonel Visscher and Sir John Johnson,
in the Autumn of 1775. The circumstances of this affair, as recently
communicated to the author by the venerable Judge De Graff, of
Schenectady, a near connection of the family, were substantially
these;--In the year 1775, the Colonial Congress, having full confidence
both in his principles and discretion, appointed Frederick Visscher a
Colonel in the militia, furnishing him at the same time, commissions in
blank to complete the organisation of hie regiment. One of the
commissions of captain thus confided to his disposal, he conferred on
his brother John. In the Autumn of that year the Colonel directed his
regiment to parade for review on an elevated plain near the ancient inn
of Peggy Wymples, in Caughnawaga. It happened that while the regiment
was on parade, Sir John Johnson, with his lady, drove along the river
road. On descrying the regiment under arms, he ordered his coachman to
drive up the hill to the parade ground. He than demanded of the first
person to whom he had an opportunity to speak, who had called the
assemblage together, and for what purpose? The reply was, that Colonel
Visscher had ordered his regiment to parade for review. The Baronet
thereupon stepped up to the Colonel, and repeated the question. The
Colonel of course gave a similar reply. Sir John then ordered the
regiment to disperse, but the Colonel directed them to keep their
ranks--whereupon the Baronet, who was armed with a sword-cane, raised
his weapon to inflict a blow upon Visscher, but the latter grasped the
cane, and in the scuffle the sword was drawn--Visscher retaining the
scabbard. Sir John threatened to run him through the body, and the
Colonel told him if he chose to make the attempt he might act his
pleasure. Sir John then asked for the scabbard of his blade, which was
restored to him. Stepping up to his carriage, he directed Lady Johnson
to rise that he might take his pistols from the box. Her ladyship
remonstrated with him, but to no purpose, and having obtained his
pistols, the Baronet again demanded that the regiment should be
dismissed, for they were rebels. If not, he declared in a tempest of
passion that he would blow the Colonel through. "Use your pleasure," was
again the reply of Visscher. At this moment, a young Irishman, in the
domestic service of the Colonel, who was in the ranks, exclaimed--"By
J--s, if ye offer to lift hand or finger against my master, I will blow
you through." The Baronet now saw that an unpleasant spirit was kindling
against himself, whereupon he returned to his carriage, and drove away
in great wrath.
Meantime Sir John proceeded with his division through the village of
Johnstown, stopping before it was yet light at what was once his own hall,
where he made two prisoners. There was a small stockade, or picket fort,
in the village, which, under favor of darkness and sleeping sentinels,
was passed silently and unobserved. Directing his course for the
confluence of the Cayadutta with the Mohawk, Sir John arrived at the
residence of Sampson Sammons, whose name, with those of two of his sons,
has appeared in the earlier portion of the present work. There was a
third son, Thomas, a youth of eighteen. They all inherited the stanch
Whig principles of their father, and the whole family had rendered the
State efficient service in the course of the war. [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] Sampson Sammons was of German extraction, a native of Ulster County,
whence he had emigrated to Tryon County a few years before the war. In
the first stages of the war he was a member of the Committee of Safety.
In 1777, a corps of Exempts was organised under Colonel Jelles Fonda;
Fonda himself acting as Captain. Of this company, Sampson Sammons was
the Lieutenant. In 1779 the corps was re-organised and enlarged. On the
muster-roll of this year, Sammons was entered an an Ensign.
The particulars of the attack upon the family of Mr. Sammons are of
sufficient interest to warrant the giving them somewhat in detail. Mr.
Sammons, the elder, was well known to Sir John, between whom and himself
very friendly relations had existed; and in the early stage of the war,
the former had exerted himself with some degree of success to protect the
Baronet from the violence of the people. Soon after passing Johnstown,
Sir John detached those of the Indians yet remaining with him in other
directions, being desirous of making captives of Sammons and his sons,
but wishing, at the same time, to do them no personal injury. On arriving
in the neighborhood of the house, Sir John halted his division, and
directed a small detachment to move with the utmost stillness and caution,
and fall upon the house by surprise--observing that Sammons had some
stout sons, well armed, and unless they were very careful, there would be
trouble. The eldest of Mr. Sammons' sons was then the lessee of the
Johnson farm at the hall, which had been sold by the Committee of
Sequestrations, and which he was then cultivating; and Thomas, the
youngest, had risen at an unwonted hour, in order to feed his horses, and
go over to the hall to work with his brother. On coming down stairs,
however, and stepping out of doors half-dressed, to take an observation
of the weather--it being yet dark, though day was just breaking--the
thought occurred to him, that should any straggling Indians be prowling
about, he would stand but a poor chance if fallen upon alone. While
standing thus in doubt whether to proceed or wait for more light, he was
startled by a noise of heavy steps behind, and, as he turned, by the
glitter of steel passing before his eyes. At the same instant a hand was
laid upon his shoulder, with the words--"You are my prisoner!" In such
perfect stillness had the enemy approached, that not the sound of a
footstep was heard, until the moment when the younger Sammons was thus
arrested, and the house immediately surrounded. One of the officers, with
several soldiers, instantly entered the house, and ordered the family to
get up, and surrender themselves as prisoners. Jacob and Frederick, who
were in bed in the second story, sprang upon their feet immediately, and
seized their arms. The officer, who was a Tory named Sutherland, and
acquainted with the family, hearing the clatter of arms, called to them
by name, and promised quarter on condition of their surrender. Jacob
inquired whether there were Indians with them; adding, that if there were,
he and his brother would not be taken alive. On being assured to the
contrary, the brothers descended the stain and surrendered. The old
gentleman was also taken. While the soldiers were busied in plundering
the premises, the morning advanced, and Sir John Johnson came up with the
remainder of the division. The females were not taken as prisoners, but the
father and sons were directed to make ready to march immediately. Thomas
here remarked to the soldier who yet stood sentinel over him, that he
could not travel to Canada without his clothes, and especially without
his shoes, which he had not yet put on--requesting liberty to repair to
his chamber for his raiment. The sentinel sulkily refused permission; but
Thomas persisted that he must obtain his shoes at least, and was stepping
toward the door, when the barbarian made a plunge at his back with his
bayonet, which had proved fatal but for the quick eyes and the heroism of
a sister standing by, who, as she saw the thrust at her brother, sprang
forward, and seizing the weapon, threw herself across its barrel, and by
falling, brought it to the ground. The soldier struggled to disengage his
arms, and accomplish his purpose. At the same instant an officer stepped
forward, and demanded what was the matter. The girl informed him of the
attempt upon her brother, whereupon he rebuked the soldier by the
exclamation--"You d--d rascal, would you murder the boy?" Immediate
permission was then given him to procure whatever articles he wanted. The
work of plunder having been completed, Sir John, with his troops and
prisoners, proceeded onward in the direction of the river--about three
miles distant.
For the purpose of punishing the old gentleman for his whiggish activity,
some of the officers caused him to be tied to a Negro, who was likewise a
prisoner; but the moment Sir John discovered the indignity, he
countermanded the order. The hands of the young men were all closely
pinioned, and they, with their father, were compelled to march between
files of soldiers, and behold the cruel desolation of their neighborhood.
Their course thence was direct to the river, at Caughnawaga, at which
place they met the other division of Indians and rangers, who, among
others, had murdered and scalped Mr. Douw Fonda, a citizen of great age
and respectability. The whole army now set their faces westward,
traversing the Mohawk Valley several miles, burning every building not
owned by a loyalist, killing sheep and black cattle, and taking all the
horses that could be found for their own use. Returning again to
Caughnawaga, the torch was applied to every building excepting the church;
a number of prisoners were made, and several persons killed. Nine aged
men were slain in the course of this march, of whom four were upward of
eighty. From Caughnawaga, Sir John retraced his steps to Johnstown,
passing the premises of Mr. Sammons, where the work of destruction was
completed by applying the brand to all the buildings, leaving the females
of the family houseless, and taking away the seven horses which were in
the stables.
On the arrival of Sir John back to the homestead in the afternoon, he
halted upon the adjacent grounds for several hours--establishing his own
quarters in the hall of his father. The prisoners were collected into an
open field, strongly guarded, but not in a confined space; and while
reposing thus the Tory families of the town came in large numbers to see
their friends and relatives, who for the most part constituted the white
troops of the invading army. Thomas Sammons, during the whole morning,
had affected to be exceedingly lame of one foot; and while loitering
about the Hall he attracted the attention of the widowed lady of Captain
Hare, one of the British officers who had fallen in the battle of
Oriskany. Mrs. Hare, since the death of her husband, had occupied an
apartment of the Hall; and she now exerted herself successfully with Sir
John for the release of several of her personal friends among the
captives; and on going into the field to select them, she adroitly
smuggled young Sammons into the group, and led him away in safety.
It has already been mentioned that there was a small guard occupying the
little fort in the village, which had been avoided by Sir John in his
morning march. Toward night the militia of the surrounding country were
observed to be clustering in the village, and Sir John thought it
advisable to resume his march. He had collected a number of prisoners,
and much booty, besides recruiting his ranks by a considerable number of
loyalists, and obtaining possession of some eighteen or twenty of his
Negro slaves, left behind at the time of his flight in the Spring of 1776.
While they were halting, on the next day, the elder Sammons applied to
Sir John for an interview, which was granted in presence of his principal
officers. On inquiring what he wanted, Mr. Sammons replied that he wished
to be released. The Baronet hesitated; but the old man pressed his suit,
and reminded Sir John of former scenes, and of the efforts of friendship
which he himself had made in his behalf. "See what you have done, Sir
John," said the veteran Whig; "You have taken myself and my sons
prisoners, burnt my dwelling to ashes, and left the helpless members of
my family with no covering but the heavens above, and no prospect but
desolation around them. Did we treat you in this manner when you were in
the power of the Tryon County Committee? Do you remember when we were
consulted by General Schuyler, and you agreed to surrender your arms? Do
you not remember that you then agreed to remain neutral, and that upon
that condition General Schuyler left you at liberty on your parole? Those
conditions you violated. You went off to Canada; enrolled yourself in the
service of the King; raised a regiment of the disaffected, who abandoned
their country with you; and you have now returned to wage a cruel war
against us, by burning our dwellings and robbing us of our property. I
was your friend in the Committee of Safety, and exerted myself to save
your person from injury. And how am I requited? Your Indians have
murdered and scalped old Mr. Fonda at the age of eighty years; a man who,
I have heard your father say, was like a father to him when he settled in
Johnstown and Kingsborough. You cannot succeed, Sir John, in such a
warfare, and you will never enjoy your property more!"
The Baronet made no reply; but the appeal was effectual, and the old
gentleman was set at liberty. He then requested the restoration of a pair
of horses. Sir John replied that this should also be done, if the horses
were not in the possession of the Indians, from whom he could not safely
take them. On making the inquiry, a span of his horses were found and
restored to him. A Tory officer, named Doxstadter, was seen by Mr. Sammons
to be in possession of one of his horses, but he would not relinquish it,
pretending that he was merely entrusted with the animal by an Indian.
[FN-1] The two sons, Jacob and Frederick, were carried into captivity,
and suffered a protracted and severe imprisonment, interesting accounts
of which will presently be given. Several of the aged prisoners, besides
Mr. Sammons, were permitted to return, one of whom, Captain Abraham
Veeder, was exchanged for lieutenant Singleton, who had been taken at
Fort Schuyler by Colonel Willett, and was then in Canada on his
parole. [FN-2]
* * * * *
[FN-1] After the war was over, Doxstadter returned from Canada upon some
business, was arrested in an action at law by Mr. Sammons, and made to
pay the value of the horse.
[FN-2] The present narrative of this irruption has been prepared almost
entirely from the manuscripts and conversations with Major Thomas
Sammons, the lad who was taken prisoner--after a diligent comparison of
his statement with other authorities. The author has also the written
narratives of Jacob and Frederick Sammons, before him, together with an
account written by the Rev. John I. Shew. Major Thomas Sammons is yet,
(February, 1838) well and hearty. He has formerly, for several years
represented Montgomery (late Tryon county) in Congress.
The immediate object of this irruption by Sir John Johnson, was to
procure his plate, which had been buried at the time of his flight in
1776, and not recovered with the iron chest. This treasure was not indeed
buried with the chest, but in the cellar, and the place of deposit was
confided to a faithful slave. While Sir John was in the hall, in the
afternoon, the slave, assisted by four soldiers, disinterred the silver,
which filled two barrels, brought it to the Baronet, and laid it down at
his feet. [FN-1] It was then distributed among about forty soldiers, who
placed it in their knapsacks--a quarter-master taking an account of the
names of the soldiers, and the articles confided to each--by whom it was
to be carried to Montreal. The irruption, however, was one of the most
indefensible aggressions upon an unarmed and slumbering people, which
stain the annals of the British arms. As the commanding officer, Sir John
is himself to be held responsible in a general sense. How far he was
directly and specially responsible for the midnight murders committed by
the barbarians, is a question which may, perhaps, bear a somewhat
different shade. Still, from the success which attended the expedition,
and the unaccountable inaction of the people against him, it is
sufficiently obvious that he might have recovered his plate without
lighting up his path by the conflagration of his neighbors' houses, or
without staining his skirts with innocent blood. [FN-2] But the most
remarkable circumstances attending this expedition are, that the
inhabitants were so completely taken by surprise, and that Sir John was
so entirely unopposed in his advance on the morning of the 22d, and
altogether unmolested on his retreat. The inhabitants, who had so often
proved themselves brave, appear to have been not only surprised, but
panic-stricken. True, as has already been incidentally stated, before Sir
John commenced his return march, the militia had begun to gather at the
village, a mile distant from the hall. They were led by Colonel John
Harper, who was beyond doubt a very brave man. With him was also Colonel
Volkert Veeder. But they were not strong enough to engage the enemy; and
when Thomas Sammons arrived among them after his release, this opinion
was confirmed by his report that the forces of Sir John exceeded seven
hundred men. Colonels Harper and Veeder thereupon marched back to the
river, and the invaders retired unmolested, [FN-3] save by Captain Putnam
and four men, who hung upon their rear, and observed their course to the
distance of twenty-five miles.
* * * * *
[FN-1] This faithful domestic had lived long with Sir William Johnson,
who was so much attached to him, that he caused him to be baptized by his
own name, William. When the estate was placed in the hands of {illegible
word} by the Committee, William was sold, and Sammons was the purchaser.
He lived with him until retaken by Sir John, but never gave the least
hint either as to the burial of the iron chest, or the plate, although
both had been hidden in the earth by him.
[FN-2] It is quite probable that Sir John's private papers, or
correspondence, if they have been preserved, might place this and other
dark transactions in a more favorable light. The author has exerted
himself in vain to discover any such papers. They are believed to have
been scattered, on the Baronet's decease at Montreal, some half a dozen
years since.
[FN-3] MS of Major Thomas Sammons.
Governor Clinton was at Kingston at the time of the Invasion. Hastening
to Albany on the first rumor of the intelligence, he collected such
militia and other forces as he could obtain, and moved to Lake George
with a view to intercept Sir John. It was supposed that the course of the
enemy might possibly lie in the direction of Oswegatchie, and for the
purpose of striking him upon such a march, Colonel Van Schaick, with
eight hundred men, followed him by the way of Johnstown. Descending Lake
George to Ticonderoga, the Governor was joined by a body of militia from
the New Hampshire grants. But all was of no use; the invaders
escaped--taking to their batteaux, probably, at Crown Point, whence they
proceeded down the lake to St John's. The captives were thence transferred
to the fortress of Chamblee.
The prisoners at this fortress numbered about forty. On the day after
their arrival Jacob Sammons, having taken an accurate survey of the
garrison and the facilities of escape, conceived the project of inducing
his fellow-prisoners to rise upon the guards and obtain their freedom.
The garrison was weak in number, and the sentinels less vigilant than is
usual among good soldiers. The prison doors were opened once a day, when
the prisoners were visited by the proper officer, with four or five
soldiers. Sammons had observed where the arms of the guards were stacked
in the yard, and his plan was, that some of the prisoners should arrest
and disarm the visiting guard on the opening of their door, while the
residue were to rush forth, seize the arms, and fight their way out. The
proposition was acceded to by his brother Frederick, and one other man
named Van Sluyck, but was considered too daring by the great body of the
prisoners to be undertaken. It was therefore abandoned, and the brothers
sought afterward only for a chance of escaping by themselves. Within
three days the desired opportunity occurred, viz. on the 13th of June.
The prisoners were supplied with an allowance of spruce beer, for which
two of their number were detached daily, to bring the cask from the
brew-house, under a guard of five men, with fixed bayonets. Having reason
to suppose that the arms of the guards, though charged, were not primed,
the brothers so contrived matters as to be taken together to the brewery
on the day mentioned, with an understanding that at a given point they
were to dart from the guard and run for their lives--believing that the
confusion of the moment, and the consequent delay of priming their muskets
by the guards, would enable them to escape beyond the ordinary range of
musket shot. The project was boldly executed. At the concerted moment,
the brothers sprang from their conductors, and stretched across the plain
with great fleetness. The alarm was given, and the whole garrison was
soon after them in hot pursuit. Unfortunately for Jacob, he fell into a
ditch and sprained his ankle. Perceiving the accident, Frederick turned
to his assistance; but the other generously admonished him to secure his
own flight if possible, and leave him to the chances of war. Recovering
from his fall, and regardless of the accident, Jacob sprang forward again
with as much expedition as possible, but finding that his lameness
impeded his progress, he plunged into a thick clump of shrubs and trees,
and was fortunate enough to hide himself between two logs before the
pursuers came up. Twenty or thirty shots had previously been fired upon
them, but without effect. In consequence of the smoke of their fire,
probably, the guards had not observed Jacob when he threw himself into
the thicket, and supposing that, like his brother, he had passed round it,
they followed on, until they were fairly distanced by Frederick, of whom
they lost sight and trace. They returned in about half an hour, halting
by the bushes in which the other fugitive was sheltered, and so near that
he could distinctly hear their conversation. The officer in command was
Captain Steele. On calling his men together, some were swearing, and
others laughing at the race, and the speed of the "long-legged Dutchmen,"
as they called the flying prisoners. The pursuit being abandoned, the
guards returned to the fort.
The brothers had agreed, in case of separation, to meet at a certain spot
at 10 o'clock that night. Of course Jacob lay ensconced in the bushes
until night had dropped her sable curtains, and until he supposed the
hour had arrived, when he sallied forth, according to the antecedent
understanding. But time did not move as rapidly on that evening as he
supposed. He waited upon the spot designated, and called aloud for
Frederick, until he despaired of meeting him, and prudence forbade his
remaining any longer. It subsequently appeared that he was too early on
the ground, and that Frederick made good his appointment.
Following the bank of the Sorel, Jacob passed Fort St. John's soon after
day-break on the morning of the 14th. His purpose was to swim the river
at that place, and pursue his course homeward through the wilderness on
the eastern shore of Lake Champlain; but just as he was preparing to
enter the water, he descried a boat approaching from below, filled with
officers and soldiers of the enemy. They were already within twenty rods.
Concealing himself again in the woods, he resumed his journey after their
departure, but had not proceeded more than two or three miles before he
came upon a party of several hundred men engaged in getting out timber
for the public works at the fort. To avoid these he was obliged to
describe a wide circuit, in the course of which, at about 12 o'clock, he
came to a small clearing. Within the enclosure was a house, and in the
field were a man and boy engaged in hoeing potatoes. They were at that
moment called to dinner, and supposing them to be French, who he had
heard were rather friendly to the American cause than other-wise--incited,
also, by hunger and fatigue--he made bold to present himself trusting
that he might be invited to partake of their hospitality. But, instead of
a friend, he found an enemy. On making known his character, he was
roughly received. "It is by such villains as you are," replied the
forester, "that I was obliged to fly from Lake Champlain." The rebels,
he added, had robbed him of all he possessed, and he would now deliver
his self-invited guest to the guard, which, he said, was not more than a
quarter of a mile distant. Sammons promptly answered him that "that was
more than he could do." The refugee then said he would go for the guard
himself; to which Summons replied that he might act as he pleased, but
that all the men in Canada should not make him again a prisoner.
The man thereupon returned with his son to the potato field, and resumed
his work; while his more compassionate wife gave him a bowl of bread and
milk, which he ate sitting on the threshold of the door, to guard against
surprise. While in the house, he saw a musket, powder-horn and
bullet-pouch hanging against the wall, of which he determined, if
possible, to possess himself, that he might be able to procure food
during the long and solitary march before him. On retiring, therefore,
he traveled only far enough into the woods for concealment--returning to
the woodman's house in the evening, for the purpose of obtaining the
musket and ammunition. But he was again beset by imminent peril. Very
soon after he entered the house, the sound of approaching voices was
heard, and he took to the rude chamber for security, where he lay flat
upon the irregular floor, and looking through the interstices, saw eleven
soldiers enter, who, it soon appeared, came for milk. His situation was
now exceedingly critical. The churlish proprietor might inform against
him, or a single movement betray him. But neither circumstance occurred.
The unwelcome visitors departed in due time, and the family all retired
to bed, excepting the wife, who, as Jacob descended from the chamber,
refreshed him with another bowl of bread and milk. The good woman now
earnestly entreated her guest to surrender himself, and join the ranks
of the King, assuring him that his Majesty must certainly conquer in the
end, in which case the rebels would lose all their property, and many
of them be hanged into the bargain. But to such a proposition he of
course would not listen. Finding all her efforts to convert a Whig into
a Tory fruitless, she then told him, that if he would secrete himself two
days longer in the woods, she would furnish him with some provisions, for
a supply of which her husband was going to the fort the next day, and she
would likewise endeavor to provide him with a pair of shoes. Disinclined
to linger so long in the country of the enemy, and in the neighborhood of
a British post, however, he took his departure forthwith. But such had
been the kindness of the good woman, that he had it not in his heart to
seize upon her husband's arms, and he left this wild scene of rustic
hospitality without supplies, or the means of procuring them. Arriving
once more at the water's edge at the lower end of Lake Champlain, he came
upon a hut, within which, on cautiously approaching it for reconnaissance,
he discovered a party of soldiers all soundly asleep. Their canoe was
moored by the shore, into which he sprang, and paddled himself up the
lake under the most encouraging prospect of a speedy and comparatively
easy voyage to its head, whence his return home would be unattended with
either difficulty or danger. But his pleasing anticipations were
extinguished on the night following, as he approached the Isle au Noix,
where he descried a fortification, and the glitter of bayonets bristling
in the air as the moonbeams played upon the burnished arms of the
sentinels, who were pacing their tedious rounds. The lake being very
narrow at this point, and perceiving that both sides were fortified, he
thought the attempt to shoot his canoe through between them rather too
hazardous an experiment. His only course, therefore, was to run ashore,
and resume his travels on foot. Nor, on landing, was his case in any
respect enviable. Without shoes, without food, and without the means of
obtaining either--a long journey before him through a deep and trackless
wilderness--it may well be imagined that his mind was not cheered by the
most agreeable anticipations. But without pausing to indulge unnecessarily
his "thick-coming fancies," he commenced his solitary journey, directing
his course along the eastern lake shore toward Albany. During the first
four days of his progress he subsisted entirely upon the bark of the
birch--chewing the twigs as he went On the fourth day, while resting by
a brook, he heard a rippling of the water caused by the fish as they were
stemming its current. He succeeded in catching a few of these, but having
no means of striking a fire, after devouring one of them raw, the others
were thrown away.
His feet were by this time cruelly cut, bruised, and torn by thorns,
briars, and stones; and while he could scarcely proceed by reason of
their soreness, hunger and fatigue united to retard his cheerless march.
On the fifth day his miseries were augmented by the hungry swarms of
mosquitoes, which settled upon him in clouds while traversing a swamp.
On the same day he fell upon the nest of a black duck--the duck sitting
quietly upon her eggs until he came up and caught her. The bird was no
sooner deprived of her life and her feathers, than he devoured the whole,
including the head and feet The eggs were nine in number, which Sammons
took with him; but on opening one, he found a little half-made duckling,
already alive. Against such food his stomach revolted, and he was obliged
to throw the eggs away.
On the tenth day he came to a small lake. His feet ware now in such a
horrible state, that he could scarcely crawl along. Finding a mitigation
of pain by bathing them in water, he plunged his feet into the lake, and
lay down upon its margin. For a time it seemed as though he could never
rise upon his feet again. Worn down by hunger and fatigue--bruised in
body and wounded in spirit--in a lone wilderness, with no eye to pity,
and no human arm to protect--he felt as though he must remain in that
spot until it should please God in his goodness to quench the dim spark
of life that remained. Still, he was comforted in some measure by the
thought that he was in the hands of a Being without whose knowledge not
a sparrow fells to the ground.
Refreshed, at length, though to a trifling degree, he resumed his weary
way, when, on raising his right leg over the trunk of a fallen tree, he
was bitten in the calf by a rattlesnake! Quick as a flash, with his
pocket-knife, he made an incision in his leg, removing the wounded flesh
to a greater depth than the fangs of the serpent had penetrated. His next
business was to kill the venomous reptile, and dress it for eating; thus
appropriating the enemy that had sought to take his life, to its
prolongation. His first meal was made from the heart and fat of the
serpent. Feeling somewhat strengthened by the repast, and finding,
moreover, that he could not travel farther in his present condition, he
determined to remain where he was for a few days, and by repose, and
feeding upon the body of the snake, recruit his strength. Discovering,
also, a dry fungus upon the trunk of a maple tree, he succeeded in
striking a fire, by which his comforts were essentially increased. Still
he was obliged to creep upon his hands and knees to gather fuel, and on
the third day he was yet in such a state of exhaustion as to be utterly
unable to proceed. Supposing that death was inevitable and very near, he
crawled to the foot of a tree, upon the bark of which he commenced
inscribing his name--in the expectation that he should leave his bones
there, and in the hope, that, in some way, by the aid of the inscription,
his family might ultimately be apprised of his fate. While engaged in
this sad work, a cloud of painful thoughts crowded upon his mind; the
tears involuntarily stole down his cheeks, and before he had completed
the melancholy task, he fell asleep.
On the fourth day of his residence at this place, he began to gain
strength, and as a part of the serpent yet remained, he determined upon
another effort to resume his journey. But he could not do so without
devising some substitute for shoes. For this purpose he cut up his hat
and waistcoat, binding them upon his feet--and thus he hobbled along. On
the following night, while lying in the woods, he became strongly
impressed with a belief that he was not far distant from a human
habitation. He had seen no indications of proximity to the abode of man;
but he was, nevertheless, so confident of the fact, that he wept for joy.
Buoyed up and strengthened by this impression, he resumed his journey on
the following morning; and in the afternoon, it being the 28th of June,
he reached a house in the town of Pittsford, in the New Hampshire
Grants--now forming the State of Vermont. He remained there for several
days, both to recruit his health, and, if possible, to gain intelligence
of his brother. But no tidings came; and as he knew Frederick to be a
capital woodsman, he of course concluded that sickness, death, or
re-capture, must have interrupted his journey. Procuring a conveyance at
Pittsford, Jacob traveled to Albany, and thence to Schenectady, where he
had the happiness of finding his wife and family. [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] MS. narrative of Jacob Sammons. He died about the year 1810.
Not less interesting, nor marked by fewer vicissitudes, were the
adventures of Frederick Sammons. The flight from the fort at Chamblee was
made just before sunset, which accounts for the chase having been
abandoned so soon. On entering the edge of the woods, Frederick
encountered a party of Indians returning to the fort from fatigue duty.
Perceiving that he was a fugitive, they fired, and called out--"We have
got him!" In this opinion, however, they were mistaken; for, although he
had run close upon before perceiving them, yet, being like Asahel of old
swift of foot, by turning a short corner and increasing his speed, in ten
minutes he was entirely clear of the party. He then sat down to rest, the
blood gushing from his nose in consequence of the extent to which his
physical powers had been taxed. At the time appointed he also had
repaired to the point which, at his separation from Jacob, had been
agreed upon as the place of meeting. The moon shone brightly, and he
called loud and often for his brother--so loud, indeed, that the guard
was turned out in consequence. His anxiety was very great for his
brother's safety; but, in ignorance of _his_ situation, he was obliged to
attend to his own. He determined, however, to approach the fort--as near
to it, at least, as he could venture--and in the event of meeting any one,
disguise his own character by inquiring whether the rebels had been taken.
But a flash from the sentinel's musket, the report, and the noise of a
second pursuit, compelled him to change the direction of his march, and
proceed again with all possible speed. It had been determined by the
brothers to cross the Sorel, and return on the east side of the river and
lake; but there was a misunderstanding between them as to the point of
crossing the river--whether above or below the fort. Hence their failure
of meeting. Frederick repaired to what he supposed to be the designated
place of crossing, below the fort, where he lingered for his brother until
near morning. At length, having found a boat, he crossed over to the
eastern shore, and landed just at the cock-crowing. He proceeded directly
to the barn where he supposed chanticleer had raised his voice, but found
not a fowl on the premises. The sheep looked too poor by the dim twilight
to serve his purpose of food, but a bullock presenting a more favorable
appearance, Frederick succeeded in cutting the unsuspecting animal's
throat, and severing one of the hind-quarters from the carcase, he
shouldered and marched off with it directly into the forest. Having
proceeded to a safe and convenient distance, he stopped to dress his beef,
cutting off what he supposed would be sufficient for the journey, and
forming a knapsack from the skin, by the aid of bark peeled from the
moose-wood.
Resuming his journey, he arrived at the house of a French family within
the distance of five or six miles. Here he made bold to enter, for the
purpose of procuring bread and salt, and in the hope also of obtaining a
gun and ammunition. But he could neither obtain provisions, nor make the
people understand a word he uttered. He found means, however, to prepare
some tinder, with which he re-entered the woods, and hastened forward in
a southern direction, until be ascertained, by the firing of the evening
guns, that he had passed St. John's. Halting for the night, he struck a
light; and having kindled a fire, occupied himself until morning in
drying and smoking his beef, cutting it into slices for that purpose. His
knapsack of raw hide was cured by the same process. Thus prepared, he
proceeded onward without interruption or adventure until the third day,
when he killed a fawn and secured the venison. He crossed the Winooski,
or Onion river, on the next day; and having discovered a man's name carved
upon a tree, together with the distance from the lake, (Champlain) eight
miles, he bent his course for its shores, where he found a canoe with
paddles. There was now a prospect of lessening the fatigue of his journey;
but his canoe had scarce begun to dance upon the waters ere it parted
asunder, and he was compelled to hasten ashore and continue his march by
land.
At the close of the seventh day, and when, as he supposed, he was within
two days' travel of a settlement, he kindled his fire, and lay down to
rest in fine health and spirits. But ere the dawn of day, he awoke with
racking pains, which proved to be an attack of pleurisy. A drenching rain
came on, continuing three days; during which time he lay helpless, in
dreadful agony, without fire, or shelter, or sustenance of any kind. On
the fourth day, his pain having abated, he attempted to eat a morsel, but
his provisions had become too offensive to be swallowed. His thirst being
intense, he fortunately discovered a pond of water near by, to which he
crawled. It was a stagnant pool, swarming with frogs--another providential
circumstance, inasmuch as the latter served him for food. Too weak,
however to strike a light, he was compelled to devour them raw, and
without dressing of any kind. Unable to proceed, he lay in this wretched
condition fourteen days. Supposing that he should die there, he succeeded
in hanging his hat upon a pole, with a few papers, in order that, if
discovered, his fate might be known. He was lying upon a high bluff, in
full view of the lake, and at no great distance therefrom. The hat, thus
elevated, served as a signal, which saved his life. A vessel sailing past,
descried the hat, and sent a boat ashore to ascertain the cause. The
boatmen discovered the body of a man, yet living, but senseless and
speechless, and transferred him to the vessel. By the aid of medical
attendance he was slowly restored to his reason, and having informed the
Captain who he was, had the rather uncomfortable satisfaction of learning
that he was on board of an enemy's ship, and at that moment lying at
Crown Point. Here he remained sixteen days, in the course of which time
he had the gratification to hear, from a party of Tories coming from the
settlements, that his brother Jacob had arrived safe at Schenectady and
joined his family. He was also apprised of Jacob's sufferings, and of the
bite of the serpent, which took place near Otter Creek, close by the
place where he had himself been so long sick. The brothers were therefore
near together at the time of the greatest peril and endurance of both.
Frederick's recovery was very slow. Before he was able to walk, he was
taken to St John's, and thence, partly on a wheelbarrow and partly in a
calash, carried back to his old quarters at Chamblee--experiencing much
rough usage by the way. On arriving at the fortress, the guards saluted
him by the title of "Captain Lightfoot," and there was great joy at his
re-capture. It was now about the 1st of August. As soon as his health was
sufficiently recovered to bear it, he was heavily ironed, and kept in
close confinement at that place, until October, 1781--fourteen months,
without once beholding the light of the sun. Between St. Johns and
Chamblee he had been met by a British officer with whom he was acquainted,
and by whom he was informed that severe treatment would be his portion.
Compassionating his situation, however, the officer slipped a guinea and
a couple of dollars into his hands, and they moved on.
No other prisoners were in irons at Chamblee, and all but Sammons were
taken upon the parade ground twice a week for the benefit of fresh air.
The irons were so heavy and so tight, as to wear into the flesh of his
legs; and so incensed was Captain Steele, the officer of the 32d regiment,
yet commanding the garrison at Chamblee, at the escape of his prisoner,
that he would not allow the surgeon to remove the irons to dress the
wounds, of which they were the cause, until a peremptory order was
procured for that purpose from General St. Leger, who was then at St.
John's. The humanity of the surgeon prompted this application of his own
accord. Even then, however, Steele would only allow the leg-bolts to be
knocked off--still keeping on the hand-cuffs. The dressing of his legs
was a severe operation. The iron had eaten to the bone, and the gangrened
flesh was of course to be removed. One of the legs ultimately healed up,
but the other has never been entirely well to this day. [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] April, 1837--fifty six years ago! Frederick Sammons is yet living,
and otherwise well; and was chosen one of the electors of President and
Vice-President of the United States in November 1836.
In the month of November, 1781, the prisoners were transferred from
Chamblee to an island in the St. Lawrence, called at that time Prison
Island--situated in the rapids some distance above Montreal. Sammons was
compelled to travel in his hand-cuffs, but the other prisoners were not
thus encumbered. There were about two hundred prisoners on the island, all
of whom were very closely guarded. In the Spring of 1782, Sammons
organised a conspiracy with nine of his fellow prisoners, to make their
escape, by seizing a provision boat, and had well-nigh effected their
object. Being discovered, however, their purpose was defeated, and
Sammons, as the ringleader, once more placed in irons. But at the end of
five weeks the irons were removed, and he was allowed to return to his
hut.
Impatient of such protracted captivity, Frederick was still bent on
escaping, for which purpose he induced a fellow-prisoner, by the name of
McMullen, to join him in the daring exploit of seeking an opportunity to
plunge into the river, and taking their chance of swimming to the shore.
A favorable moment for attempting the bold adventure was afforded on the
17th of August. The prisoners having, to the number of fifty, been allowed
to walk to the foot of the island, but around the whole of which a chain
of sentinels was extended, Sammons and McMullen, without having conferred
with any one else, watching an opportunity when the nearest sentinel
turned his back upon them, quietly glided down beneath a shelving rock,
and plunged into the stream--each holding up and waving a hand in token of
farewell to their fellow-prisoners, as the surge swept them rapidly down
the stream. The sentinel was distant about six rods when they threw
themselves into the river, and did not discover their escape until they
were beyond the reach of any molestation he could offer them.
Three-quarters of a mile below the island, the rapids were such as to
heave the river into swells too large for boats to encounter. This was a
frightful part of their voyage. Both, however, were expert swimmers, and
by diving as they approached each successive surge, both succeeded in
making the perilous passage--the distance of this rapid being about one
hundred and fifty rods. As they plunged successively into these rapids,
they had little expectation of meeting each other again in this world.
But a protecting Providence ordered it otherwise, and they emerged from
the frightful billows quite near together. "I am glad to see you," said
Sammons to his friend; "I feared we should not meet again." "We have had
a merry ride of it," replied the other; "but we could not have stood it
much longer."
The adventurous fellows attempted to land about two miles below the
island, but the current was so violent as to baffle their purpose, and
they were driven two miles farther, where they happily succeeded in
reaching the land, at a place on the north side of the St. Lawrence,
called by the Canadians "The Devil's Point." A cluster of houses stood
near the river, into some of which it was necessary the fugitives should
go to procure provisions. They had preserved each a knife and tinder-box
in their waistcoat pockets, and one of the first objects, after arming
themselves with substantial clubs, was to procure a supply of tinder.
This was effected by boldly entering a house and rummaging an old lady's
work-basket The good woman, frightened at the appearance of the visitors,
ran out and alarmed the village--the inhabitants of which were French.
In the meantime they searched the house for provisions, fire-arms, and
ammunition, but found none of the latter, and only a single loaf of bread.
They also plundered the house of a blanket, blanket-coat, and a few other
articles of clothing. By this time the people began to collect in such
numbers, that a precipitate, retreat was deemed advisable. McMullen,
being seized by two Canadians, was only released from their grasp by the
well-directed blows of Frederick's club. They both then commenced running
for the woods, when Sammons, encumbered with his luggage, unluckily fell,
and the loaf rolled away from him. The peasants now rushed upon them, and
their only course was to give battle, which they prepared to do in
earnest; whereupon, seeing their resolution, the pursuers retreated almost
as rapidly as they had advanced. This demonstration gave the fugitives
time to collect and arrange their plunder, and commence their travels
anew. Taking to the woods, they found a resting-place, where they halted
until night-fall. They then sallied forth once more in search of
provisions, with which it was necessary to provide themselves before
crossing to the south side of the river, where, at that day, there were
no settlements. The cattle fled at their approach; but they at length
came upon a calf in a farm-yard, which they captured, and appropriating
to their own use and behoof a canoe moored in the river, they embarked
with their prize, to cross over to the southern shore. But alas! when in
the middle of the stream their paddle broke, and they were in a measure
left to the mercy of the flood, which was hurrying them onward, as they
very well knew, toward the rapids or falls of the Cedars. There was an
island above the rapids, from the brink of which a tree had fallen into
the river. Fortunately the canoe was swept by the current into the
branches of this tree-top, among which it became entangled. While
struggling in this predicament, the canoe was upset. Being near shore,
however, the navigators got to land without losing the calf. Striking a
fire, they now dressed their veal, and on the following morning, by
towing their canoe along shore round to the south edge of the island,
succeeded in crossing to their own side of the river. They then plunged
directly into the unbroken forest, extending from the St. Lawrence to the
Sacondaga, and after a journey of twelve days of excessive hardship,
emerged from the woods within six miles of the point for which, without
chart or compass, Sammons had laid his course. Their provisions lasted
but a few days, and their only subsequent food consisted of roots and
herbs. The whole journey was made almost in a state of nudity--both being
destitute of pantaloons. Having worn out their hats upon their feet, the
last three days they were compelled to travel bare-footed. Long before
their journey was ended, therefore, their feet wore dreadfully lacerated
and swollen. On arriving at Schenectady the inhabitants were alarmed at
their wild and savage appearance--half naked, with lengthened beards and
matted hair. The people at length gathered round them with strange
curiosity; but when they made themselves known, a lady named Ellis rushed
through the crowd to grasp the hand of Frederick, and was so much
affected at his altered appearance that she fainted and fell. The welcome
fugitives were forthwith supplied with whatever of food and raiment was
necessary; and young Sammons learned that his father and family had
removed back to Marbletown, in the county of Ulster, whence he had
previously emigrated to Johnstown.
A singular but well-attested occurrence closes this interesting personal
narrative. The family of the elder Sammons had long given up Frederick as
lost. On the morning after his arrival at Schenectady, he despatched a
letter to his father, by the hand of an officer on his way to
Philadelphia, who left it at the house of a Mr. Levi De Witt, five miles
distant from the residence of the old gentleman. The same night on which
the letter was thus left, Jacob dreamed that his brother Frederick was
living, and that there was a letter from him at De Witt's announcing the
joyful tidings. The dream was repeated twice, and the contents of the
letter were so strongly impressed upon his mind, that he repeated what he
believed was the very language, on the ensuing morning--insisting that
such a letter was at the place mentioned. The family, his father in
particular, laughed at him for his credulity. Strong, however, in the
belief that there was such a communication, he repaired to the place
designated, and asked for the letter. Mr. De Witt looked for it, but
replied there was none. Jacob requested a more thorough search, and
behold the letter was found behind a barrel, where it had fallen. Jacob
then requested Mr. De Witt to open the letter, and examine while he
recited its contents. He did so, and the dreamer repeated it word for
word! [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] The facts contained in this account of the captivity of Frederick
Sammons, nave been drawn from the narrative written by himself
immediately after his return. In regard to the dream, which I have
thought of sufficient interest to record in the text, Major Thomas
Sammons, who was at home at the time, has repeatedly assured me of the
fact, in conversations; and Mr. De Witt, when living, always confirmed
the circumstances related as occurring at his house. Jacob Sammons
himself says at the conclusion--"I write this to satisfy that class of
people who say there is nothing revealed by dreams."--_Author._
Returning from these digressions, the chain of historical events to be
recorded will be resumed in their order. Sir John Johnson having made good
his retreat, as heretofore described, no other transaction of consequence
occurred in the Mohawk Valley until the 2d of August, when the dreaded
Thayendanegea was again among the settlements on the river. Colonel
Gansevoort had been directed by General Clinton, on the 6th of June, to
repair to Fort Plank, with his regiment, to take charge of a quantity of
stores destined to Fort Schuyler. In his instructions to that officer,
General Clinton referred to the alarming situation of the Mohawk country,
and enjoined the most vigilant watchfulness against surprise. The
stores were of course to be transported in batteaux, carefully guarded
the whole distance. Aware of the movement of these stores, Brant had
caused the valley to be filled with rumors of his intention to capture
them, and even to take Fort Schuyler itself. In order to prevent either
occurrence, the militia of the county were sent forward to strengthen the
convoy, and repair to the defence of the Fort. Having thus diverted the
public attention, and caused the militia to be drawn from the lower
section of the valley, the wily Mohawk passed round in their rear, and
on the day above mentioned, made a sudden descent upon Canajoharie and
its adjacent settlements. [FN-1] There were several small stockades among
the different neighborhoods invaded, but the principal work of defence,
then called Fort Plank, and subsequently Fort Plain, was situated upon an
elevated plain overlooking the valley, near the site of the village yet
retaining the latter name of the fortress. [FN-2] A small garrison had
been left in this fort, but not of sufficient strength to warrant a field
engagement with the forces of Brant, while the latter, being unprovided
with artillery, had no design of assaulting the fort.
* * * * *
[FN-1] Annals of Tryon County.
[FN-2] For a drawing of Fort Plank, or Fort Plain, and a more particular
description, see Appendix, No. I. To a modern engineer, its form must
present a singular spectacle as a military structure. The drawing has
been preserved, as a specimen of the forts and block-houses of that
frontier during the war of the Revolution.
On the first approach of Brant in Canajoharie, a few miles eastwardly of
the fort, the alarm was given by a woman, who fired a cannon for that
purpose. But as the able-bodied men were absent, as already stated, the
chief met with no immediate opposition, and before the militia could be
rallied from Schenectady and Albany, he had ample time to effect the
object of the enterprise. The settlements on the south side of the river,
for several miles, were entirely laid waste. All the movable property that
could be taken off was secured as plunder; but no outrages were committed
upon the defenceless women and children, other than carrying them into
captivity--a circumstance that has been attributed to the absence of the
Tories in this expedition, and also to the fact that there was no divided
command--Brant being himself the sole leader. Be that as it may, the
Mohawk chief is entitled to the benefit of this instance of humanity, in
forming a final judgment of his character.
But the strength of the main fort did not deter the chief from leading
his warriors directly into its vicinity, where the church, distant about
a quarter of a mile, and the parsonage, together with several other
buildings, were burnt. Sixteen of the inhabitants were killed, between
fifty and sixty persons, mostly women and children, were taken prisoners,
fifty-three dwelling-houses, and as many barns were burnt, together with
a gristmill, two small forts, and a handsome church. Upward of three
hundred black cattle and horses were killed or driven away, the arms of
the people, their working-tools and implements of husbandry destroyed,
and the growing crops swept from the fields. [FN-1] Indeed, the fairest
district of the valley was in a single day rendered a scene of wailing
and desolation; and the ravages enacted in the Indian country by General
Sullivan the preceding year, were in part most unexpectedly re-enacted by
the Indian chieftain himself in the heart of the country of his
invaders. [FN-2]
* * * * *
[FN-1] MS. letter of Colonel Clyde to Governor George Clinton.
[FN-2] A detachment from this expedition was sent by Brant, at the same
time, against the settlement on the Norman's Kill, in the very
neighborhood of Albany, when they succeeded in burning twenty
houses.--_Macauly._
The first admonition of the invasion in the neighborhood of Johnstown,
fifteen miles from Canajoharie, was by the ascending columns of smoke
from the burning buildings. The people were employed harvesting in the
fields, but they turned out immediately, and joining Colonel Wemple, who
advanced from below with the Schenectady and Albany militia, proceeded to
the scene of conflagration. But their movements were not sufficiently
expeditious to arrest the destroyer or to intercept his retreat. Indeed,
it is intimated, by good authority, that although the Colonel's forces
were superior to those of Brant, the former was, nevertheless, by no
means anxious to arrive in the immediate vicinity of the Indians too
soon. [FN-1] The Colonel lodged his men that night in the fort. The next
morning, while the troops, regular and irregular, were on parade, some
buildings were discovered on fire at a distance, which had escaped the
flames the day before. The attention of Colonel Wemple being directed to
the fact, he remarked, that if any volunteers were disposed to go in
pursuit, they might Major Bantlin, with a few of the Tryon County militia,
who had arrived that morning, immediately turned out. "We hastened to the
place as soon as we could. The enemy discovered us and ran off. It was a
small party sent out by Brant We pursued them, but they reached their
main body before we came up. We succeeded, however, in rescuing a little
girl, whom they had taken and painted." [FN-2]
* * * * *
[FN-1] Major Thomas Sammons, who was in the wheat-field when the smoke
was seen, and who immediately repaired to the scene of action.
[FN-2] MSS. of Major Sammons.
The forts destroyed by Brant at Canajoharie, were built by the people
themselves, but had not yet been garrisoned. The inhabitants had
complained bitterly that they were thus compelled to leave their own
firesides unprotected, to assist the Government in re-opening the
communication with Fort Schuyler. But being assured that their town could
be in no danger, they submitted to the order, and their militia marched
to the upper section of the valley. The result was deplorable enough;
while the success of his stratagem added another plume to the crest of
"the Great Captain of the Six Nations." [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] According to the British account of this irruption, as published in
New-York on the 6th of September, Sir John Johnson was in the expedition
with Captain Brant. But this could hardly have been the fact, and all
other authorities be silent upon the subject. The same account claimed
that in the Canajoharie settlements 67 houses and 48 barns were burnt;
17 persons killed, and 53 taken prisoners. At the same time, it was
stated that in one of the Schoharie settlements 87 houses were burnt;
7 persons killed; and 31 taken prisoners. At Norman's Kill, 30 houses
burnt. Total, 140 houses and barns burnt; 84 people killed; and 73 made
prisoners.--_Almon's Remembrancer, Part II._--1780.