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SIMON GIRTY
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SIMON GIRTY
The White Savage
By THOMAS BOYD
MINTON, BALCH & COMPANY
NEW YORK
Copyright, 1928
BY
MINTON, BALCH & COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America by
J. J. LITTLE AND IVES COMPANY, NEW YORK
/Vj 518201
TO
AGNES AND AIMEE AND ERIC
CONTENTS
CHAPTER '^°*
I — "Then Girty's Name and Girty's Fame*' . 3
II — Excursions and Alarms 13
III — A Rough Neck's First Thirty Years . 29
IV — ^Wherein the Scoundrel Saves a Hero from
Roasting at the Stake 63
V — Simon Becomes Morose j His Scalp Causes
Him Some Concern 91
VI — ^Those Damned Missionaries j and the Butchering and Burning of Their Hap- less Brood H-^
VII — ^Wherein Vengeance Carelessly Takes the
Wrong Man 14-1
VIII — With One War Ended and None Other at
Hand Simon Takes A Wife 169
IX — ^Wherein Two Generals Lose Their Armies 185
X — Simon Drives a Quill Through His Nos- trils 207
XI — The Long Shadow of Mad Anthony Wayne 223
XII — The Last Ride from the Tavern . .241
ILLUSTRATIONS Indian War Dance Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
Tecumseh 40
Simon Kenton 74
Theyandenegea 126
Sir John Johnson 178
Brigadier General Anthony Wayne 224
^^Then Girtfs Name and Girtfs Fame^'*
A.
The White Savage
CHAPTER I
^^Then Girty^s Name and Glrty^s Fame^^
MERICAN pioneers who crossed over the Alle- ^hanies and settled westward of Pittsburgh during the ast quarter of the eighteenth century went into a wil- lerness where the forces of destruction flourished. 5nakes, catamounts and bears — each had its way of kill- ing; also floods, cyclones and diseases attacked the pio- leers. Paint-streaked Indians fought these white inter- opers moodily, self-defensive and revengeful, and for :hirty years musket ball and speeding arrowhead crossed md recrossed over clearing and occasional plain. Cabins A^ere burned, bark tents torn from their supporting poles, :ornfields trampled and charred back into the earth. 5calps were ripped by Indian and white man alike. VIercy was a word not greatly honored by anyone. I It was a time of fury, those thirty years. Ambushes, narauds and murderous expeditions were carried on con- inuously. There were three major battles which rolled
:3]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
up their toll in hundreds, but when the last had been fought and the vast forests started crashing down the white men were there to stay and the Indians were herded into what was then the far northwest.
Those surviving white folk who settled western Pennsylvania, Kentucky and Ohio had tall tales to tell their youngsters. They had seen the harshest murders, the most providential escapes. They had been besieged not only by four strong tribes of Indians, but also by the British, who held Detroit and who worked hand in hand with the dark warriors to drive the frontiersmen back across the Ohio River.
Out of this warfare grew heroes and villains. The list of the former was a long one. It included names of Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton, George Rogers Clark, Mad Anthony Wayne, Colonel William Crawford, the Wetzel brothers and many others remembered in the west. The villains, quite naturally, were the enemies of the pioneers: among them were General Henry Hamil- ton, Lieutenant Governor of Canada ^ Captain Pipe, a war chief of the Delawares; Alexander McKee, a loyal- ist who had fled from Pittsburgh to take up service under Hamilton at Detroit; and Simon Girty.
Of all the men remembered from those years Simon Girty, who has been called the anomaly of western his- tory, was perhaps the most widely and deeply hated.
[4]
''GIRTY'S NAME AND FAME''
Pioneer mothers in lonely cabins used to scare their chil- dren into obedience by threatening them with the ap- pearance of the dreaded Girty. And afterward it was said of him that "no other country or age ever produced, perhaps, so brutal, depraved, and wicked a wretch." Another called him "a monster. No famished tiger ever sought the blood of a victim with more unrelenting rapacity than Girty sought the blood of a white man. He could laugh, in fiendish mockery, at the agonies of a captive, burning and writhing at the stake. He could witness unmoved the sacrifice of unoffending women and children. No scene of torture or of bloodshed was sufficiently horrible to excite compassion in his bosom." And in "The Romance of Western History" it is told that he was "a wretched miscreant" who "had fled from the abode of civilized men; he became a savage in man- ners and in principle, and spent his whole life in the perpetration of a demoniac vengeance against his countrymen." To an early midwest poet he was:
" ^The outlawed white man, by Ohio's flood, Whose vengeance shamed the Indian's thirst for blood; Whose hellish arts surpassed the red man far; Whose hate enkindled many a border war, Of which each aged grand-dame hath a tale, — Of which man's bosom burns and childhood's cheeks grow pale.^ "
[5]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
It was with such etnbellishments as these that Simon Girty's name was handed down from generation to gen- eration of men who had come to live in the land of the Indian. He was looked on as a monster, and local his- torians treated him as one. They had him killed as they believed he ought to have been killed. In Wright's "History of Perry County, Pennsylvania" he was slain "in a desperate contest" by a colonel whose wife he was supposed to have stolen; in other works he was cut down and trampled to death by Kentucky horsemen at the Battle of the Thames.
As a matter of fact Girty survived his own death notice by several years. When he died it was from a prosaic illness. But up to that time his life had been made up of constant movement and adventure. From his youth he had seen heads split by tomahawks, had seen men roast inside a circle of burning faggots. His own father had been killed by a hatchet, his stepfather had been burned. In traveling over the Ohio and Kentucky wilderness, first as a scout and interpreter for the colo- nists, then for the United States and later as a renegade with the British, he built for himself a singular place in the history of his time.
Girty's life, particularly between 1774 and 1794, was so closely connected with the Ohio Indians during the years in which their country was being invaded by
[6]
"GIRTY'S NAME AND FAME''
J
American settlers that his story follows their successes and defeats like an historical narrative of them. He had been born on the border and had grown up amid its wild- ness. From childhood he had known Senecas, Dela- wares and Wyandots. Their manner of living in some ways suited him better than that of the frontiersmen. And when a combination of circumstances — in the third year of America's War of Independence — made him leave Fort Pitt and go to the British at Detroit he was unwittingly on his way to become a leader among the Indians.
His is the story of a backwoods roughneck who left his own people because of a slender grievance and for twenty years led raiding parties of Indian warriors through the Ohio wilderness to the white man's border, a dark, brawny man who fought as fiercely as a Sha- wanese chieftain. Over the Ohio into Pennsylvania, Virginia and Kentucky he rode at the head of marauding braves and left settlements smoking when he turned back. That the early pioneers had cause to hate him there is no doubt. Nor is there any doubt that they hysterically exaggerated his numerous cruelties.
But that was to be expected. For at lease twice in his career he stood in the light cast by his own former countrymen burning at the stake; and once he com- manded a horde of Wyandot warriors who galloped into
[7]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
an American army which they were foremost in butcher- ing. No name seemed black enough to discolor him.
However, this "wretched miscreant/' than whom no country or age ever produced "a monster so brutal, de- praved and wicked," had a disconcerting way of showing feelings that would have been praiseworthy even in men more humane than any that ever fought in a border war. Those frontiersmen were not noted for their gentleness. Neither was Simon Girty. Yet a number of times, and nearly always at the risk of offending the Indian chiefs and warriors, he pleaded or demanded that the lives of doomed white prisoners be spared. In the case of Simon Kenton, of whose captivity and death sentence there is a full account, Girty worked anxiously to save the Vir- ginia scout — and he succeeded. That he often did suc- cessfully intercede for former countrymen of his who had been taken and condemned by the Indians is proved by records. There is the laconic deposition by William May in American State Papers (Indian Affairs), Volume one, page 242, in which he says he "was condemned to die; but saved by Simon Girty." And there is also the assertion of Jonathan Alder, who during his long years as a captive of the Indians met Girty often. Alder states that the renegade saved the lives of many white prison- ers, sometimes at his own expense.
In short, Girty displayed too much humanity not to
[8]
''GIRTY'S NAME AND FAME''
have champions among the tender-hearted. And one of these, far from believing that Girty's "hellish arts sur- passed the red man's far," came to his rescue with the following lines:
"Oh, great-souled chief, so long maligned By bold calumniatorsj The world shall not be always blind, Nor all men be thy haters. If ever on the field of blood, Man's valor merits glory, Then Girty's name and Girty's fame Shall shine in song and story."
That optimistic prophecy, made many years ago, has not yet been fulfilled. Nor is this book an attempt to do so. Stubborn, bull-necked, proud of his strength, mur- derous yet merciful, Girty the traitor can't be white- washed. But some credit should be given to the memory of a man who spent twenty years in the closest contact with the Shawanese, Miamis and Wyandots, rose to a position of trust among them and was, in fact, the only white person to sit as one of them in their tribal war councils. And while it would be fatal to defend him it may be interesting to see how far he can be explained.
[9]
Excursions and Alarms
CHAPTER II
Excursions and Alarms
s.
OMEHOW the American colonists always felt it queer that the Indians, who had inhabited this continent before them and who continued to live on in spite of them, should seriously object to giving up their land. Particularly was this surprise at aboriginal strangeness shown by the Pennsylvanians and Virginians.
Those two colonies were closest to the most thickly settled Indian country; it was over Pennsylvania or Vir- ginia roads and rivers that western immigration had to pass, their boundaries that had to be expanded. Fami- lies voyaging down the Alleghany, up the Youghi- ogheny, down the Great Kanawha and the Little Kan- awha westward pushed blindly into the Shawanese, Seneca, Wyandot and Delaware country with ax and musket and began to fell the forests and frighten off more game than they actually shot. And naturally the Indians resented it and used their tomahawks, their bows and arrows, and the gunpowder which the white men had sold them, to drive these irrepressible settlers back.
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THE WHITE SAVAGE
That was the maih reason why bloody terror stalked the length of the American frontier for half a century, why the bulk of the Indians south of Lake Erie and along the Ohio River joined the French against the Eng- lish and fought with them until at the Treaty of Paris in 1763 the French admitted their defeat; the reason why these Indians later sided with the English after the colonies had rebelled and formed their own government j and also the reason why they continued to fight against the Americans for twelve years after Great Britain had formally acknowledged the United States of America. They were to fight, that is to say, until hope of success had completely gone. And altogether the showing they made was creditable rather than otherwise.
Had the French loved their own hearthfires less and ocean voyaging more the story of the American Indians during the eighteenth century would have been differ- ent from what it was. The men who explored the re- gion of the Great Lakes and along the Mississippi down towards the Ohio were mostly French Jesuits and traders. They built churches and established trading posts beside the streams that moved throughout the wilderness, pre- paring the way for the emigrants from their own coun- try. But these emigrants did not come; they preferred their few, well-cultivated gardens to all the timbered acres of the new world which they might have had for
[14]
EXCURSIONS AND ALARMS
J
the asking. And so the Jesuits and traders, while they failed to build an empire, were recompensed by few perplexing troubles which a hurried settlement of the land would have brought. They dealt only in religion and furs. The novelty of Christianity interested many of the tribes — not the Miamis, however — and gained many converts; the trade in skins pleased them all, for the Indians were given bright and useful things in re- turn. And it was because of this that we find Indian warriors maintaining to the last that the French were the only white people whom they had ever voluntarily called their brothers.
The British, on the contrary, began life in the new world as colonizers. Self-righteous and determined, they had a lust for land and lordliness. Starting with the Plymouth colony and going down the coast this was true of nearly all the settlements except those controlled by Penn In their harbors immigration flowered and from their villages men went out to penetrate the wilder- ness in search of permanent homes. In a long, discon- nected chain they pushed westward, driving the Indians back, sometimes bargaining for what they took, but often wresting it by the superior force given them through ball and gunpowder in an arquebus or musket.
By the third quarter of the eighteenth century these men had become numerous enough to be able success- [15]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
fully to defy the government under whose segis they had settled. Englishmen, Scotchmen, Germans, Irishmen, Dutchmen and a few Frenchmen were willing to go to war rather than continue to pay the taxes on importa- tions levied by the ministers of King George the Third. Englishmen of Virginia and Massachusetts took the lead in resisting the authority of Englishmen from England, and by the year the third quarter of the century ended the Thirteen Colonies were in a state of active rebellion.
That closed the coastline to all immigrants save those who wanted to come in as citizens of the United States of America. And thus Englishmen, per se, were shut out of the eastern seaboard and left with only Canada as a scene for future colonization. As the north slope of the St. Lawrence Valley was vast and as the tides from Europe drifted southward rather than towards Quebec, Canada remained thinly settled throughout the last half of the century. The British ruled it with their garrisons and their government, but the main business they carried on was the trade in furs.
So the English, in the minds of the Indians, came to take the place of the ousted French. They established forts, made trading posts beside the Great Lakes and along the main streams that drained the wilderness east of the Alleghanies and north of the Ohio River. There was no necessity for them to drive the Indians from their
[16]
EXCURSIONS AND ALARMS
ands, for the area was enormous enough to swallow nany times their number. They bought furs in ex- :hange for rum and whisky, gunpowder, cloth, tools and ;hiny things j and both races were at that point content. Had the contact between the Indians and the United States also been confined to trading, the western frontier would not have become such a ghastly nightmare of )Calping, bloody tomahawks, devilish torture at the stake, indiscriminate murder and massacre. But that, of course, was impossible. The colonies were filled with people who had been born where land was precious and where only the richest owned great tracts. But they themselves had never been rich, in fact were unhappily poor, and the prospect of free acres in the wilderness of this new country tugged at them mightily. Always they were venturing out into the forests, making settlements on the ground from which the Indian had got his sub- sistence. And, Pennsylvania excepted, but only for a time at that, their colonial and state officers encouraged them. In 1770 Dinwiddie of Virginia had given away thousands and thousands of acres in the Indian country — land which was then being occupied by Shawanese, Mingo and Delaware tribes — and many of those who had received these grants were anxious to survey and make use of them. Their actions were those of a lordly, land-mad people and showed scant consideration for any [17]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
rights the original possessors might have had. And the cultivated men of the time v^ere no less grasping than the roughnecks of the border settlements. Quite typical, or even perhaps a little better than the average, w^as the attitude of George Washington, one time colonel in the Virginia militia, v^ho had been awarded 10,000 acres and who had tremendously increased his holdings by buying more from others who wanted ready money.
Going out towards the Ohio country to investigate his wilderness estate, Washington was met by a Mingo chieftain who welcomed him to the country and assured him of his hope that the people of Virginia and the Indians would consider each other "as friends and broth- ers linked together in one chain." And Washington, his eyes open to the fact that the Mingoes would have to be driven away before his land could be settled, assured the chieftain "that all the injuries and affronts that had passed on either side were now totally forgotten, and that . . . nothing was more wished and desired by the people of Virginia than to live in the strictest friendship with them."
Yet he admits that these Indians had received "but little part of the consideration that was given for the lands eastward of the Ohio," that they "view the settle- ment of the [white] people on this river with an uneasy and jealous eye, and do not scruple to say that they must
[18]
EXCURSIONS AND ALARMS
)e compensated for their right if the people settle hereon . . ."
"On the other hand," he goes on calmly, "the people rom Virginia and elsewhere are exploring and marking 11 the lands that are valuable not only on Redstone and ither waters of Monongahela but along down the Ohio s low as the Little Kanawha; and by next summer I sup- pose will get to the Great Kanawha, at least; how diffi- ult it may be to contend with these people afterwards is asy to be judged of from every day's experience of lands ctually settled. . . ."
Washingon rather thought that there might be rouble with the Indians, but that if there was it could •e accounted for by the natural perversity of the aborig- nal character and not by the fact that men like himself, nen of the Ohio Land Company and also squatters, were ►ushing the Indians away from their villages. For vhile it was generally admitted that territory not fairly ►urchased by treaty still belonged to the Indians it was Iso taken for granted — ^by convenient mental sleight- f-hand — that the Indians had no right to it. And hus we find an American regular army major gravely aking the deposition of a man who told him that "from very observation he could make, and from the general alk of the Indians, he is led to believe that they are, n general, averse to giving up their lands" and, sur-
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THE WHITE SAVAGE
prisingly enough, h6 is "certain it will be dangerous f oi the continental surveyors to go on with their busines! until some further treaty is made with the Shawanese Mingoes and Cherokees, who appear to be most avers( to this business.'^
The Indians, as both above quotations suggest, wen a divided people. Except in the case of the Seneca-Ira quois confederacy each tribe had to be dealt with sepa rately for a treaty to be of worth. Every tribe had it own dialect and customs, its own territory in which t live, hunt and cultivate the low-lying ground by th^ river banks. They were also capable of resentment, a most people are whose livelihood is threatened. Alarmei by the white men to the south and east, required an( often forced to make treaties the natures of which the; did not comprehend, they naturally had grievanc against the colonies. When the colonies rebelled an set up their own government both English and Ameri cans tried to bring them in as allies. But, as was to b expected, the English were the more successful.
It was not, however, until the second year of th revolution that the Ohio Indians appeared on behalf o either side. Up to that time they had fought the Ameri can borderers independently. But in the spring of 177 Lord George Germain at Whitehall, London, passe upon a recommendation that had been made by Genera
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EXCURSIONS AND ALARMS
■
Henry Hamiltorij Lieutenant-Governor of Canada sta- :ioned at Detroit. Hamilton, out of the wilds of that ?ar western trading post and garrison, had written to sug- gest that inasmuch as the Ohio forests were filled with [ndian warriors it might be a stroke for the Crown if :hose braves were equipped with ball, powder and rations From the King's stores, guided by loyal Britishers and lent out to make "a diversion on the frontiers of Vir- ginia and Pennsylvania." Receiving the letter through Sir Guy Carleton at Quebec, Hamilton soon afterward railed a council of the tribes, the Shawanese, Senecas, ^yandots, Delawares, Ottawas, Chippewas and Potta- A^atomies.
Meanwhile the Americans were making an effort to mlist the support of the Indians, if for no other reason :han to forestall their attendance at Hamilton's council n Detroit. This attempt to counteract the British or- ganization of the tribes was begun from Pittsburgh Adhere General Edward N. Hand was the commanding officer and George Morgan the agent of Indian affairs. Both men had positions of great responsibility, for Fort Pitt was the farthest and practically the only western stronghold on the colonial border; there was little be- :ween it and the British fort at Detroit except a few lundred miles of forest and prairie that were filled for ;he most part with displeased braves. It was therefore
[21]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
important that Morgan and Hand look well to their job, which was the conciliation of the Shawanese, Mingoes, Wyandots and Delawares, who occupied territory adja- cent to the frontier.
Morgan went out to call the sachems and warriors to his council. Time passed. A few of them came, but the very paucity of their numbers showed that the ma- jority preferred treating with Hamilton at Detroit. In the west the year 1777 drew to a close with settlers push- ing towards the Ohio and into Kentucky and with the Indians retaliating with the gory tomahawk and scalp- ing knife. In the east Washington was wintering his hungry, ragged soldiers at Valley Forge. At Detroit Lieutenant Governor Hamilton was making plans for a lively "diversion on the frontiers of Pennsylvania and Virginia.^'
At Fort Pitt the new year opened dismally. The fortification was old and crumbling, the town itself had not only patriots but also loyalists to England and lawless people who gave allegiance to nothing. Frequently somebody would be reported on the suspicion that he had been communicating vv^ith the British, would be locked up and later released because of lack of evidence. And sometimes the proof was there, but merely remained hidden. Up and down the border which Fort Pitt was supposed to guard small Indian parties fell upon lonely
[22]
EXCURSIONS AND ALARMS
abins and left red tracks in the snow when they de- arted. Many pioneers thought desperately of the safe nd pleasant homes they had exchanged for this life in le treacherous wilderness.
February came and General Hand, to check the lows of the Indians and to hearten the settlers, got to- ether a force of five hundred men to attack a Delaware Dwn on the Cuyahoga River. But by the time they had ot as far north as the Mahoning the weather warmed; lere were heavy rains which, with the thaws, swelled le streams until they were impassable. There, how- ver, he had the misfortune to discover Indian tracks, it once his whole force went in pursuit of them. Fol- )wing for some distance they came upon a solitary rave, some women and children! They killed the rave and one of the squaws, got hold of another squaw nd took her captive. But the rest picked up their leath- rn petticoats and ran to safety.
It would have been less discomfiting for General land if his squaw prisoner had also escaped. For she )ld him that a number of Delaware warriors were near- y making salt, and at once he sent out a large detach- lent to attack them. The detachment was composed of le ordinary run of volunteers — men accustomed to play t "long shot" with their muskets in the crooked Pitts- urgh streets and to nurse their offspring on whisky 3 23]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
they went out to the salt lick and found four Indiam women and a boy! But they seem to have had to whet; their hatchets on somebody, and in lieu of the absent braves they murdered the child and three of the squaws.. "One woman only was saved," are Hand's lugubrious; words. His own loss was nearly as great, for he had a^ captain wounded and an enlisted man was drowned. !
But Hand had barely got back from his expedition when another event made the Pittsburghers and the outlying settlers gloomier than they ever before had] been 3 an incident that was greatly to increase theiri casualties during the revolution and that was to help: keep the Ohio Indians steadfastly fighting the borderers for twenty years:
On the night of March 28, 1778, a strangely as- sorted group of seven men secretly left the neighborhood! of Fort Pitt and struck out across the Ohio country oni their way to Detroit. Two of them were Negroes, prob-- ably slaves. Another was a bland, canny man of prop- erty, a British loyalist who for some time had beeni Deputy Indian Agent at Fort Pitt for the Crown — Alex- ander McKee was his name. Another was Robert Surphlit, a cousin of McKee's. The fifth was "a mani named Higgins." The sixth was Matthew Elliott, a short, snub-nosed Irishman who spoke several Indian dialects and knew the country well. And the seventh
[24]
EXCURSIONS AND ALARMS
was Simon Girty, a burly, short-necked man of about thirty-six years whose jet black eyes looked out of a full, round face, a stocky, tireless man, a man full of petty pride, great personal courage, capable of ferocity and kindness, lasting hatred and lasting friendship.
No three men knew the Ohio Indians better than
McKee, Elliott and Girty; no three men were better able
to lead them against the border, and at no other time
would their desertion have been so effective. Of these
three it was Girty that was the most competent, that
lived longest and most closely with the warriors. For
he was among them from the spring of 1778 until 1795;^
the story of his life is more or less the story of the long
fight of the Shawanese, Wyandots, Delawares and
Miamis to hold the northwest, that is to say the Ohio
country, for their own, and of their final eflFort which
I broke them up and left the Ohio River and the forest
i trails free to the pioneers who swarmed like locusts into
' the middle west, the northwest and the far west after
cheap, productive land.
[25]
A Rough Neck^s First Thirty Years
I
o
CHAPTER III
A Rough Neck^s First Thirty Years
LD SIMON GIRTY, an Irish immigrant who in :he first half of the eighteenth century came to Pennsyl- '•ania and there engaged in packhorse driving for the [ndian trade, named his second son after himself, oung Simon was born in 1741 at Chamber's Mill, five imiles above the present site of Harrisburg, and very early in his life grew acquainted with the Indians and their ways. For Chamber's Mill was then on the verge of the Colonial frontier j it consisted of a huddle of rough log houses, a stockade named Fort Hunter, a mill and a tavern. To this settlement, which was hard-boiled even for those wild and ruthless days, came Senecas from the north, Shawanese from the southwest and Delawares and Wyandotes from the Ohio country to trade their furs for whisky, firearms and cloth.
But even that outpost of civilization was not far enough into the wilds for Old Simon. And when his second son was eight years old he removed his family across the Susquehanna to Sherman's Creek, where a score of Pennsylvanians had gone to make clearings and [29]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
build cabins under the misapprehension that as this lane belonged merely to the Indians it really belonged to tht' first white families that occupied it. The Girty family; at that time was composed of Old Simon; his wife. Mar); (Newton) Girty, an Englishwoman; Thomas, who waa: ten; young Simon, the next in line; James, who was sixf and George, only a little more than a baby.
/ But these settlers on Sherman's Creek were mistaken about their right to the land. It belonged to the Indians? by a treaty which at that time Pennsylvania took car© not to break. And when the savages protested againstt this encroachment a number of Cumberland Countyy deputy officers marched forth and set fire to the offend- ing cabins. The pioneers were dispersed and the Girtys^ went back to Chamber's Mill.
In that settlement once more Old Simon took up) trading with the Indians and drinking considerable pota- tions of rum and whisky. Simon Junior was nine then.. At best the family lived in a one-room log house withi a kitchen built on at the back, and as the father enter-- tained the Indian traders in the cabin the boy often saw white men and coppery men sprawling drunkenly on their stools, thumping each other on the back and falling at last quiescent on the bare floor.
For a year and a half this kind of life continued. A man named John Turner used to come there, also a
[30]
J^ ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
warrior named The Fish. And with the elder Girty they would sit and drink and shout, until one December day, it was in 1751, more liquor flowed than could be handled. Suddenly The Fish became violent; lifting his tomahawk he brought it crashingly down on the skull of Old Simon. Whereupon John Turner, as a friend of the deceased and with an interested eye towards ^ the widow, despatched The Fish among his ancient an- cestors, and soon afterward became the legal stepfather to young Simon, Thomas, George and James.
Tf tradition is to be believed John Turner would have lived longer if he had let the death of the elder Girty go unavenged. For in the course of the next four years, while Simon was learning to bawl out roaring curses and take his liquor like a man, events were shaping for Tur- ner's downfall. During that time occurred the wilder- ness war between the French and English, the purchase of a tract of land across the Susquehanna by the Penns;' and at Chamber's Mill the stepfather discovered that he was unable to make a living for a wife and four ravenous boys.
He moved in the summer of 1755, taking the family near the site on Sherman's Creek where they had been before. There he built another cabin and made a late planting in the ground broken by his predecessor. But again the farming venture was cut short. For in July [31]
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General Braddock discovered — too late, though, to make anything of the intelligence — that a host of scarlet coated men marching in close formation were of little account against a horde of Indians fighting under cover of trees and underbrush, and thus the border, after his defeat, v^as left v^ith scant protection from Shawanese, Senecas, Delawares and the French. Within a year after Braddock went down, Neyon de Velliers, commanding twenty-three Frenchmen and about a hundred Indians, set out from Fort Duquesne, which afterward became Fort Pitt, then Fort Dunmore and finally the city of Pittsburgh, to attack the colonial settlements. They came to Fort Granville, on the Juniata, to which they laid siege. At word of their approach the frontiersmen about Sherman's Creek had come to Granville for pro- tection. It was then nominally under command of Cap- tain Edward Ward, but the day before de Villiers and his Indians surrounded the stockade Ward had marched his company of Pennsylvania provincials to gather the grain which the settlers had sown that fall. That left Gran- ville with twenty-three men, John Turner, his wife, four stepsons and the recently born child which Mary Girty Turner carried at her breast.
De Villiers made several unsuccessful assaults, but in the midst of the last a group of Indians crept low along the banks of the Juniata and got near enough to
[32]
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
boot flaming arrows into the stockade. Soon the logs /ere blazing and the garrison asked for quarter. It was ranted and John Turner let down the heavy bars to the tockade gates while the savages, headed by de Villiers, creamed through.
As prisoners the Girty family were marched away rom the light of burning Granville. ^Taken westward 3 the Delaware town of Kittanning, on the nearer bank f the Alleghany, John Turner was tortured with red lOt gun barrels, blazing faggots piled on his stomach, nd a scalping knife slipped over his skull, while fifteen- ear-old Simon, his brothers, and his mother holding ohn Turner Jr. in her arms, were forced to look on. ^fter three hours a tomahawk ended the father's misery.
In the final division of prisoners, which occurred Dme weeks after the burning of Fort Granville, young rhomas escaped to Fort Pitt, Mrs. Girty, George and he infant were taken by the Delawares, while James /as given to the Shawanese and Simon to the Senecas. ?'hese latter were the most advanced of all the Indian ribes in that part of the country 3 they had progressed 0 far as to have formed a confederacy with the Iro- uois, Onondagas, Canandaiguas and Mohawks; their achems, who were men of peace, were more powerful han their war chiefs and they had a fairly definite civil ;overnment. Thus Simon was particularly fortunate, ;33]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
for though he would have been treated equally well by almost any of the tribes he had the luck to begin his real acquaintance with the Indians in superior sur- roundings.
It was a general custom for prisoners either to be killed or adopted into some family which had lost a member in conflict. Simon's life was spared. Running a gauntlet made up of two rows of braves armed with sticks, he afterward went through the ceremony of nat- uralization which ended with three maidens taking him to a brook and there symbolically washing out his white blood and renewing his veins with the blood of the Secenas. From that moment he became a part of an Indian family and for about three years knew life as a young Seneca brave. He learned the language and cus- toms of his foster people and was adept enough with the musket to be allowed to join the hunting parties by which his parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, sisters' husbands and all the children were supplied with bear, venison and 'coon. He was treated as though he had been born of their flesh ... an agreeable life for a youth who had no strong stirring towards the acquisi- tion of private property, who would be content to shan evenly with the old men, squaws, warriors and childrei in all things.
If Fort Duquesne (in 1758) had not fallen to Gen
[34;
ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
il John Forbes and if that achievement had not been [lowed by a treaty with the Ohio Indians which juired them in the following year to give up all their soners, Simon might very easily have lived on among I Senecas, taking an Indian wife who would have ired with him the labors of existence. He would have nted with the braves, have gone on war parties when chose, stayed in camp when he preferred and would ve been well content, as were so many of the white rderers adopted by the Indians. ^1 5 i. 8 2 0 1 But the Jireaty made it necessary for him to go and was curious to see his people. Some time in 1759 said farewell to his Seneca relations and left them, ley gave him of their supply of jerk and parched corn r his long journey southward to Fort Duquesne, which LS now in the hands of the Pennsylvanians. After my days on the lonely trail he arrived; there he met ; mother, his little half-brother, John Turner, his il brothers James, George and Thomas. All of them cept Thomas had come in from the wilderness.
It was hard getting back into the stride of civiliza- n, slow as it was at that place and time. Removed )m an easy, communistic existence in which the feel- y for private property had scarcely formed, Simon and 5 brothers had to find work in a society where personal '-nership was a paramount urge. But he would, per-
5]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
hapsj have succeeded in returning to the more norma swing of things had his mother been more of a deter mined character with a more solid interest in famih
4
life. But apparently she hadn't, for after her returi to Fort Duquesne she completely disappears fron Simon's story. That left Thomas, at twenty, Simon, a eighteen, James, at sixteen, and young George to taki care of themselves and hold together if they could.
But the very work which lay at hand separated them Simon began to earn his living in the simplest and mos unambitious way — becoming an interpreter for Englisl and Pennsylvania traders who, now that the French wen driven from the Ohio Valley, made Fort Pitt one o: their chief headquarters. Strangely enough, though th Seneca tongue was best known to him, it was among th Delawares that he was principally employed. With thi fur buyers he went repeatedly up into the northwest t< the Muskingum and along that river towards the Tus carawas, where he watched the exchange of warm, sleel skins for gunpowder, cloth and things that attract th eye. These sunburnt chiefs and warriors in their hunt ing shirts and jackets must have liked himj he mus have shown himself to have been in some degree remark able, for by the time he was twenty-three years old chieftain of the Delawares, Katepakomen, had honore^ him by taking the name of Simon Girty. '
[36
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
However, his interest was not caught solely by the ndians. He voted at the first Bedford County election, »^hich then included the whole of western Pennsylvania, nd by the time he was thirty he had become "a man of ilents" who possessed "great influence in the garrison Fort Pitt) and with the Indians.'' Yet he acquired no roperty in or about the settlement of Pittsburgh. Like is brother James, he kept to his job of interpreter.
What then distinguished Simon among the f rontiers- len was probably his understanding of the aboriginal lind and customs. He had a tendency towards their ray of life. It is nowhere recorded that he made any ffort to become a substantial citizen or that he shared t that time the almost universal itch for land which sent D many people, from George Washington down to the umblest squatter, journeying into the wilderness to :ake out a claim. He had ambitions, it is true, but they rtre akin to those of the Indian and of the more roman- c-minded white man: a desire for personal achievement nd palpable recognition by his acquaintances. But as or Church and State, the bulwarks of civilized society, e had little use. Towards religion he was also, like his rother James, "a stranger . . . [without] any inch- ation to engage in such solemn matters contrary to the mor of his life, having little or no fear of God before is eyes." But the Girtys were not unique in their atti- 371
THE WHITE SAVAGE
tude towards "such solemn matters.'' Most of the fron- tiersmen of the day lived violent and lawless lives ; thos( who died professing the True Faith usually had beei overtaken by God near the end of their tether — as wa the case of the Indian scout, Simon Kenton — or afte: some terrible adventure in which they had nearly died.
Patriotism, however, was a more general sentimen with the borderers. But here again Simon was deficien in civilized feelings. Though by birth a Pennsylvanian he sided with the Virginians in the boundary war whicl came on when Pennsylvania established a Bedfon County seat at Hannastown. Bedford had been mad( from Westmoreland County and included Fort Pitt/^u Virginia claimed that Pennsylvania was a thief, havinj no right to the fort or to some of the land east of it o: to much of the territory that stretched westward. Al of that belonged to Virginia, Lord Dunmore contended; and with a gesture suited to an earl who was Governor in-Chief, Captain-General and Vice Admiral of the Col ony and Dominion of Virginia, he appointed one Johi Connolly to make the Pittsburghers dissatisfied witl Pennsylvania and clamorous to be taken in under th( government of Virginia.
Into this disturbance stepped Simon Girty, not oi an impulse, it is likely, but because John Connolly o: because Lord Dunmore, who had been at Fort Pitt whei
[38;
1 ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
le trouble began — in 1773 — made him an agreeable fer. But whatever the reasons for his disaffection om Pennsylvania, the fact that he aided Virginia's •asping claims turned him towards the Tories of the luntry and against the men who wanted to set up a lie of their own. John, Earl of Dunmore, governed s Dominion in the interests of King George and was oughtful of his commands. John Connolly, as the )vernor's appointee at Fort Pitt, was likewise a thor- igh-going loyalist.
Thus the two major events in Simon's growing life ere of the kind that set him at variance with the motive the times. The first was his stay among the Indians, hose point of view he learned so well that he was with- it sympathy for the land companies that were trying
force westward colonization. The second was his ignment with the Tories, which placed him outside e sweep of independence that was stirring the country.
By Connolly Simon was engaged to help strengthen irginia's claims in the new territory about Fort Pitt id to aid the settlers in growing used to the new name — Drt Dunmore. There followed violent business at elec- ts and Simon gave good account of his short but awny armj once, however, in the name of chivalry. Dr he not only cracked heads about the Hannastown >urthouse; he at one time, during a bitter election, !9]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
raised his hand to catch a blow aimed by a Virginia par- tisan at a woman's head.
/ But the Pennsylvanians were not passive under Dun- more's attempt to annex Fort Pitt. They fought back. There were fights and arrests. Arthur St. Clair, then a justice of the peace for Westmoreland County, had Con- nolly jailed and signed a warrant for the apprehension of Girty. Connolly, however, was released; he after- ward led Virginia militiamen against the Pennsylvania court at Hannastown and ordered the imprisonment of three of its justices. And as for Simon it is doubtful whether he was even captured. He was rather proud of being a law unto himself.
This boundary warfare continued for a year, then was interrupted by more serious trouble. Down along the Ohio a great many white families were being mur- dered by angry Shawanese and Mingoes. To check these marauds, to restore confidence to the pioneers and to drive the Indians farther westward. Lord Dunmore began the organization of a large force of militiamen to enter the Ohio country where the Shawanese, Min- goes and a few Delawares had their villages.
The Shawanese had been forced to take up a wander- ing existence and now for the first time in many years were settled. Up to the middle of the eighteenth cen- tury they had traveled over most of eastern North Amer-
[40]
Tecumseh
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
lea in search of hunting grounds that were unoccupied md had finally come to rest in what became southern 3hio, where they were permitted to remain by the ^yandotSj who had claims to that country. Nearby kVere mixed groups of Senecas and Delawares. As indi- /-iduals they had been in conflict with the borderers for ;ome time. On both sides there had been attacks and mtrageous murders as a result of two races with oppos- ng purposes and different modes of conduct living so :lose to each other. Settlers from Virginia went into he Indian territory and established their farms, un- hecked by Dinwiddie and, later, Dunmore. And, some- imes through fear and sometimes because they were uflSans, they shot those Indians who got in their way. S/lorc than once they killed passive braves, squaws and hildren.
yrhat had been the fate of the family of Logan, a hief of the Mingo tribe. For years he had been riendly with the borderers, had helped them on occa- ion; but he was repaid for this by parties of maraud- ng militiamen murdering all of his relations. It mad- .ened him and he went out to kill heartily. It was, uperficially, the vengeful work of Logan that brought jord Dunmore and his army westward.
When Dunmore reached Fort Pitt — or Fort Dun- lore as he had it called — on his way down the Ohio
:4i]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
to join Colonel Andrew Lewis, who had gone ahead towards the mouth of the Great Kanawha in command of half the army of 3,000 men, he enrolled Simon Girty as a scout and interpreter. Theretofore Girty had never been active against the Indians and whether he would have gone had it not been for his service under Dun- more during the boundary trouble is uncertain. For considerably more than a decade he had lived about Pittsburgh and had been in frequent and friendly con- tact with Delawares, Shawanese and Senecas. Never- theless he joined Dunmore's army 3 and with George Rogers Clark, Colonel Cresap, Simon Kenton, John Gib- son, William Crawford and a host of others known to western history he left Fort Pitt in August, 1774, in the general movement against the Indians.
The campaign, like most of those that were aimed at the Ohio savages, was poorly managed. Dunmore's original plan was for Colonel Lewis to march westward along the Great Kanawha while his Lordship proceeded down the Ohio from Fort Pitt to the Great Kanawha's mouth, where both divisions were to meet. But this Governor-in-Chief, Captain-General and Vice Admiral of Virginia changed his mind so often after both forces had been put in motion that Lewis reached the desig-| nated spot and had to engage the enemy without sup- port— while Dunmore had entirely left the Ohio and
[42]
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
i^as marching half the army through the forest west- i^ard, which was directly away from him!
Where the Great Kanawha emptied into the Ohio Liver a V-shaped piece of land points towards the Duthwestj the smaller stream running along its lower de, the larger bounding the upper. It was on this :rip — Point Pleasant — that Lewis' division was en- amped when the Indians under Cornstalk, Blackhoof nd Logan surprised them. The Virginia riflemen uickly spread out among the trees in a line nearly two liles wide, their right flanked by the Kanawha, their jft by the Ohio. Fighting grew hot immediately, a lass of braves flinging themselves on the right flank, illing Colonel Charles Lewis, the officer in command lere, and breaking through at some points. But support ime almost at once from Colonels Field and Fleming.
The attack was a morning surprise and Andrew -ewis had made no plans for such an encounter. The irginians slowly fell back, giving ground inch by inch ntil the sun had come to the height of its daily course id was beginning to descend. Opposite them Chief ornstalk urged on his warriors; his voice could be eard above the crackling muskets exclaiming in the [lawanese, "Be strong! Be strong!"
But by early afternoon the Virginians got a foot- ig and with good positions stubbornly held forced the 43]
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THE WHITE SAVAGE
warriors to a standstill. Along the front now narrowed down to a mile and a quarter, both flanks guarded by a river bank, they took each other's fire until sundown.
During the night the warriors followed their cus- tom, religiously adhered to, of carrying away the dead and wounded. Their loss was comparatively great, estimated at 23 3 j it was more than a quarter of their whole force.^While in the Virginians' camp half the officers were dead or dying and fifty-two enlisted men had been killed. But before morning the Indians disap- peared. Though they had worked nearly till dawn they had to leave twenty-one unburied bodies on the ground.
Soon after the battle one of Lord Dunmore's run- ners arrived with orders for Colonel Lewis to join him at Old Chillicothe, the Shawanese headquarters in what is now Pickaway County, Ohio. The victors of Point Pleasant made their eighty-mile march through the un- broken wilderness and reached the village to find Lord Dunmore listening to peace offers from the Shawanesei For, after the braves had lost. Cornstalk led them dil rectly back to the Chillicothe towns and there called a tribal council. After upbraiding his warriors for not letting him make peace before the engagement (whichi it appears he had wanted to do) he scolded them, "What will you do now? The Long Knife is coming upon m and we shall all be killed! Now you must fight or wc
[44l
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
re done.'' Nobody answered him. He went on des- erately, "Then let us kill all our women and our chil- ren and go and fight until we die!" Still nobody an- vvered; then burying the blade of his tomahawk in one f the timbers of the council house he exclaimed dis- ustedly, "I'll go and make peace!" Then when he ad finished speaking all the surrounding warriors had odded their agreement.
But anything more than a sham peace and a flimsy •eaty was impossible. Virginia and Pennsylvania were t war over a boundary line that had not been run; King reorge had recently limited the colonies' western f ron- er, taking all of the land northwest of the Ohio for !anada; because of the white man's yearning for the idian's land and the Indian's resentment thereto no last- ig agreement could be made until the red men were ^holly conquered; and moreover the feeling that there 'as about to be a revolution was nearly as strong on this Ige of the wilderness as along the more populous and lore civilized seaboard.
Lord Dunmore returned Cornstalk's messengers with le reply that he was willing to parley. This infuriated ewis, who, finding himself w^ith twenty-five hundred irginians well into the Indian country, thought it an ccellent moment to destroy the Shawanese completely. [e refused to halt while the council gathered, but Dun- 45]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
more "went in person to enforce his orders, and it ix said drew his sword upon Colonel Lewis, threatening him with instant death if he persisted in further disobe- dience." Lewis gave in and the troops were checked^ they bivouacked on the ground that Dunmore had namec Camp Charlotte.
Soon Shawanese chieftains began to assemble, also a few of the Mingoes. But there was one head warrioi that proudly stayed away. It was Logan, whose good- will the borderers, by their stupidity and reckless muri dering, had forfeited. And as no treaty could be con- cluded without his agreement he was sent for. Lore Dunmore, looking about for an able man, selected Simor Girty.
Girty had remained with Dunmore throughout thd advance into the Indian country. Ordered to get Lo-i gan's view with regard to the proposed treaty he went feeling rather reluctant. On his way out of the camf he stopped and talked with one of the pickets whom he told of his mission and also that he disliked it, for Logan, he said, would be in a surly, dangerous mood.
Logan was encountered under a great elm tree, bare against the November sky, which stood some distance from his cabin. There he waited, bronzed, powerful and gloomily fatalistic; stiff with habitual dignity, en- wrapped and made perilous by bitter memories of the
[46]
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
death of his people, his blood still seething for revenge — that was the kind of man Girty had to meet.
Logan spoke. He began with a kind of harsh mournfulness:
"I appeal to any white man to say if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry and I gave him not meat; if ever he came cold or naked and I gave him not clothing!
"During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained in his tent, an advocate of peace. Nay, such was my love for the whites that those of my own country pointed at me as they passed and said, ^Logan is the friend of the white man.' I had even thought to hve with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood and unprovoked, cut off all the relatives of Logan, not sparing even wo- men and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed many. I bave fully glutted my vengeance. For my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. Yet do not harbor the thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who LS there to mourn for Logan? Not one."
He turned away again and the interview was over. Girty marched back to Camp Charlotte with the words ringing in his head. The white men and Indians were [47]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
seated in a large circle, waiting for the parley to begin. As Girty walked across the crisp grass towards them one of the officers — it was John Gibson — arose and greeted him. Where was Logan? /asked Gibson. Girty told is him, adding that the parley might now be started, for the Mingo chief had agreed to peace. Did Girty re- member what Logan had said? inquired Gibson. Simon nodded J whereupon the two men went into Gibson's tent and there the one repeated to the other the speech, which Gibson set down "on a piece of clean, new paper" that he had in his pocket, the words substantially as Logan had spoken them.
The treaty continued for some days and it was at length decided that — so it had been said by white men — the Indians would thenceforth make the Ohio River their eastern boundary, while the Virginians promised not to pass beyond that river, also that the Shawanese should give Dunmore four of their chiefs to be taken back to Virginia as hostages.
When that meaningless treaty had been concluded the army moved back across the Ohio. Girty accom- panied Dunmore and had the satisfaction of being known as a man whose service had been faithful and competent. It is not difficult to imagine him, while leading the advance towards Camp Charlotte, thrusting his way through trees and underbrush, leading the army
[48],,
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
Into the wilderness he knew so well, assisting in gaining intelligence from captured Indians and acting as inter- •reter and messenger when the parley began. That he /as looked on favorably by Dunmore is certain: while oth branches of the army were marching towards the Indian country he had been chosen as one of the mes- ?ngers to Colonel Andrew Lewis; and after the trouble- reeding treaty at the Chillicothe town it was Girty horn the noble A'^irginia governor called on to provide musement for the officers.
An Indian dance was what Lord Dunmore wanted D see. Girty arranged it. With young John Turner •nd the two Nicholson brothers he led his sham warriors louting and pounding the earth with their moccasins 'bout a campfire in a clearing; they sang the weird, dol- rous Indian songs, gave out their fearful yells and )udly thumped a skin-topped drum that was half full f water. His Lordship was greatly pleased. And when le army reached Fort Pitt Simon was given a commis- on in Dunmore's militia.
As a second lieutenant in the battalion commanded Y Major John Connolly, Girty was required to swear vvay any lingering belief of transubstantiation in the Lcrament of the Lord's Supper and to give full alle- iance to his Majesty, King George the Third. He implied, his right hand upraised, on February 22, +9]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
177 5 y a day not far distant from the eighteenth o Aprilj same year.
Had there been no particular occurrence on tha eighteenth of April and had it not been a step toward the Revolutionary War, the life of Simon Girty woul have been vastly changed. There would probably hav been no tales about "Girty, the White Indian'' j "Girty the White Savage" j no legends of his ferocious cruelt; and indignant accounts of his barbarous deeds and blood nature. It is likely he would have remained about Pitts; burghj going no higher than a captaincy in the militia or would have made it a base for his job as scout and in terpreter to the parties venturing among the Indians i] the wilderness. For he seems to have had no markedl; acquisitive instinct and no strong urge to rise up to ; position above his fellows.
But the Revolution was at hand even as he swore th oath of loyalty to King George. Washington had writ ten to Bryan Fairfax, "as to your political sentiments, would heartily join you in them, so far as relates to ; humble and dutiful petition to the throne, provide( there was the most distant hope of success. But hav we not tried this already? Have we not addressed th- Lords, and remonstrated with the commons? And t« what end? Did they deign to look at our petitions! Does it not appear, as clear as the^sun in its meridiai
.1
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
brightness, that there is a regular, systematic plan formed to fix the right and practice of taxation upon lis?" And at a Fairfax County meeting the next month vVashington offered to raise and equip a thousand sol- 'iiers and send them to the aid of Boston.
/Also there were men farther west in Virginia who felt the struggle coming on and, realizing that Lord Ounmore was no friend of the colonists, were anxious o dispossess King George's governor. While Dunmore vvas with his army at the Hocking River on his expedi- tion against the Shawanese and Mingoes one of the sol- diers saw the commander sitting in his tent with two ndians. Upon which he conceived the idea of killing lot only Dunmore but the redskin guests with one shot. Circling the tent, the soldier paused and fired through he canvas. But because of his greed he missed all hree, then quickly hid among the rank and file, none )f whom would tell who had fired the ball. "From the ime he left the camp," wrote one of the men who had )een on the expedition, "Dunmore tried to conciliate vhat he could by indulgence and talking; but this would iiot have availed him had he not taken other precautions, jOr many in the camp believed him the enemy of their ;:ountry and the betrayer of the army."
Some of this feeling is expressed in a resolution Irawn up by Dunmore's officers at Camp Charlotte
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THE WHITE SAVAGE
where the treaty with the Indians was held. In its pre amble it summed up the campaign against the Shawanes and Mingoes as having been successful (which it W2 not) J asserted that the assembled army was a respectabl body, that it had lived for weeks without either brea or salt and that its men could march and shoot with an in the known world. "Blessed with these talents," goe on this extraordinary document, "let us solemnly engag to one another and our country in particular that w will use them for no other purpose but for the honor an advantage of America and of Virginia in particulai It behooves us, then, for the satisfaction of our countr} that we should give them our real sentiments by way o resolves, in this very alarming crisis.'' Whereupon al of the officers promised to bear the most faithful alle giance to King George so long as "his majesty delight to reign over a brave and free people'' and further re solved that they felt "the greatest respect for his excel lency the Rt. Hon. Lord Dunmore, who commanded th expedition against the Shawanese, and who, we are con fident, underwent the greatest fatigue of this singula campaign from no other motive than the true interest of his country."
But whatever Lord Dunmore's motives were in th' campaign, it is true that he foresaw grievous troubL between the colonies and Great Britain and that he la
[52
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
ored to recruit and strengthen loyalists to the King's ^^overnment. And in this he had the assistance of Con- nolly at Fort Pitt. <
/Connolly, in those days before the fracas at Concord md Lexington, either under instruction from Lord Dun- nore or on his account, provided the \^irginia governor vith a list of names of people about the \'irginia frontier vho, he believed, were well-disposed towards British ule. It contained descriptions of nineteen men, Indians, raders and frontiersmen, and was sent by Connolly to )unmore, by Dunmore to Lord George Germain and »y Germain to Sir Guy Carleton, governor-general of Quebec — a piece of paper evidently regarded as being f great importance. But though this list was to be landed from one bigwig to another almost any piece of •aper picked up at random would have been as valuable D the British government.
For of the nineteen named nearly all took up the ide of the colonials when war came. Included in the St were Major (later Colonel) William Crawford, who ommanded Pennsylvania militiamen during the Revo- ition; White Eyes, a chief of the Delawares whose per- Dnal efforts kept half his tribe from joining the Sene- as against the Americans; the bereaved Logan, who ever from 1774 lifted his arm against the white men, nd Cornstalk, a chieftain of the Shawanese who was
53]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
also friendly towards the frontiersmen. In fact the only men Connolly could have relied upon that were mentioned in the list were Alexander McKee and Simon Girty.
During the first years of the war Simon moved with the patriotic tide about Fort Pitt. Connolly's militia had been withdrawn and Girty was left without either commission or job. There was no more talk of calling the place Fort Dunmore. For the Virginia governor was no longer a power there; it was Fort Pitt and Pitts- burgh and belonged to Pennsylvania! The frontiers-i^ men spoke little about boundary lines or even about In- dians; their conversation was chiefly concerned with affairs along the distant seaboard.
//'Shifting about in this changed scene, Simon finally went to work as an interpreter for George Morgan, the new deputy commissioner of Indian Affairs. But he was given odd jobs, small pay and little encouragement. It was not the same as when he had worked with Alex-( ander McKee, deputy agent of Indian Affairs under the Crown; with Major Connolly and Lord Dunmore. Un- der Morgan, however, he made several journeys intc the Ohio country, also one for the Virginia House of Burgesses. But he got on badly with his superior and within three months he was discharged. To lose his jot was a thing of little importance in itself. So was tht
[54:
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
fact that when he presented his bill for about a hundred dollars which he had expended in "extraordinary ser- dce" — one item being "a horse taken by Mr. George Morgan and given out in the service of the public" — :he bill was not paid. But he had not had trouble like .hat under the old rule.
During the next two years while ragged troops were
naneuvering in the east, fighting under Washington
"'It Trenton, Germantown, Brandywine and at last going
nto winter quarters at Valley Forge, Girty tried to fit
nmself into the new scheme of things as manifested at
■Pittsburgh. There, since June of 1777, Brigadier Gen-
•Tal Edward N. Hand was in command. And whether
t was because the frontiersmen of that neighborhood
vere suspicious of any man who had been an officer
•inder Connolly and Lord Dunmore, or because Simon
associated with Alexander McKee, then on parole to the
lOontinental government, or whether it was simply his
;ontinued familiarity with the Indians — whatever the
eason, it was rumored that he was in league with McKee
3 slay all the Americans on the border. Though such a
laim sounds obviously like nonsense, there may have
een at the base of it some fact that showed him indif-
erent to the cause of the United States. At any rate he
^as jailed on the charge (breaking out of the guard-
ouse, he absented himself a few days, then returned
55]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
and gave himself up, evidently to show his indepen- dence), but w^hen brought to trial there was no prooi that could be brought against him.
In a time of disturbance, such as a great social up- heaval, when men of one belief are thrown out while those of another take their place, there is bound to b( great dissatisfaction with whatever may occur in th( reorganized society. One ambitious soul is stirred, onl] to be hampered and suspected by countless others. Tha was the fate of Arnold, one of the bravest and mos competent generals in the Continental army^ the fate o; Anthony Wayne, an excellent drill-master, deeply en grossed in the military life and personally valiant, wh( had to stand aside while his inferiors as soldiers but hi betters as politicians were given the appointments tha should have gone to him^ and, in a lesser degree, to b sure, that was likewise the misfortune of Girty.
A man with Girty's peculiar qualifications shouL have been of inestimable value to Pennsylvania and Vir ginia on the western edge of the wilderness during th War of the Revolution. He knew the country north west of the Ohio as well as any white man at Fort Pitt He had an understanding of the Indians, their mannei and speech and the land they occupied. He was cou rageous and outspoken. His interest in private propert (he was never known to have been a trader or to stak
[56
"s
\
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
lut land claims, either of which he might easily have lone) was small. Hence at Fort Pitt he could have leen depended on to make true reports of the temper and vants of the Shawanese, Wyandots and Delawares, to onciliate them if that were possible, not to steal from hem as did so many of the Indian agents, and to plan xpeditions, at least the routes that were to be taken, vhen that was necessary.
Nor was it unlikely he would have given such ser- ice if he had had the chance. Throughout 1777 he lad worked on behalf of the colonists, recruiting men if the settlements for the army under one-year enlist- nents. How many men he brought in or how heartily le worked is not known, but he must have been fairly uccessful. And for what he had done he expected a aptaincy.
In this he was disappointed. John Stephenson was ut in command of the company and Girty's reward was ^ second lieutenancy. That was the rank he had held nder Connolly, and men who had been lieutenants and aptains then were now majors and colonels. Moreover, le discovered, the company was to be sent to Charleston. 't was too hot down there. Not wanting to go to i'harleston, he remained at Fort Pitt and a short time '.ter was out of a job again.
These small but repeated failures disgruntled him. 57]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
During the rest of the year at Pittsburgh he was seen as often with visiting Indians as with his own kind.
Another man who had grievances against the revo- lutionaries was Alexander McKee. He was a man of substance and had servants on his plantation down the river. Not only had the rebellion cost him his position as Indian Agent and caused him to be placed on parole as ., a person suspected of seditious sentiments, but his Tory' sympathies had raised a popular clamor against him. He was charged with violating his parole, and though tried and acquitted the suspicion still remained. Or February 7, 1778, General Hand ordered him to go ai once "to Yorktown, in Penn., on your parole, there tc receive the further directions of the Hon. Continenta Board of War.''
But by this time McKee had decided that if he lef ' Fort Pitt at all — his property was there — it would be t( ' go in another direction. Drawn together by their dis- ^ satisfaction with affairs as they had now become, McKe( I and Girty, with Matthew Elliott, a young Irish tradei who had been much with the Indians, McKee's cousii , Robert Surphlit, "a man named Higgins" and two 0:| McKee's Negro servants planned their departure fo: Detroit, where they intended to offer themselves to Gen i eral Henry Hamilton, Lieutenant-Governor of Canada i
From there, for nearly twenty years Girty, McKed
[58:1
i:
A ROUGH NECK'S THIRTY YEARS
md Elliott were ably to direct Ohio Indians in the bor- ler war, to keep the frontier from encroaching far into he Northwest and to help prolong the fight between ireat Britain and America over the land south of Lake i;rie and northwest of the Ohio River.
59]
Wherein the Scoundrel Saves a Hero from Roasting at
the Stake
CHAPTER IV
Wherein the Scoundrel Saves a Hero from Roasting
at the Stake
U AIRNESS and level-headedness are qualities not ften found in accounts of that long drawn out fight Dr supremacy in the country northwest of the Ohio iver. Western historians have generally taken for ranted that all of the land in North America belonged Y divine right to the offspring of the Thirteen Colonies id that any attempt by the Indians to drive back the ;ttlers was cruel, treacherous and extraordinarily crim- lal. And the frontiersmen who successfully gained a )oting within Shawanese or Delaware country were id to have "met their dastardly, cruel, relentless foe I the spirit of genuine manhood — of true, determined, nflinching heroism!" and were called "men worthy of le heroic age of the west."
That land in which several small white armies f oun- sred, but which the braves finally had to relinquish, as worth the blood that moistened it. To the white ttlers it gave various ores, pottery, rich fields and tim- 63]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
ber. To the Indian it supplied his every want. It rivers, though small, were many and navigable by pi- rogue, raft and canoe. Fish were large and plentifu in all the streams, caught merely by the throwing of ', spear near the flashing shallows or by the dipping of • net near the shade of an overhanging willow. Thi game was abundant. There were fat but surprisingly agile bears, slim-flanked deers, raccoon, wild turkeys buffaloes, and groundhog for the not too fastidious And in killing a bear or deer the brave got not onl] meat for his family but clothing and bedding and skin: for his cabin as well. For his vegetables and corn h( had but to scratch the ground in the river bottoms anc plant the seed after the water had subsided from the perennial spring thaws.
Why the Indian fought to keep his land in the Ohi( country is obvious: it contained everything that hf. needed j and once driven from it there was little place else for him to go. The tribes were of a wandering na- ture, it is truej nevertheless each division of the abori- gines had its own territory in which it alone had th( right to live and hunt. Through the summer the brave: would remain close by their villages; in the winter they would go forth with musket and bow and arrow to les: frequented forests where the bear and deer were not sc wary. But as for wandering further, they abandonee
[64]
I THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
:heir villages only when the land and surrounding wil- derness failed to support them.
In the Ohio country the tribes had a fairly settled existence. To the north and east were Wyandots and Delawares, to the south the Shawanese, with the Miamis ilong the western boundary. Among these the Shawan- ese were the most recent arrivals, having come there in :he middle of the eighteenth century. Nearly a hun- dred years earlier they had journeyed from the south, Derhaps from Florida, and had been permitted by the Seneca-Iroquois confederacy to build towns on the Sus- :]uehanna. But later, by the treaty with William Penn <n 1682, they were required to decamp. And after ^ipsying through Virginia, South Carolina and Tennes- ee, going clear to the Mississippi where La Salle found hem in 1684, they turned back and, this time with per- ;nission of the Wyandots, settled in southern Ohio near ind along the Scioto River. Thus they had been buf- :eted considerably since the white man had come to America. Scarcely had they reared their cabins on the kioto when they discovered that Virginians and North Carolinians had penetrated the friendly forests as far as he Ohio's shores. It angered them and they could not mt wonder how long it would be before they were Iriven on again. Lord Dunmore's war a few decades ifter their arrival not only restricted their boundary to [65]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
the south and east 5 it also showed them the temper of the frontiersmen, who, in general, killed as treacherously and with as little regard for age and sex as the Shawanese brave himself.
Of all the Indian tribes in the Ohio country the position of the Shawanese was the most precarious. They had come but recently j they were under sufferance of the Wyandots, and it was the fringe of their hunting grounds that was the most exposed to the westward pushing pioneers. Second to them, so far as the danger of conflict was concerned, were the Delawares.
Contact with Europeans had sent the Shawanese wandering to the south j it had driven the Delawares directly west from the seaboard at a much earlier period. They had never been, and they never were, great war- riors. Thir right to live in the Ohio country came from the Senecas, who long before this western continent had been heard of had defeated them in battle and by some strategy had managed to hold them in an inferior posi- tion. They continued at intervals to humiliate them. Compared to the bold and forthright Shawanese, the Delawares were an almost indecently wobbly tribe. Their noted warriors were few — Hopocan, or Captain Pipe as he was called, being about the best they could furnish at any time during the last half of the eighteenth century. Their sachems were insignificant in the inter-
[66]
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
tribal councils. Though the braves would fight, and 3ften did fight, the spirit of blood revenge, so strong n the Indians as a whole, was weak in them. All this, lowever, in no way lessened their aptitude towards :ruelty to captives.
Coincident with the westward urge along the fron- :ier came the spirit of organized soul saving. While Dorderers tried hard but none too successfully to tame he braves with long squirrel rifles there were other white nen ready to conquer the warrior in the wilderness with lothing but the Word of God. So far as is known the vork of the missionaries among the Ohio Indians was lot, for the most part, fruitful. The Shawanese, Mi- mis, and nearly all of the Wyandots preferred their old amiliar ways of worship. These permitted an invalid o recover by giving a great feast in honor of the Sun jod. They also insured the steady capture of game by he hunter j he had only to cajole the souls of the dead easts which his people had already consumed.
But one John Heckewelder and some of his Chris- an brothers, going into the midst of the Delawares, acceeded in making numerous conversions to the Meth- dist religion. Heckewelder was a stubborn, flighty- eaded man born in England of German parentage. He ad come to Pennsylvania as a youth and was soon ob- "ssed with theological mysteries. Northwest of Fort 67]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Pitt along the Muskingum River he preached Chris- tianity to those who would listen and after a time he helped establish three Indian missions. One of them was called Salem, another Schonbrunn, and the third was Gnadenhutten. There he instructed the Delawares ir building more weatherproof cabins, cultivating th(. clearings and bottomlands and in saving up their stores! for days when food was hard to get. But while shep-f herding a flock of several hundred Indians he took care to keep well in the good graces of the Continental offi-| cers at Fort Pitt. ^^
Heckewelder, with another missionary named Jo- seph Bull, was at Fort Pitt a few days after Simon Girty Alexander McKee and Matthew Elliott disappeared into the wilderness. Since these three had gone, he observed the faces of the pioneers, their wives and children wer^ dark with gloomy they were fearful of their fate anc ready to bundle up their few belongings and return east General Hand was blenched with consternation and S(i was Colonel John Gibson. The Pittsburghers looked t( them for safety, for they believed that Girty, McKed and Elliott would shortly return at the head of a howl ing warpack and put them to the death. i
But Heckewelder, thereby heroizing himself, wa' not so easily shaken; and he set out for the MuskingunI to counteract this evil to the American cause. Arrivii
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
Salem he discovered that though these three runaways id been there they had moved on. Before leaving they id represented the colonists as having been beaten and le British triumphant, which had wakened the Dela- ares to thoughts of attacking the frontier. But brave xckewelder, prepared with newspapers (it is curious )w apt the Indians were at reading English) and some iendly speeches, soon proved to them that it was the ritish who had suffered the defeats and cited Bur- )yne's fate at Saratoga. This turn of affairs moved hief White Eyes to send a message to the Shawanese I the Scioto — where the three white men had jour- *yed — saying, "Grandchildren, ye Shawanese! Some lys ago a flock of birds from the East lit at [Coshoc- n], imposing a song of theirs upon us, which song had gh proved our ruin! Should these birds, which, on aving us, took their flight toward the Scioto, endeavor \ impose a song on you likewise, do not listen to them, :r they lie."
What kind of song these birds sang among the Sha- fmese is not known. But likely enough whatever the :ne it was one the tribe had learned by heart. For they PTC aware that already they were half surrounded, by f nnsylvanians and Virginians to the east, and to the mth by settlers who had followed Daniel Boone, the nrrods, McAfees, Hendersons, Floyds, Hancocks,
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Bullets and others into Kentucky. They knew the^ would have to fight, and they had chieftains like Corn stalk, Blackhoof, Blue Jacket, Red Hawk and, later Tecumsch, who were competent and who, with the ex ccption of Cornstalk, were eager to lead them.
Certain it is that Girty and his companions spoke n good for the colonists. But it would appear if not als certain at least reasonable that this party of white me in going among the Shawanesc intended no direct harr towards the borderers, but rather went there for refuf until they should hear from Lieutenant-Governor Harr ilton in Detroit. For McKee had written Hamilto while they were at the Delaware village of Coshocto asking for a safeguard through the territory of the wesi ern tribes. By way of reply Hamilton had sent out Ec ward Hazle to the Scioto to escort them back throuf the Indian country.
The three had escaped from Fort Pitt late in Marc It was June before they arrived in Detroit, where Han ilton eagerly awaited them. For he had got the list < names which Connolly had made for Dunmore ai which had gone through Lord George Germain to ^ Guy Carleton, and the list showed McKee and Girty be men of intiuence and well-disposed towards the l^r ish government. They fitted in to Hamilton's pl^ exactly. Because by this time he had received offic
[7
SCOl SDRFI SM'KS A HERO
of the pUn be l»d pot fonrmrd, namely the har-
' T Americtn f rooder by Indtam whom men of
ice were to lead. He was anxious for the
r t and ShawancK warriors to be at their work,
.' eficaendr down opoo the stockades in Ken-
I and Virginia.
i i *d the runaways. And after they
*< he spoke to them of the jobs
They were to go down into the
and lire among the Indians, interpreting
traders among them and keeping them friendly
the British, teeing that the presents given the
the King's stores reached them safely and,
leading the braTcs agaimc the .\merican
oinu
roi
last part of their ta^k, Hamilton might have out to them, was not so unnatural and blood- it towndcd. The Indians were making ma- the border anyway; they might as well be led. Beaidcai the white men who accompanied recjoircd to restr^ c braves from unneces- tty (as if that were humanly possible!) and to
back from killing wonien and children, three men took up their new employment. Sinyxi, as his first assignment, was sent tribe called Mingoca. He reached their
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Bullets and others into Kentucky. They knew the would have to fight, and they had chieftains like Con stalkj Blackhoof, Blue Jacket, Red Hawk and, late Tecumseh, who were competent and who, with the e? ception of Cornstalk, were eager to lead them.
Certain it is that Girty and his companions spoke r good for the colonists. But it would appear if not aL certain at least reasonable that this party of white me in going among the Shawanese intended no direct hari towards the borderers, but rather went there for refuj until they should hear from Lieutenant-Governor Han ilton in Detroit. For McKee had written Hamiltc while they were at the Delaware village of Coshoctc asking for a safeguard through the territory of the wes ern tribes. By way of reply Hamilton had sent out Ec ward Hazle to the Scioto to escort them back throug the Indian country.
The three had escaped from Fort Pitt late in Marcl It was June before they arrived in Detroit, where Han ilton eagerly awaited them. For he had got the list ( names which Connolly had made for Dunmore ail which had gone through Lord George Germain to S Guy Carleton, and the list showed McKee and Girty be men of influence and well-disposed towards the Bri ish government. They fitted in to Hamilton's pla exactly. Because by this time he had received ofiici
[7(
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
nction of the plan he had put forward, namely the har- sing of the American frontier by Indians whom men of is own choice were to lead. He was anxious for the /"yandot and Shawanese warriors to be at their work, heeling efficiently down upon the stockades in Ken- icky, Pennsylvania and Virginia.
Hamilton welcomed the runaways. And after they id been in Detroit a while he spoke to them of the jobs 2 wanted them to do. They were to go down into the hio country and live among the Indians, interpreting )r the traders among them and keeping them friendly iwards the British, seeing that the presents given the ibes from the King's stores reached them safely and, 1 occasion, leading the braves against the American ttlements.
This last part of their task, Hamilton might have Dinted out to them, was not so unnatural and blood- lirsty as it sounded. The Indians were making ma- Luds upon the border anyway 5 they might as well be roperly led. Besides, the white men who accompanied lem were required to restrain the braves from unneces- ry cruelty (as if that were humanly possible! ) and to Did them back from killing women and children.
The three men took up their new employment. Don afterward Simon, as his first assignment, was sent » the mixed-up tribe called Mingoes. He reached their
71]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
villages from Detroit by following the Indian trail dow the Detroit River, skirting the west shore of Lake Eri crossing the Maumee River near the rapids and goir on through the wilderness towards the headwaters of tl Scioto. Here he found them occupying the small an that lay surrounded by the Miamis to the west, tl Wyandots to the north and east and the Shawanese i the south.
His meeting with the Mingoes was friendly. Th( understood that it was through him that they woul receive their annual presents from the King's stores ar be supplied with provisions and gunpowder for the raids against the border. It was not necessary for hii to win them to a new point of view. He had merely i keep them reminded that the Great White Father aero the water was really their parent, that he was all-powe; f ul and good, whereas the Long Knives of Pennsylvan and Virginia were not powerful and not good.
Simon settled among them in Solomon's town, whic was a few miles upward from the Shawanese village c Wapatomica. There he built a stout log cabin whic had a roof of bark and which he furnished with a be made from bent saplings, perhaps a stool or two and tl skins of bear and deer.
Altogether he found his situation agreeable. Tl necessaries of life were free for the taking. He w;
[72
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
receiving regular pay from General Hamilton. The [ndians gave him the respect they v^ould have given to Dne of their war chiefs. He talked with them and un- derstood them enough neither to overestimate nor to Delittle what they were. They came to his cabin and were his friends.
While Simon was living at Solomon's town his bro- :her James broke away from the Americans and went :o Detroit where Hamilton hired him as an interpreter ind sent him down among the Shawanese. Simon met fames a short time later and James told him of a raid :he Shawanese were planning against the Kentucky bor- ler. They wanted him to accompany them.
He went. Riding a well-equipped horse and leading :wo packmares, he set out with the braves as one of the 'proper persons ... to conduct their parties, and, re- ;train[ing] them from committing violence on the well- iffected and Inoffensive inhabitants, employ [ed] them n making a Diversion and exciting an alarm upon the Tontier.''
Gone for two weeks or more, the party returned ^ith some plunder, a white woman, seven children and I handful of scalps which they had taken from some )oorly stockaded settlement in a Kentucky clearing. \nd as Simon, more or less the leader or the party, eached Wapatomica he met the first of his old Fort ;73]
|
i 1 |
||
|
THE |
WHITE |
SAVAGE |
|
1 1 |
1 . • 1 . 1 |
I
Pitt acquaintances whom he was destined to see undr trying circumstances.
Among the scouts that had worked with Girty Lord Dunmore's war was Simon Kenton, a young, blor^ broad-faced six-footer. They were friends of a sort, 1 1^ two Simons.' But while one of them had deserted Is people at Fort Pitt and aligned himself against theii, the other had been drawn more closely to the America frontiersman's side. Kenton had gone with Georc Rogers Clark to take Vincennes and had also skirmish! with the Indians under Daniel Boone. But in this suir mer of 1778 he was lying idly about Boone's Station arl, likely enough, thinking enviously of the Shawanese wib their horses on the other side of the Ohio River. At a jr rate the Shawanese had horses which would be very 2- ceptable to the settlers at Boone's Station and Kento determined that a transfer in their ownership should e made. With Alexander Montgomery and George Clat he set out one fine day to get them, taking the salt a ' bridles necessary to the capture.
The three adventurers — they couldn't be callfl horse thieves because, after all, they were only takig the property from the Indians — crossed the Ohio ail on the following night came upon a herd of horses grac- ing in a natural meadow. In the darkness they caugtt and slipped halters on seven of them, then started bak
[7J
a»«pwg,blQi:
lUdoenetll
■KipiMtlia
IfitkAiDcric:
ptiidiGeot:
; liJBtliiiiiii :aii;
kjt<./'-'-
S nil on Kenton
' cal
taki
'\
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Pitt acquaintances whom he was destined to see undei trying circumstances.
Among the scouts that had worked with Girty ir Lord Dunmore's war was Simon Kenton, a young, blond broad-faced six-footer. They were friends of a sort, th( two Simons. But while one of them had deserted hi{ people at Fort Pitt and aligned himself against them the other had been drawn more closely to the Americar frontiersman's side. Kenton had gone with George Rogers Clark to take Vincennes and had also skirmishec with the Indians under Daniel Boone. But in this sum- mer of 1778 he was lying idly about Boone's Station and likely enough, thinking enviously of the Shawanese witl" their horses on the other side of the Ohio River. At an) rate the Shawanese had horses which would be very ac- ceptable to the settlers at Boone's Station and Kentor determined that a transfer in their ownership should b( made. With Alexander Montgomery and George ClarP he set out one fine day to get them, taking the salt anc bridles necessary to the capture.
The three adventurers — they couldn't be callec horse thieves because, after all, they were only taking the property from the Indians — crossed the Ohio anc on the following night came upon a herd of horses graz- ing in a natural meadow. In the darkness they caugh and slipped halters on seven of them, then started bacl
[74:
Si}) I on Ketiton
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
towards the river. By dawn they had come to the wood- fringed shore without mishap and none of them doubted that the rest of the trip back to Boone's Station would be as successful as had been the first part of the journey.
But a wind was blowing over the wide stretch of water, sending the waves high up on the muddy banks. The stolen horses took fright; rearing and tossing their heads, they would not attempt the crossing.
By noon the whipped-up surface had not subsided. There stood three anxious and angry men and seven rebellious horses. Meanwhile in the forest behind them the Indians to whom the stock belonged had discovered their loss and had already begun to track them.
At last, the horses refusing to take to the water, Kenton, Montgomery and Clark led them to the path that followed the shore line and went westward, towards the falls where, if it could be reached, there would be an easy crossing.
But before they had gone very far they heard the sounds of Shawanese behind them. The three men scat- tered, letting the horses roam; Kenton ran down through a stretch of timber where many trees had been blown down. Coming out on the other side he was faced by a mounted Indian who slipped off his horse and ran upon him with tomahawk uplifted. Kenton took up his mus- ket as a cudgel, was about to defend himself when an- [75]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
other brave leaped upon his back and shoulders am pinioned his arms. The tomahawk was stayed j Kentoi gave up and was bpund with leather thongs.
During this time Clark had escaped and Montgom- ery had been shot. Indians came to where the tall blonc captive stood and one of them showed him Montgom- ery's scalp and shook it in his face as a warning. Heed- ing itj he remained passive in their hands. His position he must have known, was grave indeed. He had com( to steal Shawanese horses and had been caught at it, hac attempted to escape and had been overpowered. More- over, his brawn made him a prize to be carefully guarded while being taken back to the Indian village before the sachems and braves who would decide as to the mannei of his death.
The following morning Kenton was tied to a frac- tious horse. Prone on its back, he was lashed by om rope that bound his neck to that of the mount, by an- other that held his ankles together under its belly anc by still another that cuffed his wrists. While a brav( drew moccasins over the prisoner's hands to prevent hin from warding off any of the stinging brush that woulc slap and scratch him as the horse cantered through th( wilderness, the others stood hilariously about and jeer- ingly asked him if he thought he would ever come agaii among the Shawanese to steal their horses. They thei
[76:
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
all set off. And the horse, after wildly kicking and plunging to free itself of its heavy burden, amiably fol- lowed the party on its return.
On the painful journey Kenton might have held 5ome hope for his life being spared by captors grown merciful at the sight of his fortitude. But that was all there was to cheer him. For escape was impossible. During the day he was trussed to the horse; at night :he braves took him down and stretched him on the ground with his legs extended wide, then fastened each nember to a stake driven in the ground. Added to that I pole was laid across his chest and his outstretched arms trapped to it with thongs. Another rope, tied to a learby sapling, encircled his neck.
Three days and nights of this brought him to Chilli- :othe, a few miles from which a great horde of youths ind warriors, having heard of the prisoner's approach, :ame out to welcome him with jeers and kicks. They lad a great to-do. They danced and sang about him mtil they grew bored with that form of amusement md returned to their village, leaving him tied in the vilderness for the night.
In the morning, however, they came back. Kenton oon discovered that he was fated to run the gauntlet, ^rmed with hickory clubs, they formed a long double ow and stood waiting while his bonds were loosed and 77]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
he was taken to the beginning of this aisle that extende between two lines of glowering warriors. If the clul felled him, he knew as he stood there chafing his wristi he was almost sure to be beaten to death; if he brok through and reached the farther end still on his feet h might hope that there would be some who would latei in the council, plead that mercy be shown him. Ths possibility for life and also another flickered through hi mind as he stood rubbing his neck and his wrists wher the thongs had abraded the skin: if he could brea through the line and reach the council house in the dis tant village without being captured his swiftness migh win him forgiveness.
He began to run, desperately spurred by the flayin hickory sticks. They struck his head and back an shoulders, made a clatter as they knocked against eacl other, but still he remained upright. Then of a sudde: he saw through the nave of sticks ahead of him the flasl of a scalping knife and he knew that at least one brav was bent on his death. With no way of warding off th stroke he took the one big chance. Swerving, he buckei through the line and stretched his legs towards the coun oil house in the village.
He I^ept his pursuers well behind him as he ran on hastened by their baying voices. But luck was agains him. Winded, though within sight of the counci
[78
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
douse, his path took him directly towards an Indian who Linexpectedly appeared from behind a tree. It was too [ate to dodge. Exhausted, he grappled with the war- rior and was thrown on his back as the cries of the pur- ;uing braves closed over him. Above him there was a nelee: hands ripped at the remnant of his buckskin :lothing, moccasins kicked at him and hickory clubs Ntve held in readiness for whacking blows.
After a while they left him there. They came back ater and brought food and water so that he might live luring the trial which was now being prepared for him n the house that he had failed to reach.
As he lay there recovering from the blows an old :hief was seated beneath the skin and bark covered tent )oles of the council house. He held a knife in one hand md a stick of wood in the other and around him was a ircle of warriors. Kenton was brought into this scene 0 listen to the arguments for and against his death.
They began speaking in an orderly manner, each iddressing the others on the fate of the prisoner. There vere those who spoke for clemency, but for the most )art the words of the braves were angry and their ges- ures abrupt and fierce. Then the final speech was nade and the old chief in the center calmly lifted up a var club and handed it to an Indian who stood near the loor. The club was the ballot and was passed about 79]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
"^zs 2 T::e r:: :.z:::\: izl::. i
6L
•- — —
C2.: : -. -
the: L
^4
m tlie Chillicodic town ' ^^noiig the Yarioos i : : r^ tribe. At Piqua and 1 to nm tiic gamiil^ Se finallj rcacfai -i«al form . maik of
[8o;
f T-
isiaivi
some Indians, ton's presence, 4^u^ icquaintancc Ht I on die groond with
wa J north- '- v%eie his
:5 and scalps^ C
t at fc: :
in;
e jx
1 K
T.
T-T-
r^
-»
iic OTertxanng tcr.e
[ii
THE WHITE SAVAGE
the circle. One brave thumped it on the ground^ tha' was a vote for Kenton's death and the old chief in tht middle made a mark in the earth with his knife. An- other, refusing to drop the club, handed it on to hi neighbor, and that was a vote against the execution. Tb^ old chief thoughtfully marked with his stick of wood.
But when the war club had been handed completel) around the circle a large number of scrawls had beer made by the knife and only a few with the little hick- ory stick. Kenton was doomed. The sentence of deatt was passed and, with this settled, the warriors began tc discuss where and when it should take place. Hot- blooded ones were vehement for instant execution, but calmer warriors felt that the execution of this prisonei should be a tribal event. As the latter were of the ma- jority, it was decided that Kenton should be taken tc Wapatomica, the town where the chief sachem of the Shawanese had his cabin.
He was removed from the Chillicothe town and carried on a tour of exhibition among the various fam- ilies that made up his captors' tribe. At Piqua and at the Mackachack towns he again had to run the gauntlet. Little hope of life was left him when he finally reached Wapatomica, where he submitted to the final form that preceded death: his face was blacked, the mark of a condemned prisoner.
[80]
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
It was while Kenton lay within sight of the stake tiat Simon Girty came to Wapatomica on his way north- ward from his raid into Kentucky. With him were his rother James and John Ward, another white manj Iso some Indians, prisoners and scalps. Coming into lenton's presence, Girty did not at first recognize his Id acquaintance. He saw merely a large-sized man ang on the ground with Kis hands and feet bound; a lan with a blackened face, powerless and doomed, firty only glanced at him.
But afterward, when he had talked to the Shawanese tiiefs about the raid, he stood before Kenton again id started bullyragging him and questioning him with igard to the number of men under arms in Kentucky.
Kenton knew who was talking to him, but cannily ept that knowledge to himself. However, he an- vered Girty's questions. But finally Girty said, What's your name and where do you come from?'^
Kenton replied with the name by which Girty knew im and which he had used for several years, since, in let, he had got into a shooting scrape in Virginia and ad believed, though falsely, that he had killed his iversary. He said, "Simon Butler."
Abruptly Girty changed. The overbearing tone led away and he stared with wonder at the blackened ice before him. "Oh, Butler^ my dear friend!" he 81] ■ •
THE WHITE SAVAGE
broke out and, rushing forward, he put his arms aroun Kenton's shoulders. Suddenly as the two men stood tc gether Girty began to cry unrestrainedly. j^
After the shock of the encounter had worn off Girt told Kenton slowly that there was little hope of saviDi : him from the stake since the counqil had passed thi i r. sentence, but that he would do whatever he possibl could to influence the warriors. The two men then drev apart and Girty went to the tribal chiefs, asking tha ) : they meet in the council house at once so that he coul, address them. i
They came. And in the presence of Kenton he be; gan speaking to the assembly. He talked long and witl: vehemence, telling them that if they were ever minde<i to favor him they should show it then and save the lif ' of his friend Kenton. Whatever else he said is no
[of]
lave stayi fotitbt!
I
known, for he spoke, of course, in the Shawanese tongue a language which Kenton did not understand. But a,Jj any rate his plea was successful, and, when he had com eluded, the Indians "with one simultaneous grunt o approbation spared the prisoner's life and placed hinj under the care and protection of his old companion! Girnr," ^^feut that was far from being the enS. The tw<
■A to^
22 ever a r
men went to the British trading post at Wapatomicai w
where Girty bought Kenton a new outfit of clothing an(
[82.
U
wouldn't I
intyapj
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
horse and saddle. Kenton now was free to go, but he jmained in the neighborhood and while he was there lore danger threatened.
From Wapatomica they rode to Girty's cabin at Sol- non's town. Here they stayed, hunting in the sur- mnding forest, sitting in the dim light of evening while ley reviewed their lives in monosyllables. Girty was [•Gubled about having left Fort Pitt. He should not, said, have gone away like that. But • . . well, he id worked hard trying to get that gang of Pittsburgh mstabouts into a company. He had hoped for a cap- lincy out of it. Maybe if he had got the captaincy fe'd have stayed on there and fought. But Stephenson ad got it instead. Well, it was too late to talk about it ow.
And Kenton said that it was kind of nice around
Dlomon's town. The Indians, they weren't so ornery
hen you got to know them. He didn't stand in well
ith the government back in Virginia either. Shot a
nan over a girl and the damn fool died. Now he had
!• use another name and stay out in Kentucky. Maybe
^t wouldn't go back at all. Maybe he'd stay right
'here he was.
But while the two men were living in Girty's cabin i security a party of Shawanese warriors who had made J humiliating foray against Wheeling and had been 33]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
broke out and, rushing forward, he put his arms around Kenton's shoulders. Suddenly as the two men stood to- gether Girty began to cry unrestrainedly.
After the shock of the encounter had worn off Girtj told Kenton slowly that there was little hope of saving him from the stake since the counqil had passed thv sentence, but that he would do whatever he possibl] could to influence the warriors. The two men then drev apart and Girty went to the tribal chiefs, asking tha they meet in the council house at once so that he coulc address them.
They came. And in the presence of Kenton he be- gan speaking to the assembly. He talked long and wit! vehemence, telling them that if they were ever mindec to favor him they should show it then and save the lif< of his friend Kenton. Whatever else he said is no known, for he spoke, of course, in the Shawanese tongue a language which Kenton did not understand. But a any rate his plea was successful, and, when he had con- cluded, the Indians "with one simultaneous grunt o: approbation spared the prisoner's life and placed bin under the care and protection of his old companion Girtj."
But that was far from being the end. The tw( men went to the British trading post at Wapatomica where Girty bought Kenton a new outfit of clothing am
[82;
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
ihorse and saddle. Kenton now was free to go, but he jmained in the neighborhood and while he was there lore danger threatened.
From Wapatomica they rode to Girty's cabin at Sol- non's town. Here they stayed, hunting in the sur- mnding forest, sitting in the dim light of evening while ley reviewed their lives in monosyllables. Girty was •oubled about having left Fort Pitt. He should not, e said, have gone away like that. But . . . well, he ad worked hard trying to get that gang of Pittsburgh mstabouts into a company. He had hoped for a cap- lincy out of it. Maybe if he had got the captaincy e'd have stayed on there and fought. But Stephenson ad got it instead. Well, it was too late to talk about it
3W.
And Kenton said that it was kind of nice around 3lomon's town. The Indians, they weren't so ornery hen you got to know them. He didn't stand in well ith the government back in Virginia either. Shot a lan over a girl and the damn fool died. Now he had • use another name and stay out in Kentucky. Maybe s wouldn't go back at all. Maybe he'd stay right here he was.
But while the two men were living in Girty's cabin I security a party of Shawanese warriors who had made humiliating foray against Wheeling and had been 83]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
severely beaten came back to Wapatomica. Several o their warriors had been killed j their comrades returnei in a fury and riding up to the council house demandei that the horse-stealing Long Knife be brought back fo another trial so that they might have a victim for thei wrath.
This word was at once sent out by messenger fror Wapatomica to Solomon's town. Meanwhile the tw friends had left their cabin and were riding over th same trail on which the runner with the bad news W2 headed. They met him soon and Girty very shortl knew that the security which the council had given Ken ton had been withdrawn. For the gloomy bearer of th message accepted Girty's hand, but disdained to grec Kenton. Then Girty asked the runner the meaning o this hostility. Receiving no answer, he drew him asid and they talked a few moments. Turning from th Indian to Kenton, Girty said that they all would hav to go to the council. The three men rode silently dow through the wilderness trail to Wapatomica.
The council house was crowded with blanket-en wrapped braves who gave their hands to Girty bv scowled at his tall companion. Almost immediately th warriors formed a circle and sat down. Soon they wer listening to the chief who had commanded the unsuc cessful Wheeling foray. He made jerky gestures an
[84
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
liked fiercely, keeping his ugly eyes on Kenton. Nearly he was asking for the white man's death.
But when the chief had finished Girty jumped to is feet and began to talk earnestly, half pleading and alf haranguing. They knew, he told these assembled warriors, of his interest in the Indian's right to the Ohio Duntry and of his efforts to keep it in their hands 3 they new of his life and deeds with them, that during the me he had been with them he had fought faithfully nd bravely. Now he asked again that the life of his riend be spared.
The council heard him respectfully, then turned to ehement chiefs who kept to their argument that this oung man was a hated Long Knife who had come mong them to steal their horses and that he should be illed, burned at the stake, as was the custom of dispos- ig of publicly condemned prisoners. After long delib- ration the council agreed and Kenton was doomed a icond time.
So Girty lost his plea. But he did not yet give up 3 nd in the hope that with time he might find more owerful interference with the Indians' decision against Lenton he asked that the execution be postponed and le prisoner be taken to Upper Sandusky where the east- rn Ohio tribes were accustomed to gather to receive !ieir presents from the British government agents at 85]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Detroit. For if this were agreed to, argued Girty, tb burning of the blond six-footer could be turned into ^h spectacle that great hosts of Indian families could enjoj ^
That was what he told the Indians, but what hij must have been thinking was that at Upper Sandusk there were British traders who would certainly do whj.i they could to save Kenton from the stake, that then also, the Indians to whom the prisoner was to be ir trusted would have no directly personal feeling towar him and so could be the more easily persuaded in tt direction of leniency. Then, too, along the trail b( tween Wapatomica and Upper Sandusky was the Scio village where Logan lived; and quixotic Logan had lor been known as a friend of unfortunate white prisone in the Ohio country.
In asking this Girty got what he wanted. Tlj council approved Upper Sandusky as the scene of exec tion and under the guard of five stalwart braves Ke: ton was that day taken on his journey. And it happen that because of his removal he was saved. At the Scio town Logan interceded for him (though unsucce*-: fully), but at Upper Sandusky Peter Druyer, a Canadian trader in the British service, under the pretext that tci prisoner possessed military secrets which, if heard t Detroit, would be of value to both Indians and Britin, and on payment of a hundred dollars' worth of rum adi
[8]
I
THE SCOUNDREL SAVES A HERO
i)bacco, effected his transfer from the savages to the uardhouse in Detroit.
The council house at Wapatomica was the place
here the two adventurous Simons met for the last time, lough both were to roam the greater part of the Ohio
ilderness throughout the next thirty years. Kenton, a words that sound a little strange, but which, accord- fig to McClung, he dictated, used long afterward to nd his recollections of Girty with, "but he was good to fie; and it was no wonder. \\'hen we see our fellow- reatures every day, we don't care for them; but it is ifferent when you meet a man all alone in the woods — le wild, lonely woods."
It was in these woods among the savages that Girty pent the be;>t years of his life.
P]
Simon Becomes Morose; His Scalp Causes Him Some
Concern
t»
^M
i
I
en AFTER r
'mon Bromet Morose; His Scsif Cmsms Ilim Some Concern
' 1
ma, '
idcd, ii:
HOUiH the Ohio Indians had good caoac to c at t*-' Hcrert and though their feelings of jctl-
and - were deliberately iharj * by Lieu-
M lulton, Alexander J\icis.ee, Mit-
iin drty, a great mimber of the
ndly towards the settler^ of Penn-
f. !*or the Imlians were
v. people and the brave uted his
to do ^t he t t. Not only did each
fii 'independently of the others, but each divi-
nd «t:* n 3< well was allowed to decide for
in n...:., . ,.-.. Moreover, when a petty chief,
on ^ttiic out in a maraud, struck the war pole
lis hatcbt his braves had the choice of following
tion or f remaining in their cabins with their
\ and oli men.
»is c . it was that Chief Cormtalk, who
c ^ :ese against Lord Dunmore in 1774, in 1 7 .Ic the bulk of his tribe were actively
CHAPTER V
Simon Becomes Morose; His Scalp Causes Him
Some Concern
y HOL GH the Ohio Indians had good cause to ;trike at the borderers and though their feelings of jeal- Dusy and revenge were deliberately sharpened by Lieu- enant-Governor Hamilton, Alexander McKee, Mat- hew Elliott and Simon Girty, a great number of the avages remained friendly towards the settlers of Penn- ylvania, \'irginia and Kentucky. For the Indians were i divided, individualistic people and the brave used his -ight to do what he thought best. Not only did each :ribe function independently of the others, but each divi- sion and subdivision as well was allowed to decide for tself in matters of war. Moreover, when a petty chief, ntent on setting out in a maraud, struck the war pole ^ith his hatchet his braves had the choice of following lis action or of remaining in their cabins with their squaws and old men.
This explains why it was that Chief Cornstalk, who ed the Shawanese against Lord Dunmore in 1774, :ould, in 1778, while the bulk of his tribe were actively [91]
1
THE WHITE SAVAGE '
hostile against the Long Knives, be at peace with his late enemies and willing to prove to them his friendship. It also explains how half the Delawares could engage to fight on the side of the British while the other half favored the Americans. But as for the depressing re- sults of this good willj they can only be explained by the stupidity of the frontiersmen and their leaders. ji
The same year Simon Girty helped Kenton elude the r stake, old Chief Cornstalk, learning that a band of war- riors of his tribe were planning an attack upon a Ken- ^j tucky stockade and being anxious to preserve peace andti save the white men from a surprise assault, crossed the r Ohio to warn the garrison. He arrived with the inf or- i mation and delivered it, then started to leave. But sol^ )\ diers took hold of him and locked him up in a block- 3I house where he was held so long that his son Ellimpsiccj and another friendly chieftain. Red Hawk, gre^^'" alarmed for his safety. Knowing where he had gone i they went after him. They too were confined in th^jJ makeshift jail. ^^^^
A day or so afterward a few Kentucky militiamei from the stockade rowed to the north shore of the Ohic on a foraging party and there got into a scrape with j| stray band of Indians. One of the men, whose nam<; was Gilmore, was shot in the scuffle, which put th others of the garrison into such a fury that they entere(
[92:
H
SIMON BECOMES MOROSE
;he blockhouse and with knife and tomahawk butchered Cornstalk, Red Hawk and the youth Ellimpsico.
With such bloody remembrances to stir a tribe of vvarriors noted for their pursuit of vengeance and for the stoicism with which they accepted death, the work of :he British Indian Agents at Detroit became a simple natter. And doubtless Girty and those other men sent Dut by Hamilton to lead the aborigines often found themselves following instead of being to the fore.
Still another occurrence which quickened the braves of the Ohio country that year was the council of the Seneca-Iroquois confederacy called by the sachems of those eastern tribes to decide what would be their stand during the Revolution. For the Senecas not only de- clared themselves for war upon the United States, they also ordered the Delawares to join them.
This split the Delaware tribe. About half of the braves sided with Captain Pipe, which name translated back into his own tongue was Hopocan. He was a Del- aware chieftain who had already journeyed to Detroit and had taken the war hatchet handed him by Hamilton. But others, particularly those close to the Moravian Mis- sions at Salem, Schonbrunn and Gnadenhutten, re- mained steadfast and nodded assent to the indignant speech of Chief White Eyes, who thus bawled out his challenge to the Senecas: [93]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
t
"White Eyes knows well that the Senecas conside^ij^' :he Delaware a conquered tribe — as women — as theit f : nferiors. They have — say they — shortened the Dela- kvare's legs and put petticoats on us. They say thej lave given us a hoe with a compounder and told us tf < . Dound and plant for them — those men — those warriors' ): But look at White Eyes! Is he not full grown? Wear* - le not a warrior's dress? Ai, he is a man — and thest :- ire the arms of a man — and all this land belongs to th( ^ Delawares." .^..
Chief White Eyes and his men about those Mora-*:^! aan missions along the Muskingum were the one grea inag in the course of the Detroit British Indian Agent /"oyaging about the Ohio country. They were estab ished within the Indian domain, but near enough tr i S^ort Pitt for intelligence of English or native war move i nents to be conveyed there, often in time for the Ameri : :ans to prepare for these intended surprises. Hamiltoi lad tried to bribe these Delawares, had threatened them )ut had got nowhere with them. For when White Eyes, ribe finally agreed to go to war it was at the reques )f the Americans and on the side of the Americans, t vhom, at a council on the Muskingum, they promise( ^ ;o furnish a considerable number of warriors to figh he British.
So in this long-distance and rather ineffectual due.
[94
SIMON BF.COMES MOROSE
etvvecn Detroit and Fort Pitt the Indians were of ad- antage to both the British and Americans — to almost verybody but themselves. But those who joined the Jnited States jeopardized their race to the greatest ex- !nt. For with the Dclawarcs under White Eyes miable to the Pennsylvanians the commandant at Fort 'itt — where General Mcintosh had replaced General land — was enabled to build forts in the Ohio wilder- ess. One of these, Fort Mcintosh, was on the right ank of the Ohio River; the other, Fort Laurens, was 5venty miles through the forests towards the Tus- arawas.
It was through the erection of these two forts that imon Girty reappears again in the border annals. He ad left Kenton in the late fall of 1778. Within a lonth he had received orders from General Hamilton 0 reconnoiter the country between the Tuscarawas and )hio rivers. Hamilton had received vague reports of American activities in that vicinity and, anticipating an ttack upon Detroit, he wanted more direct information /ith regard to them. In January, with seventeen Shaw- nese braves, Girty left the Scioto and set out through he snowy wilderness.
Girty had known of the existence of Fort Laurens efore he left the Scioto. He did not know the fort by ame, but he had heard that one was there. That was
;95]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
\
all he did know. As to the officer in charge — it hap- pened to be Colonel John Gibson, the man who copied Logan's speech for Girty — , the size of the garrison, th( exact position of the fort and the strength of its wall those were pieces of information which he had to di cover so that he could report them to General Hamilton Hence the capture of a few of Gibson's men would b^ valuable.
The way in which Girty proposed to take these ca tives, if Brother David Zeisberger, one of the Moravia missionaries with Brother John Heckenwelder, is to b. believed, was as follows: He had discovered that tK Delawares allied with the Americans surmounted thei^ headdress with deers' tails so as to be distinguished froril passive or enemy Indians in that neighborhood and h i: planned that by the use of these tails on his own brave, r he would be permitted to pass into the fort without bein suspected and so would find means of taking one or t of Gibson's men with him. He also, if there is an, truth in Zeisberger, had designs on Gibson's scalp, a on the journey was loudly threatening.
That Girty, when he reached the Delawares, boastcS he would take the scalp of the officer in charge of Fo: Laurens is probable enough. But that he mentioned thi officer by name (which one of his biographers statJ and which is to be inferred from a letter written by Zei*
[9<|
: V
SIMON BECOMES MOROSE
srger) is hard to believe. For how was he to know that 'ribson was in command unless some Delaware had told im; and how was this Delaware, to whom as to all idians the titles of white men were a mystery, to say Colonel John Gibson'' to Girty?
But at any rate Girty or some of his associates talked K) much and in a wrong quarter for their object to !main a secret. Killbuck, a Delaware chief in Coshoc- )n, heard Girty's plans announced and straightway sent runner to Zeisberger at the Moravian Missions up the vcr. And Zeisberger hastily forwarded the informa- on to Colonel Gibson that Simon Girty and twenty-five 'arriors were on their way to Fort Laurens and planned :> bring back the commandant's scalp.
That message from Zeisberger put Girty's recon- 'oitering party on a personal basis, made it appear as a hallenge to a duel between Girty and Colonel Gibson, •or Gibson, naturally resentful and infuriated when he ^ceived word of the threat, entered into the man-to- lan phase of it very quickly. And in letters — which ever reached their intended destination — he declared hat he not only hoped to prevent his former acquaint- nce from taking his scalp, but that he thought he should c "able to trepan him" instead.
' Girty made no attempt to enter Fort Laurens, neither 'y force nor by the fictitious strategy of the deers' tails.
•97]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
X
On the contrary, he took his braves along the trail ths, led from Laurens to Mcintosh and halted them for a •» ambush. That, it is likely, had been his plan from th beginning. However, there the warriors, subsisting o a few handfuls of parched corn a day, waited in tk January weather. And after a while Captain Johi Clark of the Eighth Pennsylvania Regiment, who ha taken a load of supplies from Fort Pitt to Gibson an whose tracks Girty had doubtless discovered, passed t on his return with fourteen privates and a sergeant.
As it was now well known that a band of warrio under Girty was somewhere within the seventy mil between Forts Laurens and Mcintosh, only carelessne on the part of Gibson would have permitted a force ; small to make the return journey. A few more squa( would not have appreciably weakened his garrison; the might have saved the escort from losing in the encounti that followed.
Nevertheless Clark was allowed to leave the fort n ; only with an insufficient number, but also to carry lette; with which Gibson had entrusted one of Clark's men-- letters which if intercepted by Girty would be of vali: to General Hamilton at Detroit.
Clark and his men left Fort Laurens. They had g^ about three miles outside of the gates when the wod and underbrush through which they were passing grelA
I
SIMON BECOMES MOROSE
id with warriors' yells and the burst and rattle of isketry. Some of the escort fell. Those that re- lined standing, if they returned the Indians' fire at all, re assailed by Girty and his braves before they had a mce to reload their clumsy muskets. With two men Clark's party killed and four of them wounded it was bot race for the rest. Clark, his sergeant, and seven vates beat their way back into the fort and the gates re closed behind them, but one who had kept his legs s overtaken by the Indians and bound. Among those of Clark's convoy who did not safely urn to the fort was the man whom Colonel Gibson i entrusted with the letters. Girty discovered the :ket. One of them contained the important news that neral Mcintosh was planning to move with an army )m Fort Pitt to attack Detroit some time in the fol- ving March. But what interested him most were \ words in Colonel Gibson's hand, the words staring at him, ^4 hope, if Mr. Girty comes to pay me a visit, hall be able to trepan him." So then, it was Gibson 10 commanded at Fort Laurens! And Gibson had in informed that he, Girty, was to be in that vicinity. )t only that, but had hoped — what did the letter say.f* "hope I shall be able to trepan him." God damn. :st there had come the shock of his meeting with Ken- i. And now old Gibson was wanting to take his scalp!
9]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
He hadn't bargained for this kind of thing when he ra , away from Fort Pitt.
With his prisoner and the information he had gath ered, Girty set out for Detroit, but stopped at Coshocto among some Delawares and at Upper Sandusky amor the Wyandots. Both towns were on the main trai In spite of the success of his enterprise he was dispirite( For Gibson's words kept clanking ominously against h ears. He was surprised, bewildered, and felt as thoug everywhere along the border frontiersmen were vinditi^ tively waiting to settle a special account with a ma called Girty.
As Girty admitted to Kenton the one time he sa him in the wilderness he had been too hasty in abscom ing from Fort Pitt. He might have added that had not been for chance placing him in the way of Alexand McKee he would never have attempted to make tl journey from the Ohio through the Indian country General Hamilton at Detroit. But even after he d leave he must not have felt that he was committing tl ■ unforgivable crime of treason. He could only have tol 1 himself that he was departing from a place where m^ was held to be of small account (else why, with all K- experience, he might have argued, was he given a me second-lieutenancy?) and going where he might expe: more appreciation; that a man's first business is to he
[10(
I
SIMON BECOMES MOROSE
Lmself j that he was injuring nobody in particular, erhaps he thought even less than that as he left Fort itt; at any rate only a maniac — which he was far from :ing — would have deserted with the intention of re- timing to kill and plunder.
Gibson's threat against him was still in Girty's mind hen he came back to the Delaware country four months ter. He had taken his prisoner to Detroit, where Cap- in Lernoult — temporarily in command while Hamil- in, who had led a force against Vincennes and had been ;aten by George Rogers Clark, was journeying up the hio in chains — welcomed him. Girty had been able I inform Lernoult that Forts Mcintosh and Laurens id been erected in the Ohio wilderness, that the Gen- al at Fort Pitt intended moving against Detroit in larch and that a host of Indians, particularly Wyan- Dts and those stray Senecas known as Mingoes, were ady to take to the warpath against these invading mericans and only awaited supplies and somebody to ad them.
During those four months Lernoult had sent out a irty of Indians under Captain Henry Bird. They laid ng siege to Fort Laurens, but at last had to give up. nd General Mcintosh had not only dropped his plans )r a march to Detroit; he had relinquished his post as )mmandant at Fort Pitt as Nvell. As for Girty he had 101]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
made a daring trip into the neighborhood of Fort Pit in order to secure some papers which a disaffected Amer- -^ ican there had written and had hidden in a hollow tret for the perusal of the British. ^^
It was July of 1779 when Girty reappeared ? '^• Coshocton. He had the papers which he had been ser - for, but he was morose, looking at Hecke welder an^P Zeisberger with an angry, suspicious eye, exploding t'^ Richard Connor, an American trader who had stoppe< «^'^ there, that, by God, he didn't expect the Americans t show any favors to him, neither would he show any t them!
Lean, sallow Heckewelder was at hand to hear thes ^-'^ words repeated and in the next of his chain of innumei able letters to the authorities at Fort Pitt he reporte them. From the beginning of the War of the Revolu tion until the end Heckewelder, as long as he was abl« continued to send messengers to Pittsburgh with ever scrap of news that related to British and Indian mov(*i^'wil ments in that part of the country. Which was, c course, his own affair. But while his active sympatbr, thus expressed gave the various commandants at FO'^^i^^s Pitt opportunities to ward off British and Indian attack- he might have realized that in taking up his self-a|JiitT pointed position as informer he was endangering t Delawares' lives even while trying to save their souls.
[102
m
ic
SIMON BECOMES MOROSE
Whenever those two met — the long, thin, dour eckewelder and the solid, round-eyed Girty, both of lom were about the same age — Heckeweldcr always id a few prayers. For he suspected, in his ingenious ly, that Simon was about to kill him. That was non- ise, as any less fearful man would have known. But ere is this much to be said about it: within a little more an a year after Girty reported at Detroit he became ardent worker towards British ends. And as such he IS aware that not only Heckewelder but all of the Moravian missionaries about the Muskingum were an struction and it would be better if they were removed. It General Hamilton, always considerate of the mis- maries if towards nobody else, refused to have them sturbed. So Girty could do nothing. He once glared
Brother David Zeisberger and remarked that he Lshed the whole damned mission was in his power; tiich quickly aroused Heckewelder to write Colonel •odhead, then commandant at Fort Pitt, that Girty A tried to kill his fellow cure of aboriginal souls.
It was this frequent mention of Girty's name in let- rs written by Heckewelder that was largely responsible r the borderers' belief that every evening at sundown irty poised with a horde of screaming warriors on the St bank of the Ohio preparatory to a murderous foray I some lonely cabin. In that summer of 1779 when 103]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Simon went after the packet of papers already referred to he heard the further disturbing news that Pennsyl- vania had offered a reward of eight hundred dollars for his head.
That Girty had no liking for Heckewelder or for those Delawares about Coshocton, or that he grev more desperate in his marauds is scarcely to be wondered at. For many of the Delawares, inspired by the vision of all the barrels of rum they could buy for eight hun- dred dollars, leered at him in a peculiarly lean and thirsty fashion; naturally, increasing hate on one side increases it on the other.
A letter, either written by him or for him at that time, shows not only his feeling for the Coshoctor Delawares, but also gives evidence of his deepening con- nections with the Indians. It was sent to Captain Ler- noult, still in command at Detroit, on September 6, 1779 by messenger from Sandusky, where there was a Britisl: trading post. '
Girty wrote: "Sir, I take the liberty to acquaint yoi that I intend leaving this place tomorrow. There is {, party of twenty-five Wyandots that have been turnec to go as volunteers with me on the road I proposed wher leaving Detroit: likewise a party of ten Mingoes, whict party Sandithtas commands. The Wyandots are com manded by Seyatamah.
[ 1 041
SIMON BECOMES MOROSE
"Sir, I refer you to Captain [Alexander] McKee )r the knowledge of the above-mentioned chiefs, if you •e not already acquainted with their names. Tomor- )W, my friend Nouthsaka sets off with ten warriors for le Falls of the Ohio. Our great friend, Captain Pipe Hopocan] is gone to Fort Pitt to a council j likewise laulmatas and Duentate. Six days ago a party of ^yandots brought here three prisoners from Kentucky, hey say there are three hundred men under pay [mili- amen] in those parts. They also say there are nine )rts in and about Kentucky.
"There are certain accounts of the rebels leaving uscarawas [Fort Laurens]. I intend to go there di- :ctly and shall send you the token you gave me at De- oit if they are not there. If the Delawares are in Dssession of the fort, I intend to turn them out and irn the fort (if my party are able), as you gave me le liberty to act as I thought best, and they and I are )t on the best of terms.
"Yesterday Sandithtas arrived here with the account : ten parties of Shawanese that are gone to war. This is 1 1 have to acquaint you with at present."
Girty was, and had been considered before this, a usted and valuable man in the British Indian Depart- lent. The spring before. Captain Bird had affirmed » Lernoult, "Girty, I assure you, sir, is one of the most 105]
THE WHITE SA V AGE
useful, disinterested friends in his department that the government has." And now, a few weeks after Gii(^» dispatched the above letter, he was to show himself t be as doughty at fighting men armed and prep.. had been in marauding scantily protected settlem.cnts and- making ambushes for unwary escorts. ^
In the early part of October, 1779, Girty was closr to the Ohio River with his brother George, Matt Elliott and nearly a hundred Indians under his c .u- mand. /^ They were mostly Shawanese, \\'yandots anifc '^^ Dclawarcs and all of them were ready to fight, else thcff^ would not have gathered in so large a number on t southern edge of their country. \Miether or not th knew it at the time, a force of about seventy American!.-^ K. 2«i under Da\*id Rogers was moving up the Ohio River* They were coming in keelboats in which they guarded i. great supply of military stores for Virginia troops.
Rogers had niade a long journey — from New Or-^ leans, where he had bought clothing, rum, fusees anc other goods for the Virginians. Most of his trip w passed without mishap, but when he got between mouths of the Little Miami, on the north side, and Licking on the south, he discovered Indians ahead, was on October 4. Quickly he landed on the Kentucky bank and began drawing the keelboats to the shore. H men clambered out and deployed through the woods ii
[106]
.29
jfK
S/MOS BECOMES MOROSE
ic Indian baxKl of brares wfai It was in the mom: Girtj and Ellioc when the news
pon and uupi'ac
iY^ yet ictuiii ^ t to
. rty of ng Knircs was approachtng, He too w» oo the ntuckj side and Rogers' men were moring dircctlj ards him.
Doabdesi imdefcidmadng the wze of the white force
Rogers uiMfmukmtkif Mnducadmicd the strength
the saragcs), Gtrtj caHed oat the Indian cry for the
ick and the braTcs went sprrding among the trees
rongh which the enemy were
cy met^ fooght hard and hand to hand, with Girty
II to the forefront of the braTes.
The mrrting moiC hare been short hot terrific
gers* men not leas than forty-two were kOIed, the
***^**g *^*^*** G . rty's warriors ssnered the
of two men mortally fallen and three with ginahot
that were not serioos. The wipplies that had IgDca inlradrd for the \lr* ^Ja troops were taken by the rictofs, who }ad discor* the weU-stored kccMwrs farther down the rrr^ likely enough there was that night on the Oxuo Te a dimki^g party in
d
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useful, disinterested* friends in his department that the government has." And now, a few weeks after Girty dispatched the above letter, he was to show himself to be as doughty at fighting men armed and prepared as he had been in marauding scantily protected settlements and making ambushes for unwary escorts.
In the early part of October, 1779, Girty was close to the Ohio River with his brother George, Matthew Elliott and nearly a hundred Indians under his com-i; mand. ^ They were mostly Shawanese, Wyandots and Delawares and all of them were ready to fight, else they would not have gathered in so large a number on the southern edge of their country. Whether or not they knew it at the time, a force of about seventy Americans under David Rogers was moving up the Ohio River. They were coming in keelboats in which they guarded a great supply of military stores for Virginia troops.
Rogers had made a long journey — from New Or-' leans, where he had bought clothing, rum, fusees and other goods for the Virginians. Most of his trip wa{\ passed without mishap, but when he got between th(j mouths of the Little Miami, on the north side, and the Licking on the south, he discovered Indians ahead. I was on October 4. Quickly he landed on the Kentuck; bank and began drawing the keelboats to the shore. Hi men clambered out and deployed through the woods iiiiii
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SIMON BECOMES MOROSE
lie Indian fashion, hoping to come upon and surprise jic band of braves which they had sighted.
It was in the morning and half of the hundred braves ider Girty and Elliott had not yet returned from hunt- g when the news was brought to Simon that a party of ong Knives was approaching. He too was on the entucky side and Rogers' men were moving directly awards him.
Doubtless underestimating the size of the white force as Rogers unquestionably underestimated the strength f the savages), Girty called out the Indian cry for the ttack and the braves went speeding among the trees arough which the enemy were coming upon them, ^hey met, fought hard and hand to hand, with Girty rell to the forefront of the braves.
The meeting must have been short but terrific. Of logers' men not less than forty-two were killed, the ommander among them. Girty's warriors suffered the Dss of two men mortally fallen and three with gunshot rounds that were not serious.
The supplies that had been intended for the Vir- ginia troops were taken by the victors, who had discov- :red the well-stored keelboats farther down the river. \nd likely enough there was that night on the Ohio here a drinking party in which Simon again distin- guished himself.
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Now Girty was giving the Pennsylvanians and Vir- ginians some good cause to offer a reward for his head, to single him out from all of the disaffected borderers (there were perhaps more than a hundred) who left the United States either to travel the wilderness directly to Detroit or to remain with one of the Indian tribes. In the spring of the following year, which was 1780, he was again in the Kentucky country, not in command this time, but as an interpreter and guide. Captain Henry Bird was in charge of the expedition and had set out from Detroit with more than a hundred and fifty Cana- dians, a hundred Indians from the regions of the lakes, and two small howitzers. He made the journey down- ward by raft and pirogue, taking the Maumee from Lake Erie to the St. Joseph portage, then down the Great Miami and along the Ohio. On the Miami Alexander McKee, risen by that time to the post of deputy Indian Agent, had joined him with reinforcements that more than doubled his command. The comparatively large and well-equipped body then went up the Ohio to the Licking and up the Licking between Kentucky banks.
Aiming at Ruddle's station, Alexander McKee was sent ahead with two hundred warriors while Captain Bird and the rest followed more slowly. McKee came within sight of the log-built fort in the evening and by nightfall had placed his Indians so as to encircle it.
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P SIMON BECOMES MOROSE
\ hen dawn came the braves immediately set up a brisk "ing at chinks between the logs and at the loopholes in e blockhouses. Throughout the morning their isketry was answered from within, but at noon Captain ;rd arrived with his main force and unloaded one of eir cannon from the pirogue which they had poled up e river. The weapon was put into position, trained on e stockade. It roared out shot which ripped through e logs, splintering a wide hole. Captain Bird turned I Girty and sent him with a white flag across the clear- g to demand immediate surrender.
Girty stepped forth with the flag above his head, he firing ceased. He walked on, crossing the stump- uttered ground to the pickets, whom he coolly in- )rmed (one of his biographers states that he was cool. It it is likely he blustered a little to hide his nervous- iss) that if they didn't give up at once they would all J killed.
This ultimatum he also spoke to Isaac Ruddle, but uddle wanted terms before he would agree to let down le bars that held the gates fast. He asked that his men id their families be put under the protection of the ritish and saved from the torture of the Indians.
Girty retired, taking this information to Captain ird to consider. And Bird, though he should have lown better, for he had experience in trying to curb 109]
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battle-warmed savages, consented that the captives should be guarded by his own white men. Further re- sistance being useless, the gates were then swung open.
But as soon as the bars were withdrawn the Indians rushed into the stockade with knife and tomahawk. In Bird's own sad words they "tore the poor children from their mothers' breasts, killed and wounded many." They spared nothing and acted not only with the greatest cruelty but were so maddened that they destroyed a herd of cattle which would otherwise have kept them from half starving on their way back north.
Bird managed, however, to retrieve a number of the prisoners. These he carefully guarded. But his expe- dition was near its end. After one more assault the men had to turn back for lack of provisions, and the capture of Louisville, which he had had in mind, was aban- doned.
Girty followed the army back across the Ohio, but then struck off towards his cabin at Solomon's town to be among the Mingoes again. There he began to hear of events that were taking place among the Delawares and Moravian Mission Indians in the neighborhood of Co- shocton. He might have learned that Brother John Gottlieb Ernestus Heckewelder had been married to Miss Sarah Ohneburg, a teacher in his mission ... he did hear the more interesting news that the United States
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SIMON BECOMES MOROSE
pvernment, pinched for money and supplies, was not [irrying out its part of the treaty which it had made ith the Coshocton Delawares and that in consequence lese Indians were beginning to mutter that they had ;en deceived. The war chief Wingenund and other )elaware leaders between the Muskingum and the Tus- irawas were thinking of breaking their alliance with merica and forming another with England.
Ill]
lose Damned Missionaries; and the Butchering and Burning of Their Hapless Brood
CHAPTER VI
hose Damned Missionaries ; and the Butchering and I' Burning of their Hapless Brood
I r HEN Chatham, protesting to the British parlia- lent against his country's authorized use of the Indians the War of the Revolution, spoke of it as "letting ose the horrible hell-hounds of savage war" he gave e British Indian Department credit for more power an it possessed. For no man in Canada had ever held e Indians in check, so they couldn't very well be let ose. The Ohio Indians, with that patriotic ardor hich people praise when it acts towards their good and •ndemn when it affects them unfavorably, simply )ught to hold back the frontier and to repay in kind le murder of members of their families. Thus, it must ; repeated, the aims of the aborigines and those of the iople of the United States were directly opposed and an idian war could scarcely have been avoided. But as >r England, whose colonization schemes had been ilted by the revolution, she had no such difficulties. o settlers came into the Ohio country under the British 115]
«
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flag, only traders \^ho wanted furs and were willing t be agreeable to the Indians in order to get them.
It seems more natural than fiendish, then, that th Delawares about Coshocton should have become hostil to the borderers again when the Federal governmen failed to preserve its share of the treaty. During th fall of 1780 Wingenund and other chieftains prepare to turn against the frontier. In the following winte they sent a message to Major De Peyster, then com mandant at Detroit, asking that triendly relations be re established between themselves and Britain.
The Christianized Delawares, however, remainei amiable towards the United States. There were severs hundred of them in the three mission villages on th Tuscarawas and it was with pride and self-congratula tion that their spiritual father, Heckewelder, looked o their sheeplike devotion. But for the Delawares wh had not been baptized he had no such fondness. An^ it made him bitter to hear that they were denouncin the United States government. His imagination vaulte above the facts of the case and he wrote Colonel Brod head that these Delawares were planning a war part against the border. He hoped, he added, that if Win genund and his braves did attack the Americans th Delawares would be properly beaten.
As far as the Delawares' change of feeling is con
[116
p
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
crned Heckewelder reported truly, but whether they bd actually struck the war pole may be doubted. For een after the missionary had informed Brodhead that ''he greater part of them (the warriors) will be upon yu in a few days," they had gone no further than to frward a speech to Detroit, by way of Half King, a \yandot chief at Sandusky, asking that Major De lyster send traders — not soldiers — among them and t ling him that as they had been deceived by the Ameri- cas they would listen to them no longer. No act of agression was mentioned in the message; which would crtainly have been done had they had any definite plans aainst the border at that time. For in facing about f Dm Americans to British and seeking the latter's sup- prt they would have endeavored to prove the earnest- rss of their decision by whatever means they had at tnd.
Nevertheless Brodhead, on receiving Heckewelder's rport, began to make ready for an expedition against the Idians about Coshocton, exclusive, of course, of those Islawares in the Moravian missions whom Hecke- v.^lder, Zeisberger, Post and Bull had converted to (iristianity.
Meanwhile Girty had gone to Detroit where, on te twelfth of April, two days after Brodhead had cossed the Ohio with three hundred men, he sponsored
(17]
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the following message which Major De Peyster wrote in his name to the Delawares:
"Indians of Coshocton! I have received your speech sent me by the Half King of Sandusky. It contains three strings, one of them white and the other two check- ered. You say that you want traders to be sent to youi villages and that you are resolved no more to listen tc the Virginians [all Americans, that is], who have de- ceived you. It would give me pleasure again to receive you as brothers, both for your own good and for th( friendship I bear to the Indians in general.'' Aftei Girty's name had been signed to this message he went t( Half King's village on the Sandusky, where he waited expecting that a closer alliance with the Delaware would follow.
Girty had barely arrived at Upper Sandusky whei Colonel Brodhead came within sight of Coshocton, o: rather Salem, the lower Moravian settlement on the Tus carawas. There, on April 20, which was a dark, chill; day, the colonel halted his troops and waited for one o: his runners whom he had sent after Brother Johi Heckewelder. The runner returned with the missionar (who left his wife and daughter Mary, born just fou days earlier) and a supply of dried corn and meat fron the Indians' store. Brodhead's outfit ate the provision and then, after mutual expressions of good will, the tw"
[lis;
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
n parted. Brodhead led his army towards Coshocton, ich he had so closely approached without raising an rm.
But on his way along the east bank of the river Brod- d's scouts discovered Indians. The scouts fired, ugh not well enough to prevent two of the Delawares m escaping. Now it was essential that Brodhead ch Coshocton almost on the heels of the fleeing braves, ; none would be there for him to kill when he arrived. 5 troops broke into a run, were undeterred by a heavy [ unexpected rain. They arrived at Coshocton and k the town without a shot having been fired. There men, children and braves were herded together. Fif- 1 of the latter were killed with spears and tomahawks, n scalped.
As night came on Brodhead pitched his camp and a ird of regulars was placed over the prisoners. The liers settled down to sleep and sentries were posted vatch the west bank of the river for any hostile dem- tration from Delawares in the village on that side ich Brodhead had been unable to reach on account the high water that lay flush with the stream's banks, e night passed quietly.
At dawn a Delaware chieftain stood on the west ire and halloed across the water, saying that he had rd for the white captain. 19]
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Brodhead himself shouted back for him to speak.
Thus encouraged, the Indian answered, "Peace!''
"If you want peace send over some of your chiefs!' answered Brodhead.
But the Indian was suspicious of this. "Maybe yo^ kill!'' he said uneasily.
He was answered, "They shall not be killed.'V j
With this assurance one of the chieftains, an agree able looking man, appeared and crossed over in a canoe Brodhead met him as he alighted on the bank and the; began to talk.
While the two men stood there one of the Wetzel (either Jacob or Lewis was capable of what followed stepped noiselessly up behind the chieftain. Wetzel ha a tomahawk lying against his breast beneath his huntin jacket. Suddenly the tomahawk flashed outward an up, then down. The blade went into the back of th chieftain's skull and he fell dead.
That ended the peace parley. W
At noon Brodhead began his march back towarc Fort Pitt. His prisoners were under the charge c some militiamen. Half a mile from Coshocton tht found their charges had become a nuisance. They begf' murdering them.
A further account of Brodhead's capture of Cosho ton is given by Girty from a party of twenty Wyandc
[12(
I
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
rhom he had sent there but who had not arrived until fter the American colonel's departure. Immediately p had a letter written to De Peyster in which he gave le news that they had brought:
"... Colonel Brodheadj with five hundred men Dodderidge gives the number at eight hundred and iutterfield at three hundred], burned the town and illed fifteen men. He left six houses on this [the west] de of the creek that he did not see. He likewise took le women and children prisoners, but afterwards let lem go. He let four men go that were prisoners who lowed him a paper that they had from Congress. Irodhead told them that it was none of his fault that deir people were killed, but the fault of the militia bat would not be under his command [they would not bey, that is]. He likewise told them that in seven lonths he would beat all of the Indians out of the coun- ry. In six days from this date he is to set off for this •lace with one thousand men; and Colonel [George logers] Clark is gone down the Ohio with one thou- and men.
"There were one hundred and twenty Wyandots eady to start off with me until this news came. Your hildren will be very glad if you will send these people ou promised to send to their assistancey likewise send he Indians that are about you to assist us. The Chris- 121]
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tian Indians have applied to us to move them off before the rebels come to their town, etc. . . ."
As Girty's letter suggests — shows plainly, it might be said, — the tempo of action was increasing in the Ohio country. Colonel Brodhead's advance upon his former allies at Coshocton had, quite naturally, turned nearly all of the Delawares against him. And his threat that within a week he was to come again and, with a thousand men, complete the destruction he had begun, whipped up their fear. As for Girty he stood fast in the face of this, waiting at Upper Sandusky for volunteers from Detroit. Yet he was well aware that De Peyster would be unable to send him enough reinforcements to compete against the thousand militiamen of which Brodhead had boasted. He also knew what would be his fate if he were taken by the Americans: some time earlier Penn- sylvania had adjudged himself, Alexander McKee and Matthew Elliott as traitors. There was also the eight hundred dollars' reward on his head. Nevertheless he remained where he was, which was no more than twenty miles from Coshocton.
But those thousand men that Colonel Brodhead was to muster against Sandusky never materialized. And before the seven months had passed — in seven months he had said that all of the Indians would have been driven out of the Ohio country — he had been relieved
[122]
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
1 the commandant at Fort Pitt by Colonel John Gib- in, who, by November, was replaced by Brigadier Gen- al William Irvine. As for the report that Colonel eorge Rogers Clark was marching an army against the hio country, it was true: he aimed in a roundabout way Detroit.
Within two weeks after Girty had asked Major De eyster for troops to repel the anticipated attack of Col- lel Brodhead, there were brought before the Wyandot >uncil at Sandusky ten white male prisoners from the irginia and Kentucky borders. They had been taken '' marauding Indians who had watched the tide of ring immigration flow down between the Ohio's ickly wooded banks. One of the ten was an eighteen- ;ar-old youth named Henry Baker, who had been cap- red at Wheeling Creek. At the Wyandot council he id nine others were forced to run the gauntlet. Then ey were led into the council house and condemned to ; burned at the stake, one each day until they all were ;ad. Young Baker, who was to be the last, saw nine teful dawns and nine miserable nights j and finally, on e tenth day, braves came into the tent where he was ing, and unfastened the thongs that bound him. With brave on either side of him they led him forth to the tarred stake.
Young Baker had made no resistance as the braves 123]
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took him towards thfe stake, but when he was within a few steps of the place of doom he balked with all his energy. For he saw a white rider on a swift horse coming up the trail from the wilderness. He held back, tried to jerk his arms from the grip of his captors, pleaded and argued with them, trying to gain a few moments. But the braves drew him on towards the faggots which had been piled in a circle about the stake. Baker screamed and gave a final wrench, his head turned imploringly towards the white horseman.
The rider was Girty, who stopped. He looked down at young Baker and asked him a question. Held by the braves, Baker faced away from the dreaded stake and came nearer Girty, telling him his name and where he had been captured.
By this time several Indians had gathered and there were chiefs among them. To these men Girty spoke^ asking that the youth be spared, though doubtless givinj as his reason the fact that Baker was worth more to thei alive than dead.
There was a short conference among the chiefs Meanwhile Girty talked to the boy, asking him questioi concerning the neighborhood of Wheeling. Thesi Baker answered and had the vain hope that if he weri freed the white man meant to send him back to hii people. Then the chiefs returned and gave word tha^
[124;
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
ly had agreed to Girty's request and that the white tith was to be saved; and soon afterward Baker was ;t to Detroit, where Major De Peyster released him.
Granted that Girty did nothing extraordinary in in- [ceding for Henry Baker. Nevertheless it was an act [it should be remembered to his sorely needed credit. |.r a year later he was to stand in a shadow so dark and |;t by so lurid a light that his former countrymen, in l^r referring to the scene, have vilified him as being iiong the lowest specimens humanity has ever offered, should also be kept in mind that the Wyandots were ; friends, which greatly increased the possibility of bir granting him such a favor; that when they had il Baker to the stake their blood was not heated by irsonal revenge, and that the youth, if spared, might ve given them valuable information. None of these Lxumstances were present at the scene already referred
which Girty took part in a year after Baker had been
ileased.
While Simon was spending that spring at Upper .ndusky his brother George and Captain Andrew Brant rheyandenegea, the Mohawk chieftain) were lying Idden along the banks of the Ohio, where they were laiting for Colonel Lochry and his detachment, which lere bound for Louisville to join the force of George logers Clark. George Girty had had a curious life
|125]
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since leaving Fort Pitt. Personal affairs had taken him to St. Louis and there he had been shanghaied and forced into the service of Captain Willing's company of fresh- water Marines. Even in those days, it appears, Marines had a v^ay of being hard-boiled. But though George had been given a lieutenancy it had not contented him. He deserted and after a long journey reached Detroit, where he entered the British Indian service. A competent man with gun and tomahawk, he was assisted by another who was equally capable — Theyandenegea, or Captain Brant.
One day while George Girty, Brant and the braves lay in ambush along the Ohio they saw Colonel Archi- bald Lochry and his hundred Pennsylvanians coming down the river. They sprang out at once and made a complete surprise. Most of Lochry's men were killed outright, but a few, among whom was seventeen-year- old Christian Fast, were taken prisoners. So complete was their victory that they were exceptionally well pleased with themselves. Carrying their booty of scalps rum and provisions, they swaggered down the Ohio, ther up the Great Miami where they were to meet a fora of British and Indians who were coming from Detroi to attack Clark's main army at Louisville.
The command of this expedition from Detroit wai divided between Captain Thompson, who had the Cana- dian rangers, and Alexander McKee, who was to leac
[126;
Theyandenegea (^Captain Brant), jrom a mezzotint after Romney's portrait
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
le Indians. McKee had picked up Simon Girty as he issed southward and Simon accompanied them to the rreat Miami, where the Indians under his brother reorge and Captain Brant were added to the company, rom the Great Miami the whole body proceeded ►wards Louisville, where Clark was then encamped.
It was during the dull, irritating days of waiting on le north bank of the Ohio that Brant, having drunk )0 much that night, began glorifying himself as a lighty man of war and telling of his deeds against the sad Lochry and his soldiers. Whereupon Simon, like- ise drunk, frankly sneered. A little later he was call- )g Theyandenegea a liar.
But this was too much for the Indian's pride. In fury he dropped his hand to his sword hilt and whirled le blade at Simon's skull, then looked dazedly at the ream of blood which flowed down Girty's round face nd matted his coarse black hair.
It was the one blow struck. It stretched Simon out nd he had to be carried by his heels and shoulders to is tent. In the weeks before he was able to rise of his wn accord Captain Thompson and McKee discovered lat Clark had given up his movement against Detroit, laking it no longer necessary for them to interpose the ndians and the rangers between him and his goal.
In the meantime a scene had been enacted at the
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Moravian missions which doubtless pleased Simon enor- mously when he heard of it, but which, as a step leading to the greater spectacle that was to make his memory abhorred by the generation that came after him, he might not have liked so well. It began in this way.
Matthew Elliott, who had been promoted to a cap- taincy in the British Indian service, marched from San- dusky in late August with a party of savages and French- Canadians to the Tuscarawas and the Moravian missions. After a skirmish eastward they entered the Moravian villages and demanded that Heckewelder, the other mis- sionaries, and the Christianized Delawares as well, leave their cabins at once and accompany them back to the Sandusky. In this Elliott had two motives. The first was to get Heckewelder and Zeisberger farther away from the border so that they would be less able to keep up their correspondence with the American authorities at Fort Pitt. The other was to remove the converted Delawares to a place of greater safety. The Delawares themselves had requested it, for another expedition was being aimed at them by the militiamen of Pennsylvania.
Protesting angrily but without success, Heckewelder, Zeisberger and their families both real and spiritual were taken westward from the Tuscarawas and settled on a stretch of land not far from Upper Sandusky.
In ordering the removal of these Christianized Dela-
[128]
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
';es Matthew Elliott had stood for no delay. Conse- untly the fields of corn which they had planted about jem, Gnadenhutten and Schonbrunn earlier in the year I gained standing with the ears still in the husks. After ; iott had taken them to their new and less pleasant me they often looked back longingly towards those cmer villages of theirs which really seemed to be Tents Grace and Beautiful Spring. They remembered the husked corn and the warmth of their cabins. , For there was nothing beautiful or comfortable out Upper Sandusky. The land was sandy, the trees |aggly, and the marshes dreary. In their new abode by lived in tiny huts in which only the scantiest fires aid be madej there were no floors and scarcely any ^ber to keep them warm throughout the approaching inter. The pasture, too, was lean and their few heads \ cattle became like skeletons and gave little milk. ! But even so they were in no worse shape than the fyandots among whom they lived, not even the chief- ins and Simon Girty. Girty had recovered from his bund and had returned to Upper Sandusky in the fall. '5 winter shut down the daily rations of the Christian- ed Delawares near him were reduced to a pint of corn l.r each person. "Yet," wrote Heckewelder later, "in :.is wretched situation, the hungry Wyandots would i'ten come to our huts to see if there was any victuals
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cooking, or ready cooked. At one time, just as my wife had set down to what was intended for our dinner, the^ Half King, Simon Girty and another, a Wyandot, en- tered my cabin, ajid seeing the victuals ready, without i ceremony, began eating."
Or were affairs so bad that winter of 1781-82 as Heckewelder afterward made out? For he also says that Alexander McCormick, a British trader at Upper Sandusky, now and again sent him a leg of venison which McCormick had bought from one of the hunters; and if venison was to be had for the shooting it is un- likely that Girty was so ravenous when he and the Half King began eating Heckewelder's meal, but rather that it was his uncouth way of plaguing the missionary.
But Heckewelder's obtuseness was proof against his understanding of even such simple human frailties. It was incomprehensible to him that Girty and the Half King should be angered because he acted as an informer to the authorities at Pittsburgh j that they should be eager to get him and the rest of the missionaries out of the country.
Earlier, before Elliott broke up the missions. Hall King had appealed to the Christianized Delawares them- selves. He had said to them, "Cousins, you Indians ir Gnadenhutten, Schonbrunn and Salem who believe ir the Long Knives' God! Half King is much concernec
[130]
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
your account, because you live in a dangerous locality. ^o powerful, merciless and angry tribes, the English 1 the Long Knives, stand ready, opening their jaws ; inst each other like monstrous beasts. You are sitting vn between both of them and are in danger of being ^oured and ground to powder, if not in the jaws of :, then in the jaws of the other, or even both. ^'Consider your own people! Consider your wives I children and preserve their lives from these crouch- monsters. For here they all must perish. Half ig therefore takes you by the hand, lifts you up and ces you in the care of the white captain (Major De fster) where you will be safe. Do not stand looking /our plantations, but arise and follow Half King; take D your white priests with you and worship the Great rit as you have been accustomed to, only in the- place >vhich Half King shall lead you. This is Half King's •ssage and he has come solely for the purpose of de- ^ring it."
■ It was excellent advice. But the converted Dela- res had sat lymphatic, trusting to Heckewelder and isberger who were so wise about the Great Spirit that atrolled all things. They had moved only when there s a force behind them. And now they huddled in :ir tiny, smoke-filled cabins through the long winter the desolate Wyandot country of Upper Sandusky. 31]
THE WHITE SAV/
Helpless tncniscJves, they looiLcu lor suppon tc :- Hcckc welder and the other misskMiarics, who equally helpless. Since their ranoYal it was as thoi^ the skies had darkened above them and as if that ncss followed wherever they went.
In the midst of the cold winter phut were biii^ made by which these dazedly moving people shooH V> even the little support which they had come i on. Girty and the Half King felt that the W. ___ country was not far enough away from Fort Pitt to pr vent Heckewelder and Zeisberger from continuing the correspondence with General Irvine. They wanti these missionaries entirely out of the Ohio coantry. * Girty had a letter written for the Half King t: Ma; De Peyster which stated that the Wyandot would remain uneasy and in fear of bctr: Zeisberger and Heckcwdder remained in '.:.-. hood. ^^ymt
It was while this letter was travdii^ by Tanner fitraaipi|i. Sandusky to Detroit that a great man J of the Chr ^lilifip.
ized Indians, having scarodj any prpfvisions left. wt'Ntf'^- pomitted to go hack tfaroo^ the ^--:tt^ wile- — ^^ gather the com that stood aboj: - ^f :c
sounding r.zrr^r? f::"'?rr! which tL; « i._ Tb
dcpzrtei ::: ~:;; ,--- — t ^^ ._: '_' irv -^ ^^
^WkA
nfl ii
:hbo^
• ir-
2nZ
<\ ^
THOSE DA.\fSED .\f f SS / O \ A R I ES
W'W^
irtr
r
nd
c:
By the I ^^rt of I ; all of thcxn had ar-
ed It their : hooKs. There they began to hnsk
^ Each daj tbej stacked their' arms and went
. .^hite boctocnlands of the Tuscarawas to jerk
^^;s from the fn»en stalks. Ther worked slowlj
! r nights were spcnc in their cabins. But by
I' \:a of March, though most of the com had been from Scbonbnan down through Gnaden- * ^alem on the bend of the river these Christian- were still laboring in : • night before, a force of F
looel David ^^
. of rinaik nhtir n and
nnmbeied an even hundred and had cocne as
of sereral borderers who had been killed that
by marauding Indians. Precisely where they in-
ed going would be hard to determine. For a body
small would nerer have dared attack the Sandusky
wns and the only other villages between these and Fort
tt were at Coshocton. P :t that they had Coshocton
their objectire is equally doubtful, for they must
vc known that the Indians had removed farther into
wiliemess. At any ntc they were there to fight.
In the morning Colonel NN'illiamson, from his camp
133]
men a arrived with- rd their campc
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Helpless themselves, they looked for support towards Heckewelder and the other missionaries, who were equally helpless. Since their removal it was as though the skies had darkened above them and as if that dark- ness followed wherever they went.
In the midst of the cold winter plans were bein^ made by which these dazedly moving people should lose even the little support which they had come to depend on. Girty and the Half King felt that the Wyandol country was not far enough away from Fort Pitt to pre- vent Heckewelder and Zeisberger from continuing theii correspondence with General Irvine. They wantec these missionaries entirely out of the Ohio country. Sc Girty had a letter written for the Half King to Majoi De Peyster which stated that the Wyandot warrior would remain uneasy and in fear of betrayal so long a: Zeisberger and Heckewelder remained in the neighbor- hood.
It was while this letter was traveling by runner f ron Sandusky to Detroit that a great many of the Christian' ized Indians, having scarcely any provisions left, wen permitted to go back through the snowy wilderness t( gather the corn that stood about the towns of peaceful sounding names from which they had been taken. The; departed in small groups, some as early as January 1' and some not until the ninth of February. They mad
[132;
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
a family party by taking their wives and children, lut none of their white mentors went along.
By the latter part of February all of them had ar- ved at their former homes. There they began to husk le corn. Each day they stacked their arms and went ito the white bottomlands of the Tuscarawas to jerk le ears from the frozen stalks. They worked slowly id many nights were spent in their cabins. But by le sixth of March, though most of the corn had been athered, from Schonbrunn down through Gnaden- utten to Salem on the bend of the river these Christian- :ed families were still laboring in the fields.
On the night before, a force of Fort Pitt militiamen Dmmanded by Colonel David Williamson arrived with- i a mile of Gnadenhutten and pitched their camp, 'hey numbered an even hundred and had come as ^engers of several borderers who had been killed that lonth by marauding Indians. Precisely where they in- jnded going would be hard to determine. For a body ) small would never have dared attack the Sandusky )wns and the only other villages between these and Fort itt were at Coshocton. But that they had Coshocton Dr their objective is equally doubtful, for they must ave known that the Indians had removed farther into le wilderness. At any rate they were there to fight.
In the morning Colonel Williamson, from his camp
133]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
a mile from Gnadenhutten, ordered two squads to go ahead and reconnoiter. These sixteen men moved for- ward quietly towards the village. When they had got near to it they made out the figures of Indians in the cornfields over on the farther side of the Tuscarawas. Supposing that only a few would be there working they got hold of a hollowed-out log which had been used for catching maple sap and which made an excellent canoe. Two at a time they crossed to the other side.
But after getting farther into the cornfield they dis- covered that the Indians outnumbered them considerably. So without any show of hostility they went up to them and told them that they had come to guide them to a more agreeable place, a place where the Christian Dela- wares would thenceforth be kept in provisions and pro- tected from all enemies — perhaps Fort Pitt. And as few Delawares, either Christian or Great Spiritist in their religious beliefs, would have objected to an ar- rangement which insured them food without working and security without fighting, it is not bewildering that the Indian men gave up their guns and tomahawks and followed their guides calmly. The women and children, shouldering the bundles of corn, prepared to follow.
In Gnadenhutten had been left that morning only one man and one squaw. These the main body under Colonel Williamson came upon when they entered the
[134]
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
(vn, which was a short time after the two advance (lads had crossed the river. The man and the squaw i:re promptly shot. Their bodies lay in the village lid while Colonel David Williamson sat down to await b return of the reconnoitering party who had crossed \d creek and gone into the cornfields. i They came a little later, herding the meek Christian l^lawares before them. Their arms were filled with ie guns and tomahawks of these people even as the ims of the Indians were filled with ears of corn, illiamson met them pleasantly and after a time they reed to be guided by the American officer's advice, hey would, he told them, be taken somewhere and red for. After this an Indian runner was sent down Salem to inform the other Delawares of the arrange- ent and to bring them up to Gnadenhutten.
When the runner had disappeared Colonel Willlam- n's hundred men became more active. They walked :hely among the Indian men and women and began parating them like cattle. They bound their hands curely. Then the men were driven into one cabin and le women and children into another. It was too late )r the Indians to cry out or to attempt an escape.
When the Christianized Delawares from Salem ar- ved they also were disarmed and thrust into the cabins, 'he number of prisoners so neatly taken stood at ninety- 135]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
six, half a dozen gf them being Wyandots who had accompanied the cornhusking party.
With the Indians from the two villages secured < inside the cabins behind barred doors Colonel William- i son stood outside on the frozen trail and asked the rank I and file that surrounded him, "Boys, which shall we do, kill them or take them back to Fort Pitt?"
Eighty-two of the hundred frontiersmen were of the opinion that the best thing to do was to kill them. Doubtless some of them offered the remark that the only ^ good Indian was a dead Indian. . . . The sentence thus passed on them was soon made known to the victims.
It has been written often that among these Dela- wares whom the Moravians had been instructing in re- ligion for many years were those who had made raids across the Ohio to the border^ that militiamen saw bloodsplotched clothing which they wore and recognized the pieces as belonging to murdered friends of theirsy that some of the ninety-six doomed prisoners had been trailed from the scene of one of their depredations (which would seem impossible, considering the time of year and the distance involved) ; and all of those expla- nations of what followed may be true. But what cannot be explained away is the fact that Williamson's men were as murderous, as sickeningly lustful as any savage tribe ever known to the Ohio country.
[136]
THOSE DAMNED MISSIONARIES
On the morning of the next day, with scalping lives, mallets, tomahawks and spears, Williamson's andred men divided between the doors of the cabins id went inside among the men, women and children, here they began a butchery that lasted — well, what- ^tv length of time is required for the crude dismember- ■ent of ninety-six human beings by means of ordinary
leapons.
As for sidelights on the massacre there Is one from Doddridge's Notes: "One woman, who could speak ood English, knelt before the commander and begged is protection." (It seems that Williamson chose to de- ver his blows among the women.) "Her supplication ^as unavailing." All then prepared for death and "the risons of these devoted people were already ascending le throne of the Most High! — the sound of the Chris- .an's prayer found an echo in the surrounding wood, but o responsive feeling in the bosoms of their execu- ioners." And George Loskiel, presiding Bishop of the imerican Moravian Church from 1802 till 1811, sup- .lies the following from the Tuscarawas County his- ory: "Abraham, whose long, flowing hair had the day )efore attracted notice and elicited the remark that it vould ^make a fine scalp,' was the first victim. One of he party, seizing a cooper's mallet, exclaimed, 'How ixactly this will answer the business!' Beginning with
:i37]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Abraham he felled fourteen to the ground, then handed the instrument to another, saying, ^My arm fails mej go on in the same way. I think I have done pretty well.' " While this wholesale execution was going on, the missionaries who had instructed these luckless Delawares in the ways of Christ were at Lower Sandusky, waiting for a boat to take them across Lake Erie to Detroit. For a letter in answer to the Half King's had come from Major De Peyster, who had given orders for them to be brought safely to the British western stronghold.
[138]
V herein Vengeance Carelessly Takes the Wrong Man
CHAPTER VII
^herein Vengeance Carelessly Takes the Wrong Man
I HERE was a sequel to the massacre of the Indians . the Moravian missions. During the time it was in xparation Simon Girty roamed widely through the hio country, scouting, raiding and making discoveries ith regard to proposed movements of American troops 1 the frontier. Though haunted by the fear of being .ken by Pennsylvania or Virginia militiamen, never- leless he had the hardihood to strike into their country : the head of Indian warriors.
i Williamson's annihilation of the Christianized Dela- 'ares disturbed Girty, not because the deed had been so ilely cruel, but because it was a threat against his own ifety. And he might have reflected that if it had not sen for the white missionaries the Delaware territory ^ould not now be so ragged as a defensive barrier against le Americans. He might have told himself that had not been for Heckewelder, Zeisberger and the other loravian brothers the Delawares would have stood a etter chance of remaining a united tribe throughout the ^ar, that these men had turned Chief White Eyes 141]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
against his own people and by thus making a division among the Delawares had weakened the power of all the warriors. This had enabled the Pennsylvanians to move safely into the Indian country and to build Fort Laurens and Fort Mcintosh, which they would otherwise have found it difficult to do. That had been partly the work of long- faced Heckewelder. And certainly the authori- ties at Pittsburgh had been kept well informed of in- tended Indian and British movements against them. This, too, had come from Heckewelder and the others. He might have said. Damn Heckewelder and Zeisberger and the whole lot of them! In fact, he did say it.
A few days after Colonel Williamson had burned the cabins above the piles of dead bodies at Gnadenhutten, Girty went up from the Half King^s town to Lower San- dusky. There he discovered the missionaries. They were still waiting for the boat which Major De Peyster had sent them from Detroit and in which they were to be taken from the Indian country. As if, thought Girty, when he heard of this means of transportation that had been prepared for them, — as if these damned rascals were too good to walk! But then De Peyster and Hamil- ton before him had queer notions of treating people. They knew they were in a war, knew also (at least they had been told so often enough) that the missionaries were working directly for American interests, yet they
[142]
INGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN
>uld permit no harm to be done to these men. It was rd for Girty to understand how these Moravian Dthers deserved this consideration.
He reached Lower Sandusky one night and sat wn to a bottle of rum with a friend. The mission- ies were housed in a nearby cabin. At every drink his •itation against them grew. If only he had his way out it they would carry a few marks on them by which remember the Indian country when they left! And lally, when the rum was half gone, he took the bottle ■ the neck and lurched out into the chill spring night wards the cabin in which the missionaries were lying. Heckewelder was trying to sleep, but couldn't. His ce frowned nervously up into the darkness, for he was Lxious to leave and fearful that the boat should not me before Girty arrived. Always there was this orry of his that Girty was about to kill him.
After a while Heckewelder heard Girty's voice )om out. He was talking to Le Villier, a flannel- .outhed French trader with whom he had never been 1 good terms, who had been given the task of guiding le missionaries to Lower Sandusky. Le Villier now Lt by a candle in a room adjacent to that in which the lissionaries were lying. They began to wrangle over [eckewelder and Zeisberger, and Girty cursed Le Vil- er and struck out at him. 143]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
But soon Girty's attention was turned towards the men in the next room. It was they that he then cursed. The damned rascals! he said; and added drunkenly that he would never leave the cabin until he had split all of their heads with his tomahawk. And Heckewelder, though shivering with fear, yet felt his religious sense outraged by the luxuriousness of Girty's curses.
Girty swore and reeled and drank till after midnight. "I omit the names he called us by/' wrote Heckewelder, "and the words he made use of while swearing, as also the place he would go to [it must have been Hell!] if he did not fulfill all which he had sworn that he would do to us. He had somewhere procured liquor, and would, as we were told by those who were near him, at every drink renew his oaths, which he repeated till he fell asleep.
"Never before did any of us hear the like oaths, or know anybody to rave like him. He appeared like an host of evil spirits. He would sometimes come up to the bolted door between us and him, threatening to chop it in pieces to get at us. No Indian we had ever seen drunk would have been a match for him. How we should escape the clutches of this white beast in human form no one could foresee . . .''
Yet the miracle was performed and Heckewefder and his associates were saved. In the morning at day-
[144]
:ngeance takes the wrong man
|ak two large, clumsy scows appeared from the west jng the shores of Lake Erie and came to rest in the rest surrounded harbor of Lower Sandusky. That was
f ul news for the missionaries. According to Hecke- Ider, they were at last satisfied that they would be •lieved from the hands of this wicked white savage, ose equal, we were led to believe, was not to be found ong mankind."
As the boats turned about towards Detroit again rty was doubtless sleeping off his drunkenness of the ^ht before.
A short while later Girty left Lower Sandusky for 2 town of Captain Pipe on the Tymochtee. For there LS more talk of an expedition of Pennsylvania militia- m against the Indians of northeastern Ohio and there is much to discuss with regard to it. Girty wanted :ect news from the border and, assisted by a party of ilaware and Wyandot braves, he intended to go after it.
On his way to Captain Pipe's town he saw a white uth sitting disconsolately on a fallen log that lay in e forest. It was young Christian Fast who had been ken by Captain Brant and George Girty when they nbushed Colonel Lochry and destroyed most of his Idiers. Fast was seventeen and for some months he id been living as an adopted son of a Delaware family.
'45]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
But the ways of tke Indian were strange to himj he could speak only a few words of their language and his longing again to be home among his own people was almost overpowering. Girty noticed him and asked as he drew nearer, "Boy, what are you thinking about?"
Young Fast looked up startled, then answered con- fusedly that he was lonesome because he had no com- pany.
Girty gazed thoughtfully at him for a while. Finally he shook his head and observed sympathetically that what young Fast was longing for was not company but his people at home. "You be a good boy," he ad- vised him, "and you'll get back there some day."
He went on to the village of Captain Pipe. Here he was joined by Scotosh, a son of the Half King and by eighty other Indians with whom he purposed going on a war party against the settlements. It was to be less of an attack than a scouting expedition j and Girty carried a message from Major De Peyster which he was to deliver to a British sympathizer within the American frontier.
They set out on the seventeenth of March for the Pennsylvania border. But when they had crossed the Ohio River Girty discovered that there were so many white men moving in groups through the woods that he would be unable to go much farther without attracting
[146]
NGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN
r attention. Therefore he had to turn away from objective^ the message undelivered, and seek out a • one.
To make a quick attack somewhere and push off riedly was what he decided to do. And after some > more his party found an accessible stockade, sping up towards it, they killed one of the soldiers took another man prisoner. It was in the neighbor- d of Fort Pitt, and the captured white man told ty that General Irvine had been absent from Fort , attending a meeting of Congress, but that he was L again and on his return had called a war council of :he regular and militia officers. The purpose of the* icil was to discuss the advisability of a campaign nst the Indians in northeastern Ohio and the result that five hundred or more mounted Pennsylvanians e to gather at Fort Mcintosh and from there push off m attack upon the Wyandots and Delawares about dusky.
But Girty was not alarmed by this information ch the prisoner had given him and which he sent on lajor De Peyster. The Indians were working closely 1 him and the Ohio country was astir. War parties ch he had supplied with ammunition had gone out inst the border and had returned with numerous ps, but with only four of their own men as casual-
■7]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
ties. Moreover, Aone of the scalps on this occasion bt longed to women or children, which rather pleased hin
With plans to meet the attacking force of Americai when they came, he moved northward to Upper Sai dusky, taking with him "one hundred pounds of powdt and two hundred pounds of ball, and eight dozen ( knives for the use of the Wyandots, Monseys and Deh wares. I [Girty] was obliged to purchase some litti necessaries from Mr. Arundell [Arundlej he was a Brii ish trader among the Wyandots] that were not in tb; King's store, which I hope you will be good enough tJ excuse, as I did it for the good of the service. I shoul'l be very much obliged if you would be good enough ti order me out some few stores, that I may have it in m power to give a little to some Indians that I know to b deserving . . .''
Girty, then, was at this time working soberly for tk men on whose side he had chosen to fight. That h was capable of hatred and of sustaining it is probable but the picture of him as a mad man who dashed oi of the wilderness with a pack of howling brave: swooped down upon unprotected settlers and either torn ahawked them on the spot or carried them back to som Indian village where he gleefully watched their bodic crisp and shrivel under the fire of the stake — the pictur generally encountered of Girty and wholly accepted b
[148
NGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN
H'jt western writers (whole hog by Theodore Roose- e: and to an enormous extent by even so thoughtful a ill as Butterfield) has only the vaguest outlines. It 5 rue that he fought the borderers and went against flies sent out from the border, but there is no proof 3 how that when the issue was decided he set exultantly 3 work on the skulls of the prisoners or abetted the r ians in their torturous executions.
Already, however, he had done enough to be remem- ecd by many a borderer who had never even seen him. V:^ though he had deserted the Americans, though he jl led many a maraud into Pennsylvania and Virginia rl Kentucky, and though Heckewelder left a record ibis unique and cruel character, he might have been c gotten by the popular mind had it not been for one \ nt. That event had been shaping up since the day of : Moravian massacre and was an indirect outcome of ; It took place in the early summer of 1782. i As early as April of that year news had seeped into : Ohio country that an expedition was being planned iFort Pitt against the Wyandots. Girty had discov- |d it from the prisoner he had taken some time be- l*e. Parties of Indians out hunting or scouting saw it irified in the extraordinary movements of the white ;n along the east bank of the Ohio.
The attack on Coshocton and the breakup of Salem, 49]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Gnadenhutten and Schonbrunn had caused the Dela- wares to take up new abodes farther from the frontier; the killing of the Christian Indians had sent them yei farther into the wilderness, so that now both Delaware: and Wyandots intermingled between Upper and Lowei Sandusky. At Captain Pipe's town on the Tymochtet there was a host of the former. And among them wen cousins, uncles and other relations of the Christianizec Indians who had been massacred. At the camp of th( war chief Wingenund there were more. Thus the In- dians about the Sandusky plains, where the coarse grass] land was spotted with islets of soft wood, were mad( morose and vindictive not only by the threatened inva- sion of their land and destruction of their fields am cabins but also by the remembrance of the past, princr pally the picture of ninety Delawares hacked and burnec in Gnadenhutten. Considerable spirit was waiting to b( shown in that territory.
Girty was at the Half King's town on the Sandusk] when word was brought that a force of men had lef Fort Pitt and was gathering near the borderline madi by the Ohio River. Knowing at once the destinatioi of that army, the Sandusky Indians made preparation to meet them. Half King and Girty sent a runner t( Detroit asking Major De Peyster for help. And whili the British officer was getting ready the Faith to sai
[150:
NGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN
vn the river and across Lake Erie with rangers under Dtain William Caldwell, Girty and the chiefs sounded
alarm to distant Wyandots, Delawares, Shawanese
Mingoes.
As these preparations were being made to meet them
Pennsylvania volunteers crossed the Ohio and en- aped at Mingo Bottom, near what is now Steuben- !e but which was once a Mingo village. They were 1 mounted and equipped, but had had no training acting under one commander. Among them were 1st of the hundred men who had slaughtered the help- 'k Christian Delawares at Gnadenhutten a few months flier. The commander of that party — Colonel David lliamson — was also present. And for a time it was ught that he would lead this new expedition as he 1 the old. For wasn't it under his leadership that the derers had been enabled to kill ninety-six Indians? d wasn't that sufficient to make him stand out as a n of parts?
But fortunately for Williamson there was another (cer of the same rank present. He was Colonel Will- Q Crawford, a more decent, more likable, and more pectable soldier than the man who had distinguished nself at Gnadenhutten. The choice of commander is made by popular election and Crawford received the bst votes from the five hundred mounted volunteers.
51]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
He was the man to* lead them to destroy the Wyandot towns.
From the day the Pennsylvania militiamen arrived ' at Mingo Bottom, they were watched by the people whom they meant to attack. But in ignorance of this they rode forward, striking the same trail which Will- iamson had followed three months earlier, and continu- ing to the Tuscarawas where they saw the burned cab- ins and the trampled fields of Gnadenhutten, the cabins which some of the men in the party remembered firing into crematories for the bodies of Indians which they had dismembered. 4
Here they were seen again by Wyandot or Delaware spies. But this time the discovery was mutual. Three of Colonel Crawford's men on a foraging party some distance from the main camp (where their horses were being fed on Indian corn) discerned the figures of two braves. The militiamen immediately fired. But their marksmanship was poor and the two braves fled uri^ harmed. However, at the sound of the shot nearly half the volunteers — two hundred and fifty, that would be — came tumbling out of camp with their flintlocks loaded, ready to be on hand for what they took to be the begin- ning of a lively skirmish.
But nothing happened. The two braves vanished and the forest was still again save for the noises
of thi [152f
i
NGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN
r hundred and eighty Pennsylvanians as they made and cooked their provisions along the banks of the
carawas. Night came, then another day, and they e farther into the wilderness towards Sandusky.
Several days passed. It was the fifth of June, 1782. .wford's force followed its guides out upon a branch the Sandusky by whose banks there had once been a ^ravian village. The cabins were there, but deserted, pre were dark rings on the lush green ground where is had been. But it was all so quiet, so ominously jet. The volunteers might have heard the undis- bed echoes of their own voices.
In the tall grass about the empty village they could i only their own tracks. Questions came up to be [led by the officers and the wiseacres of the Indian intry: Which way had the damned redskins gone? fw much farther could they go before striking the .randot braves? How strong would the Indian force when they finally did make contact with it? And In't they better retreat? Finally it was decided that
Pennsylvanians would march one day longer towards : west and then, if no Delawares or Wyandots were :ountered, they would turn back from this silent irie land.
Three days earlier Captain William Caldwell with
Canadian rangers and a number of northern Indians
>3]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
had arrived at the* Half King's town on the Sandusky to join Girty and a band of Wyandots, Captain Pipe andl Wingenund with the Delawares, and a band of Min-i goes besides. Gathering the whole force under him— i even then it was considerably smaller than Crawford's— Caldwell set out to challenge the advance of the Penn- sylvania militiamen.
They met on the afternoon of June 6 in a land of; tall grass studded with clumps of trees. The fighting! began when an advance party of braves, creeping low over the ground, came suddenly within sight of Craw- ford's scouts and instantly discharged their muskets. The scouts retired, but were jostled forward by Craw- ford's main body. Meanwhile Captain Caldwell and several sections of men under him were entering a large grove that dominated the plain. It became a contested spot as Colonel Crawford's volunteers rode up. And in the rip and whine of musketry that announced the gen- eral engagement Caldwell was struck by a leaden ball and had to be carried away from the ensuing action. The Pennsylvanians lost one captain, who was killed, and two captains and a major, who were wounded.
The Americans gained the grove and drove the Brit- ish and Indians out of it, into the tall grass. Then both sides formed lines and faced each other at a complete standstill.
[154]
SGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN
[t was a curious situation. The Canadians and In- s knew the American number to be much greater L theirs and so hesitated to take the offensive, espe- y as they were expecting reinforcements from the ^^anese. But the Pennsylvanians had been unable nd out the size of the enemy. Discovering white ps among them — which they had not counted on — believed that the Canadians and Indians mustered jast double their own number. So throughout the : afternoon both sides kept a respectful distance from L other and passed the time by a not too expert show larksmanship.
Night came. In the darkness bonfires were laid and ted in front of the waiting men, lighted so that the 7 from the burning wood might save either from a rise attack. The antagonists lay on their arms and jht with gnats and mosquitoes which buzzed and viciously and continuously. The sunrise the next ning disclosed Americans, Canadians and Indians s lying exactly where they had been the night before. If Colonel Crawford, instead of wasting this period arkness, had made an early attack and had been able eep his men under control the story would have had fferent ending. He would have been glad to, as- 5 Butterfield, but, as that authority explains, there e "several obstacles in the wayj several of his men
5]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
were sick and a niimber had been wounded" — which is so poor an excuse that it makes one want to search for a good one, an explanation better than the obvious fact that Crawford let the momentous dawn slip by because his command of his troops was not strong enough to send them forward.
As the day brightened all hope was lost. For Penn- sylvanian and Indian watchers observed coming over the rippling grass to the south and west a band of mounted warriors — one hundred and forty Shawanese whom Al- exander McKee had brought hurriedly up from Wapa- tomica. And now, with both forces about equal even with these additional men on the Indian side, Crawford's officers came together for a "war council/' the upshot of which was that they would hold their lines until nightfall and then make a quick but orderly retreat through the darkness.
Here it might be expected that, strengthened by SQ many Shawanese warriors, the Canadians and Indians would take the battle in their own hands. Instead they too remained on the defensive, sending over only enough shot to keep in mind that an enemy lay before them. The day went slowly and unprofitably by.
In the darkness the order for the retreat was passed. All along the American line men stood up, took their equipment and hurried towards the trail that wound to
[156]
fENGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN
ee south and west. They did not attempt to form into jy kind of marching order; they simply streamed in te general direction of where they wanted to go —
ihere safety lay.
I But Crawford, as he should have done, stood by. |e wanted to see that nobody was left. And as the fen passed him he called out the names of four j,out whom he was particularly anxious: John Craw- :)rd, his son; Major Harrison, his son-in-law; and his
L-phews, Major Rose and young William Crawford.
ut they did not answer him. He waited, growing
ervous.
I In the confusion Crawford was left behind. For rith all speed the gallant Williamson had put himself t the head of about three hundred men and led them to le trail. Crawford wandered about in the darkness, ailing now and then in a low voice. After a while he ras answered by Dr. Knight, the regimental surgeon. klore voices of stragglers sounded and a small group hus came together.
They struck directly eastward, missing the trail, ["here was not a guide — quite naturally — in the party )f men left behind. Blindly and fatally they plodded awards the village of Wingenund, the Delaware war- :hief, but thinking they were moving towards the south and east where saf ^1^^ lay. For two long days these men
;i57]
THE WHITE SA VAGE
wandered about through tall grass, cranberry marsha and woodland.
Williamson, however, had better luck. Beginning - the retreat he led three hundred of the militiamen to the Sandusky River and followed down the east badL Jt was not till morning that he discovered that Colonc'* Crawford, the regimental surgeon, Crawford's son-in- law, Major Harrison, and his nephew, William Craw- ford, as well as a number of enlisted men, were mivsing. But despite this he led on the retreat; was hastened some time during the day when a few mounted rangers and Indians overtook them and drove them from the rear. Williamson halted long enough to meet them. He lort three men killed and eight wounded, but repelled the at- tack successfully. Five days later he was on the home side of the Ohio River.
But by this time Crawford, Dr. Knight, a man, named Slover, and some others were in the hands of the • Delawares. Muddy from wading the cranberry marshes, scratched and torn by the briars and half -starved, they had come out upon a trail on the afternoon of June 7 > and there had met a party of Delawares who were re- turning from their pursuit of Williamson. The And- ean commander was badly worn by his two days ar.- nights of wandering. He made little resistance. The Delawares closed about them with musket barrels bris-:.
[158];
-xtta
fNGEAXcF TAKES THE W'ROXG A/.-l.V
%^
mm
mg. Thongs were brought out and the Americans' ^lAds were tied behind their backs. Then they were ^Brched to the camp of Wingenund, from where, after ce days' captivity, they were led under a heavy guard Jpper Sandusky. From the moment he was taken by the Delawarcs ( iwford's death was virtually certain. And the won- c is not that he died, but that he lived so long. Fol- l ring closely after the well-remembered massacre by ) lliamson, carrying many of the men in his own army ^-^ \ o had taken part in it, and being at the head of an in- ing force which had come to destroy the homes of W'yandots and Del a wares, he could have had little onablc hope that mercy would be shown him. Yet Crawford did have that hope. And hearing It Simon Girty, whom he had known and had doubt- considered an inferior while about Fort Pitt, was h the Half King at Upper Sandusky, he asked that captors take him to the cabin of that Wyandot chief. They agreed. Colonel Crawford and Simon Girty in the Half King's town on the night of the tenth une. Crawford was pale, badly scratched and weary. though his own life was in the greatest of danger, thoughts when he saw Girty were of his son-in-law, Uiam Harrison, and of his brother's son who had been ed for him. Both of these young men had lain with
9]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
wandered about through tall grass, cranberry marshes and woodland.
Williamsonj however, had better luck. Beginning the retreat he led. three hundred of the militiamen to the Sandusky River and followed down the east bank. Jt was not till morning that he discovered that Colonel Crawford, the regimental surgeon, Crawford's son-in- law, Major Harrison, and his nephew, William Craw- ford, as well as a number of enlisted men, were missing. But despite this he led on the retreat 3 was hastened some time during the day when a few mounted rangers and Indians overtook them and drove them from the rear. Williamson halted long enough to meet them. He la three men killed and eight wounded, but repelled the at tack successfully. Five days later he was on the home" side of the Ohio River.
But by this time Crawford, Dr. Knight, a man named Slover, and some others were in the hands of the Delawares. Muddy from wading the cranberry marshes, scratched and torn by the briars and half-starved, they had come out upon a trail on the afternoon of June 7 and there had met a party of Delawares who were re- turning from their pursuit of Williamson. The Ameri- can commander was badly worn by his two days and nights of wandering. He made little resistance. The Delawares closed about them with musket barrels bris-
[158]
I
\NGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN ■ ■ ■
tlig. Thongs were brought out and the Americans' ds were tied behind their backs. Then they were
rrched to the camp of Wingenund, from where, after
i ce days' captivity, they were led under a heavy guard
:c Upper Sandusky.
f From the moment he was taken by the Delawares wford's death was virtually certain. And the won- IS not that he died, but that he lived so long. Fol- ing closely after the well-remembered massacre by lliamson, carrying many of the men in his own army o had taken part in it, and being at the head of an in- ing force which had come to destroy the homes of i Wyandots and Delawares, he could have had little sonable hope that mercy would be shown him. Yet Crawford did have that hope. And hearing t Simon Girty, whom he had known and had doubt- \ considered an inferior while about Fort Pitt, was th the Half King at Upper Sandusky, he asked that captors take him to the cabin of that Wyandot chief. They agreed. Colonel Crawford and Simon Girty ;t in the Half King's town on the night of the tenth June. Crawford was pale, badly scratched and weary. t though his own life was in the greatest of danger, ; thoughts when he saw Girty were of his son-in-law, illiam Harrison, and of his brother's son who had been
imed for him. Both of these young men had lain with
J59]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
him near a clump of trees while facing the enemy on June 5j had been with him at the beginning of the re- treat, but they also had got lost from the main body.
When Girty appeared Crawford's first question was of these two young men. They too had been taken by the DelawareSj who had burned them at the stake at a village farther down the river. But this Girty did not tell to Crawford. Instead, either because he did not really know what had happened to them or because he felt it difficult to speak the true words, he said that they had been captured by the Shawanese, but that these war- riors had pardoned them. Then Crawford and Girty talked a little longer, nobody knows about what 5 but it has been declared that Simon gave his word to intercede for the unfortunate colonel.
From here all evidence as to what Girty did or left undone is very shaky and contradictory. It is said that he tried to save Crawford; it is likewise said that he did nothing to save him. But both sides in discussing whether Girty did or did not attempt to free Crawford have slighted one important point.
It is generally taken for granted that Girty should have tried to save Crawford and that he was a fiend for not doing so. But why should he have done so? Be- cause they were both white men? (In war white men had killed each other for centuries.) Because they had
[160]
i.
"INGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN
irh lived at Fort Pitt? (In every important city to [t east there were loyalists and patriots who later fought ainst each other.) Because common humanity de- ['nded that Girty exert himself to prevent a burning irty? (Then Common Humanity asked too much of h people of that time and place and should have known iter.) In bolstering up reasons for what Girty should ive done but omitted to do, western writers claim that b two men had been friends at Fort Pitt and that Girty id been frequently a guest "at Crawford's hospitable loin" in Pennsylvania — a likely story, considering that e was then a major and a man of property while the ler was a border roughneck with a taste for Indian fe and the possessor of not a single foot of property ithe world!
' And if they were not friends why should Girty have ed to save him? And how could he have accom- ished it even if he had tried?
^ Early in the morning after Crawford had been ought to Sandusky, Captain Pipe and Wingenund me to claim the prisoner. He belonged to them, had en taken by the Delawares whom he had tried to de- ■oy. His fate, as Colonel John Johnston has summed up, v/as "in satisfaction for the massacre of their peo- e at the Moravian towns on the Muskingum." Cap- in Pipe met him and spoke to him from cruel lips; 61]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
he was glad to see Crawford, he said, and meanwhile stood over him with his hands full of a black, sticky mixture which he began to daub on Crawford's face — the death warrant.
^/^From the Half King's town Captain Pipe and Win- genung took Crawford a few miles westward along the "old trace leading to the Big Spring, Wyandot town. It was on the right hand of the trace going west, on a low bottom on the east bank of the Tymochtee creek."
A fair-sized party wound up that trace with Craw- ford. Towards the head of it was the chief prisoner, bound and heavily guarded. Nearby rode Captain Pipe and Wingenund. A stone's throw back of these came Dr. Knight, the regimental surgeon, his hands tied and a Delaware brave on either side of him. Now and again there appeared from the opposite direction infuriated squaws, braves and boys, some of whom slapped wet scalps first in the blackened face of Crawford, then against the cheeks of little Dr. Knight. Stones flew out and struck the prisoners 5 furious braves lay cudgels on their backs. Screams and insults engulfed the party in a hideous sea of noise.
Among those riding eastward along the trace was Simon Girty. He had returned to the Delawares after his meeting with Crawford at the Half King's town. As he came slowly towards the party he stopped and
[162]
^.NGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN
^ed to Crawford, then rode on. Coming up to Dr. ight he asked, ^4s this the doctor? "
^'Yes,'' Knight answered, and held out his hand in ated friendship.
[ "You're a damned rascal; get the hell along there,'' •ty told him in effect, but later added (and this was i an unkindness) that Knight was to be taken to the iwanese towns.
The stake was already standing; a small blaze was sping slowly along the faggots that encircled it, and ut a hundred Delawares, with a few from other »es, sat watching expectantly when the prisoners Lved.
, "When we were come to the fire," Knight wrote prward, having been transferred to another town and jcing his escape on the way, "the colonel was stripped .ed, ordered to sit down by the fire, and then they beat 1 with sticks and their fists. Presently after, I was ited in the same manner. They then tied a rope to I foot of a post about fifteen feet high^ bound the DnePs hands behind his back and fastened the rope :he ligature between his wrists. The rope was long :ugh for him to sit down or walk around the post le or twice and return the same way. The Colonel n called to Girty and asked if they intended to burn ,1. Girty answered, yes. The colonel said he would
>3]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
take it all patiently.* Upon this Captain Pipe made a speech to the Indians, viz., about thirty or forty men, sixty or seventy squaws or boys. When the speech was ended they all yelled a hideous and hearty assent to what had been said."
What Captain Pipe said is easily imagined. He spoke of the treachery of Brodhead's campaign when the Dela- wares were driven from Coshocton, of the Moravian massacre and of his latest attempt by the prisoner at the stake to send the Delawares fleeing still farther into the wilderness. Now Pipe and Wingenund had their revenge. >
Meanwhile Girty stood watching. Perhaps by that time he had become so dulled to executions of this kind that he could look on Crawford without once imagining himself to be standing in his place j perhaps he had taken from the Indians their own feelings with regard to scenes of torture — that it is the test of a brave man and to be watched with scorn or admiration, depending on whether the victim cries out or is proud in his fortitude. But that he had come there to take conscious pleasure in the slow death of Crawford is too much to assert without more proof than there is at hand. It is quite as likely that no ill will towards Crawford brought him there and that once among the hot-blooded braves and squaws he wished he could find himself suddenly taken
[164]
.NGEANCE TAKES THE WRONG MAN
t Z
< where. For circumstances made him cut an embar- . ing figure that he could not have escaped noticing 1 forced him into a position from which writers on . y frontier history have inferred that he was a mon- ■
While the surrounding braves were shooting powder
Crawford's naked skin, while burning faggots were
ist against his sides and the scalping knife shaved
ears off clean he came close to the end of his endur-
e and called out to Girty, whom he begged to shoot
^. But Girty did not answer; there was no sensible
mtr he could make. If he had complied there would
,e been a hundred braves and squaws, maddened at be-
'. cheated of their vengeance, upon him; and evidently
pould not bring himself flatly to deny Crawford his
uest.
. Crawford called again. And this time Girty turned
iy and with a laugh, as Dr. Knight reported (though
re are many kinds of laughter and not all of them are
ghted, humorous or gay), "he said that he had no
yy
People who read of this ghastly performance — peo- excepting Indians, of course — naturally sympathize Colonel Crawford. A competent enough and de- enough man himself, he had come on the heels of liamson's murderous expedition, had brought a gang 55]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
of border rough ndcks whom he could not control, had been left behind by his own outfit and had given him- self into the hands of the very tribes whose means of subsistence he had come to destroy and whose braves he meant to kill. His burning is a scene which warms the blood of every patriotic American, yes, and blinds the eye. For he had no right to expect to live; and if the Delawares had spared him they would have showni themselves so much more humane than the average bor-i derer of that day that the contrast would even now be painful. As it was, though the Pennsylvanians, V&-! ginians and Kentuckians fought as brutally and killed as indiscriminately as the Indian, they appear to have been more civilized than their darker brother in that; they never brought torture up to a really fine art in their daily lives . . .
After a while Crawford's body lay still and black and the flames ran low over the expiring faggots.
I
[16(
th One War Ended and No?ie Other at Hand Simon.
Takes a Wife
ai
CHAPTER VIII
yVith One War Ended and None Other at Hand Simon Takes a Wife
r.
HE next year ended the War of the Revolution, lit when word finally reached the border that peace had ben declared between Great Britain and the United Sites of America, Simon Girty, characteristically, was Idding a marauding party to within a few miles of Ittsburgh. He heard the guns which the commandant a Fort Pitt was firing in salute to these tidings, but he CLild not believe that these dull, sullen booms that shook t.e quiet of the countryside were made in joyous recog- n:ion that the war had ended. A prisoner he had cap- tred there plaintively told him that peace between the to countries had come, but Girty remained dubious ad took him back to Detroit in spite of his remon- 3'ances.
Earlier, in the fall of 1782 and the spring of 1783, Snon had fought steadily against the frontiersmen. \ ith Captain Caldwell's Canadian rangers and Alex- ^der McKee's Indians he had been at the battle of Blue Icks and had been in the attack on Bryan's Station. 69]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Besides engaging in these he had led some expeditions of his own against the Kentucky and Virginia borders. It seems he was ready to continue fighting indefinitely.
But when he reached Detroit from his last maraud during the war he discovered that there were no more attacks just then to be taken part in. The British com- mandantj instead of locking up the prisoner which Girty had brought from Fort Pitt, released him and returned him to his home. There was peace! Affairs had quieted down! It was difficult for him to understand, but after a while he mastered it.
It was during this unaccountable lull that Simon made a slight concession to civilization. He married Miss Catharine Malott, a girl of about half his age.
In an April four years earlier Catharine, her young brothers and sisters and her parents were on their way down the Ohio River towards the Kentucky settlements. They had passed a little beyond Wheeling when a band of Indians appeared and began firing. The father, Peter Malott, managed to escape. But the rest of the family was captured and began to live the life of the Indians.
When Simon met her, Catharine had become the adopted daughter in an offshoot family of the Dela- wares. She wore moccasins, a leather petticoat and she greased herself well with bear fat, a process warranted
[170]
SIMON TAKES A WIFE
protect her skin from the stings and bites of outrage- 1 insects. When they met and why they married can y be conjectured. Perhaps it was a love affair. Or haps Catharine so abominated the Indian mode of life t, as her only chance of escape, she was willing to ept Simon Girty. At any rate, in August, 1784, she t the Indian village in which she had grown to young manhood and followed her intended husband up ough the Ohio country and around the west shore of be Erie to Detroit.
At the beginning marriage made a change in Simon's idering life. He talked with some of the Indians Dss the river from Detroit — for he needed a respect- i place to live — and asked them whether they minded jie laid out a little farm along the east bank of the fer. They were willing for him to come. But he ' got permission from the British commandant, who
very strict with white men who trespassed on In- 1 country. So Simon built a cabin a few rods south vhere the Canadian village of Maiden grew up, and :an thinking of cultivating the soil into a farm. Re- d on half pay from the British Indian service, he
Catharine lived in their stout cabin with no pressing ;its unsatisfied. I But of this kind of existence he was to know very
e.
1]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
The peace that had come seriously affected only the east. On the western border, from Fort Pitt down to the Kentucky country and along the broadening Ohio, af- fairs continued virtually as they had been before. In one article of the treaty between England and America the former was given the right to all of the trading posts of the Great Lakes region as security until America had paid off her obligations to loyalists whose goods the government had taken. This enabled the British In- dian service to keep its hold on the Ohio tribes, which was necessary if Canadian traders were to continue their profitable business in the exchange of furs. It was to their interest that the Ohio tribes remain where they were. And this, quite naturally, was also what the In- dian himself wanted. But in opposition to both of them the Americans were already beginning to look on the rich land northwest of the Ohio as belonging to them- selves and to make efforts towards securing it.
The same year in which Simon Girty married Cath- arine Malott and went to live near Maiden there was held the treaty of Fort Stanwix between the Americans and the Seneca-Iroquois confederacy. But to give the name of treaty to what took place is to misuse the word. For the United States commissioners simply demanded what they wanted and the Indians were forced to accept. The situation is thus explained in the History of the
[172]
SIMON TAKES A WIFE
•ritory Northwest of the Ohio: "Large bounties of d had been promised by Congress to officers and sol- 's of the line (the same practice that had caused Lord nmore's War in 1774). Virginia, who regarded her- as owner of the unlimited territories of Tennessee Kentucky and northwest of the Ohio, had also made nificent promises of bounties to her soldiers and :ers. These bounties in case of brigadier generals e 10,000 acres 5 and to major generals, 15,000 \pSj all other officers less, in proportion to their rank, pse who were entitled to these bounties became anx- ^ to receive them. By the war their business had \n broken up, the commerce and manufactures of the fntry were of little value, and the small and sterile tns of New England and the Atlantic coast offered kll attractions for agriculture compared with the rich ^is of Kentucky and the Ohio country, of which ac- fnts had found their way to these eastern states. Con- ks was pressed by them to provide for the settlement (these territories, particularly the great region north- t of the Ohio River. Believing that the Indian es who had been at war with the United States were e treated as defeated enemies, with no absolute rights tthe lands they occupied. Congress made the treaty Fort Stanwix in October, 1784, with the Six Nations, ng their boundary west by the west line of Pennsyl-
'3]
TIIK WHITE SAVAGE
vania and giving to the United States all north andnc of the Ohio."
A few months later another arbitrary treaty wi made, that of Fort Mcintosh, in which the Dc and Wyandots signed away not only land that did to thcni hut land that was not theirs as well. AnitfeT it was taken for granted that the Ohio country vras feeeJy . open to colonization and that if the Indians did lot: peaceably submit they were treacherous scoundrdi«di deserved no pity.
But the Indians would not submit, at least nolwkfc-r out a fight. And this brought Simon Girty downkDi the Ohio country again before his marriage had mir year. For the British Indian service, seeing the sitti-t :t tion, also saw that they could make use of it to keep the: . 2 valuable trading posts.
Simon, McKee, and Matthew Elliott became tei three principal agents in the Ohio country who kept Ac : Indian temper at war heat. In the spring of '. Colonel Josiah Harmar, then commandant at F:^ Mcintosh, learned of Girty's movements and sputtc:- "Speeches have been continually sent by the British Irx: Detroit to the Indians since the treaty, and I have p'>-'- intelligence that several traders have been among tha^ using all means to make them entertain a bad opia*3i of the Americans. One Simon Girty, I am infonii*'
[174]
SIM(>\ TAKES A W IFE
CO Stndtttky for that purpose. I have taken
ans in mr power to counteract their proceed-
hiTc d. : . . not to listen to their
to tic and bring in here any of those villains
reports among them injuriods to the United
in order that ther may be punished."
nel Harmar (later General Ilarmar, who was
a large and omoooetaful expedition against these
who had the eflProiitery to listen to bad opinions
of the United States) here breathes the very
f the men who stood impatiently waiting to break
h the Indian border. Like George Rogers Clark
ennes, like the commissioners at Forts Stanwix
cintosh he did not confer with the natives, he
them. It was \ .ous that a bad < a of
cam should be spread amcmg the I mi 1 he
i^ uld take all of the men who talked injuriously
L wited States, tie them and hand them over to
-- 'usticc! And meanwhile all of their land was
not taken to Fort Mcintosh to
lie continued to roam the Ohio country
I (oing among the Delawares, Wyandots and
ftiving them coomel and presents. And
the tionsof^ cLIIarmar he was allowed
inuc his damaging work among the tribes.
THE WHITE SAVAGE
vania and giving to the United States all north and wej/ of the Ohio."
A few months later another arbitrary treaty wa/- madej that of Fort Mcintosh, in which the Delaware and Wyandots signed away not only land that did belon) to them but land that was not theirs as well. And thu- it was taken for granted that the Ohio country was f reeh open to colonization and that if the Indians did no^ peaceably submit they were treacherous scoundrels am deserved no pity.
But the Indians would not submit, at least not with out a fight. And this brought Simon Girty down intc the Ohio country again before his marriage had run \ year. For the British Indian service, seeing the situa- tion, also saw that they could make use of it to keep theii valuable trading posts.
Simon, McKee, and Matthew Elliott became tht three principal agents in the Ohio country who kept th( Indian temper at war heat. In the spring of 1785 Colonel Josiah Harmar, then commandant at Fori Mcintosh, learned of Girty's movements and sputtered ^'Speeches have been continually sent by the British f roir Detroit to the Indians since the treaty, and I have good intelligence that several traders have been among theOL: using all means to make them entertain a bad opinion' of the Americans. One Simon Girty, I am informe
[174
SIMON TAKES A WIFE
3 been to Sandusky for that purpose. I have taken jry means in my power to counteract their proceed- rs, and have directed the Indians not to listen to their 3, but to tie and bring in here any of those villains 10 spread reports among them injurious to the United ites, in order that they may be punished."
Colonel Harmar (later General Harmar, who was lead a large and unsuccessful expedition against these dians who had the effrontery to listen to bad opinions )ken of the United States) here breathes the very rit of the men who stood impatiently waiting to break rough the Indian border. Like George Rogers Clark VincenneSj like the commissioners at Forts Stanwix d Mcintosh he did not confer with the natives, he "ected them. It was villainous that a bad opinion of e Americans should be spread among the Indians. The dians should take all of the men who talked injuriously
the United States, tie them and hand them over to nerican justice! And meanwhile all of their land was ing confiscated. Girty, however, was not taken to Fort Mcintosh to
punished. He continued to roam the Ohio country idely, going among the Delawares, Wyandots and lawanese, giving them counsel and presents. And :spite the directions of ColoneLHarmar he was allowed
continue his damaging work among the tribes.
[75]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
The treaty of Fort Stanwix had penned up th Seneca-Iroquois j the treaty of Fort Mcintosh ha halved the land of the Delawares, and now the Shawan -' ese and Miamis were in line to be treated with, for in: migration was swinging down the Ohio. So a fort wi built at the mouth of the Great Miami and in the fa] of 1785 the Indians of southern and western Ohio wer invited to hear how much land was to be left themj oi as Butterfield puts it, "Congress [was of the opinion that the treaty of peace of 1783 with Great Britai:' absolutely invested the [American] government witl the fee of all the Indian lands within the limits of th United States and that they had the right to assign o - retain such portions as they should judge proper." -j!
But the Indians thought otherwise. And the onl Ei representatives that came to Fort Finney were a fe\ :5] Shawanese. Nevertheless they were told that thence '" forth their hunting grounds were to begin far north o - the Ohio River, to go west into the country claimed b; the Miamis and south and east to the boundaries of th Wyandots and Delawares.
The Shawanese chiefs went back to their families looking angrily at the string of wampum which thjj^! Americans had given them. As for the Miamis, the; Ai had kept proudly aloof. Until now, because they werfc the farthest westward tribe in the Ohio country, theipte
[176;i7'
SIMON TAKES A WIFE
ad not been troubled by the headlong rushing settlers, lut their turn was soon to come.
Despite these treaties, the strings of wampum and le presentation of hostages which accompanied them, ne Indians were not satisfied to lose their land. On the /uscarawas and the Hockhocking in the northeast white len fell under the tomahawk; and at the new headquar- srs of the Dclawares near W'apatomica there was held great council of Wyandots, Shawanese, Delawares, Jiamis and others who came to discuss ways of driving ut the Americans. They had been temporarily stunned nto inactivity when England had given up the war. Jut now they were rallying again, even though the col- •nies had faced about from east to west.
England, they found, was still willing to help them .nd Sir John Johnson, they wxre told, was to hold a .'ouncil for their benefit in the following year — it was .786 — at Niagara. It would be chiefly among the kneca-Iroquois, but the Ohio Indians were invited to )e present. Ready for any alliance they could find, they :ame; and at the meeting Girty, McKee, and Elliott lelped strengthen their resolve to make whoever took .heir lands pay for them in some way or other.
At this council Johnson truthfully told the assembled iachems and warriors that if the various tribes did not anite in a solid front of defense they would soon lose all [177]
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of their hunting grounds. Many heard him, man] cheered, but nothing was done about it.
Another meeting was held by Johnson later in th< year. The place .was up the Detroit River from Lak( Erie and representatives of more than a dozen tribe came there. Captain Brant arrived from the east an» heatedly harangued the assembly on the necessity of ai all-embracing confederacy to repel the whites. Bu through a variety of interests and dialects which gav them much to overcome they were enabled to act to gether only slightly: as a body they notified Congres that they expected settlers to keep out of the Ohio coun try and asked that the United States send commissioner to meet them near the Ohio boundary to discuss th future relations between the two races. The comin; spring (1787)5 ^h^y thought, would be a good time fo the council to take place.
The coming spring, the Americans thought, was better time to think of settling the Ohio country witi white men. A portion of the southern part had bee: surveyed and in that year Congress placed enough 0: sale in New York to amount to $72,974. And in th fall of the year Manasseh Cutler and Winthrop Sar geant, acting as agents for the New England Ohio Com pany, bought a tract that was bounded "by the Ohi( from the mouth of the Scioto to the intersection of th
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vjstern boundary of the seventh range of townships then srveying; thence by said boundary to the northern tundary to the northern boundary or the tenth town- sip from the Ohioj thence by a due west line to the f iot0 5 thence by the Scioto to the beginning." And in t^ same month that this land was sold Congress ap- I'inted a governor to the Northwest Territory. Gen- eal Arthur St. Clair was chosen. There were a secre- try and some judges, also an ordinance for the govern- lent of the territory, which last contains the curious atement that ^^the utmost good faith shall always be oserved towards the Indians, their lands and property {.all never be taken from them without their consent .. ,"j as though anyone ever willingly consented to iving his property taken from him. ... A month iter General Rufus Putnam, under the direction of le land company, had got forty-seven men and was taking ready to go to this immense tract and prepare for the settlers who were to follow.
That was the only answer the tribes received to their ^quest that the Americans keep out of the Ohio country ntil after another council had been held. During the immer of 1787 the Indians, however, were expecting )me news of the commissioners and had come to the oot of the Maumee Rapids to await it. Time went by nd no message came; guided by Brant the representa- 179]
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tives of the various tribes concluded they would retui to their families and meet again in the following ye: at the same place.
Before this second convention of Indians there w another settlement of white men on the northwest si; of the Ohio. John Cleve Symmes, father-in-law William Henry Harrison, and a number of other lail speculators had bought a tract between the Great ari Little Miamis and within a month afterward had begii a settlement five miiles above the site on which Cincinnsi now stands.
Time came for the convention. But as the day a] proached a runner appeared at the foot of the Maum^ Rapids with a message from Governor St. Clair, t had discovered that they were to meet again and in ord to confuse them and divert them from any direct actic they might take he requested that they meet him at Fo Harmar. Which was no more than a trick, for i sooner had the tribal sachems got halfway across tl wilderness than they were met by another messengi from St. Clair who informed them that they would 1 foolish to expect the white man to recross the Ohio ar that the early treaties must be abided by. Disgusted ar angered, Brant and the rest turned back.
It was such events as these, all of them increasir the sullenness of the Indians — who saw themselv
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Miuned in now to the east and south — and inflaming :e warriors to a heat in which they flung themselves iross the encroaching border and hacked at settlers, :rning their cabins and stockades, which led up to the [dian war and which, in turn, enabled Simon Girty to iss what remained of his crime vears in scenes of gore.
t
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B.
CHAPTER IX
Wherein Two Generals Lose Their Armies
Y 1790 Catharine Girty had borne her husband \so children, Ann and Thomas. And now Simon had 11 the things that makes a domesticated man. But lough on the verge of fifty, having led an extraordi- arily hard life, he was yet eager to leave his wife, his Dn and daughter, his farm and warm cabin and go off ito the wilderness where he would sleep on a bed of dns, eat with his fingers in the Indian way and where e knew that war was imminent. For word had come lat General Harmar (he commanded Fort Washington, le recently built garrison on the north bank of the Ohio ear Symmes' settlement) had plans to march north- ward with more than a thousand men. That informa- on, rather than holding Girty back, was what drew im down to the Ohio country.
Simon made his headquarters at the foot of the /laumee Rapids, a few miles up the bay from Lake Irie. The rapids were a long stretch of rock-studded fallows beside which the sachems and warriors who at- "nded the Ohio Indian council of 1787 waited for the 185]
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answer from General St. Clair, the answer that neveji came. They were well towards the mouth of the Mau-j mee, which river hems in the extreme northwesteni corner of what later became Ohio state. And it was i\, this corner that the tribes were congregating. Blu(i Jacket, the stubborn and courageous Shawanese chief tain, had a village along the Auglaize one mile fron its junction with the Maumee; young Tecumseh wa( close at hand 5 Captain Pipe had come westward witl his Delaware warriors and was hovering in the neighj borhood; Tarhe the Crane and some Wyandots ha(j a village within a day's journey to the east; while dowi; at the Maumee's source, at the meeting of the St. Mary'j and St. Joseph's rivers. Little Turtle was at Kekiongi gay, the seat of the Miami tribe. And during the yea Captain Joseph Brant was thereabouts with some o| his Mohawks.
The foot of the Maumee Rapids was then a bus) place. Supplies of powder, muskets, lead, mutton, peas corn, rice, blue, red, scarlet and crimson bolts of cloth bags of vermilion dye, were being sent down by flatboa from Detroit, and Simon was at hand to apportion th goods among the various tribes. Old braves strode abou in blankets, staring gloomily or with lighted eyes. Youni bucks laughed and tried their muscles in the games, th broad jump, the running race and an early, almost pre
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'WO GENERALS LOSE THEIR ARMIES
istoric kind of football in which one side tried to carry stuffed and rounded skin through the other. The quaws watched their men folk and went quietly about leir work of providing wood and water, which were lentiful. There was talk of war and of a great coun- 11 meeting at which it would be determined.
The early fall of the year went by and news came han General Harmar was on his way. What did he hink he was going to do? the Indians wondered. Simon jirty walked about among them, sometimes in the In- lian dress, breeches, moccasins, a long skin shirt, silver bracelets on his wrists and earrings pendant along his ound, sun-tanned cheeks. The Americans, he loudly epeated the Indians' thoughts, had no right to be on the lorth bank of the Ohio! Let them go back to where hey belonged! With most of the braves he could speak n their own tongue and his voice was beginning to be leard in their council meetings, at which he was the )nly white man permitted.
For twelve years now Simon had been living in their ullages and camps, attending and often leading bands )f warriors against the border, supplying many of their wants from the King's stores. They knew him to have I fair amount of honesty and never to have cheated them. Many times he had led parties of them on bold marauds, and usually they had come back with scalps, prisoners
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and goods looted from white stockades and cabins. He jj had qualities which they admired — strength withouti*! foolhardinesSj perseverance in war and the willingness to slash out fiercely against the enemy. For a long time he had continued his duties in the British service and his counsel to the Indians had always been for them to fight. Yet there was something more than mere duty or friendships to sharpen his thoughts towards war with the Americans. There was something personal about it; ; and this axe which he had to grind had been curiously fashioned.
So far as the United States was concerned Girty was an outlaw. Years earlier he and Alexander McKee and Matthew Elliott had been charged with treason by a continental court and when they did not appear had been adjudged guilty. Thus a legal execution waited for him in Pennsylvania. And this fact, perhaps inconsiderable by itself, fitted neatly in with the general American atti- tude towards him as he hiad learned it. It must have seemed to him that half the country which he had so surreptitiously left was imbued with the most bitter and personal hatred towards him. This knowledge had first come through chance, when he had captured the letter in which Colonel John Gibson had written coolly that if \ Girty fell into his hands he would trepan him. Up to that time, though he had had ample opportunity, he had
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lot been especially violent against the borderers. On returning with the letter to Detroit, however, he was gloomy, as Heckewelder noticed. Then there were Heckewelder's and Zeisberger's reports to Fort Pitt, from which it appeared that one Simon Girty, late of che Pittsburgh garrison, was one of the most ubiquitous and most malignant forces that preyed on the frontier. These, spreading about the facts of Girty's raids and exaggerating them, must have been in the minds — in fact they were — of many of the borderers whom Girty captured or met in the Indian villages. There was also a reward on his head: it was for eight hundred dollars, nearly as much as President Washington thought the Cherokees should receive as annuities for having been driven out of North Carolina! All this was fermenting in his mind. Even at the burning of Colonel Crawford he had been apprehensive of what the Americans would do to him if he fell into their hands. He asked the opin- ion of Dr. Knight on this point, muttering that he heard something about vengeance having been sworn against him. Then he had tried to make little of the matter by adding that for his part he doubted it. Plainly he was worried.
Now the Americans were coming, pushing bun- glingly but irresistibly up through the long shadows of defeat. And from his headquarters at the Maumee Rap- [189]
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ids Simon listened to the news brought by the fleet run- ners. General Harmar, it was discovered, had left Fort Washington in October with thirteen hundred men. He was aiming in the direction of the Miami villages about Kekiong-gay.
But this time Girty had no chance to meet the Americans. For Little Turtle, glowering but prudent, had withdrawn all of his warriors and their families. They had taken their belongings and had moved down the Maumee so as to be near the other tribes in case Harmar drove farther into their country. He would I soon go back.
Harmar arrived. He found Kekiong-gay barei and deserted. About the empty cabins the cornstalks' had been stripped. But he destroyed what little there was to be destroyed and then turned back towards Fort Washington.
But his return march was more eventful. For the Miami warriors followed him, striking detachments of his army at several points and killing a number of offi- cers and men. The journey back to Fort Washington became a bedraggled retreat.
Through the snow Miami braves rode northward towards the Maumee, exultant at the success of their tactics against General Harmar. It was winter and their stores were low, but there were provisions coming
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f Dm the King's stores at Detroit and they had let enough fc3od to make them feel victorious. * December came and the tribes went into council, the rrpose of which was the formation of a confederacy. J Hon Girty spoke as one of the chiefs, saying: Let tz white man go back across the Ohio and leave the ]dian to his hunting ground. Let him break up the Jrts he has built on the north bank, else we will burn tern for him. And let us assembled here send out the id belts of war to the chieftains of all the Indian tribes < that they may join us in driving the white man back ^here he came from! Blue Jacket, Tarhe, Little Tur- ii, Bockongahelas — all of the war chiefs spoke those :ords and were thereby heartened to believe that what itey wanted would come to pass.
Not only did Simon urge the braves in the council
Duse towards war, he was also ready, solely of his own
xord, with a guiding hand in the field. Towards the
' id of the meeting he called to the warriors, asking them
ho would follow him down to the white man's forts.
Many answered his call. And while the war pole ill shivered in the cold wind Girty led a pack down the mg trail — it was nearly two hundred miles — to the eighborhood of Dunlap's Station, which then became is objective.
They left the Maumee in December, probably the
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J
middle of the montK; for by January 8 a party of Girty" scouts who had followed down the Great Miami to within a few miles of the Dunlap settlement had com(^ upon four white men. The frontiersmen were on thil west bank, where they had camped the night before had finished their breakfast and were unsuspecting! walking along the river when Girty's scouts fired a^ them from an ambush. One of the four men droppec dead; two wheeled and ran down the trail to the settld mentj but the fourth was captured. His name wa' Abner Hunt, and the Indians, apparently satisfied tha their job was done, bound him and carried him up th Great Miami towards Girty instead of pursuing th* two that had escaped.
A day or so after the capture the braves and theS prisoner met Girty coming down the river with his war riors, who were nearly three hundred in number. Hun' was terrified to stand before this darkly visaged whit man in Indian dress. And from him Girty learned wha there was to know about Dunlap's Station^ that the set tlement covered about an acre in which several cabir were enclosed by surrounding pickets 5 that at the cornei of the pickets stood blockhouses in which the men coul defend themselves from attack, and that of the men wh were capable of bearing arms there were seventeen wh belonged there regularly with their wives and childre
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ad also eighteen private soldiers who had been sent tere a short while before by General Harmar from ]Drt Washington. The whole was commanded by Lieu- inant Jacob Kingsbury.
Taking Hunt with him, Girty and his three hundred iaves moved on down the river and on the next night iime quietly within sight of the stockade and prepared • make an overwhelming surprise in the morning. The •aves were kept well within the surrounding woods id no fires showed through to the clearing. In a wide rcle they lay on their arms and waited for dawn.
As the sun rose the savages appeared among the umps in the fields about the stockade. They ran for- ''ard, howling and firing into the logs. But the two ,ien who had escaped when Hunt was taken had hurried ack to the stockade with the news that Indians were in le neighborhood and Lieutenant Kingsbury was some- what prepared. The soldiers inside ran at once to the lockhouses and returned the fire through the loopholes, hooting so effectively that no Indian at any point got vithin reach of the pickets.
Now that the surprise attack had failed — for Girty's
ndians could make no headw^ay — a strange piece of
trategy was employed. As his braves fell back among
he trees some of them closed about Abner Hunt. And
.eeing him there the thought came into one of their
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THE WHITE SAVAGE
heads that through this prisoner they might be able t( break down the morale of the garrison. A white flaj' was thrust into his hand and he was pushed fort! through the clearing to within a stone's throw of thf stockade. Girty told him, "Tell them to give up anr we won't harm their lives or belongings; but if the} don't, by God, we'll kill you| if they do we'll turn yoi loose."
The shot was stilled as Hunt appeared with the pica of white goods fluttering from the end of a stick whicl he held aloft. With two braves directly behind him anc a host of others with their muskets leveled at him fron the thicket in rear he was forced to mount a stump There he began to deliver the hateful message whic Girty had commanded of him. And having been prom ised his own liberty if he succeeded and his death if hi failed. Hunt pleaded fervently, imploringly.
But inside the stockade there was little thought o opening the gates to a horde of war-heated savages wh had traveled for nearly two weeks through the cold fo: the purpose of killing. Too many times in the past hac™; white men listened to promises of that kind and had seei horrible consequences. Besides, though Kingsbury wa nearly ten times outnumbered, the men were resolut enough not to give up hope. Only one man had beei| wounded in the first attack and, moreover. Fort Wash
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i.gton was not so far away but that troops could march •om it to the aid of Dunlap's Station.
After Hunt's entreaties had sounded for some time ; was brought down from the stump and the stick with le white flag broken. The firing recommenced.
The sun made its slow rise and descent to the accom- animent of whizzing musket balls and flying arrows. ,nd when night came the thirty-five soldiers inside the ;ockade were still holding the warriors away from the
ICKCtS.
Some hours after dark two of Kingsbury's men left he station and after slipping unobserved through the ndian fires ran over the trail towards Fort Washington. Their departure made no interruption in the fight. Bul- ets spattered intermittently through the chill blackness hat lay over the clearing and now and again a flam- ng arrow was launched upon the roof of a cabin or blockhouse.
Still the thirty-three men held out. Thinking to frighten them out of their fortitude the maddened sav- ages, whether with or without Girty's sanction, deter- mined to exhibit their powers on the luckless Hunt. Taking hold of him, they drew him into the clearing. There, in the remembrance of one of the men in the stockade, they tied him to a log, stretched him out and built a scorching fire around him. As he burned he
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screamed, but theii; own yells as they danced in a circlt about him kept his voice from being heard. After z while the dancing and shouting ceased. Then Hunt'i painful cries rose penetratingly. It was nearly dawr when he was silenced 5 he was dead.
The burning of Hunt was about the last act of Girty' party before Dunlap's Station. Before the day had* brightened they had turned disappointedly towards the north again. Fortunate for them that they did, for hun- ters had brought word of the siege to Fort Washingtor and the two messengers who had escaped from the stock- ade that night met a body of troops the next morning only a few miles away.
Girty went back with them to the Maumee Rapids, but left soon afterward for his farm near Maiden.! Catharine, he knew, was going to produce another child and whether he went on that account or not he was there when the daughter was born and christened Sarah.
He remained throughout the winter and into the early spring on his farm. But when the thaw came he engaged a Canadian farmer to look after his fields and returned to the Maumee, where the British were building a fort at the foot of the Rapids.
During the spring and the following summer Simon heard the news from the banks of the Ohio. Down at
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^VO GENERALS LOSE THEIR ARMIES
*ct Washington General St. Clair, as governor of the \ rthwest Territory, was sending out troops on short ex- nlitions and being criticized for not taking the field V h a greater force. Immigration was being held up rfear of the Indians and the men who had invested in jl laid out the great tracts of land were not making cney from their venture. People generally were of h opinion that the Indians ought to be driven so far r into the Ohio country that they would be unable to like at the pioneers.
But Arthur St. Clair was hardly a war-like soul. ►:ial amenities and a well-filled table were more ap- uling to his nature than a long journey through f or- is and swamps, with creeks and rivers that had to be rded or bridged. Also he was a victim of that prime ::hteenth century complaint, the gout. However, cnething had to be dpne, and he, being governor of the (ritory and commander of the army there, had to do it.
From April until September was spent in concen- iting troops and supplies at Fort Washington. By lit time he had got an army of about twenty-three mdred, not counting the militia. He had also got be- 'een fifty and two hundred and fifty women who were ' provide entertainment for the soldiers on the way. Iiey would, of course, slow up the movements of his :>ops and he was greatly imperiling their lives by allow-
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ing them to go, but if it would make the soldiers an officers any happier to have wives and strumpets alon — which it apparently would — he was willing that the should go.
In September he moved from Fort Washington t Fort Ludlow, which was six miles upward. And fror there he advanced along the Great Miami to the locatic on which he built Fort Hamilton. Major Gener; Richard Butler, between whom and himself there was good deal of jealousy, was also along. Forty- four miL north of Hamilton he and Butler constructed anotht fort, which St. Clair called Fort Jefferson. With all (| this protection behind him, with the camp women buil zing and gossiping about and with some soldiers who hj rather not have gone, he set out to engage the Indians ;| the wilderness.
It was not long after General St. Clair began cuttir^ his way up into the Indian country that the warrioi gathered about the lower Maumee heard of his mov ments. Tecumseh, whose name in the Shawane tongue signifies a shooting star, went down swiftly wi a small group of braves and was soon shadowing t advance guard of the governor's unsuspecting arrr And shortly St. Clair's line of march and the appro mate number of his men were known at the Miami hea quarters.
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IIVO GENERALS LOSE THEIR ARMIES
But this time the Indians did not fall back. All png the Maumee the tribes were daubing themselves iith war paint and singing old songs of vengeance. Blue I cket, who was tall and straight, rather dazzling in his limson coat and red sash, struck the pole for the fierce [lawanesej Little Turtle, lighter skinned and more con- implative than his fellow leader, called to the Miami larriors; Captain Pipe was ready with a force of Dela- lares, and Simon Girty, looking like a musical comedy Imdit in his bright silk handkerchief fitted over his iirk, scarred poll and a brace of silver mounted pistols ;: his sides, prepared to ride at the head of the /yandots.
j Altogether there were less than fifteen hundred men 'ho rode down to meet St. Clair's army. But they went uietly and easily, unhampered by the burdens of pro- isions, artillery and equipment that weighed down the imericans and required them to cut roads for passage /herever they went.
i That was the first advantage possessed by the In- ians. Another perhaps equally strong was that St. :iair, except on one occasion, had no scouting parties n front of his main body. There were also the trouble- ome women, at least one of whom carried a nursing :hild at her breast. And, to add to St. Clair's handicaps, lot all of his men were willing to fight, for at least two
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hundred of them had deserted some days before they : j struck the Indian country. -j
This curious assemblage of white people which had come to drive four tribes out of the Ohio country was itself attacked as it lay encamped on the night of No- vember third at a bend of the Wabash River in what became Mercer County, Ohio. St. Clair was surprised. The only warning he had came from the sounds of ..g firing from some volunteer scouting parties which had .^ gone out during the night and had a slight brush with an ... ^j advance party of Indians. . . •
A little after daybreak on November fourth the full . ..^ attack began. The militia, encamped about a quarter of a mile in front of the main army, took the first blow and promptly fell back over the snow-covered ground and across the creek. Doubtless St. Clair heard them, • but he did not see them, for at that time he was lying stretched out in his tent with a sudden and mortifying renewal of the gout.
The Indians came howling forward under a shower . of shot and arrows. The Wyandots were leading and Girty was well to the fore. On the heels of the militia .^ they came riding down through the woods and splashed over the river into the midst of the regulars. Some parts of the American line held, as men, not as military units. Major Jacob Fowler, who was at the battle as a
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I
\''WO GENERALS LOSE THEIR ARMIES
)nd lieutenant, described the confusion for Cist's Cincinnati) Advertiser: '^One of Captain Piatt's men ly . . . shot through the belly. I saw an Indian be- ind a small tree, not twenty steps off, just outside the ular lines. He was loading his piece, squatting down :nuch as possible to screen himself. I drew sight at . butt and shot him through . . ." Then Colonel ^ rke came up through the melee, leading his men at .c charge. "The Indians were driven by this move- ment clear out of sight, and the Colonel called a halt nd rallied his men, who were about 300 in number. As n experienced woodsman and hunter [he was also, he lodestly admits, a mere subaltern; but those were demo- ratic days], I claimed the privilege of suggesting to he Colonel that where we then stood — there being a ile of trees blown out of root — would form an excellent reastwork, being of length sufficient to protect the Irhole force, and that we might yet need it; I judged pr the shouting and firing that the Indians had closed p the gap we had made in charging, and told the colonel D." But though Fowler suggested a charge and the olonel told him to lead the way, the "Indians were so hick we could do nothing with them."
It was the flying Wyandots led by Girty that were so hick. They pushed through the soldiers' ranks, scat- ering destruction and driving them towards the baggage
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trains and the artillery, which were well into the camp. By the time the Wyandots had captured the rolling stock only ten per cent of Colonel Darke's men were left standing. But Fowler was still at hand: "I had been partially sheltered by a small tree, but a couple of In- dians, who had taken a larger one, both fired at me at once, and feeling the steam of their guns at my belly, I supposed myself cut to pieces. But no harm had been done, and I brought my piece to my side and fired, with- out aiming at the man who stood his ground, the fellow \ being so close to me I could hardly miss him. I shot him through the hips and while he was crawling away on all fours Colonel Darke, who had dismounted and stood close by me, made at him with his sword and struck his head off . . ."
A little later there was a cry from the neighborhood of the tents. General St. Clair, who had hobbled from ' his bed and was trying to mount a horse which his order- : lies were holding for him, was calling for the troops to charge the road. His adjutant general echoed the com- : mand.
But the order from St. Clair was not for an attack t but for a break to safety. Already men and women were t streaming down the freshly cut road and horses were \ plunging madly at the whoops and musketry of the on- rushing Indians. St. Clair missed the stirrup of the
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rWO GENERALS LOSE THEIR ARMIES
.Tiare he was trying to mount. It ran oflF and another, a packhorse, was led up. On its broad back he ambled slowly away from the action.
Fowler, however, ran over to his relative. Captain Piatt, and "told him that the army was broken up and in full retreat."
"Don't say so,'' he replied, "you will discourage my men and I can't believe it."
Soon, however, Captain Piatt was convinced. "The bodies of the dead and dying were around us [Major General Butler's was one, but he was carried into a tent where a surgeon attended to his wounds] and the freshly scalped heads were reeking with smoke, and in the heavy morning frost looked like so many pumpkins through a cornfield in December."
By noon the Indians completely had the field and went to work with their scalping knives. For the re- treating army had made no attempt to take care of the wounded. General Butler was one who had been left behind. He had lain outstretched with a bullet wound while the screaming Indians cut in among the deserted tents of the officers, the trains of baggage and ammuni- tion which St. Clair's army had hastily abandoned. Helplessly he waited for someone to come.
Presently Girty and a Wyandot warrior detached themselves from the looting and scalping melee and rode [203]
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up to the general's tent. Girty looked at Butler, whom he did not know but whose uniform showed him to be of high command, then turned to his Indian companion and observed, "Big, very big Long Knife captain." The warrior's tomahawk went up and down 5 General Butler was dead and ready to be hacked to pieces.
From all over the field where St. Clair's camp had been, came the thud of the tomahawk and the rip of the scalping knife. Horses plunged about without riders while braves reached out for their bridles 5 bewildered cattle ran with swinging heads y flour, ball and powder, clothing and blankets lay scattered everywhere.
Down along St. Clair's trace a few braves followed the retreating army for a dozen or more miles. And one woman, made frantic by the pursuit, flung the child that she was carrying into a snow pile, then ran the more swiftly back over the slushy trace towards distant Fort Washington.
When the looting and murder was finally over a deputation of Wyandots, who had been the leaders of the day, came respectfully up to Simon Girty and made a long speech in which they presented him with three of the captured cannon ♦ , ,
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Simon Drives a Quill Through His Nostrils
CHAPTER X Simon Drives a Quill Through His Nostrils
IVJi AlSSy of the Indians were brave, but not all of :hem were foolish. And after they had seen two expe- ditions of Americans drive towards the Miami towns :hey knew enough to withdraw to a locality that was less in the minds of the officers who commanded the forts down along the Ohio. Accordingly the Miamis and others who had been living about Kekiong-gay began to move eastward along the Maumee towards its junction with the Auglaize.
Scenically and productively that territory where the Indians now were intermingling was a delight. Most of the land was thickly wooded with walnut, oak, syca- more, maple and hickory; the two rivers meandered through soft ground and made a long, clear sweep of bottomland on either shore. Each spring the life of the soil was renewed by the floodwater, which deposited rich mud that made it excellent for cereals and vegetables; game was abundant; the fish were of various kinds and ran to prodigious sizes.
Here during that spring were gathered a thousand
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or more Indians 5 they worked at building huts from logs blown down by the winds and covered them with bark and hides. They planted gardens and great fields, until by summer the banks of the Auglaize for some miles and those of the Maumee for even farther were lined with a tall stand of yellowing corn (the ears of which, as it happened, General Anthony Wayne, ap- pointed by President Washington to take charge of oper- ations in the Northwest, was inordinately fond of).
At that time, as for nearly a hundred years before, a number of white people were living with the Indians. Some of them were traders and had cabins on the high- banked point of land that lay between the Auglaize com- ing from the northwest and the Maumee from the southwest. One or two were British emissaries. The rest had been captured on raids upon the American settle- ment and were now adopted into the families which had taken them.
Of these white captives living about the Maumee at that time at least three have left some record of the manners and habits of Simon Girty. One of them, young Jonathan Alder, rather liked the pugnacious rene- gade and rather thought that reports of his cruelties had been exaggerated. Several times he had known Girty to effect the release of white prisoners, more than once at his own expense. He also thought that Simon had not
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SIMON DRIVES A QUILL
siDwn the fiendishness of which he had been accredited a the burning of Colonel Crawford.
But Oliver Spencer, on the other hand, felt that C rty was the very substance of dangerous and malignant imagery. As a boy Oliver had been captured by the sawanese in a raid on the settlement of Columbia, a fvV miles above Fort Washington, that summer. He pi.s eleven years old at the time and after being brought ti the new Maumee encampment he was placed in the fnily of an ancient squaw named Cooh-coo-cheeh and bd for his adopted brother and sister, "a dark Indian B'l (an orphan) two years my elder, and a half Indian by, about a year younger than myself, both her grand- :ildren by her only daughter, now the wife of George [Dnside, a British Indian trader living at the trading j.tion on the high point directly opposite to her cabin ifew hundred yards above the mouth of the Auglaize. [}eorge Ironside, by the way, had an M. A. from King's [)llege, Aberdeen.] The boy, reputed to be the son : the famous, or, rather, infamous renegade Simon Cirty, was very sprightly, but withal, passionate and d.lful, a perfectly spoiled child, to whom his mother t.d given the Mohawk name of Ked-zaw-saw, while his Eandmother called him Simo-ne."
One day young Spencer was taken by his foster fandmother up the Auglaize to the Shawanese village
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of Blue Jacket. This war chief stood about six fee tall — "was finely proportionedj stout and muscular; hi eyes large, bright and piercing j his forehead high anc broad 3 his nose aquiline; his mouth rather wide, and hi countenance open and intelligent, expressive of firmnes and decision." The chieftain was gaudily clad in bono of another visitor who was soon to come — Simon Girty] ' Blue Jacket wore a scarlet tunic with gold lace and golc epaulets, a red sash around his waist and red moccasin and leggings. He was agreeable to young Spencer am allowed him to go inside the cabin. It was richly fur nished with skins and adorned with war clubs, bows anc beaded quivers, muskets, swords and tomahawks.
While young Spencer was there Girty arrived, bu "whether it was from prejudice, associating with hil'^ look the fact that he was a renegade, the murderer o: his own countrymen, racking his diabolical inventions t( inflict new and more excruciating forms of torture, o: not; his dark, shaggy hair, his low forehead; his brow contracted and meeting above the short, flat nose; hi gray, sunken eyes, averting the ingenuous gaze; his lip thin and compressed, and the dark and sinister expressioi of his countenance, seemed to me the very picture of ; villain. He wore the Indian costume, but without an] ornament; and his silk handkerchief, while it suppliec the place of a hat, hid an unsightly wound in his fore
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SIMON DRIVES A QUILL
lad. On each side, in his belt, was stuck a silver rmnted pistol, and at his left hung a short broad dirk, (ving occasionally the uses of a knife."
On meeting the youth Girty straightened his bulders and began asking countless questions. He imted to know about Spencer's family and how he liked li captivity, yet he was more interested in the strength I the different garrisons on the Ohio, the number of nerican troops at Fort Washington and when Presi- Int Washington planned to send another army against e Indians.
With old Cooh-coo-cheeh, Blue Jacket, and young >encer standing there, Simon grew eloquent and vain- orious. "He spoke of the wrongs he had received at e hands of his countrymen, and with fiendish exulta- )n, of the revenge he had taken. He boasted of his cploits, of the number of his victories, and of his per- nal prowess j then, raising his handkerchief and ex- biting the deep wound in his forehead (which I was •terwards told was inflicted by the tomahawk [sword] :' the celebrated Indian chief. Captain Brant, in a runken frolic) said it was a saber cut which he had :ceived in battle at St. Clair's defeat, adding with an ith that he had Sent the damned Yankee officer' that ive it 'to Hell.' He ended by telling me that I would 2ver see home, but if I should 'turn out to be a good
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hunter and a bra\ie warrior I might some day be a chief.'"
Young Spencer was frightened by the meeting and glad when old Cooh-coo-cheeh took him back to thd cabin.
Another white captive on the Maumee at that timCj however, owed his life to Simon Girty. His name was! William May. After the Indians had brought him to! their camp they had condemned him to death, had black-| ened his face, and were preparing the faggots about thej stake. The laconic words of his own statement are "wasi condemned to die, but saved by Simon Girty." . '
May had been with the Indians at St. Clair's routl where Simon had fought with so much zeal. WhicW was not unusual, for in most of the larger engagements^ at that time there were white men — though they were given their choice and not required to take up arms — fighting with the Indians for the loot that would fall to the victor. '
But in the smaller attacks, in the marauds, the whitd men were not allowed to take part. None, that is, ex-1 cept Simon Girty, who by this time was a renowned and trusted warrior among the Indians. '
In the early summer when Spencer met him Simor' raised a force of braves from the Maumee and journeyed at their head down to the south among the forts which'
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e settlers were always building. It was June and the anting had been done; willingly a hundred braves fol- wed him through the leafy forest to Fort Jefferson, here, concealing themselves in the surrounding wood, ey watched sharply for the moment to attack.
Now Fort Jefferson had at that time, if Howe quoted ight, a very gullible commander, a Captain Shaylor, ho was extraordinarily fond of hunting. And this ;nchant of his, it appears, was known to some of the idians who surrounded the fort that summer. "Be- ;re they were discovered . . . [they] secreted them- Ives in some underbrush and behind some bogs near ,e fort . . . [where] they imitated the noise of tur- :ys. The captain, not dreaming of a decoy, hastened ft with his son, Billy, expecting to return loaded with [me. As they approached near the place the savages se, fired, and his son, a promising lad, fell. The cap- in turning, fled to the garrison. The Indians pursued Dsely, calculating either to take him prisoner or enter ]€ sally-gate with him in case it opened for his admis- )n. They were, however, disappointed, though at his :els; he entered and the gate was closed the instant he ached it. In his retreat he was badly wounded by an row in his back."
Whether these extraordinarily wily braves were of irty's party is nowhere stated, but it was within a few !13]
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weeks of that time at most that the white leader ap- peared (June 25, 1792) before Fort Jefferson and waited until a number of the garrison went out to work in the cornfields. Then his braves leaped upon them anc disposed of sixteen, either killed or taken prisoner They left four bodies in the field behind them when the^^ took the northward trail again.
From this raid Simon returned to the Maumee where the chieftains were beginning to talk of holding another great council, perhaps the greatest of any evei held in the Ohio country. Girty was restless at thi: time, boastful, eager for any action that was directec against the Americans. He was glad when word was sent by runners with belts of wampum to the north- west tribes, the "seven nations of Canada, and of twenty- seven nations beyond Canada, as well as to the Gora tribdk and to the Seneca-Iroquois. And the result was to be if the Ohio Indians got what they wanted, a united f ron of all the tribes against the settlers. And what a mar- velous battle might have followed! Thousands anc / thousands of Indians standing ready along the Maume< to await Wayne's army which was slowly coming. . . However:
Weeks went by after the runners had gone out. Th< leaves began to turn the colors of autumn. And Girty waiting for the council, again bethought himself of thcj
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inerican forts that lay southward. Organizing a party some two hundred and fifty braves he struck down :vards the Ohio again, his object being the capture of a i>ply train that was, he had heard, moving up to Fort SFerson.
But his marauding party had not gone far when he , s overtaken by a runner from the Maumee who )ught word that the sachems were arriving from the ler tribes and that he should be on hand for the deliber- ons. He turned back, gladly perhaps, for the meeting s of prime importance; he hoped that it would result what at last amounted to a declaration of war by all b tribes, and he could not help feeling honored to be k only white man who would sit in the council. It was he to fight again.
' When he arrived he found a vast gathering of im- rtant chiefs and sachems. Red Jacket — whose coun- against a general war was to delay the issue fatally — d forty-six other representatives of the Seneca-Iro- 'ois, three chiefs of the Gora tribe, many from the far Tthwest; and besides these were present the heads of e Shawanese, the Delawares, Miamis, Wyandots, Pot- ^atomies and such offshoots from parent tribes as the iingoes and Monseys.
' They went into session in October in the grove on e high ground between the Maumee and Auglaize
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THE WHITE SAVAGE
rivers. Simon was the only alien to sit with them ir that stretch of mainland between the two streams. In j great clearing surrounded by tremendously branching trees, they kindled their council fires of the tied-uj bundles of faggots brought from great distances and sa solemnly on their blankets while everybody listened t everybody else on the question of what should be doiK about these persistent and war-like white men, so mucl more war-like than themselves.
That anything could be done about it was a prepos terous hope from the beginning. That all of the tribes on such short notice, should overcome their various per sonal interests and unite! Perhaps it would never havi been undertaken had it not been urged upon the Indian by men working through the British Indian Department Sir John Johnson, Alexander McKee (who now had , post down at the foot of the rapids by the British fort) Simon Girty and others. As for the meeting itself i was broken up after a long harangue by Red Jacket sachem of the Senecas, who pleaded with the Ohio Inj dians to withhold the declaration of war until the fol' lowing spring, meanwhile giving the Americans chance to meet them in a treaty. This was agreed t, and a message was despatched to the United States Cor gress.
The long winter passed. Finally the answer cam
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Injamin Lincolrij of Massachusetts, Beverly Randolph I Virginia and Timothy Pickering of Pennsylvania, all United States commissioners, took ship northwesterly -Qss Lake Erie to the mouth of the Detroit River, iiere they prepared to deal with the Ohio tribes. They lyed at the house of Matthew Elliott, which was some litance south of the Girty farm at Maiden. From ite the commissioners apprised the Indians of their iidiness to treat.
So at last the commissioners had come! Down along \t Maumee Indian chiefs were chosen to meet them. Iiey went in boats and Girty, Elliott and Alexander IcKee accompanied them. It was on an island from lich could be seen Elliott's house that the representa- es of the Indians met the representatives of the United iates. There were no handclasps, no greetings or signs I mutual esteem.
Girty's voice rolled forth insolently. Were these immissioners, he wanted to know in the name of the lio Indians, ready and authorized to fix the Ohio iver as the south and west boundary of the native's ter- rory? And as he made this astounding remark he "sup- rted," it is said, "his insolence" with a quill driven rough his nose beneath the nostrils.
The commissioners stepped grimly back and replied :'tly that they were not so authorized. What they had
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come for was to get more land, not to relinquish whatf they had already claimed. '
Very well then 5 there was no use of further talk, said Girty, interpreting. The chiefs and their white 1 allies turned their backs.
But another voice, an Indian's, arose. There was use in talking; the sachems would have to consult their families again 3 let the commissioners wait until they had done so.
The Indians and their white friends went away inl their boats again. The commissioners remained, waiting to hear from them, smiling at their ridiculous request for the Ohio River as the south and west boundary of their lands.
Weeks passed. It was summer. The commissioners had stayed near the mouth of the Detroit River. For they could afford to wait. General Wayne, who had been organizing the Legion of the United States when they left on their mission, was now at Fort Washington, where he was drilling his rough-neck volunteers into an obedient corps that was fit to fight Indians. Also John Jay was in London negotiating for a final treaty with England which would drive the British out of the Ohio country when the agreement had finally been reached.
At last a message came from the council on the Maumee. It notified the commissioners that the only
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SIMON DRIVES A QUILL
oundary to which the Indians could agree was the Ohio Liver. Very well again! Pickering, Lincoln and Ran- olph knew the United States would never consent to lat. They went home.
219]
The Long Shadow of Mad Anthony Wayne
CHAPTER XI
The Long Shadow of Mad Anthony Wayne
I T was August, 1793, when the commissioners de- )rted. Throughout the fall, the winter, and the spring ) 1794 the Indians remained stubborn and fiery and ^)uld accept no less than the Ohio River as the boundary )i:ween themselves and the frontiersmen. For Simon \ rty it was a time of restless waiting. He and the war :i(jfs knew that General Wayne had come up farther i:o their country and was making ready to attack them. :it the Indians then had no thought of defeat. Their ;ccess over St. Clair had given them immense confi- Ince and rather than fearing Wayne's approach they ^^re pleased that he was coming. For they coveted the :)rses, blankets, firearms and provisions that he would ing, and they had tall hopes of getting them. Their ies watched him advance towards the spot where St. lair had been cut up; and twice their warriors charged to detachments of his army. The first time the braves shed upon the cavalry and were quickly driven back, It on the next day about forty of them discovered a pply train guarded by an escort of ninety men; and 223]
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CHAPTER XI
L
Th^ Long ShUcm of Mai
Wayne
T \va^ Aurniif, 1793, when the >mfnissioners dc- ptrtcd. 1 h(< ut the fall, the witcr, and the spring
of 1794 the Indians remained stub rn and fiery and would accept no lc» than the Ohio K.'( t as the boundary between tlv !ves and the frontir For Simon
Cirty it wm> a time of restless waitin. 1 ic and the war chicl\ knew that Cieneral Wayne h iic up farther
IDCo their country and was making re v to attack thcin. But the Indians then had no t Their
mooess over St. Clair had given th. ^ immense conti- dence and rather than fearing Wa^'s approach they
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into dett^^^^^^^^^^H |
^^^^^^ ' »c the braves |
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THE WHITE SAVAGE
barging into it, they killed a great number and rode off ^xty-four borses.
From tbe time General Wayne got witbin a bundred liles of tbe Maumee tbe war cbief s were kept informed f tbe general movements of bis army and of its approxi- late size, wbicb was tben about fifteen bundred. They new when bis line of march veered off from tbe Great /[iami and drew him near to St. Clair's battlefield, 'bey knew that be stopped about six miles above Fort efferson and there began to erect small cabins for win- ^r quarters and to surround them with a huge stockade nd a line of pickets. Their spies saw bis men come still loser, to the very ground by the creek where the In- ians had been so victorious and where the skulls of lore than six hundred white men lay above the earth.
It was there that General Wayne built Fort Recov- ry, which was an advance post for his main garrison, brt Greenville. The Indians knew these things, which ^ere of the sort that had helped them to defeat Colonel Crawford, to harry and confuse Harmar, and to destroy t. Clair. But this time their knowledge was of little use ) them. Though every night runners and spies reported l^ayne's movements, they also brought the news that he ^as always on the alert. They said that "when he was n the march, that it was next to impossible to get a orse out of his camp" and "that at night Wayne would
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Brigadier Getural Atjthony Wayne
'HE SHADOW OF ANTHONY WAYNE
At down great trees, and fence in a tract of land large lough to hold his entire army and baggage, and that lese fences were built so high that none could get at icm, and but few could get out.'' And after Fort ireenville went up Wayne was even more inaccessible.
The winter passed. At Wayne's headquarters his rmy marked time. Up on the Maumee Simon Girty xnt about among his friends, talking to Blue Jacket, to 'aptain Pipe, to Tarhe the Crane, to Little Turtle and to ^iptain Brant. Let the Indians continue in their pur- ose to fight; let them stand ready to attack, to come own with the force and unexpectedness of the cyclone pen this Big White Captain and his Long Knife war- iors! The Big Captain would yet grow careless, the ndians would defeat him, and all of the Ohio country /ould be theirs! A man of temper, he was irritated by he long days of inactivity, the more so because he felt he menace of the Americans, who were establishing hemselves ever nearer to him. They had had a reward 'osted for his scalp; there were the various threats which hey had made; what would they, he wondered, do to lim if they caught him? It wasn't very pleasant to hink about.
But he stayed on. Whether it was that he had hope )f the Indians again defeating United States soldiers, hat he felt himself bound to remain with them, that
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he was simply carrying out his job, or that he was im- pelled to defy his former countrymen to the last — what- ever the reason, he remained on the Maumee throughout the spring and early summer.
An opening for an attack came in June and Simon was ready to take part in it. Indian scouts in the neigh- borhood of Wayne's main army (where Mad Anthony, still at Fort Greenville, was awaiting reinforcements from Kentucky that would nearly double the size of his command) reported to their chieftains that the party of ^ Long Knives that held Fort Recovery were growing less cautious ; from time to time American convoys traveled ' between Recovery and Greenville; moreover, the former I stronghold did not seem to be impregnable.
It was the kind of news that Girty, Blue Jacket, and the rest were waiting for. They called to the braves, who needed no persuading. Eager for revenge and in- spired by the thought of the heavy supply trains that had traveled with Wayne's army, more than a thousand of them set out to attack Fort Recovery and to retrieve, if possible, the cannons which had been presented to Girty but which he had failed to take with him from St. Clair's battleground.
On the morning of June 30, they had come to the edge of a forest within a few miles of the fort. They were riding cautiously forward into the tall grass when
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'HE SHADOW OF ANTHONY WAYNE
f a sudden there was a cry of, "Indians! Indians!" and ley were discovered by a body of ninety riflemen and fty cavalrymen. These men were under the command f Major McMahon. The Indians rushed forward nth. a whoop.
McMahon's outfit, most of whom were afoot, /heeled and ran before that thundering, howling mob f savage horsemen. Even the soldiers that were Qounted were put in such a fear that they slid off their addles and rushed for the gates. Inside the pickets the larm was given and shot began to pour out from loop- oles in the walls and blockhouses. Well-saddled horses, lereft of their riders, galloped confusedly about, jerk- ng their heads up to avoid the outstretched hands of ndians.
( Under the commands of Blue Jacket, who was as- isted by Little Turtle and Girty, the braves strung out round the fort, encircling it completely and firing from )ehind trees and fallen logs. But the bullets continued :o spit out at them from the pickets. Up into the air md down whirred the shell from a mortar. It dropped vith a great burst and a black cloud of pungent smoke, [rhe mortar, the marksmanship of the men behind the barricade, were disconcerting, but the Indians kept on :rawling forward in small parties, trying to reach the walls. Some of them got within fifty yards of the fort.
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There they ran, half bent over, their attention divided between overthrowing the defense and capturing the frightened horses which reared among the stumps and saplings.
Throughout the day the siege continued, but as dark- ness fell there was a lull. No considerable number had fallen on either side. But Blue Jacket had discovered that his tactics were unavailing. He drew his force a mile down the creek and determined to wait until a little before dawn when he would make a surprise attack.
Before sunrise the surprise assault was tried. But that too was a failure. Musketry crackled for an hour or more 5 by daylight there were more than fifty casual- ties inside the fort, but a much greater number among the Indians. During the early hours of the first of July there was little firing from the savages. They had come to feel that the fort could not be taken. And after rescuing their wounded, some of whom had to be carried in broad light from the very shadows of the pickets, and capturing about two hundred and fifty horses, they made the long retreat back to the Maumee.
Girty was reluctant to abandon the attack and gloomy on the return ride. To lose on the exact ground where St. Clair's army had been cut up was a bad omen. He knew, also, that Wayne's main body had not even been touched, that the Indian force of about twelve hundred
[228]
''HE SHADOW OF ANTHONY WAYNE
lad been repelled by merely an advance post of greatly nf erior numbers. But his stubborn fury, his fear of the Americans, and perhaps his friendship for the Indians till governed his actions, making him remain in the iangerous Ohio country when it was no longer necessary ^'or him to be there. It was not that he hadn't other )laces to go, for he had: his home was waiting for him, a fairly well developed farm, a house that for those days vas comfortable, and a growing family. He could have jone to Maiden and stayed there, retiring on half pay. But he chose to hire a man to work his land while he limself urged the Indians to stand fast on the Maumee md meet Wayne in battle.
For the Indians were in need of support. Though 31ue Jacket's stalwart six-foot frame and ineradicable latred stood as encouragement towards victory, the de- 'eat at Fort Recovery had lowered the warriors' spirits md many of them were willing to listen to Little Turtle — a brave man, an able commander, but a thoughtful nan as well — who advised them to arrange a treaty with he oncoming Americans and thus save their families Tom a bloody war. His opinion then was the same as t was later when he spoke at the general council, when le told them on August 19, "We have beaten the enemy wice, under separate commanders. We cannot expect he same good fortune always to attend us. The Amer- ;229]
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icans are now led by a chief who never sleeps. The night and the day are alike to him. During all the time he has been marching on our villages, notwithstand- ing the watchfulness of our young men, we have been unable to surprise him. Think well of it. There is something whispers me it would be prudent to listen to his offers of peace."
Prudent, yes, but whether the Indians fought or parleyed the result would have been the same: for the Americans wanted their land and meant to have it. And General Wayne was determined to subjugate the Ohio tribes even though in so doing it might mean a war with England, which General Washington had especially instructed him against.
However, the majority of the warriors had less faith in treaties than in arms. They were being well supplied with guns and ammunition by the British; at the foot of the Rapids stood Fort Miami, whose garrison under Major William Campbell, cannon and solid walls they expected to be defended by 3 also there were about three thousand braves who had come together between the Grand Glaize and the British fort. Therefore it was the words of Girty and Blue Jacket that they applauded.
In July, a few weeks after the attack on Fort Re- covery, Wayne got his reinforcements. Major General Charles Scott, with sixteen hundred Kentucky volun-
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HE SHADOW OF ANTHONY WAYNE
ers, had arrived at Fort Greenville on July 26 and two lys later Mad Anthony gave orders for the advance.
The Legion went slowly and cautiously, preceded by number of scouts familiar with the country. The eather was hot and most of the water stagnant; from ort Recovery onward roads had to be cut through the ilderness and bridges built over the swamps. Wayne )und the mosquitoes "very troublesome and larger than ever saw/' was compelled to dig holes in the marshes , order that his troops might have water, dragged his *avy carriages through this strange land at the galling te of about ten miles a day, incautiously got in the way ■ a falling tree and was nearly killed, yearned for salt, •een corn and more rum.
But finally he came out upon what was called the rand Glaize, the junction of the Maumee and Au- aize rivers. He thought the country thereabouts the ost beautiful of any in the west "and believed equal by )ne in the Atlantic states. Here are vegetables of every nd in abundance, and we have marched four or five iles in cornfields down the Oglaize and there is not ss than one thousand of acres of corn around the wn.'' (There was to be scarcely any standing when he
ft.)
The Indians, of course, had deserted their towns, he day before, the last of the inhabitants had left, hav-
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ing been warned by ^ runner who came rushing through the fields and whooping the alarm. At once the remain- ing Indians gathered up all they could carry and took the trail down the Maumee towards the foot of the Rapids where warriors of half a dozen tribes were hesitantly making ready for battle.
For the Indians were not to be caught by any army that called fifteen miles a good day's march and who gave away their approach by smoke, fire and gunshot. They knew better tactics for enemy country than that. Yet despite all this it was the Indians who eventually were surprised.
At Camp "Grand Oglaize" [so he spelled Auglaize] General Wayne, expecting an attack and wanting to secure his position there in what had become the heart of the Indian country, built Fort Defiance. During the eight days which passed before it was finished he sent a messenger down the river to the Rapids, from where the Indians were watching him. The messenger carried the word that the Big White Captain considered the Indians to be his brothers, that Simon Girty, McKee, Elliott, and the rest from Detroit had neither the power nor the inclination to protect them and that they should at once send deputies to meet him halfway between his camp and Fort Miami, the British stronghold, "in order to settle the preliminaries of a lasting peace."
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HE SHADOW OF ANTHONY WAYNE
I This message was received and answered, but not, it terns likely, by a general council of the warriors. The ^ply given Wayne was a request for time, ten days in hich the Indians agreed to make up their minds as to whether they would fight or parley; but if this exten- on were not granted them, they added, they would give attle when Wayne moved upon them.
Wayne was already on the march when this answer rrived. And that night he recorded in his journal the are fact of the Indians' counter-proposal and made no lention of how he considered it. The next day, bow- lder, the army went on as before and encamped that ight at the head of the rapids, one day's march from le British fort and the assembled Indians.
On the following night, that of August 19, the war- ors held their final council; and it was then that Little urtle made his plea for a peaceful meeting with the ig White Captain. The warriors listened, but in a rowning silence. And when Little Turtle had finished le of them offered the opinion that the reason Chief fittle Turtle talked like that was because he felt fear.
There was no more to be done. Even as the war- ors sat in a circle before their fires that night General ^^ayne was writing that in the morning his men would z ready for action, "providing the enemy have the pre- imption to favor us with an interview, which if they
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should think proper to do, the troops are in such high spirits that we will make an easy victory of them." As he wrote, Wayne could hear his pioneer companies throwing up shovelfuls of dirt, and felling logs to make a lightwork that would secure the baggage. For he knew he was within striking distance of the Indians and he wanted his men to be walking lightly when he struck them. But where the warriors sat the only sounds besides their voices came from the low water streaming bro- kenly down over the rock-bedded river.
After the unsatisfactory break-up of the council, most of the braves and chieftains spread their blankets and lay down to sleep, thinking that in the morning they would return again to the clutter of uprooted trees — the havoc of a cyclone some time past — where for three days they had lain in wait for Wayne's army. Having had no answer from him with regard to the ten days' armistice, they had been expecting him since the morn- ing after the messenger had gone.
The stretch of fallen timber was along the north bank of the river a few miles up from the British fort and directly within Wayne's line of march. On the first morning the warriorsi had gone there — without breakfast, as was their custom when expecting to fight — and had waited throughout the day. Only at night had they gone back down the river to their kettles and
[234]
HE SHADOW OF ANTHONY WAYNE
ankets, and then they had been hungry. On the second ly this was repeated. So that by the morning of the ^entieth they had become disgusted with fasting till ening — furthermore, it was possible that Wayne in- nded to grant them the ten days. Something like that ey must have thought, for they were woefully unpre- .red on the morning of the battle.
They were so poorly prepared that it was as if they id not expected combat that day at all. Of the (about) ree thousand warriors in the neighborhood less than a ird were near their positions in the fallen timber when e first shot was fired. The rest were lolling in the eadows near the British fort, talking and sitting ound their steaming kettles. Captain Brant, in com- and of four hundred Mohawks who had come there take part in the fight, was somewhere in the vicinity, It nobody seems to have discovered just where he was what he was doing. Girty also was at hand, but not the fort and not with the Indians. He did not emerge at day.
Wayne's army approached, the regulars, who were I the right, flanked by the river and covered in front, ft flank and rear by Scott's mounted volunteers. As ey came near the fallen timber the Indians on the ound opened fire and the advance guard "retreated in e utmost confusion," according to General Wayne. !35]
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For a while it seemed as if the whole army would run. Captain Howell Lewis' outfit began to falter, turn and flee. But then there was a charge led around the right flank by Captain Campbell, who commanded the Legior cavalry. The men went swinging through the corn witfc muskets and sabers and the Indians scampered from theii cover like so many rabbits.
Everywhere the Indians were running. At the fori they clamored at the doors, shouting and bewildered But the doors remained closed and the guns of the Brit- ish were silent. And by noon General Wayne was enter- ing into a long argument with the commandant, and all the warriors that could walk had either disappeared oi had been taken prisoner.
From somewhere in the vicinity of Fort Miami Si- mon Girty heard the news of the disaster and trice furiously to rally the Indians. But it was not to be done Wayne had come upon them and was prepared to sta) until they were broken. Fort Defiance gave him strong protection and he stayed there until about the middle oi September, maintaining a strict watch for a counter- attack and meanwhile inviting the braves to attend the belated council.
It was the end. In England an agreement had beer made through John Jay between Britain and America
[236]
'HE SHADOW OF ANTHONY WAYNE
/hich tied the hands of the Indian service and required 'anada to give up Detroit. And the Indians themselves, eaten and disorganized, were forced to follow General V^ayne down to Fort Greenville where, in the following ear, they agreed to limit their wanderings to a little orner in Northwestern Ohio.
Simon watched all this with an inflamed, befuddled ye. The British were giving up Detroit. He couldn't nderstand it. It didn't seem right. He was there on le day the last of them moved out in the face of the Lmerican troops who were coming to take command. le watched the people chuck great stones down into le wells, filling them up so that there would be no rinking water; smashing the windows of their erst- ''hile houses, locking the doors and throwing away the eys — but his expression of scorn and undying defiance ad to be something greater than that, something pic- aresque and lasting. He sat on his horse near the edge f the high river bank, watching the American troops pproaching from the south. Across the river was Mal- en and he could see his farm and cabin under a row of •ees that fringed the opposite shore. Still he waited, nd the Americans came closer. . . . Finally, with a lout and a curse, Simon dug the rowels into the mare's anks and sent her forward. She leaped and there was splash below. But as the waves smoothed out old
237]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
Simon reappeared, still in the saddle and facing away from the country from which he was banned. After a while the mare clambered up on the Canadian shore and Simon headed her towards the cabin.
[238,
The Last Ride from the Tavern
•I ' • .'•
/^ftrm*..
fumtc roilrd ^
• c
it the bMWof cW T1l^» te t^ War •! 2,
•'-•f^^wiftg •prarr'' «« *^ ' :««»«r for Mi
became if ocTt a ImmhT ti My ol dMA. Hm€
he joiord lb IndiaM mi mm of cooformM * their ' tncntica jc kc
He Wt« r^f>.!fTrt' m
[241]
f
ftm
— i-r tM
F.
CHAPTER XII
The Last Ride from the Tavern
EW men, no matter what kind of lives they lead, lurvive their obituaries. But that was the fortune of 5imon Girty. Whether it was because Americans in general refused to admit that a man could desert the United States, make war against it, and yet go unpun- shed (hence the fiction taught school children that Bene- lict Arnold died in poverty and disgrace), or whether t was taken for granted that all undesirables were killed ^t the battle of the Thames in the War of 1812, the ■ollowing appeared in the Missouri Gazette for May 7, 1814, when Simon's life had four years still to run:
"Simon [Girty] was adopted by the Senecas, and Decame as expert a hunter as any of them. His charac- :er, as related in Kentucky and Ohio, ^of being a savage, nerciless monster' is much exaggerated. It is true that le joined the Indians in most of their war parties, and :onformed to their mode of warfare, but it is well au- :henticated that he saved many prisoners from death. He was considered an honest man, paying his debts to ^he last cent 3 and it is known that he sold his only horse ;241]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
to discharge a claim against him. It is true that he was a perfect Indian in his manners; that his utmost felicity was centered in a keg of rum; that under its influence he was abusive to all around him, even to his best friends. Yet we must recollect that his education was barbarous, and that mankind are more apt to sink into barbarism than they are to acquire the habits of civilized life.
"For the last ten years he had been crippled with rheumatism, yet he rode to his hunting grounds in pur- suit of game, and would boast that he preserved a war- like spirit in the midst of bodily pain, and would often exclaim, 'May I breathe my last on the field of battle.' In this wish Simon was gratified; for in the battle of the Moravian towns, on the river Thames, he was cut to pieces by Colonel Johnson's mounted men. . . ."
When the foregoing (an extract from a sketch of the Girty brothers) was published, Simon was at the Mo- hawk village of Burlington Heights in Canada. Age and a too active life had left him stiff and gnarled, and when he walked it was to hobble about slowly and uncer- tainly. At this time he had already made his will, giving to his son Thomas his eighty-two acre farm in the first concession in the Maiden township. He was definitely an old man; his hair had turned white and his skin was loose and leathery. And at Burlington Heights he was unhappy.
[242]
THE LAST RIDE
He had gone to Burlington Heights after the Amer- :an victories about Lake Erie in the War of 1812, had one to live with the Indians again so as to be far away I'om the Ohio and Kentucky soldiers who had reached le Canadian side of the Detroit River. But now it was ifferent living among the braves and squaws. For in le old days he had his musket to depend on to supply is wants. But in these latter times the gun was shaky i his hands and he tired quickly riding after game, nd sometimes he would look with quiet envy at the [d men of the Mohawk family with whom he lived, or they had their sons and grandsons to provide for lem and to listen to their sage counsel. But for Simon lere was nobody.
Thomas, his best loved boy, had died, his heart f ail- Lg from carrying a wounded British officer from the sld. Simon would have to make a new will, or else let le property go whatever way it would. He wasn't sure )out Catharine, his wife. It had been some years since le had shared his cabin, but that was his fault, not hers. 1 fact he had practically driven her out, whirling his ^ord blade around his head as he had done and cursing id threatening to lay the flat of it against her. He ight not to have done that, but somehow Catharine had Dt "right cantankerous" of late. She talked so much )out religion and the after life — of which Simon cared H3]
THE VrHITE SAVAGE
nc
'■r -1
■by
a^ ^.
e till rim it was sinful to drink as he
did. At last she had r^-^e and now he didn't know ^ whether there W2f - n the cabin or not. ... ^
The America^x^ r ^ .any of the houses when
thev came to Mai-c^, ^i would be lock if bis own stiU ^ stooa.
His eyesight was failing. Though bis return to "" Maiden was not agreeable to ccmtcmplate, be knew he would have to go back. He knew he could noC stay on with the Indians, for he had beoooic a nnisanrr to them. Besides, be wanted to see the old farm again, to know how Ann and Peter Govcreau, her hiphand, were get- ^ ting along. So he saddled bis mare and made the slow ride back to Maiden.
Afterwards he was g^ad. For be found the cabin still unharmed and his son Prideaux living in it. He too must live there, Prideanx told him. And Peter Cover- ^ eau kept a tavern at Amheisibeig, which was ; : : e'::rh of a journey to give bis old bones exercise. T .r ::t::" soon Cathaiine came back; die came to cx>. ir.i ci.t for him and talk to him about religion.
But whm be got weary of Cadiarine's voice there ^' was always the tavern at Amhostberg. Peter and Ann were good to him and nAer proud of him. His name by that time was familiar throug^iout all the west and middle west and w^ien strangers came to Amberstberg
[244]
ttt.
k r
[:
ll
i r^irr.:
i lodgmg Ann took. <Mighf ia pmrning out
- - J
: mzn. She ipkmU ask, *H3b
IN 0," the stianget would reply.
respectfully.
:ntiy and rhfnlc,
*TIc
f
;.— i. O- w ;i V^ - J — C> ;
George Rogers C
wiiisky of whic
5 2»5]
the -e of ar
::rty and mc Ti, was ready
. A3 far Lit-
THE WHITE SAVAGE
nothing; and she told him it was sinful to drink as he did. At last she had gone and now he didn't know whether there was anybody in the cabin or not. . . . The Americans had burned many of the houses when they came to Maiden j it would be luck if his own still stood.
His eyesight was failing. Though his return to Maiden was not agreeable to contemplate, he knew he would have to go back. He knew he could not stay on with the Indians, for he had become a nuisance to them. Besides, he wanted to see the old farm again, to know how Ann and Peter Govereau, her husband, were get- ting along. So he saddled his mare and made the slow ride back to Maiden.
Afterwards he was glad. For he found the cabin still unharmed and his son Prideaux living in it. He too must live there, Prideaux told him. And Peter Gover- eau kept a tavern at Amherstberg, which was just enough of a journey to give his old bones exercise. Then pretty soon Catharine came back 5 she came to cook and care for him and talk to him about religion.
But when he got weary of Catharine's voice there was always the tavern at Amherstberg. Peter and Ann were good to him and rather proud of him. His name by that time was familiar throughout all the west and middle west and when strangers came to Amherstberg
[244]
THE LAST RIDE
or a night's lodging Ann took delight in pointing out ; he white-haired, slumped and almost sightless figure itting before his noggin of rum. She would ask, "Do ^ou know who that is? " "No," the stranger would reply. \nd then Ann or Peter would answer respectfully, 'Well, that's Simon Girty!'' Whereupon the visitor vould stare more intently and think, perhaps aloud, "He lon't look so terrible 5 not for a man who had the name )f being so great a villain.''
For four years Simon lived amid these surroundings, kvhich were now and again enlivened by the appearance Df one of his Indian friends who had stopped in passing :o talk to him. Or some old veteran would come down from Maiden, where there was now a British fort, and dt, toothlessly garrulous.
But all the old people were dropping off. General Wayne, now, had been dead for more than twenty years. ^ . . And old Tarhe the Crane, they had just buried him on the Sandusky with the great to-do the Indians made when they paid the last honors to one of their chieftains. . . . And down in Kentucky at Locust Grove, George Rogers Clark, his heart gone wrong from too much whisky drunk to drown his poverty and the neglect of which he felt himself the victim, was ready to die. . . . And old Blue Jacket, they had buried him at an Ottawa village up the Auglaize. ... As for Lit- [245]
THE WIIITI
VAGE
nful to drink as he
ijw he didn't know
cabin or not. . . .
nf the houses when
luck if his own still
nothing; and she told him it did. At last she had gone whether there was anyb< The Americans had burned \ they came to Maldcnj it won stood. .
His eyesight was failing} Though his return to Maiden was not agreeable to -rntemplate, he knew he would have to go back. He V v he could not stay on with the Indians, for he had 1 Besides, he wanted to see tlu how Ann and Peter Govcrci ting along. So he saddled hi ride back to Maiden.
Afterwards he was glad, still unharmed and his son Pri
1^1^
• a nuisance to them.
arm again, to know
husband, were get-
irc and made the slow
-:!;«
r he found the cabin living in it. He too
must live there, Prideaux toU?v.m. And Peter Cover- ^sw^r eau kept a tavern at Amhcrstbc l , which was just enough of a journey to give his old b(K exercise. Then pretty soon Catharine came back; s. ^amc to cook and care for him and talk to him about «. : irion. But when he got weary
was always the tavern at Am were good to him and rather by that time was familiar th middle west and when stran
\itharine's voice there
• erg. Peter and Ann
ud of him. His name
jhout all the west and
came to Amherstberg
[244]
J
THE ST
\r MX*
for a niKht't lodging the wl.
sating before his n ^ jrou know who thic t* And then Ann or i "Well, ihat^i Simon would flare more mtc: don*C look io CerriMc of being to great a v;.
For four Jrcar^ which were now ami of one of his Iniiiin to talk to him« ( )r >• from Maiden, where t tit, Coochleailjr garrul
But all the old p^
\Va3me, now, had bee:
\nd old Tarhe
hun on the Sandutky
:)t in pointing out
h1 almost ftightleii figure
mL She would ask, "Do
\t urangcr would reply.
' \nswer respectfully,
<« Hereupon the visitor
.i.:„L p^,.||,p, aloud, "He
a uian who bad the name
I these surroundings,
I7 the appearaoce
id stopped in ptatiiig
m would come down
.V a Hritish fort, and
-—ft dropping off. General »r more than twenty years, ane, they had just buried e great to-do the Indians made when they pmid tn last booon to one of their chieftain^ And in Kentucky at Locust
Grove, C^eorge Roger Ckk. his heart gone wrong from too much whisky dr -nwn hi« poverty and the
neglect of which he * the n, was ready
to die. And ol; v thcv had buried him
at an Otuwa viHige ir. As for Lit-
[245]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
tie Turtle, for five years he had been under the grass that grew about Kekiong-gay.
In the middle of February, 1818, Simon was at- tacked by illness one day as he returned to his cabin from the Amherstberg tavern. It was an extraordinarily bit- ter winter with tremendous drifts of snow. He had tired himself and had been chilled; when he got home he went to bed with a fever. That night he was no better and Catharine came and sat by his side.
The next day was worse and what was left of his rugged figure seemed to be shriveling up. His legs, as he would look down the quilt at them, appeared like two little hickory sticks, they were so thin and unreal to him. And Catharine began talking of religipn and God and Jesus Christ. He lay with his face averted, his cheek against the pillow while he wondered helplessly, "why did women want to take on like that!"
He had been a sinner. He had killed a heap of folk. All the marauds he had led against the settle- ments, all the forts he had stormed, the pitched battles in which he had struck out so mightily. Could he be ashamed of them, crawl and grovel, ask repentance now that they were gone?
It snowed again the next day, and outside the cabin the wind drove ridges of white, deep, rolling drifts. The flakes became a blur to him, Catharine's voice grew
[246]
THE LAST RIDE
idistinct and distant, outside the door the creak of heavy oots tiptoeing was no longer heard. . . .
But two days later the planks of the cabin floor re- Dunded. Despite the weather, the neighbors were com- ig from near and far. Catharine, Ann, Prideaux, arah, Peter, Joseph Munger stood white-faced and uiet while red-jacketed soldiers from Fort Maiden larched through the heavy drifts and entered the door, ly that time Simon was in a coffin, and down the road a etachment was digging into the frozen ground with icks and shovels.
Soldiers lifted him up and the procession filed slowly ut. They walked towards the gate, but there the drifts ^ere so high that the burden could not be carried Jirough. After a moment a passage was found and imon was lifted over the fence and down the road. A ttle later a salute of musketry roared into the biting air. Ls the smoke cleared away the soldiers marched north- ward, while the mourners moved back towards the cabin, imon remained where he was, stationary at last.
247]
«
77/ A wniri
tic Turtle, for five years he c
that grew about Kckiong-gay.
Ill the middle of I'cbrua iSl tacked by illness one day as hr rci
the Alnhcr^t^>crg tavern. It vir an c: tcr winter with tremendous Ci :ts oi tired himself and had been c! . wj he went to bed with a fever. at better and Catharine came and r by
The next day was worbc . ^A\:x\ rugged figure seemed to be shjv cling he would look down the quilt ;rt xm, little hickory sticks, they wc th
him. And Catharine began ta. ^ of and Jesus Christ. He lay w his cheek against the pillow whih woi "why did women want to taki like
He had been a sinner. Ic had folk. All the marauds he hd led aj ments, all the forts he had stared, tl in which he had struck out sri lightill ashamed of them, crawl and grcl, that they were gone?
It snowed again the next t , and the wind drove ridges of whc, dec] The flakes became a blur to hi; thai
THi
V un !cd.
tndutiiKt and dimai, boots tiptoeing wti no
But two (Un UtcT Despite the
irom near tad f Sarah, Peter, Joseph quiet while rcd-jackcted i» nur.^ r i t' riugh thc hcs-i h\ r.Ai i.::.c Simon wtfi: was diggini «
♦ *
^ l.nc i himapi^
( \A I hey walked towaH- •
-e to high that the u;rough. \fter a nxxn^ IT ' ted over thc tie later s talute of mit»i tmoke elcarr .ward, wh;!c tK
^■moQ reoisint^
- 1
Note
NOTE
The bulk of the foregoing material concerning the fe of Simon Girty had already been gathered by Con- j1 Willshire Butterfield, who published it in his "His- Dry of the Girtys"; Robert Clarke & Co., Cincinnati, 890. Other works which have been read in connec- ion with the writing of the present volume are: A "Narrative of the Mission of the United Brethren Among he Delawares and Mohegan Indians, from its com- lencement in the year 1740, to the close of the Year '808. By the Rev. John Heckewelder. Philadelphia, vPCarty and Davis, 1820; The Winning of the West. ]y Theodore Roosevelt. G. P. Putnam's Sons, New ^ork, 1889-995 The Washington-Irvine Correspond- nce, arranged and annotated by C. W. Butterfield. Madison, Wisconsin, David Atwood, 1882. The Indian Claptivity of O. M. Spencer, edited by Milo Milton }uaife (The Lakeside Classics), R. R. Donnelly & >ons, Chicago, 1917. The Magazine of American history. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia, Abraham Small, 1819, Vol- ime 1 . An Account of the History, Manners and Cus- oms of the Indian Natives who once inhabited Penn- 251]
THE WHITE SAVAGE
sylvania and Neighboring States, by the Rev. John Heckewelder, Howe's Historical Collections of Ohio, ColumbuSj 1900. A History of the Mississippi Valley, by John R. Spears and A. H. Clarke, A. S. Clarke, pub- lisher. New York, 1903. American State Papers (In- dian Affairs), Volume One, A History of Defiance (Ohio) County, Chicago, 1883. A Short Biography of John Leith, a reprint with illustrative notes by C. W. Butterfield, Robert Clarke & Co., Cincinnati, 1883. The History of Detroit and Michigan by Silas Farmer, Silas Farmer & Co., Detroit, 1884. Notes on the Set- tlement and Indian Wars of the Western Parts of Vir- ginia and Pennsylvania from 1763 to 1783, etc., by Joseph Doddridge, Albany, New York, Joel Munsell, 1 876. Sketches of Western Adventure, by John A. Mc- Clung, Ells, Claflin & Co., Dayton, O., 1847. Bio- graphical Sketches, etc., by John McDonald, E. Mor- gan & Son, Cincinnati, 1838. Frontier Defense on the Upper Ohio— 1777-78 (Draper Series Vol. Ill), edited by Reuben Gold Thwaites and Louise Phelps Kellogg, Wisconsin Historical Society, Madison, 1912. The Westward Movement, by Justin Winsor, Houghton, Mifflin, 1897. Articles on Americana from the Amer- ican Historical Record.
[252]
1^
THE
UJ/
TE SAVAGE
vyivania and Neighbor,' States, by the Rev. Hcckcvvcldcr, Howc*^ lyrical Collections of Columbus, 1900. A Hitory of the Mississippi ' by John K. Spears and \. H. Clarke, A. S. Clark lisher. New York, 19(L American State Paf)e vlian Affairs), \'oluni< One, A History of E (Ohio) County, Chicfo, 1883. A Short Bic of John Lcith, a rcprinwith illustrative notes b) Huttcrficld, Robert Cirke & Co., Cincinnati, The History of Dctroi^nd Michigan by Silas 1 Sihas Farmer & Co., Dtroit, 1884. Notes on t tlement and Indian Wrs of the Western Parts ginia and Pcnnsylvani from 1763 to 1783, Joseph Doddridge, Alfcny, New York, Joel > 1876. Sketches of ^^' n Adventure, by John Clung, Ells, Claflin 6iCo., Dayton, O., 1847 graphical Sketches, cti^ by John McDonald, 1 gnn & Son, Cincinnati,! 838. Frontier Dcfens Upper Ohio— 1777.7K Draper Scries Vol. HI by Reuben Gold Thw : Louise Phelps
Wisconsin Historical tociety, Madison, 19^ Westward Movement, by Justin Winsor, ^ Mifflin, 1897. Articli on Americana ican Historical Record
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