Kitabı oku: «The Indian: On the Battle-Field and in the Wigwam», sayfa 8
On my return, Governor Dunmore gave me the command of three garrisons during the campaign against the Shawanese. In March, 1775, at the solicitation of a number of gentlemen of North Carolina, I attended their treaty at Wataga with the Cherokee Indians, to purchase the lands on the south side of Kentucky river. After this, I undertook to mark out a road in the best passage from the settlements through the wilderness to Kentucky.
Having collected a number of enterprising men, well armed, I soon began this work. We proceeded until we came within fifteen miles of where Boonesborough now stands, where the Indians attacked us, and killed two and wounded two more of our party. This was on the 22d of March, 1775. Two days after we were again attacked by them, when we had two more killed and three wounded. After this we proceeded on to Kentucky river without opposition.
On the 1st of April we began to erect the fort of Boonesborough, at a salt lick sixty yards from the river, on the south side. On the 4th, the Indians killed one of our men. On the 14th of June, having completed the fort, I returned to my family on the Clench, and whom I soon after removed to the fort. My wife and daughter were supposed to be the first white women that ever stood on the banks of Kentucky river.
On the 24th of December, the Indians killed one of our men and wounded another; and on the 15th of July, 1776, they took my daughter prisoner. I immediately pursued them with eight men, and on the 16th overtook and engaged them. I killed two of them, and recovered my daughter.
The Indians having divided themselves into several parties, attacked in one day all our infant settlements and forts, doing a great deal of damage. The husbandmen were ambushed and unexpectedly attacked while toiling in the field. They continued this kind of warfare until the 15th of April, 1777, when nearly one hundred of them attacked the village of Boonesborough, and killed a number of its inhabitants. On the 16th Colonel Logan’s fort was attacked by two hundred Indians. There were only thirteen men in the fort, of whom the enemy killed two and wounded one.
On the 20th of August, Colonel Bowman arrived with one hundred men from Virginia, with which additional force we had almost daily skirmishes with the Indians, who began now to learn the superiority of the “long knife,” as they termed us the Virginians; being outgeneraled in almost every action. Our affairs began now to wear a better aspect, the Indians no longer daring to face us in open field, but sought private opportunities to destroy us.
On the 7th of February, 1778, while on a hunting excursion alone, I met a party of one hundred and two Indians and two Frenchmen, marching to attack Boonesborough. They pursued and took me prisoner, and conveyed me to Old Chilicothe, the principal Indian town on Little Miami, where we arrived on the 18th of February, after an uncomfortable journey. On the 10th of March I was conducted to Detroit, and while there, was treated with great humanity by Governor Hamilton, the British commander, at that post, and intendant for Indian affairs.
The Indians had such an affection for me that they refused one hundred pounds sterling offered them by the governor, if they would consent to leave me with him, that he might be enabled to liberate me on my parole. Several English gentlemen then at Detroit, sensible of my adverse fortune, and touched with sympathy, generously offered to supply my wants, which I declined with many thanks, adding that I never expected it would be in my power to recompense such unmerited generosity.
On the 10th of April, the Indians returned with me to Old Chilicothe, were we arrived on the 25th. This was a long and fatiguing march, although through an exceeding fertile country, remarkable for springs and streams of water. At Chilicothe I spent my time as comfortably as I could expect; was adopted according to their custom, into a family where I became a son, and had a great share in the affection of my new parents, brothers, sisters, and friends. I was exceedingly familiar and friendly with them, always appearing as cheerful and contented as possible, and they put great confidence in me. I often went a hunting with them, and frequently gained their applause for my activity at our shooting matches. I was careful not to exceed many of them in shooting, for no people are more envious than they in this sport. I could observe in their countenances and gestures the greatest expressions of joy, when they exceeded me, and when the reverse happened, of envy. The Shawanese king took great notice of me, and treated me with profound respect and entire friendship, often entrusting me to hunt at my liberty. I frequently returned with the spoils of the woods, and as often presented some of what I had taken to him, expressive of duty to my sovereign. My food and lodging was in common with them, not so good indeed as I could desire, but necessity made every thing acceptable.
I now began to meditate an escape, and carefully avoided giving suspicion. I continued at Chilicothe until the 1st day of June, when I was taken to the salt springs on the Sciota, and there employed ten days in the manufacturing of salt. During this time I hunted with my Indian masters, and found the land, for a greats extent about this river, to exceed the soil of Kentucky.
On my return to Chilicothe, one hundred and fifty of the choicest warriors were ready to march against Boonesborough. They were painted and armed in a frightful manner. This alarmed me, and I determined to escape.
On the 18th of June, before sun rise, I went off secretly, and reached Boonesborough on the 20th, a journey of one hundred and sixty miles, during which I had only one meal. I found our fortress in a bad state, but we immediately repaired our flanks, gates, and posterns, and formed double bastions, which we completed in ten days. One of my fellow, prisoners escaped after me, and brought advice that on account of my flight the Indians had put off their expedition for three weeks.
About the first of August I set out with nineteen men, to surprise Point Creek Town, on Sciota, within four miles of which we fell in with forty Indians, going against Boonesborough. We attacked them and they soon gave way without any loss on our part. The enemy had one killed and two wounded. We took three horses and all their baggage. The Indians having evacuated their town, and gone altogether against Boonesborough, we returned, passed them on the 6th, and on the 7th arrived safe at Boonesborough.
On the 9th the Indian army, consisting of four hundred and forty-four men, under the command of Captain Duquesne, and eleven other Frenchmen and their own chiefs, arrived and summoned the fort to surrender. I requested two days’ consideration, which was granted. During this we brought in through the posterns all the horses and other cattle we could collect.
On the 9th, in the evening, I informed their commander that we were determined to defend the fort while a man was living. They then proposed a treaty, they would withdraw. The treaty was held within sixty yards of the fort, as we suspected the savages. The articles were agreed to and signed; when the Indians told us it was their-custom for two Indians to shake hands with every white man in the treaty, as an evidence of friendship. We agreed to this also. They immediately grappled us to take us prisoners, but we cleared ourselves of them, though surrounded by hundreds, and gained the fort safe, except one man, who was wounded by a heavy fire from the enemy.
The savages now began to undermine the fort, beginning at the water mark of the Kentucky river, which is sixty yards from the fort; this we discovered by the water being muddy by the clay. We countermined them by cutting a trench across their subterraneous passage. The enemy discovering this by the clay we threw out of the fort, desisted. On the 20th of August, they raised the siege, during which we had two men killed and four wounded. We lost a number of cattle. The enemy had thirty-seven killed, and a much larger number wounded. We picked up one hundred and twenty-five pounds of their bullets, besides what stuck in the logs of the fort.
In July, 1779, during my absence, Colonel Bowman, with one hundred and sixty men, went against the Shawanese of Old Chilicothe. He arrived undiscovered. A battle ensued which lasted until ten in the morning, when Colonel Bowman retreated thirty miles. The Indians collected all their strength and pursued him, when another engagement ensued for two hours, not to Colonel Bowman’s advantage. Colonel Harrod proposed to mount a number of horses, and break the enemy’s line, who at this time fought with remarkable fury. This desperate measure had a happy effect, and the savages fled on all sides. In these two engagements we had nine men killed and one wounded. The enemy’s loss uncertain. Only two scalps were taken.
June 23d, 1780, five hundred Indians and Canadians, under Colonel Bird, attacked Riddle and Martin’s station, on the forks of Licking river, with six pieces of artillery. They took all the inhabitants captives, and killed one man and two women, loading the others with the heavy baggage, and such as failed in the journey were tomahawked.
The hostile disposition of the savages caused General Clark, the commandant at the Falls of Ohio, to march with his regiment and the armed force of the country against Peccaway, the principal town of the Shawa-nese, on a branch of the Great Miami, which he attacked with great success, took seventy scalps, and reduced the town to ashes, with the loss of seventeen men.
About this time I returned to Kentucky with my family; for during my captivity, my wife thinking me killed by the Indians, had transported my family and goods on horses through the wilderness, amidst many dangers, to her father’s house in North Carolina.
On the 6th of October, 1780, soon after my settling again at Boonesborough, I went with my brother to the Blue Licks, and on our return he was shot by a party of Indians, who followed me by the scent of a dog, which I shot and escaped. The severity of the winter caused great distress in Kentucky, the enemy during the summer having destroyed most of the corn. The inhabitants lived chiefly on buffalo’s flesh.
In the spring of 1782, the Indians harassed us. In May, they ravished, killed, and scalped a woman and her two daughters, near Ashton’s station, and took a negro prisoner. Captain Ashton pursued them with twenty-men, and in an engagement which lasted two hours, his party were obliged to retreat, having eight killed, and four mortally wounded. Their brave commander fell in the action.
August 18th, two boys were carried off from Major Hoy’s station. Captain Holden pursued the enemy with seventeen men, who were also defeated, with the loss of seven killed and two wounded. Our affairs became more and more alarming. The savages infested the country and destroyed the whites as opportunity presented. In a field near Lexington, an Indian shot a man, and running to scalp him, was himself shot from the fort, and fell dead upon the ground. All the Indian nations were now united against us.
August 10th, five hundred Indians and Canadians came against Briat’s station, five miles from Lexington. They assaulted the fort and all the cattle round it; but being repulsed, they retired the third day, having about eighty killed; their wounded uncertain. The garrison had four killed and nine wounded.
August 18th, Colonels Todd and Trigg, Major Harland and myself, speedily collected one hundred and seventy-six men, well armed, and pursued the savages. They had marched beyond the Blue Lick, to a remarkable bend of the main fork of Licking river, about forty-three miles from Lexington, where we overtook them on the 19th. The savages observing us, gave way, and we being ignorant of their numbers, passed the river. When they saw our proceedings, having greatly the advantage in situation, they formed their line of battle from one end of Licking to the other, about a mile from the Blue Licks. The engagement was close and warm for about fifteen minutes, when we being overpowered by numbers, were obliged to retreat, with the loss of seventy-seven men, seven of whom were taken prisoners. The brave and much lamented Colonels Todd and Trigg, Major Harland, and my second son were among the dead. We were afterwards informed that the Indians on numbering their dead, finding that they had four more killed than we, four of our people that they had taken were given up to their young warriors, to be put to death after their barbarous manner.
On our retreat we were met by Colonel Logan, who was hastening to join us with a number of well armed men. This powerful assistance we wanted on the day of battle. The enemy said one more fire from us would have made them give way.
I cannot reflect upon this dreadful scene, without great sorrow. A zeal for the defence of their country led these heroes to the scene of action, though with a few men, to attack a powerful army of experienced warriors. When we gave way, they pursued us with the utmost eagerness, and in every quarter spread destruction. The river was difficult to cross, and many were killed in the fight, some just entering the river, some in the water, and others after crossing, in ascending the cliffs. Some escaped on horseback, a few on foot; and being dispersed every where, in a few hours, brought the melancholy news of this unfortunate battle to Lexington. Many widows were made. The reader may guess what sorrow filled the hearts of the inhabitants, exceeding any thing that I am able to describe. Being reinforced, we returned to bury the dead, and found their bodies strewed everywhere, cut and mangled in a dreadful manner. This mournful scene exhibited a horror almost unparalleled: some torn and eaten by wild beasts; those in the river eaten by fishes; and all in such a putrid condition that no one could be distinguished from another.
When General Clark, at the Falls of the Ohio, heard of our disaster, he ordered an expedition to pursue the savages. We overtook them within two miles of their town, and we should have obtained a great victory had not some of them met us when about two hundred poles from their camp. The savages fled in the utmost disorder, and evacuated all their towns. We burned to ashes Old Chilicothe, Peccaway, New Chilicothe, and Wills Town; entirely destroyed their corn and other fruits, and spread desolation through their country. We took seven prisoners and fifteen scalps, and lost only four men, two of whom were accidentally killed by ourselves. This campaign dampened the enemy, yet they made secret incursions.
In October, a party attacked Crab Orchard, and one of them being a good way before the others, boldly entered a house in which were only woman and her children, and a negro man. The savage used no violence, but attempted to carry off the negro, who happily proved too strong for him, and threw him on the ground, and in the struggle the woman cut off his head with an axe, whilst her daughter shut the door. The savages instantly came up and applied their tomahawks to the door, when the mother putting an old rusty gun barrel through the crevices, the savages immediately went off.
From that time till the happy return of peace between the United States and Great Britain, the Indians did us no mischief. Soon after this the Indians desired peace.
Two darling sons and a brother I have lost by savage hands, which have also taken from me forty valuable horses, and abundance of cattle. Many dark and sleepless nights have I spent, separated from the cheerful society of men, scorched by the summer’s sun, and pinched by the winter’s cold, an instrument ordained to settle the wilderness.
ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM
N the month of August, 1758, five hundred men were employed, under the orders of Majors Rogers and Putnam, to watch the French and Indians, near Ticonderoga. At South Bay, they separated the party into two equal divisions, and Rogers took a position on Wood creek, twelve miles distant from Putnam.
Upon being, sometime afterwards, discovered, they formed a re-union, and concerted measures for returning to Fort Edward. Their march through the woods, was in three divisions, by files, the right commanded by Rogers, the left by Putnam, and the centre by Captain D’Ell. The first night they encamped on the banks of Clear river, about a mile from old Fort Ann, which had been formerly built by General Nicholson.
Next morning, Major Rogers and a British officer, named Irwin, incautiously suffered themselves, from a spirit of false emulation, to be engaged in firing at a mark. Nothing could have been more repugnant to the military principles of Putnam than such conduct, or reprobated by him in more pointed terms. As soon as the heavy dew which had fallen the preceding night would permit, the detachment moved in one body, Putnam being in front, D’Ell in centre, and Rogers in the rear. The impervious growth of shrubs, and underbrush, that had sprung up, where the land had been partially cleared some years before, occasioned this change in the order of march. At the moment of moving, the famous French partisan, Molang, who had been sent with five hundred men, to intercept our party, was not more than a mile and a half distant from them. Having heard the firing, he hastened to lay an ambuscade precisely in that part of the wood most favorable to his project. Major Putnam was just emerging from the thicket, into the common forest, when the enemy rose, and with discordant yells and whoops, commenced an attack upon the right of his division. Surprised, but undismayed, Putnam halted, returned the fire, and passed the word for the other divisions to advance for his support. D’Ell came. The action, though widely scattered, and principally fought between man and man, soon grew general and intensely warm. It would be as difficult as useless to describe this irregular and ferocious mode of fighting. Rogers came not up; but, as he declared afterwards, formed a circular file between our party and Wood creek, to prevent their being taken in rear or enfiladed. Successful as he commonly was, his conduct did not always pass without unfavorable imputation. Notwithstanding, it was a current saying in the camp, “that Rogers always sent, but Putnam led his men to action,” – yet, in justice, it ought to be remarked here, that the latter has never been known, in relating the story of this day’s disaster, to fix any stigma upon the conduct of the former.
Major Putnam, perceiving it would be impracticable to cross the creek, determined to maintain his ground. Inspired by his example, the officers and men behaved with great bravery: sometimes they fought collectively in open view, and sometimes individually under cover; taking aim from behind the bodies of trees, and acting in a manner independent of each other. For himself; having discharged his fuzee several times, at length it missed fire, whilst the muzzle was pressed against the breast of a large and well proportioned savage. This warrior, availing himself of the indefensible attitude of his adversary, with a tremendous war-whoop sprang forward, with his lifted hatchet, and compelled him to surrender; and having disarmed and bound him fast to a tree, returned to the battle.
The intrepid Captains D’Ell and Harman, who now commanded, were forced to give ground for a little distance; the savages, conceiving this to be the certain harbinger of victory, rushed impetuously on, with dreadful and redoubled cries. But our two partisans, collecting a handful of brave men, gave the pursuers so warm a reception as to oblige them in turn, to retreat a little beyond the spot at which the action had commenced.
Here they made a stand. This change of ground occasioned the tree, to which Putnam was tied, to be directly between the two parties. Human imagination can hardly figure to itself a more deplorable situation. The balls flew incessantly from either side, many struck the tree, while some passed through the sleeves and skirts of his coat. In this state of jeopardy, unable to move his body, to stir his limbs, or even to incline his head, he remained more than an hour. So equally balanced, and so obstinate was the fight! At one moment, while the battle swerved in in favor of the enemy, a young savage chose an odd way of discovering his humor. He found Putnam bound. He might have despatched him at a blow; but he loved better to excite the terrors of the prisoner, by hurling a tomahawk at his head, or rather it should seem his object was to see how near he could throw it without touching him – the weapon struck in the tree a number of times at a hair’s breadth distant from the mark. When the Indian had finished his amusement, a French officer, (a much more inveterate savage by nature, though descended from so humane and polished a nation,) perceiving Putnam, came up to him, and levelling a fuzee within a foot of his breast, attempted to discharge it; it missed fire – ineffectually did the intended victim solicit the treatment due to his situation, by repeating that he was a prisoner of war. The degenerate officer did not understand the language of honor or of nature; deaf to their voice, and dead to sensibility, he violently and repeatedly pushed the muzzle of his gun against Putnam’s ribs, and finally gave him a cruel blow on the jaw with the butt of his piece. After this dastardly deed he left him.
At length the active intrepidity of D’Ell and Harman, seconded by the persevering valor of their followers, prevailed. They drove from the field the enemy, who left about ninety dead behind them. As they were retiring, Putnam was untied by the Indian who had made him prisoner, and whom he afterwards called master.
Having been conducted for some distance from the place of action, he was stripped of his coat, vest, stockings, and shoes; loaded with as many packs of the wounded as could be piled upon him: strongly pinioned, and his wrists tied as closely together as they could be pulled with a cord. After he had marched through no pleasant paths, in this painful manner, for many a tedious mile, the party, who were excessively fatigued, halted to breathe. His hands were now immoderately swelled from the tightness of the ligature; and the pain had become intolerable. His feet were so much scratched that the blood dropped fast from them. Exhausted with bearing a burden above his strength, and frantic with torments exquisite beyond endurance, he entreated the Irish interpreter to implore as the last and only grace he desired of the savages, that they would knock him on the head and take his scalp at once, or loose his hands.
A French officer, instantly interposing, ordered his hands to be unbound, and some of the packs to be taken off. By this time the Indian who captured him, and had been absent with the wounded, coming up, gave him a pair of moccasins, and expressed great indignation at the unworthy treatment his prisoner had suffered.
That savage chief again returned to the care of the wounded, and, the Indians, about two hundred in number, went before the rest of the party to the place where the whole were, that night, to encamp. They took with them Major Putnam, on whom (besides innumerable other outrages) they had the barbarity to inflict a deep wound with a tomahawk, in the cheek. His sufferings were in this place to be consummated. A scene of horror, infinitely greater than had ever met his eyes before, was now preparing. It was determined to roast him alive. For this purpose they led him into a dark forest, stripped him naked, bound him to a tree, and piled dried brush with other fuel, at a small distance, in a circle round him. They accompanied their labors, as if for his funeral dirge, with screams and sounds inimitable but by savage voices. Then they set the piles on fire. A sudden shower damped the rising flame. Still they strove to kindle it, until, at last, the blaze ran fiercely round the circle. Major Putnam soon began to feel the scorching heat. His hands were so tied that he could move his body. He often shifted sides as the fire approached. This sight, at the very idea of which all but savages must shudder, afforded the highest diversion to his inhuman tormentors, who demonstrated the delirium of their joy by corresponding yells, dances, and gesticulations. He saw clearly that his final hour was inevitably come. He summoned all his resolution and composed his mind, as far as the circumstances could admit, to bid an eternal farewell to all he held most dear.
To quit the world would scarcely have cost a single pang, but for the idea of home; but for the remembrance of domestic endearments, of the affectionate partner of his soul, and of their beloved offspring. His thought was ultimately fixed on a happier state of existence, beyond the tortures he was beginning to endure. The bitterness of death, even of that death which is accompanied with the keenest agonies, was, in a manner, past – nature, with a feeble struggle, was quitting its last hold on sublunary things – when a French officer rushed through the crowd, opened the way by scattering the burning brands, and unbound the victim. It was Molang himself – to whom a savage, unwilling to see another human sacrifice immolated, had run and communicated the tidings. That commandant spurned and severely reprimanded the barbarians, whose nocturnal powwows and hellish orgies he suddenly ended. Putnam did not want for feeling and gratitude. The French commander, fearing to trust him alone with them, remained until he could deliver him in safety into the hands of his master.
The savage approached his prisoner kindly, and seemed to treat him with peculiar affection. He offered him some hard biscuit, but finding that he could not chew them, on account of the blow he had received from the Frenchman, this more humane savage soaked some of the biscuit in water and made him suck the pulp-like part. Determined, however, not to lose his captive (the refreshment being finished) he took the moccasins from his feet and tied them to one of his wrists; then directing him to lie down on his back upon the bare ground, he stretched one arm to its full length, and bound it fast to a young tree; the other arm was extended and bound in the same manner – his legs were stretched apart and fastened to two saplings. Then a number of tall, but slender poles were cut down; which, with some long bushes, were laid across his body from head to foot: on each side lay as many Indians as could conveniently find lodging, in order to prevent the possibility of his escape. In this disagreeable and painful posture he remained until morning. During this night, the longest and most dreary conceivable, our hero used to relate that he felt a ray of cheerfulness come casually across his mind, and could not even refrain from smiling, when he reflected on this ludicrous group for a painter, of which he himself was the principal figure.
The next day he was allowed his blanket and moccasins, and permitted to march without carrying any pack, or receiving any insult. To allay his extreme hunger, a little bear’s meat was given him, which he sucked through his teeth. At night, the party arrived at Ticonderoga, and the prisoner was placed under a French guard. The savages, who had been prevented from glutting their diabolical thirst for blood, took other opportunities of manifesting their malevolence for the disappointment, by horrid grimaces and angry gestures; but they were suffered no more to offer violence or personal indignity to him.
After having been examined by the Marquis de Montcalm, Major Putnam was conducted to Montreal, by a French officer, who treated him with the greatest indulgence and humanity.
At this place were several prisoners. Colonel Peter Schuyler, remarkable for his philanthropy, generosity, and friendship, was of the number. No sooner had he heard of Major Putnam’s arrival, than he went to the interpreter’s quarters, and inquired whether he had a provincial major in his custody. He found Major Putnam in a comfortless condition – without hat, waistcoat, or hose – the remnant of his clothing miserably dirty, and ragged – his beard long and squalid – his legs torn by thorns and briers – his face gashed with wounds, and swollen with bruises. Colonel Schuyler, irritated beyond all sufferance at such a sight, could scarcely restrain his speech within limits consistent with the prudence of a prisoner, and the meekness of a Christian. Major Putnam was immediately treated according to his rank, clothed in a decent manner, and supplied with money by that liberal and sympathetic patron of the distressed.
The capture of Frontenac, by General Brad-street, afforded occasion for an exchange of prisoners: Colonel Schuyler was comprehended in the cartel. A generous spirit can never be satisfied with imposing tasks for its generosity to accomplish. Apprehensive if it should be known that Putnam was a distinguished partisan, his liberation might be retarded, and knowing that there were officers, who, from the length of their captivity, had a claim of priority to exchange; he had, by his happy address, induced the governor to offer, that whatever officer he might think proper to nominate, should be included in the present cartel. With great politeness in manner, but seeming indifference as to object, he expressed his warmest acknowledgments to the governor, and said: “There is an old man here, who is a provincial major, and he wishes to be at home with his wife and children. He can do no good here, or any where else: I believe your excellency had better keep some of the young men, who have no wife or children to care for, and let the old fellow go home with me.” This justifiable finesse had the desired effect.
