Part 4
We passed this night under the most serious apprehensions of being massacred by the tomahawk or consumed in the flames. I frequently went out during the night to see if the house was set on fire. At length the long wished-for morn arrived, and filled each heart with a cheerful hope of being delivered from the cruelty of those merciless savages. We were making every preparation to be ready for the promised sleighs; but, alas! instead of the sleighs, about an hour by sun a great number of savages, painted with various colors, came yelling in the most hideous manner! These bloodthirsty, terrific savages (sent here by their more cruel and perfidious allies, the British) rushed into the houses where the desponding wounded lay, and insolently stripped them of their blankets and all their best clothes, and ordered them out of the houses! I ran out of the house to inform the interpreters[L] what the Indians were doing. At the door, an Indian took my hat and put it on his own head. I then discovered the Indians had been at the other house first, and had used the wounded in like manner. As I turned to go back into the house, an Indian, taking hold of me, made signs for me to stand by the corner of the house. I made signs to him I wanted to go in and get my hat; for I desired to see what they had done with the wounded. The Indians sent in a boy who brought out a hat and threw it down to me, and I could not get in the house. Three Indians came up to me and pulled off my coat. My feeble powers cannot describe the dismal scenes here exhibited. I saw my fellow-soldiers, naked and wounded, crawling out of the houses to avoid being consumed in the flames. Some that had not been able to turn themselves on their beds for four days, through fear of being burned to death, arose and walked out and about through the yard. Some cried for help, but there were none to help them. “Ah!” exclaimed numbers, in the anguish of their spirit, “what shall we do?” A number, unable to get out, miserably perished in the unrelenting flames of the houses, kindled by the more unrelenting savages. Now the scenes of cruelty and murder we had been anticipating with dread, during last night, fully commenced. The savages rushed on the wounded, and, in their barbarous manner, shot, and tomahawked, and scalped them; and cruelly mangled their naked bodies while they lay agonizing and weltering in their blood. A number were taken towards Malden, but being unable to march with speed, were inhumanly massacred. The road was, for miles, strewed with the mangled bodies, and all of them were left like those slain in battle, on the 22d, for birds and beasts to tear in pieces and devour. The Indians plundered the town of everything valuable, and set the best houses on fire. The Indian who claimed me, gave me a coat, and when he had got as much plunder as he could carry, he ordered me, by signs, to march, which I did, with extreme reluctance, in company with three of the wounded and six or seven Indians. In travelling about a quarter of a mile, two of the wounded lagged behind about twenty yards. The Indians, turning round, shot one and scalped him. They shot at the other and missed him; he, running up to them, begged that they would not shoot him. He said he would keep up, and give them money. But these murderers were not moved with his doleful cries. They shot him down; and, rushing on him in a crowd, scalped him. In like manner my brother Allen perished. He marched with difficulty after the wounded, about two or three hundred yards, and was there barbarously murdered. My feelings at the sight and recollection of these inhuman butcheries cannot be described. In addition to these deep sorrows for the mournful fate of my companions, and the cruel death of a dear brother, I expected every moment, for a considerable time, that the same kind of cruelty and death would be my portion. The Indians that guarded me and one of the wounded, observing our consternation, one that could talk English said, “We will not shoot you.” This a little revived our hopes, that were almost gone;[M] and he, having cut a piece, hide and all, of a dead cow, started. It is their common practice to kill a cow or hog, and take a piece, and leave the rest. In travelling two miles, we came to a house where there were two British officers; the Indian made a halt, and I asked one of the officers what the Indian was going to do with me; he said he was going to take me to Amherstburg (or Malden). I judged these villains had instructed the Indians to do what they had done. A few miles farther, we came to the Indian encampment, where there were a great many hallooing and yelling in a hideous manner. I thought this my place of destiny. The Indian took off my pack, broiled a piece of meat and gave me part; this I ate merely in obedience to him. Then we started and arrived at Amherstburg, eighteen miles from Frenchtown. The other prisoners had just arrived. The British were firing their salute. The Indian took me into a house not far from the fort; it was probably their council house; it would have held 500. It was inhabited by a large number of squaws, children, and dogs. They welcomed me by giving me some bread, meat and hominy to eat. After this an Indian asked me if I had a squaw; I told him not; he immediately turned round and talked to the squaws in Indian, while I sat in a pensive mood observing their motions. I discovered the squaws were pleased, by their tittering and grinning; one, I observed, had a great desire to express her joy by showing her teeth; but the length of time she had lived in this world had put it out of her power. I suspected, from their manœuvres, I would have to undergo a disagreeable adoption (as other prisoners had done)--and, what was a task still more unpleasant, to be united in the conjugal band to one of these swarthy, disgustful animals. The Indian asked me a few questions--where we had come from--how far it was--when we started--and if there were any more coming. In reply to these questions, I gave him but little satisfaction. After this they spread blankets down, and made signs for me to go to bed. I did, and soon fell asleep, as I was much fatigued and had not slept much for four nights past. Early next morning, the Indian collected his family and all his property, and started: I knew not where he was going; he gave me a knapsack and gun to carry. Now I despaired of getting with the other prisoners, unless I could desert from the Indians! I expected I would be taken to an Indian town, there to undergo a disagreeable adoption, or to be burned to death with firebrands. As he took me near Fort Malden, I took as good a view of it as I could while I passed it. It stands about thirty yards from the river bank. I judged it to be seventy or eighty yards square; the wall appeared to be built of timber and clay. The side, from the river, was not walled, but had double pickets, and entrenched round, about four feet deep; and in the entrenchment was the second row of pickets. As we went on through the edge of town (Amherstburg) I asked an Englishman where the other prisoners were? He said they were in town, in a wood-yard; the Indian hurried me along and would not let me talk to the Englishman. The Indian had a little horse, packed with his plunder, which I resolved to take, if possible, and ride into town that night.
He took me to his place of residence, about three miles from Malden. I was anxious for the approach of night, so that I might make my escape. While I was consoling myself with the anticipation of seeing my fellow sufferers at Malden, night made its approach. Some time after dark the Indian spread blankets down, and made signs for me to lie down, and put my coat, shoes, and socks, under his own head. I wanted him to leave my socks on, for my feet would get cold; he made signs to warm them by the fire. Thus I was sadly disappointed.
Next day he examined all his plunder. He had a very good suit of clothes, besides several other coats, socks, shoes, &c.; among these were Wesley’s Sermons and a great many papers, which he gave me to read. I found several old letters, but nothing of value. He discovered I wanted to shave, and got his razor, shaving-box, and a piece of glass, and made signs for me to shave. After this, I lay down on some blankets and fell asleep. He came and awoke me, and gave me a twist of tobacco, which I received as a token of friendship. In a short time after, he started to Malden, and made signs for me to stay there till he would come back. He returned in the evening with a blanket, tied full of loaves of bread, just out of the oven, besides some meat. The Indians always gave me a plenty to eat; and served me before any of the family, with more politeness than I expected to find amongst them. He had drawn some money. I asked him to let me look at it. I found it to be pieces of cards with the number of livres written on them.
The third night at length arrived; and he made my bed as usual; and took my coat and shoes, but accidentally left my socks on. I lay down with the determination to leave him before morning. I slept very well for awhile. When I awoke, the house was dark. I thought this as good an opportunity of deserting as I could get, but with considerable timidity I made the attempt. I crawled to the door very easily, and raised the blanket that hung up at the door; just as I was going out he coughed, and I stopped until I thought he was asleep, and then started, without shoes or coat, to Amherstburg. When I got there, I examined several yards and gardens to see if there was any fire. After going through many streets, I turned my course towards the river, and accidentally came to the house where the prisoners were. The sentinel, who was standing at the door, let me in without much ceremony. Providence smiled on this attempt to extricate myself from the Indians. Thus, through mercy, I escaped from the savages, and was delivered from the doleful apprehensions of being sacrificed in some barbarous and cruel manner, to gratify their bloodthirsty souls. I got in between two of my comrades who were lying next to the door. My feet were almost frozen before morning.
During my captivity with the Indians, the other prisoners were treated very inhumanly. The first night, they were put in a wood-yard; the rain commenced early in the night, and put out all their fires. In this manner they passed a tedious night, wet, and benumbed with cold. From this place they were taken to a cold warehouse, still deprived of fire, with their clothes and blankets frozen, and nothing to eat but a little bread. In this wretched condition they continued two days and three nights!
_26th._ The Indians came early in the morning to search for me, but they were not admitted into the house. The guard said it would be well for me to keep as much concealed as possible, for if the Indian I had left could get me he would kill me. He came to the door, and made motions to show how he would scalp me. I disguised myself by changing my clothes and tying up my head, so that he did not know me.
The prisoners being destined to Fort George, were divided in two divisions, the first to keep a day’s march before the second, in order, probably, to be better supplied with provisions on the way.
I being attached to the first division, the Indians examined the lines very closely for me, but not possessing discernment sufficient to know me, I fortunately escaped.
Malden, or Amherstburg, is situated on the east side of Detroit River, near its junction with Lake Erie, and contains about one hundred houses, mostly frame; in lat. 42° 22′ N., long. 8° 3′ W. from Philadelphia.
We set out from this town, and marched seventeen miles to Sandwich, a small town on the east side of Detroit River, and one mile below Detroit; it contains perhaps about three hundred inhabitants. We were divided in small companies, and put into different houses, where we had the happiness once more to see fire.
_27th._ We drew a ration of bread and fresh beef, but no salt, and had no way of cooking the beef. We commenced our march at 1 o’clock, and marched ten miles, part of the way on Lake St. Clair. In the evening we were conducted to cold barns, and there shut up till morning, deprived of fire.
_28th._ We recommenced our march early, as cold a morning as ever I experienced, and continued twenty-four miles on Lake St. Clair; at night we were conducted to a cold barn on the beach; we lay without fire, except a few who could not get in, who had the happiness of encamping in the woods.
_29th._ We again resumed our march, and continued on the lake fifteen miles to the mouth of La Tranche River, called by some the River Thames; during this time we had to run to keep ourselves from freezing; we continued up the river five miles, and stopped while the guard went in to warm and to get their dinner. Having drawn no provisions since we left Sandwich, some of the prisoners were driven to the necessity of picking up frozen potatoes and apple peelings that had been thrown out in the yard. One of the prisoners, being unable to keep pace with the rest, was left on the lake, but was accidentally overtaken by a sleigh and brought on. After being in a stove room some time, he was led out to march, trembling with cold. One of the guard observed, “he was a man of no spirit to freeze such a day as this.” So barbarous were their dispositions and treatment, that I concluded we should die of cold and hunger. We marched ten miles farther to Captain Dolson’s, where we were conducted into a large still-house. A number lodged below among the still-tubs by the fire; the rest on the loft, where they were annoyed with the smoke. Some time in the night they brought us a little bread and meat.
_30th._ We drew two days’ provisions, and cooked it.
_31st._ It snowed all day; notwithstanding, we marched twenty-four miles and were shut up in a barn wet and cold. Going to a barn to lodge so cold an evening was like approaching a formidable enemy, for we expected to perish with cold in the dreary dwelling. Many got their feet frostbitten. We tried in vain to keep our shoes from freezing by putting them under our heads.
_February 1._ We continued our march twenty-two miles in a thinly settled country, and passed through the Moravian nation of Indians; in the evening we encamped in the woods.
_2d._ We marched twenty-two miles, suffering greatly both with hunger and cold. In the evening we arrived at Delaware township, a small settlement on the River La Tranche. We were divided into small companies, and were permitted to lodge in houses by fires.
_3d._ We had been two days without provisions. Here we drew rations for three days. Capt. Dolson left us to-day; the prisoners must forever detest his baseness and cruelty. We resumed our march in the evening and continued five miles, notwithstanding the snow was two feet deep, and it was then snowing. We were better treated by our new guard.
_4th._ We marched twenty-six miles to the head waters of the River Thames, to Oxford township, a settlement of ten or twelve miles in length.
_5th._ We marched two miles, and were detained for a supply of provisions.[N] After being supplied we continued our march in the evening three miles farther, and where we lodged were treated very civilly by the inhabitants.
_6th._ After marching twenty-four miles, principally through a wilderness, we arrived at Burford township.[P]
_7th._ In marching thirty miles to a little village near the head of Lake Ontario, we passed through the Mohawk Nation of Indians on Grand River, who are much whiter than any we have seen; their mode of dress is not different from other Indian nations, and they have the same savage appearance; we were informed that there are six nations on this river who hold a large body of the best land.
_8th._ We drew our rations and proceeded on sixteen miles. In going down towards Lake Ontario, we descended a precipice upwards of two hundred feet into a level country; this precipice extends across Niagara River, and occasions those remarkable falls.
_9th._ We marched eighteen miles through a well-settled country.
_10th._ We marched sixteen miles to Newark, lately called Niagara West; it contains about five hundred inhabitants; many of the buildings are handsome, composed of brick and stone; it has several churches, an academy, six taverns, and about twenty stores; it is situated on the west side of Niagara River, in lat. 43° 15′ N., long. 4° west; Fort George stands at the upper end of the town.
We continued here no longer than was necessary to make arrangements to cross the river. A British officer took down our names, and the regiment and company we belonged to, and said “we must not take up arms against Great Britain and her allies until legally exchanged.” Thus we were parolled; they hoisted a flag and took us across Niagara River,[Q] which is about one-quarter of a mile wide to Fort Niagara, which is situated at the junction of Niagara River and Lake Ontario, in New York State; it is strongly fortified, and well supplied with artillery.
A FEW REMARKS RESPECTING UPPER CANADA AND ITS INHABITANTS.
From Malden to Sandwich, and a considerable distance up St. Clair, resembles a level plain thickly interspersed with farms and houses; many places look like little villages. The houses are principally frame, and have an ancient appearance. Besides being well supplied with grain from their farms, they receive considerable benefit from their orchards.
The River La Tranche is a considerable navigable stream, and runs a westerly course into Lake St. Clair; the land near it is rich and fertile; the timber is oak, ash, hickory, walnut, sugar-tree, &c. It is thickly settled as far as Moraviantown; but, from the river on the north side, is an extensive wilderness of poor swampy land. From Moraviantown to Grand River is a wilderness of poor piney land, except Delaware, Oxford, and Burford townships, which are tolerable settlements. From Grand River to Fort George, is a rich, well-settled country, particularly along Lake Ontario. The inhabitants are composed of English, French, Dutch, and a great many emigrants from the United States. The whole has been estimated at eighty thousand; besides these, there are unknown numbers of Indians. The Canadians are generally a well-looking people, remarkably fair, but not well informed. They do not set a great value on education, and it is not encouraged by the government. Although their laws appear to be moderate, yet neither the freedom of speech nor the freedom of the press is encouraged. The officers are haughty and tyrannical in the execution of their orders. I learned that a majority[R] of the inhabitants were in favor of the United States government, and many had concealed themselves to avoid taking up arms.
The British forces consist of regulars, flankers, militia, _Negroes_, and Indians. Agreeably to an act of their assembly in 1812, their flankers are riflemen, volunteered or drafted for the term of six months, and longer if not then relieved. The militia cannot be called into service for more than twenty days, unless their country is invaded. I heard of two companies of _Negroes_, runaways from Kentucky, and other States, who are commanded by white men. A great many of the Indians are stationed near the lines, who can be called to arms at a minute’s warning.
_11th._ After regaling ourselves on the plenty of food and drink afforded us in the land of liberty, we set our faces homewards. One mile from Niagara Fort, we came to Salt Battery; it was composed of barrels of salt and dirt. From this they could play upon Fort George. We proceeded up the river eight miles to Lewistown, which is on the east bank of Niagara River, opposite Queenstown, and contains only a few houses; eight miles farther, we came to Grand Niagara, a small village on the east bank of Niagara River just above the falls, and nearly opposite Chippeway. Above the falls, in the middle of the river, is an island about three hundred yards long, the lower end of which is just at the perpendicular edge of the fall. On both sides of this island, all the waters of the rivers and lakes to the north-west, fall down a precipice of one hundred and thirty-seven feet perpendicular, and fall near as much more in a rapid of nine miles below. Before the water comes to the fall, as it passes the island, it seems in swiftness to outfly an arrow.
_12th._ We arrived at Black Rock, nineteen miles above the falls. Here is a considerable village, a navy yard, and three batteries well furnished with cannon. It took its name from its rocky situation. From this we continued on two miles and a half to Buffalo, the capital of Buffalo county, New York State. It is situated at the foot of Lake Erie, opposite to Fort Erie.
We continued at Buffalo one day, on account of the badness of the weather, and then continued our march thirty-two miles on the lake, and then marched through a well-settled country to Erie, the county town of Erie county, in Pennsylvania. It is ninety miles from Buffalo, and is situated on the south-east shore of Lake Erie. We proceeded on by the way of Waterford and Meadville, one hundred and twenty miles, to Pittsburgh, and from Pittsburgh to Kentucky, by water.
Language fails to express the emotions I felt on arriving safely at home, to enjoy the caresses and society of dear friends, after having endured so much fatigue, and having been so often exposed to imminent danger; and having so frequently expected death, attended with _all the horrors of Indian cruelty_.
NARRATIVE
OF
MR. TIMOTHY MALLARY.
During the battle on the 22d January, 1813, at Frenchtown, on the River Raisin, between the combined forces of British, Canadians, and Indians, and the American forces, I received a wound from a piece of plank, which had been split off by a cannon ball. It struck me on the side, and unfortunately broke three of my ribs. The battle having terminated in favor of the combined forces, and I not being able to travel with those American prisoners who were to march immediately for Malden, I remained on the ground until the next morning, with the rest of my wounded countrymen, who had received a solemn promise from the British commander, that they should be taken to Malden in sleighs.
This sacred promise was not regarded! It was sacrificed on the altar of savage barbarity! to the god of murder and cruelty! Instead of sleighs, Indians were sent prepared to murder these unfortunate victims! who, after they had executed in part their purpose on the ground where we lay, ordered several other prisoners and myself to march for Malden. We had not proceeded far before they tomahawked four of this number, amongst whom was Captain Hart, of Lexington. He had hired an Indian to take him to Malden. I saw part of this hire paid to the Indian.
After having taken him some distance, another Indian demanded him, saying that he was his prisoner; the hireling would not give him up; the claimant, finding that he could not get him alive, shot him in the left side with a pistol. Capt. Hart still remained on his horse; the claimant then ran up, struck him with a tomahawk, pulled him off his horse, scalped him, and left him lying there.
We proceeded on until we came within three miles of Brownstown, where we encamped for the night. The next day we proceeded on to their encampment, seven or eight miles from Detroit, on the River Rouge, which appeared to be head-quarters. They were furnished at this place with bark wig-wams; here was a large number of squaws and children, I suppose two thousand.