Part 12
But before seeking repose Kenton pursued the object with which he had captured the Indian. He gave the redskin to understand that his future treatment depended upon the truth with which he should answer the questions that would be put to him. He then demanded to know the whereabouts of the warriors of Chillicothe, and what designs they entertained against the settlers. The prisoner replied, with apparent frankness, that the chief men of his town were at Micmacto, where a general council of the Shawnees was in progress. The purpose of the meeting was to consider the advisability of a concerted attack upon the Kentucky settlements.
Kenton instantly realized the importance of learning, if possible, the outcome of this council. He determined to go on to Micmacto, which the captive declared was about sixteen miles to the north of Chillicothe, or less than a good day’s march from the camp.
Under the guidance of the young brave, who appeared to be quite tractable, the scouts set out at daybreak and before sunset reached their destination. Leaving Hardy and the prisoner under cover at a distance of a mile or more, Kenton went forward to reconnoitre the place. As at Chillicothe, from the vantage point of a tree on the outskirts of the village, he secured a good survey.
Micmacto was built in much the same form as Chillicothe. It was not so large a town as the latter, but a number of abandoned cabins indicated that it had once contained a larger population than at present. The village lay in an open plain, upon the bank of a small river. On the north side of the place stood a group of high, pointed rocks, which quickly attracted the eye of the observant scout. These needle-like projections rose abruptly out of the plain, and from the summit of one in particular it was evident that a clear view of the town and the adjoining plain could be had. Kenton decided that no better post of observation could be wished.
Kenton having rejoined Hardy and the prisoner, the party circled round the town and reached the rocky eminence upon which it was proposed to take up their station. It was found that whilst three sides of this elevation were precipitous, the summit might be easily gained by a sloping approach on the north. The top proved to be a flat space, less than an acre in extent, and six or seven hundred feet above the level of the plain. It was broken by crevices and strewn with bowlders, making it an ideal hiding place.
The shades of night were closing over the scene when the scouts turned their gaze upon the village lying at their feet. The square was filled with dusky figures evidently agitated by some unusual occurrence. The shrill gabble of the squaws and the barking of dogs reached the ears of the watchers with startling distinctness. In front of the wigwams burned domestic fires, throwing a fitful light upon the scene.
Presently a huge fire was ignited in the centre of the square and at the same time the women and children retired to the line of buildings. Now a score of painted and befeathered warriors advanced to the blaze in single file and formed a circle round it. They began to move slowly to the time of a low, solemn chant. Gradually their pace quickened as their voices rose in faster measure. Louder and louder grew the song. They brandished their weapons and broke into the wildest antics. Meanwhile the spectators shouted applause and beat with clubs upon the walls of the cabins, whilst the dogs added their long-drawn howls to the din.
At the end of perhaps half an hour a fresh party of braves relieved the first performers, who retired exhausted. In due course a third relay took up the dance, and so it was continued far into the night, finishing in a wild disorderly reel, in which many of the younger women took part.
“Well, at any rate it isn’t the war dance,” remarked Kenton, as they composed themselves to sleep. “But when they get to cutting up those capers, it isn’t long before they work themselves into a crazy fit and paint the war-post. I’m afraid there’s trouble brewing.”
The next day was spent by the people of Micmacto and their guests in the usual Indian sports. There were pony races upon the plain. There were shooting matches, and a sham attack upon the village. Several parties of young braves contested in the game from which we get lacrosse. Dances again enlivened the early hours of the night, preceded by feasting.
Kenton was anxious to remain until the council should reach a decision and break up. Their conclusion would, he knew, be easily inferable from the character of the closing festivities. By husbanding their jerked venison, the scouts and their prisoner could contrive to subsist for two more days, but an immediate supply of water was needed. As a matter of fact, it should have been secured the night before, but so intent had they been upon watching the Indians that the canteens had been allowed to run dry unnoticed.
As the entire population of Micmacto appeared to be engrossed in the pastimes taking place at the village, Kenton thought that he could succeed in reaching the river and returning without detection in daylight. Accordingly he started for the stream, taking advantage of all the cover available on the way. He arrived at the bank without mishap and was in the act of filling the canteens when a piercing shriek broke upon his ears. He looked up to see two squaws a short distance from him. One, still screaming, dived into the bushes and disappeared. The other ran towards Kenton and to his amazement addressed him in English:
“I am a white woman,” she cried, holding up her hands pleadingly. “For the love of God, take me with you.”
“Come along,” replied Kenton. “Don’t talk! You can tell me about it afterwards.”
The white squaw was young and active. She bounded along beside the fair-haired giant, declining his proffered aid. In a few minutes they had gained the post upon the rocky summit where Hardy, who had witnessed the incident, anxiously awaited them. It was at once made evident that the woman was not going to be an encumbrance. She cast a surprised glance at the bound Indian but did not waste time with enquiry about him.
“Will you let me have his rifle?” she asked. “I can make good use of it.”
When the weapon was handed to her she loaded it deftly, examined the flint, and then turned her gaze with the others towards the village. A party of warriors was already on the way to the spot where the scouts and their new ally awaited them. In answer to an enquiry by Kenton, the young woman said that the place where they were could only be reached by the northern approach. By dropping about fourteen feet from a nearby spot it was possible to gain a difficult pathway down to the plain, but no one could come up by the same route, and she fancied that few of the townspeople knew of it.
The Indians were soon at the bottom of the slope. The ascent afforded no cover, and at a place about midway, and a hundred yards from the top, the path was so narrow that not more than two men could pass along it together. It was the passage of this restricted place that Kenton determined to contest. He instructed Hardy and the woman not to fire until one or more of the attackers should have reached that point. It was also agreed that they should shoot in turn so that one, at least, of the rifles might be always loaded.
Despite the enormous disparity in numbers, the task of the defence was not such a difficult one as it might seem. The Indians had a rooted reluctance to facing rifle fire in the open. They could not see their adversaries, who were safely ensconced behind rocks, and had no idea of their numbers. Some half dozen braves advanced uncertainly up the slope. They reached the “dead line” set by Kenton. Crack! Crack! Kenton and Hardy had fired, and the two foremost dropped in their tracks. The others checked. Then a third came forward. The white squaw fired and he fell with a bullet through his brain.
This was too much for the redskins. Three shots and three dead! What if there were twenty rifles behind the rocks waiting to do similar execution? By this time a hundred or more warriors were assembled in a group at the foot of the slope. The distance was well-nigh two hundred yards, but Kenton decided to give them a reminder that the white man’s rifle carried far. He aimed at an Indian whose headdress marked him as a chief, and fired. The savage was seen to stagger and fall into the arms of the men about him.
The Indians now withdrew to a greater distance. Small parties were detached to make an examination of the position from different points of view, but they evidently reported that the summit was accessible only from the north. As no further attack was made, the defenders concluded that the chiefs had decided to besiege them and starve them out, or else to assault under cover of night. In order to frustrate the latter design, Kenton, taking advantage of the cover of the rocks and crawling upon his belly, contrived to collect a pile of sticks and grass at a spot not much farther up the slope than his “dead line.” When darkness set in, he lit this fire, intimating to the Indians that they had little better chance of rushing the position than in daylight.
But long before this time Kenton had decided upon the future course of the little party. The white squaw had declared her willingness to guide them, and the scout readily placed himself in her hands. There was one brief hour of darkness before the rising of the moon, and although this increased the difficulty of descent, it was necessary that they should avail themselves of it. As soon as their fire was lit, the white squaw led them to the place at the edge of the plateau of which she had spoken, leaving their bound captive upon the summit. She dropped first, and alighted safely upon the ledge below. Kenton followed and then helped Hardy down. The woman leading, they made the slow descent of the precipitous rock with joined hands. At length they were upon the plain and at the outskirts of the village.
All was quiet in Micmacto. The men were at the camp of the besiegers, where many of the women had joined them out of curiosity and for the purpose of cooking the evening meal. Two or three fires burned before wigwams in the village, but the square was steeped in darkness. Kenton admired the boldness and wisdom with which the woman led the way directly into Micmacto. The move was calculated to avoid exciting the dogs and it would most effectually hide their traces. A squaw accosted them from the doorway of her cabin, but the reply of the white woman satisfied her and they passed on through the village without further incident.
Once beyond Micmacto, the party sped away; nor did they halt before the sun was high in the heavens next day. The woman, who had been ten years a captive, during which time she had not seen a white man until encountering Kenton, was strong and active. Furthermore, her dread of recapture lent her unnatural strength and she urged Kenton to push on without consideration for her.
Kenton knew that they could not hope for more than six or seven hours’ start, for they had neglected to gag the Indian prisoner, and when he should find himself alone at daybreak he would surely shout the intelligence to the besiegers. The party, therefore, made all the haste possible.
At the close of the third day they found themselves upon the bank of the Ohio, and by good fortune at a spot which they recognized as not far from the place where the canoe had been hidden. This was recovered without difficulty, and before midnight they were in Kentucky. The journey to Boonesborough was accomplished without mishap, and the delighted white woman found herself once more in the company of her own sex and race.
XVII.
A STRING OF DISASTERS
Colonel Bowman heads an expedition against the Indians--The attempted surprise of Chillicothe--Somebody blundered--A bungling retreat--A skirmish in the forest--Death of Blackfish, the Shawnee chief--General Clark takes command of the military forces--The Indians, reinforced by artillery, invade Kentucky--Ruddle’s and Martin’s Stations are captured--And their people carried away to the Indian country--Clark retaliates by attacking the Shawnee villages--Boone returns with his family--Hardy is permitted to take up the life of the scout--Squire Boone is slain by the savages.
Whilst Kenton was unable to report positively as to the conclusion of the Indian council at Micmacto, his information, combined with that derived from the rescued woman, pointed to a strong probability that the Shawnees meditated a serious onslaught at an early date. Colonel Bowman, in charge of the expedition that had been preparing for some weeks past, determined to start immediately, in the hope of being able to attack Chillicothe before the tribesmen could gather for the invasion of Kentucky.
On an early day in July, three hundred men marched for the Indian stronghold. Colonel Bowman was in chief command and had under him Captains Harrod and Logan. The force made rapid progress and, in less than a week’s time after starting, arrived at Chillicothe without the enemy having gained any knowledge of their approach. Bowman halted his men at the distance of about a mile from the town and arranged a plan of action with his officers. Logan was instructed to take half the force and proceed round the town westward, forming a cordon of investment. Bowman undertook to perform a similar operation in the opposite direction and to meet his lieutenant on the other side of the place. Just before dawn the town was to be assaulted.
Logan set out shortly after midnight and executed his orders with admirable precision. An hour before dawn his men were placed under cover enveloping one half of the town. Time wore on but failed to bring Bowman. At length day broke and the village was soon astir but still no sign of his commander relieved the anxious Logan. Presently a dog, straying on the outskirts of the town, scented one of the men in ambush and set up a persistent barking. A warrior started for the spot to investigate the cause of the animal’s excitement. The concealed backwoodsman fired, in violation of his instructions, and in an instant confusion reigned, not only in the village but also in the ranks of the attackers.
It was now broad daylight and many men who sprang from their cover on the alarm were plainly visible to the warriors and revealed to them the fact that an attack in force was in progress. The squaws and children went scuttling into the woods and the men, hastily picking up their arms, ran into the council-house, which stood on an elevated spot at one end of the square. The movement was performed with such unanimity that it was clearly a prearranged resort for such an emergency.
Logan now advanced his men and took possession of the deserted cabins upon the west side of the square. Under the instructions of their leader they quickly formed the doors and other suitable material into shields and under cover of them began to advance upon the Indian stronghold. Most of the force were in the middle of the square, whilst others were creeping up behind the cabins, when Bowman issued the order to retire. Logan was amazed and his men were reluctant to obey. However, the commander repeated the order in such peremptory terms that there was no questioning it.
The backwoodsmen had little discipline and no formation. When they retreated each man looked out for himself, and the movement was always characterized by disorder and often by unnecessary loss. In this case the men under Logan were at a distinct disadvantage. They had advanced into the open to make an attack, and now there was nothing for it but to throw down their breastworks and run. This they did, whilst the Indians rained bullets upon them. Several lives were lost before the force was once more united in the forest to the south of the town.
But this was only the beginning of a disgraceful rout that strikingly exemplified the manner in which a body of brave men will go to pieces in the hands of an incompetent commander. Nearly three hundred men commenced a retreat in the face of not more than forty savages. The Indians, under Blackfish, hung upon the rear and flanks of Bowman’s party and picked off men at their leisure and without danger to themselves. At length Bowman ordered a halt and turned to face the pursuers.
Here was committed another of the series of blunders. After traversing a stretch of the densest forest and undergrowth, the party was brought to a stand just beyond it in comparatively open ground. The situation gave the assailants even a greater advantage than they had enjoyed whilst the force was on the march. A considerable proportion of the whites could not secure adequate cover, whilst the redskins kept up their fire without in the least exposing themselves. Bowman seemed to be incapable of direction and the men were verging upon panic. An overwhelming disaster would doubtless have ensued had not Logan and Harrod, followed by Kenton, Hardy, and half a dozen others, mounted the pack-horses and charged through the neighboring forest in every direction, dislodging the lurking savages.
The turn of affairs aided the disconcerted whites to regain their self-possession, and they turned upon the Indians with something like their wonted energy and intelligence. As the redskins ran from cover before the horsemen, many of them were brought down by the rifles of the backwoodsmen, and when one of the bullets found a billet in the heart of Blackfish, the Shawnees fled from the field of the action.
It is impossible to explain the bungling conduct of the commander of this expedition. Attempts have been made, with indifferent success, to exculpate Bowman. He was a man of proved courage, had a good military record and had served with credit under Clark in the Illinois campaign, but he returned to Kentucky on this occasion with a shattered reputation.
Bowman’s feeble incursion to the Indian country was not calculated to have the effect for which it was designed. The death of Blackfish, however, induced the Indians to postpone the expedition into Kentucky that had been contemplated. But they were eager for revenge and sought the aid of the British in an attack upon the settlements, which was timed to take place in the following spring. The authorities at Detroit were smarting under a sense of humiliation occasioned by Clark’s success at Vincennes, and they readily fell in with the proposition of the Shawnees. Arrangements were made for the despatch of a joint force against the hated Kentuckians.
In the year 1779, numbers of bona fide settlers came into Kentucky and some thirty time-expired men, who had been with Clark in Illinois, returned. The newcomers scattered over a wide area, many stations being planted south and west of the Kentucky River from Boonesborough to Louisville, and upon the forks of the Licking. Early in the year Lexington was provided with a blockhouse and “three rows of cabins.” A few months later Bryan’s Station was established at a point about five miles northeast of Lexington. Kentucky was thus in a much better condition to defend itself than it had been the year before, as might be inferred from the fact of Bowman being able to muster three hundred riflemen for a raid, whereas Boone could gather but seventy to repel the attack upon Boonesborough.
Shortly after this time, Kentucky was divided into three counties. General Clark was in command of the entire territory. He had the rank of brigadier-general and held his headquarters at Fort Nelson, where the city of Louisville now stands. John Todd was the colonel commanding in Lincoln County, which contained Boonesborough, with Daniel Boone as lieutenant-colonel.
These changes had not, however, taken place in the spring of 1778; otherwise it is more than probable that a greater state of preparedness against attack would have existed. Boone had not yet returned. Bowman was still in command of the militia, and the settlers seem to have entertained no apprehensions of reprisals on the part of the Indians. The awakening was rude and sudden and the escape from dire disaster entirely a matter of good fortune.
In May, six hundred Indians assembled at Detroit preparatory to the expedition against the Kentucky settlements. At the close of the month they took up the march, reinforced by a body of French-Canadians under Colonel Byrd. The numerical strength of the force was unusually great, but it was rendered especially formidable by the addition of two field-pieces. The transportation of this artillery was a matter of extreme difficulty. The guns and their carriages were first hauled from Detroit to the waters of the Great Miami. They were then floated down that stream to the Ohio; next up the Ohio to the mouth of the Licking, and up that river to a landing place. From this point the invaders were forced to cut a road through the forest for many miles to their ultimate destination.
It is almost incredible that the slow advance of so large a body, accompanied by the most obtrusive operations, should have been accomplished without the knowledge of the settlers. Clearly, there was not a scout out in the direction of the Indian country, although the failure of Bowman’s movement of the previous summer should have suggested the utmost precautions.
On the twenty-second of June the enemy appeared before Ruddle’s Station and took the settlers completely by surprise. It is true that they could not have made an effective defence even though they had received warning of the attack. Stockades were helpless against artillery. But the invading force might have been attacked with good effect whilst on the march and encumbered by its heavy guns.
The garrison realized the futility of resistance, which could only serve to infuriate the savages. The gates were, therefore, thrown open in response to the demand to “surrender at discretion to the arms of his Britannic Majesty.” The Indians rushed into the fort, made its occupants prisoners, and secured all the property worth carrying off.
A few miles distant lay Martin’s Station. This was taken in a similar manner. By this time the savages, who had agreed to spare the lives of the captives, were getting out of hand and beyond the control of the British officer. Already several of the settlers had been tomahawked and scalped. Colonel Byrd now declined to support the Indians in further operations. Thus deprived of the main element of their strength, the chiefs decided to retreat to their own country. Had the campaign been continued with vigor it is conceivable that the whites might have been swept out of Kentucky.
No attempt was made to follow or intercept the victorious Indians. They retired rapidly with their plunder and prisoners. All the adults among the latter were compelled to carry loads, and many of them, especially the women, fell exhausted under their burdens. These were promptly put to death by their captors.
Of the settlers who survived the terrible ordeal of this march, some were dispersed among the Indians, to meet with variously horrible fates and in very few cases to regain their homes. Others, more fortunate, were carried to Detroit, where they were held as prisoners of war until the close of the Revolution.
This affair had a depressing effect upon the settlers, and particularly upon those who were new to the country. It is probable that an exodus would have commenced, but just at this juncture General Clark assumed command and with his characteristic energy and ability put a different complexion upon the situation.