Part 13

Clark immediately mustered the militia and called for additional volunteers. His splendid reputation insured a ready response, and he was soon at the head of a force of several hundred men, with which he made a rapid march into the Indian country. The expedition was conducted with marked ability and met with the utmost success. Several Indian towns were taken and destroyed and a considerable area laid waste. Some shortsighted writers have characterized these ravages as wanton cruelty, failing to realize that the destruction of the crops and buildings of the Indians was one of the most effective means of keeping their men at home to repair the damage and engage in hunting for the subsistence of their families.

Despite the disasters at Ruddle’s and Martin’s, emigration continued and several new stations were located during the year 1780. For the most part, the newcomers were of a desirable class. They were generally homeseekers and, like the first settlers, inured to the hardships and exigencies of frontier life. In many cases they came down the Ohio and formed settlements in the region between that river and the Kentucky, so that Boonesborough was no longer in the front rank of the defence presented to the Indians. Most of the new settlements were small and weak but they depended upon aid from their neighbors in time of trouble.

In October Boone returned with his family. Not only the settlement for which he was responsible, but the whole country experienced an access of confidence from the presence of this tower of strength. By the people of Boonesborough he was, as always after an absence, welcomed with joy. Hardy and Kenton, who entertained the strongest affection for their leader, were of course delighted to have him with them again. They had much to tell him of their own adventures and of the affairs of the settlers.

Kenton gave what was, perhaps, a somewhat overdrawn account of Hardy’s share in their joint scouting expeditions. Boone expressed as much pleasure as his habitual reticence would permit, and when Hardy begged to be allowed to continue upon the path he had entered under the guidance of Kenton, his foster-father assented. Boone could see no reason why Hardy should not regularly adopt the calling of the scout, for which Kenton declared him to be admirably adapted. It was a time when, next to good leaders, the greatest need of the community was good rangers. And so it was arranged that Hardy should complete his apprenticeship under the tutelage of Kenton.

“I wouldn’t undertake it, Captain,” said the scout, apologetically, “only I suppose that you’ll be tied to the station most of the time. What he learns from me in a twelvemonth won’t amount to as much as you’d teach him in a week.”

“Make him as good a scout as yourself, Si, and he won’t find any betters this side of the Alleghanies,” replied Boone.

Late in the fall, Daniel Boone and his brother Squire went on a hunt in the country to the north of the settlement. One evening they were in camp near the Blue Licks when a party of Indians opened fire upon them from the neighboring brush. Squire fell dead at the first discharge and Daniel Boone sprang to his feet and fled into the forest. He made good headway and after going three or four miles had left his pursuers considerably in the rear, but had not been able to shake off a hound which the savages had set upon his track. At length he stopped and shot the animal, after which his flight was continued without interference.

The death of his brother affected Daniel Boone deeply. They had been companions in many hunting and scouting expeditions. They had shared many dangers and difficulties. Before the entry of settlers Daniel and Squire had spent months alone, exploring the wilds of Kentucky.

In his self-contained way Boone mourned many months for his brother. But this severe blow was soon followed by a heavier one.

XVIII.

“THE BLOODY YEAR”

Whitaker and his men fall into an ambush--A number are killed but the remainder rally and beat off the Indians--Colonel Floyd goes in pursuit--He has a fight with the savages--His force is put to flight with the loss of half its number--Captain Wells rescues his commander--The McAfee brothers, noted Kentucky backwoodsmen--They have an exciting adventure with a band of Indians--The “bloody year” is ushered in by the loss of Laughrey’s party--One hundred and seven men are killed or captured--Estill’s battle with the Wyandots--Another defeat for the whites--The Indian tribes gather and plan a great invasion of Kentucky under the leadership of two white men.

The winter of 1780-81 was long remembered in Kentucky as the “hard winter.” The intensity of the cold confined the Indians more closely than usual to their villages. But though the settlers were thus exempted from the annoyance of marauding parties, they suffered severely on account of the insufficiency of food. The crops of the previous autumn had been in large part destroyed, and many immigrants had arrived too late in the year to plough and sow. Buffalo meat, and a scanty allowance of that, formed the main subsistence of the people for several months.

With the opening of spring a number of Indian parties crossed into Kentucky. One of these ambushed a body of men under Colonel William Linn and killed four of the number, including the leader. Captain Whitaker, with fifteen “guns,” pursued the Indians and trailed them to the Ohio. Supposing them to have crossed the river, Whitaker commenced to embark his men in canoes, with the object of following. Whilst thus engaged, the whites were suddenly attacked in the rear by the redskins who, instead of taking to their canoes, had stepped into the water and walked some distance through it, returning finally to the bank, where they formed an ambuscade.

It was a very pretty trap and the whites were completely caught in it. Nine of their number fell in the course of a few minutes, but the remainder rallied and attacked the Indians with such spirit that they fled into the forest.

In the next month--April--the settlers at Shelbyville, a station that had been established by Squire Boone, were warned by a scout of the approach of a strong body of redskins. There were few men in the place and the stockade was not in a fit condition for defence. It was determined, therefore, to remove to a nearby settlement on Bear Creek. This proved to be an unfortunate step, for the Indians assailed the party _en route_, dispersing it and killing more than half its number.

Colonel Floyd hastily collected twenty-five men and went in pursuit of this body of warriors, which numbered two hundred.

Whilst they were fearless fighters, most of the leaders among the Kentucky settlers lacked the cool caution that characterized Boone’s movements. Nor did they possess the intimate knowledge of the Indians’ habits and strategy which enabled him so successfully to cope with the savages. Indeed, it may be said that the only military officer in Kentucky at that time who in any degree approached Boone in these respects was George Rogers Clark, and possibly Logan. As to the rest, they were constantly blundering into ambuscades that should have been avoided.

On this occasion, Floyd allowed his zeal to outrun his discretion. In his eagerness to overtake the retreating warriors, he neglected the ordinary precaution of scouting across his front and marched his force into a carefully prepared ambush. Half his men were slain in the fight that ensued, and the remainder retreated in the usual disorderly fashion. Floyd’s horse had been shot under him and he was wounded. Weak and exhausted, he began to lag behind and would most assuredly have fallen into the hands of the pursuers had not Captain Wells, who was well mounted, come to his aid. Wells insisted upon Floyd taking his place in the saddle and himself ran alongside, holding a stirrup. Thus both escaped from a very perilous situation.

A feeling of enmity had existed between these two, but this gallant action of Captain Wells knit them in a close friendship that lasted through life.

Among the most noted of the Kentucky backwoodsmen were three brothers named Samuel, James, and Robert McAfee, who had planted a station in the vicinity of Harrodsburg. One day in May, Samuel McAfee left the fort with another man to visit a nearby farm. They had not proceeded more than a quarter of a mile when they were fired upon and McAfee’s companion fell dead. McAfee turned and ran towards the fort, but an Indian sprang into the path to intercept him. The two men raised their rifles with muzzles almost touching. They pressed the trigger at the same instant. The redskin’s gun missed fire, whilst McAfee’s sent the bullet home.

As Samuel McAfee started afresh for the shelter of the stockade his two brothers ran out to meet him. Despite the warnings of the elder, Robert insisted upon going forward to secure the scalp of the dead Indian. By this time a number of warriors had placed themselves between the brothers and the fort. Samuel sped on and, although many shots were fired at him, reached the gate untouched.

Dodging from tree to tree and using his rifle when occasion offered, Robert McAfee gradually gained to within one hundred yards of the fort, when he made a dash for it and entered the stockade in safety.

Meantime James was in a situation of extreme peril. Five warriors confronted him. He ran to a large tree for protection, but immediately afterwards three Indians shot at him from behind, making the bark fly near his head. He sought a new retreat, but with similar result. Finding that he was surrounded by the savages and could not secure effective cover, he determined to run the gauntlet of their fusillade. Accordingly, he set out for the fort with all the speed he could command and, like his brothers, arrived unhurt.

The Indians now attacked the stockade, which was but poorly garrisoned. A hot fight was maintained for more than two hours, the men being aided in the defence by the women, some of whom stood to port-holes whilst others loaded spare rifles. Warned by their scouts that reinforcements were on the way, the Indians abandoned the attack and retreated.

Hardly had the redskins disappeared from before McAfee’s than Major McGary arrived with forty men from neighboring stations. They immediately took up the pursuit and came in contact with the enemy before they had covered two miles. McGary’s men, who had been joined by the McAfees and others, made a vigorous attack, before which the savages fled. They were pursued for several miles and completely routed with heavy loss.

Aptly has 1782 been termed the “bloody year” of Kentucky’s history. It witnessed the most terrible disasters that ever befell the settlers on “the dark and bloody ground.” We shall come presently to an account of the disastrous Battle of the Blue Licks, but will first describe two affairs that happened in the same year.

The annihilation of Captain Laughrey’s expedition was the more serious, though the less interesting of these. Laughrey was coming down the Ohio with a force of one hundred and seven men, designed to reinforce the Kentuckians. At a point near the mouth of the Miami he was attacked by a large body of Indians and his entire party was killed or captured.

It is a remarkable fact that when the whites and redskins were pitted against each other in large bodies, the latter were generally victorious. The backwoodsman always gave the best account of himself when alone or when acting with one or two companions. A few men of the stamp of Boone and Kenton could withstand five times their number of savages. Thus it was that the Indians held rather a contemptuous estimate of the whites in general, and had by contrast an exaggerated opinion of the prowess of Boone and a few others.

In May Estill’s Station was attacked by a party of Wyandots. After killing one of the settlers and securing a prisoner they slaughtered the cattle in the neighboring fields and retreated. Captain Estill assembled twenty-five men and went in pursuit of the Indians. They had crossed the Licking and entered a narrow valley. He overtook them as they were about to leave it. As soon as the Indians perceived the whites, they halted and took up position under cover to await them.

The Wyandots were distinguished for bravery above all the tribes in that part of the country. They were rendered especially formidable adversaries from the fact that they would maintain a stand under heavy loss, which none of the other tribes would do. The Shawnees, Mingos, and other savages with whom the Kentuckians came in contact, invariably retreated upon the loss of a few of their number. This was not the result of cowardice but of calculation. They justly reasoned that their warriors were so few as compared with the whites that a victory might easily be too dearly bought at the expense of ten or twenty of them. The Wyandots, however, would sometimes lose half their number engaged and still continue the fight.

Estill advanced his men to within eighty yards of the Indians, who had each taken shelter behind a tree, and made a similar disposition of them. The Indians slightly outnumbered their adversaries and had somewhat the advantage of position. They also excelled in the matter of taking cover, but were inferior to the backwoodsmen in marksmanship.

At the outset the whites gained an advantage by wounding the chief of the Wyandots. Seeing him fall, his men began to waver but he was almost instantly upon his feet again and, supporting himself against the trunk of a tree, he continued to encourage the warriors.

The combat was carried on for upwards of an hour with the utmost determination on both sides. The whites had lost six or seven men and several more were wounded, the casualties among the Indians being about the same. But there was no sign of giving way in their ranks and Captain Estill began to be impatient to bring the affair to an issue.

Considering how closely contested had been the fight, it is difficult to understand how Estill could have entertained the idea of weakening his line. He did, however, decide to detach six men and an officer in a flanking movement. The party was placed in charge of Lieutenant Miller, who was instructed to steal round under cover and take the enemy in flank or rear.

Estill now faced the Indians with only twelve men, four of whom were wounded. His weakened condition became apparent to the enemy before Miller had had time to execute his movement. Urged on by their chief, the Wyandots rushed upon the whites and forced them to retreat. Pursuing closely, the savages killed eight of the backwoodsmen, and among them Captain Estill.

Of Miller’s party but two escaped, including that officer, who was afterwards accused of failure to carry out his instructions. Whether or not Miller was remiss in his duty, Estill cannot be relieved of the prime responsibility for the disaster.

The Indians were reported to have lost thirteen of their number. Shawnees would have retired after three or four men had fallen.

The marked increase of immigration during the two years preceding this time had wrought the Indians up to a high pitch of resentment. Despite their successes, they saw that the whites were able to oppose fresh men to them without apparent abatement of numbers. They realized that unless the Long Knives were speedily driven from Kentucky they would become rooted to the soil.

During the winter of 1782 the chiefs of the northwestern tribes held many councils and debated upon a concerted invasion of Kentucky. They made the usual appeal to the authorities at Detroit, but on this occasion found them unwontedly lukewarm. The surrender of Cornwallis in the previous October had taken the heart out of the British in Canada, and they were more disposed to think of defence than to consider aggression.

Two white men had great influence in the councils of the Indians. These were Alexander McKee and Simon Girty. The former was a British agent among the tribes, who had gained an unenviable notoriety for the atrocities committed with his sanction, if not actually at his instigation. Doubtless, the backwoodsmen of Kentucky, who execrated his name, exaggerated McKee’s villany, but enough is known on good authority to stamp him as one of the most cruel and hardened wretches of his time.

Simon Girty was one of four brothers who were natives of Pennsylvania. Whilst they were children their father was slain by Indians. The mother remarried and soon afterwards the entire family was captured by the redskins, who burnt the stepfather in the presence of his wife and her children. The woman and the boys were then sent to different towns of the northwestern Indians.

After many years’ captivity, they all secured their freedom. Simon, as has been said elsewhere, served as a soldier and scout in Dunmore’s War. But association with the whites was irksome to the man, who was by taste, habits, and education a redskin. He soon returned to the Indians and was readily admitted to a position of leadership among them.

Girty acknowledged allegiance to the British, and although he held no official position under the Crown, had the protection and countenance of the authorities in Canada and was permitted to establish a trading-post in the territory. He was a close companion and confidant of McKee. In fact they were kindred spirits, and it would be difficult to say which was the greater scoundrel, or the more inhuman monster.

Girty had all the ferocity and bloodthirstiness of the worst Indians. He delighted in their most refined cruelties and looked on with glee whilst helpless white women and children were put to the torture, or butchered in cold blood. He excited the passions of the savages and urged them to deeds of violence and barbarism. He frequently led them in their attacks upon the settlements, and many of the most successful expeditions were of his planning.

Of such an evil and malignant disposition was this man that it is difficult to understand his interposition in the case of Kenton. Of the much that is recorded and rumored of Girty, this is the solitary act that redounds to his credit. He does not appear to have had the redeeming quality of courage, but found a substitute for it in cunning and treachery.

Under the advice of McKee and Girty the Indians formed a plan for attacking the Kentucky settlements. In the summer of 1782, five hundred warriors of the Shawnees, Wyandots, Miamis, and other tribes assembled at Chillicothe, prepared to march under the guidance of the renegade and his friend, the British agent.

XIX.

SIMON GIRTY, RENEGADE

Hardy goes on a lone scout--He encounters a mysterious stranger--And recognizes an enemy--“If you make a sound or signal, you are a dead man”--The ride to the fort and the warning--Hardy reconnoitres the Indian camp--And makes a long ride to bring aid to Bryan’s Station--Girty and his Indians invest the stockade--They plan a stratagem and are caught in their own trap--They attack in force and are repulsed--Relief from Lexington--Girty tries to cajole the garrison--The defenders disregard his threats and promises--“You see this cur? He’s called Simon Girty. We couldn’t think of a better name for him”--The Indians depart as suddenly as they came.

Kenton and Hardy, who for months had been engaged making reconnoissances, accompanying expeditions, and guiding settlers, separated early in August, leaving Boonesborough in different directions. Kenton proposed to range through the country northward to the Ohio, whilst Hardy should strike west until reaching Lexington and Bryan’s, and should scout thence to the river, somewhere upon the southern bank of which the comrades expected to encounter each other in the course of a few weeks. They moved lightly, carrying nothing but their arms and ammunition and a little parched corn in their wallets.

On the morning of the third day after parting with Kenton, Hardy was passing along the timber-covered ridge that formed the eastern boundary of the valley in which lay Bryan’s Station. The surrounding open country had been a favorite resort of buffalo, elk, and other large game, when the first settlers arrived, but these animals were fast disappearing. As the scout’s eyes swept the beautiful panorama that lay spread before them, not a living object presented itself to his observant gaze.

Presently the scout’s ear caught the soft pad of hoofs upon the grassy slope and he turned to see a horseman coming towards him at a lope. As he came nearer, a white man was revealed, mounted upon an unusually fine animal. On reaching the spot where Hardy stood he drew rein and sprang to the ground.

“Hallo, young man! Can you tell me where I am?” cried the stranger.

“You are about three miles from Bryan’s. Where did you want to be?” replied Hardy, a little nettled by something in the other’s manner.

“That’s all right! I am on my way to Bryan’s. Know, the country hereabouts?”

Hardy admitted that he was tolerably well acquainted with it and, in response to the stranger’s gestured invitation, sat down on one end of a fallen tree. The stranger took a seat at the other, with the horse’s bridle over his arm.

“My name’s Beatty. I’m from Pennsylvania. Came in with a train, but they’re about ten miles behind. We think of settling hereabouts.”

Hardy was not entirely satisfied with this statement. Neither the man nor the horse seemed to fit with it. The latter was as fine an animal as Hardy had ever seen in Kentucky and not at all like the kind of beast a settler might be expected to ride. As to the stranger, whilst he wore the usual backwoods costume, it was ornamented with a profusion of beading and feathers such as adorned the dress of Indian chiefs.

Hardy did not betray the uneasiness excited in him by the stranger’s appearance and which increased with closer observation. He cautiously answered the other’s questions whilst closely scrutinizing him. Beatty, as he called himself, was anxious to know the number and distribution of the settlers in that part of Kentucky, and to secure other information such as one contemplating taking up land might naturally desire. Nevertheless, Hardy’s vague suspicion prompted him to return deceptive answers whilst simulating the utmost candor.

Truly the appearance of the professed settler was not such as to inspire confidence. He was an undersized but well-knit man with a small bullet head. Although he had in reality not reached his thirtieth year, the seamed countenance gave the impression of much greater age. It was an evil face. The eyes were black, close set, and snake-like. Their glance was at once furtive and sinister. The swarthy surface of the face was startlingly broken by a broad scar extending from the forehead to the jaw upon the right side. The ears, round and flat, stood out from the head like those of a bat. High cheek-bones flanked a thin aquiline nose, beneath which stretched a straight, almost lipless, mouth.

Hardy was an unusually plucky young man, but he felt cold chills running up and down his spine as he looked at the stranger. From the first moment of their encounter he had been repelled by him and the sensation of distrust and aversion grew with every moment. But more predominant than any other feeling was a sense of having met the man before. This he knew was not the case but still the idea that he had seen this sinister-looking individual somewhere held possession of him. Suddenly the truth flashed upon his mind. He knew the man seated at the other end of the log.

Whilst continuing with apparent frankness to reply to the stranger’s enquiries, Hardy carelessly brought his rifle across his knees and gradually moved it until his hand was upon the trigger and the muzzle pointed at the breast of the man beside him.