Chapter 19

THE BATTLE OF BLUE LICKS

In less than an hour, Isaac and his companions returned, and reported that they had seen no signs of Indians whatever. On the receipt of this intelligence, the order to march was immediately given, and the whole body of soldiers, under the scorching rays of an August sun, moved rapidly forward. Nothing occurred to interrupt their progress, until the van had reached within a few yards of the ravines before mentioned, when the appalling truth of a tremendous ambuscade of the savages suddenly became known, by the pouring therefrom, into their ranks, a terrible volley, which carried with it death, terror and confusion. Never were soldiers taken more by surprise, and at greater disadvantage to themselves, both as to numbers and position. They had relied upon the report of the scouts, who had themselves been deceived by the quiet of everything about the ravines; and now here they were, less than two hundred in number, on an open spot, exposed to the deadly rifles of more than five hundred Indian warriors, who were lying concealed among the dark cedars of the ravines.

The first fire was severely destructive, particularly on the right, where the gallant Colonel Trigg fell mortally wounded, and was soon after tomahawked and scalped. With him went down several officers of inferior grade, and a large portion of the Harrodsburgh troops; but, undaunted, his little band of survivors returned the fire of the Indians, and, assisted by those in the rear, pressed forward like heroes to the support of the center and van, where the work of death and carnage was now becoming terrible.

"Onward!" shouted Colonel Todd, as he rode to and fro, animating his men by his voice and gestures: "Onward, my noble soldiers, and strike for your country and firesides! Oh God!" exclaimed he the next moment, as a ball pierced his breast; "I am mortally wounded; but strike! press on, and mind me not!"

As he spoke, he reeled in his saddle, the rein slipped from his grasp, and his fiery steed rushed away, bearing him to the enemy and his untimely doom.

"Fight, my lads, and falter not!" cried Major Harlan in the van; and the next moment his horse went down, some five or six balls lodged in his body, and he fell to rise no more.

But his men remembered their orders, and fought without faltering, until but three remained alive to tell the fate of the party.

"At 'em, lads!--don't spare the varmints!" said Boone, as he urged the left wing into action; and the immediate report of more than fifty rifles in that quarter, told him he was obeyed. In this wing fought Algernon, Isaac, the brother and son of Boone, with a heroic desperation worthy of Spartans; and at every fire an Indian went down before each of their deadly rifles.

But what could avail heroism here on that ill-fated day? Our brave little band of Kentuckians was opposed by a foe of treble their number; who, on their first terrible fire being expended, rushed forth from their covert, with horrible yells, tomahawk in hand, and, gradually extending their lines down the buffalo trace, on either side, so as to cut off the retreat of the whites, closed in upon them in overwhelming numbers, and the slaughter became immense. Major McGary rushed his horse to and fro among the enemy, and shouted and fought with all the desperate impetuosity of his nature. Major Todd did his best to press on the rear, and Colonel Boone still urged his men to the fight with all the backwoods eloquence in his power. But, alas! of what avail was coolness, impetuosity, or desperation now? The Indians were closing in thicker and thicker. Officers and privates, horsemen and footmen, were falling before the destructive fire of their rifles, or sinking beneath their bloody tomahawks, amid yells and screeches the most diabolical. Cries, groans, and curses, resounded on every hand, from the living, the wounded, and dying. But few now remained in command. Colonels Todd and Trigg, Majors Harlan and McBride, Captains Bulger and Gordon, with a host of other gallant officers, were now no more. Already had the Indians enclosed them as in a net, hemmed them in on all sides, and they were falling as grass before the scythe of the mower. Retreat was almost cut off--in a few minutes it would be entirely. They could hope for nothing against such odds, but a certain and bloody death. There was a possibility of escape. A few minutes and it would be too late. They hesitated--they wavered--they turned and fled; and now it was that a horrible sight presented itself.

The space between the head of the ravines and the ford of the river a distance of more than a mile, suddenly became the scene of a hard and bloody race. As the whites fled, the Indians sprung after them, with whoops and yells that more resembled those of infuriated demons than human beings; and whenever an unfortunate Kentuckian was overtaken, he instantly fell a victim to the tomahawk and scalping knife. Those who were mounted generally escaped; but the foot suffered dreadfully; and the whole distance presented an appalling sight of bloody, mangled corses, strewing the ground in every direction. Girty, the renegade, was now at the height of his hellish enjoyment. With oaths and curses, and horrid laughter, his hands and weapons reeking with blood of the slain, he rushed on after new victims, braining and scalping all that came within his reach.

At the river the carnage was in no wise abated. Horsemen and footmen, victors and vanquished, rushed down the slope, pell-mell, and plunged into the stream--some striving for life and liberty, some for death and vengeance--and the dark rolling waters went sweeping on, colored with the blood of the slaughtered.

An act of heroic gallantry and presence of mind here occurred, which has often been mentioned in history, tending to check somewhat the blood-thirsty savages, and give many of the fugitives time to escape. Some twelve or fifteen horsemen had already passed the ford in safety, and were in the act of spurring forward, regardless of the fate of their unfortunate companions on foot, when one of their number, a man by the name of Netherland, who had previously been accused of cowardice, suddenly shouted, as if giving the word of command:

"Halt! Fire on the Indians, and protect the men in the river!"

The order was obeyed, in the same spirit it was given; and the sudden discharge of more than a dozen rifles, made the infuriated savages recoil in dismay, and thereby saved many a poor fellow's life. The reaction, however, speedily followed. Many of the savages now swam the river above and below the ford, and gave chase to the fugitives for fifteen and even twenty miles--though with but little success after crossing the stream--as the latter generally plunged into the neighboring thickets, and so eluded the vigilance of the former.

Such were the general features of the disastrous battle of Blue Licks--a battle of dreadful import to the pioneers of Kentucky--which threw the land into mourning, and made a most solemn and startling impression upon the minds of its inhabitants. Had we space to chronicle individual heroism, we might fill page after page with brave and noble achievements; but as it is, we shall confine ourself to those connected with our most prominent characters.

We have stated previously, that Algernon Reynolds fought in the left wing, under the command of Boone; where, for the few minutes which the action lasted, he sustained himself with great gallantry; and, by his undaunted courage, inspired those immediately around him with like ardor. On the retreat of the whites, he found himself cut off from the river by a large body of Indians, headed by his old foe, Simon Girty, who, having recognized him, was now pressing forward with several stalwart warriors, to again make him prisoner. For the first time since the commencement of the battle, he felt his heart sink. To be taken alive was a thousand times worse than death, and escape seemed impossible. However, there was no time for consideration; another moment might be fatal; his foes were upon him; it was now or never. Luckily he was mounted on a fiery steed--which had thus far escaped a scratch--and had one undischarged pistol in his holster. This he drew forth as his last hope; and, tightening the rein, wheeled his horse and spurred down upon his enemies with tremendous velocity.

"I have you now, by ----!" cried the renegade.

As he spoke, he sprung forward to grasp the bridle of Algernon's horse; but stumbled and fell, and the beast passed over him, unfortunately though without doing him any injury.

But Algernon had not yet got clear of his enemies; for on the fall of Girty, he found himself surrounded by a host of savages, whooping and yelling frightfully, and his direct course to the river cut off by a body of more than a hundred. There was only one point, and that a few yards to his left, where there appeared a possibility of his breaking through their lines. In the twinkling of an eye, and while his horse was yet under full headway, his decision was made. Rushing his steed hard to the right, in order to deceive his foes, he suddenly wheeled him again to the left; and the side of the beast striking against some three or four of the Indians, who were on the point of seizing his rein, staggered them back upon their companions, creating no little confusion. Taking advantage of this, our hero, with the speed of a flying arrow, bore down upon the weakest point; where, after shooting down a powerful savage, who had succeeded in grasping his bridle and was on the point of tomahawking his horse, he passed their lines, amid a volley of rifle balls, which cut his clothes in several places, but left himself and steed unharmed.

The worst of the danger now seemed over; but still his road ahead was beset with Indians, who were killing and scalping all that fell in their power; and behind him were the infuriated renegade and his party now in hot pursuit. His steed, however, was strong and fleet, and he put him to his wind; by which means he not only distanced those behind him, but passed one or two parties in front unharmed. About half way between the ravines and the river, he overtook Major McGary, and some five or six other horsemen, who were dashing forward at a fast gallop; and checking his fiery beast somewhat, he silently joined them. A little further on, Reynolds observed an officer on foot, who, exhausted by his recent exertions, and lame from former wounds, had fallen behind his companions. On coming up, he recognized in the crippled soldier the brave Captain Patterson; and with a magnanimity and self-sacrifice worthy of all imitation, he instantly reined in his horse and dismounted, while the others kept upon their course.

"Sir!" cried he to Patterson; "you are, I perceive, fatigued and weak. Your life is in great danger. Mount, sir--mount! I am fresh and will take my chance on foot."

"God bless you, sir!--God bless you for this noble act!" exclaimed Patterson, as Reynolds assisted him, into the saddle. "If I escape--"

"Enough!" said Reynolds, hurriedly, interrupting him. "Fly, sir--fly! God be with you! Adieu!"

And turning away as he spoke, he sprung down the side of the ridge, and running along the edge of the river some little distance, plunged into the water and swam to the opposite shore. Unfortunately for our hero, he had changed his garments at Bryan's Station, and now wore a pair of buckskin breeches, which, in swimming the stream, had become so soaked and heavy that he was obliged to remove them in order to display his usual agility. While seated upon the bank and occupied in this manner, he was startled by a hand being placed upon his shoulder, and the familiar grunt of an Indian sounding in his ear. On looking up, he at once recognized the grim features of Wild-cat, and saw himself in the power of some half a dozen savages.

"Me wanty you," said Wild-cat, quietly. "Kitchokema give much for Long Knife. Come!"

There was no alternative now; and Algernon rose to his feet, and suffered his weapons to be taken from him, with what feelings we leave the reader to imagine. Taking him along, the savages set forward, on the alert for other game; and presently three of them darted away in chase of a party of whites; and directly after, two others, leaving our hero alone with Wild-cat. Hope now revived that he might yet escape; nor was he this time disappointed; for after advancing a short distance, Wild-cat stooped down to tie his moccasin; when Reynolds immediately sprung upon him, knocked him down with his fist, seized his rifle, tomahawk, and knife, fled into the thicket, and reached Bryan's Station, during the night succeeding, unscathed.[24]

Throughout the short but severe action at the ravines, Boone maintained his ground with great coolness and courage, animating his soldiers by word and deed, until the rout became general, when he found it necessary, to prevent falling into the hands of the enemy, to have recourse to immediate flight. As he cast his eyes around him for this purpose, he saw himself cut off from the ford by the large body of Indians, through whose lines our hero was even then struggling. At this moment he heard a groan which attracted his attention; and looking down, he perceived his son Israel lying on the ground, scarcely five paces distant, weltering in his blood. With all a father's feelings of affection and alarm, he instantly sprung from his horse, and, raising the youth in his arms, darted into the nearest ravine, and made with all speed for the river. A few of the Indians were herein concealed, who discharged their rifles at him as he passed, without injury, and then joined in pursuit. One, a powerful warrior, having outstripped his companions, was rushing upon the old woodsman with his tomahawk, when the latter, with backwoods celerity, instantly raised his rifle and shot him through the body. Finding himself hard pressed, and that his son was already in the agonies of death, the old hunter strained him for the last time to his heart, with choking emotion, pressed his lips to those already growing cold, and then, with a groan of agony, left him to his fate and the scalping-knife of the savage, while he barely made his own escape by swimming the river below the bend. To him this was a mournful day--never to be forgotten--and one that, even long, long years after, could never be mentioned but with tears.

In this action the brother of Boone was wounded; but in company with Isaac Younker, and some three or four others, he succeeded in making his escape.

On the day of the battle, Colonel Logan arrived at Bryan's Station with a command of four hundred and fifty soldiers. On learning that the garrison with their reinforcements had gone the day preceding in pursuit of the Indians, and fearful of some disaster, he resolved on a forced march to give them assistance as soon as possible. For this purpose he immediately set forward on their trail; but had advanced only a few miles, when he met a party of the fugitives returning from the scene of slaughter. They were alarmed and excited, and of course their account of the battle was greatly exaggerated, believing as they did that they were the only escaped survivors. Their report, to say the least, was very startling, allowing that only the half were true; and in consequence, Logan decided on retracing his steps to the station, until he should be able to collect more definite news concerning the fight. Gradually one party after another came dropping in; and by nine o'clock nearly or quite all of the survivors were assembled in the fortress; when it was ascertained that a little over one-third of the party, or between sixty and seventy of those engaged in the battle, were missing. It was a sad night of wailing, and lamentation, and dreadful excitement in the station; for scarcely a family there, but was mourning the loss of some friend or relation. Algernon and Isaac had returned, to the great joy of those most interested in their welfare; but the father-in-law of the latter came not, and there was mourning in consequence.

A consultation between Colonels Logan and Boone, resulted in the decision to march forthwith to the battle-ground. Accordingly every thing being got in readiness, Colonel Logan set out with his command, at a late hour the same night, accompanied by Boone, and a few of the survivors of the ill-fated engagement. Towards morning a halt of three hours was ordered for rest and refreshment: when the line of march was again taken up; and by noon of the day succeeding the battle, the forces arrived upon the ground, where a most horribly repulsive scene met their view.

The Indians had departed on their homeward route, bearing their killed and wounded away from the field of carnage; but the dead and mutilated bodies of the whites still remained where they had fallen, presenting a spectacle the most hideous and revolting possibly to be conceived. In the edge of the stream, on the banks, up the ridge, and along the buffalo trace to the ravines, were lying the bloody and mangled corses of the gallant heroes--who, the day before, full of ardor and life, had rushed on to the battle and an untimely and inglorious death--now swollen, putrid, and in the first stage of decomposition, from the action of the scorching rays of an August sun--surrounded by vultures and crows, and all species of carrion fowl; many of which, having gorged themselves on the horrid repast, were either sweeping overhead in large flocks, and screeching their funeral dirges, or wiping their bloody bills on the neighboring trees. Some of the bodies in the stream had been gnawed by fishes--others by wolves--and all had been so disfigured, by one means and another, that but very few could be recognized by their friends.

"Great Heaven! what a sight!" exclaimed Colonel Logan, as he ran his eye over the scene.

"A dark and terrible day for Kaintuck," answered Boone, who was standing by his side; and as he spoke, the old hunter turned away his head to conceal his emotion; for his mind reverted to the death of his noble son.

Orders were now given by Colonel Logan, to have the bodies collected, and interred in a manner as decent as circumstances would permit. This being accomplished, he returned with his men to Bryan's Station, and there dismissed them--it not being thought advisable to pursue the enemy further. In this ever memorable battle of Blue Licks, the Kentuckians had sixty killed, twelve wounded, and seven taken prisoners, most of whom were afterwards put to the tortures. As we said before, it was a sad day for Kentucky, and threw the land into mourning and gloom. Colonels Todd and Trigg, and Majors Harlan and McBride, were men beloved and respected in life, and bitterly lamented in death by a long list of true-hearted friends.

The great trace where the battle was fought, is now green with low branching cedars; and a solitary monument near by, informs the curious spectator of the sad disaster of by gone times. The Blue Lick Springs are much resorted to in the summer season by invalids and others, for whose convenience a magnificent hotel stands upon the banks of the lovely and romantic Licking.

A few words more and our general history will be closed. On receiving the intelligence of the battle of Blue Licks, General Clark--who then occupied a fort at the Falls of the Ohio, on the present site of Louisville--resolved upon another expedition to the enemy's country; for which purpose it was proposed to raise an army of one thousand men, who, under their respective commanders, should congregate opposite the mouth of the Licking, on the present site of Cincinnati. The interior and upper country were to rendezvous at Bryan's Station, under the command of Colonels Logan and Floyd; and the lower settlements at the Falls of Ohio, under General Clark; who, on all parties arriving at the grand rendezvous, was to be commander-in-chief of the expedition. One thousand mounted riflemen were raised without a draft, who marched upon the enemy in their own country, destroyed their villages, provisions, and cornfields, took several prisoners, and carried with them so much terror and desolation, that the Indians never sufficiently recovered from the shock to renew hostilities in a formidable body; and the Kentuckians henceforth, save in individual cases, were left unmolested.

On their march they came upon the rear of Girty's party, returning from their successful battle; but an Indian scout gave the renegade and his companions warning in time for them to escape the whites by flight. In this expedition, Colonel Boone volunteered and served as a private; being the last in which the noble old hunter was ever engaged in defence of the settlements of Kentucky. Algernon Reynolds and Isaac Younker were his companions in arms; who, on the dismissal of the troops, returned again to Bryan's Station.

[Footnote 24: It may perhaps add interest to the story, for the reader to know that the foregoing account concerning Reynolds and Captain Patterson, is historically true; as is also the one which follows with regard to Boone and his son.]