Chapter 6

The captain with half a dozen others, one of them his nephew, embarked in a crazy boat, about forty-five long, and eight feet wide, with no other bulwark than a single pine plank, above each gunnel. The boat was much encumbered with baggage, and seven horses were on board. Having seen no enemy for several days, they had become secure and careless, and permitted the boat to drift within fifty yards of the Ohio shore. Suddenly several Indians showed themselves on the bank, and opened heavy fire upon the boat. The astonishment of the crew may be conceived. Captain Ward and his nephew were at the oars when the enemy appeared, and the captain knowing that their safety depended upon their ability to regain the middle of the river, kept his seat firmly, and exerted his utmost powers at the oar, but his nephew started up at the sight of the enemy, seized his rifle and was in the act of levelling it, when he received a ball in the breast, and fell dead in the bottom of the boat. Unfortunately, his oar fell into the river, and the Captain having no one to pull against him, rather urged the boat nearer to the hostile shore than otherwise. He quickly seized a plank, however, and giving his own oar to another of the crew, he took the station which his nephew had held, and unhurt by the bullets which flew around him, continued to exert himself, until the boat had reached a more respectable distance. He then, for the first time, looked around him in order to observe the condition of the crew. His nephew lay in his blood, perfectly lifeless,--the horses had been all killed or mortally wounded. Some had fallen overboard--others were struggling violently, and causing their frail bark to dip water so as to excite the most serious apprehensions.

But the crew presented the most singular spectacle. A captain, who had served with reputation in the continental army, seemed now totally bereft of his faculties. He lay upon his back in the bottom of the boat, with hands uplifted, and a countenance in which terror was personified, exclaiming in a tone of despair, "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" A Dutchman, whose weight might amount at about three hundred pounds, was busily engaged in endeavoring to find shelter for his bulky person, which, from the lowness of the gunnels, was a very difficult undertaking. In spite of his utmost efforts, a portion of his posterial luxuriance, appeared above the gunnel, and afforded a mark to the enemy, which brought a constant shower of balls around it. In vain he shifted his position. The lump still appeared, and the balls still flew around it, until the Dutchman, losing all patience, raised his head above the gunnel, and in a tone of querulous remonstrance, called out, "Oh, now I git tat nonsense, tere,--will you!" Not a shot was fired from the boat.

At one time, after they had partly reined the current, Captain Ward attempted to bring his rifle to bear upon them, but so violent was the agitation of the boat, from the furious struggles of the horses, that he could not steady his piece within twenty yards of the enemy, and quickly laying it aside returned to the oar. The Indians followed them down the river for more than an hour, but having no canoes, they did not attempt to board; and as the boat was at length transferred to the opposite side of the river, they finally abandoned the pursuit and disappeared. None of the crew, save the young man already mentioned, were hurt, although the Dutchman's seat of honor served as a target for the space of an hour, and the continental captain was deeply mortified at the sudden, and, as he said, "unaccountable" panic which had seized him. Captain Ward himself was protected by a post, which had been fastened to the gunnel, and behind which he sat while rowing.

Massy Herbeson and her Family

During the settlement of the interior of Pennsylvania, the Indians were almost constantly hostile. Houses were burned, fields desolated, and the poor, hard-working settlers were killed, or carried into a dreadful captivity. The sufferings of some of these captives can scarcely be described. The following narrative will give some idea of savage nature.

On the 22nd of May, 1792, Massy Herbeson and her children were taken from their house, within two hundred yards of Reed's blockhouse, and about twenty-five miles from Pittsburg. Mr. Herbeson, being one of the spies, was from home; two of the scouts lodged with her that night, but had left her house about sunrise, in order to go to the blockhouse, and had left the door standing wide open. Shortly after the two scouts went away, a number of Indians came into the house, and drew her out of bed by the feet; the two eldest children, who also lay in another bed were drawn out in the same manner; a younger child, about one year old slept with Mrs. Herbeson. The Indians then scattered the articles about in the house.

Whilst they were at this work, Mrs. Herbeson went out of the house, and hallooed to the people in the blockhouse; one of the Indians then ran up and stopped her mouth, another ran up with his tomahawk drawn, and a third ran and seized the tomahawk and called her his squaw; this last Indian claimed her as his, and continued by her. About fifteen of the Indians then ran down towards the blockhouse and fired their guns at the block and store-house, in consequence of which one soldier was killed and another wounded, one having been at the spring, and the other in coming or looking out of the store-house. Mrs. Herbeson told the Indians there were about forty men in the blockhouse, and each man had two guns, the Indians then went to those that were firing at the blockhouse, and brought them back.

They then began to drive Mrs. Herbeson and her children away; but a boy, about three years old, being unwilling to leave the house, they took it by the heels, and dashed it against the house, then stabbed and scalped it. They then took Mrs. Herbeson and the two other children to the top of the hill, where they stopped until they tied up the plunder they had got. While they were busy about this, Mrs. Herbeson counted them, and the number amounted to thirty-two, including two white men, that were with them, painted like the Indians. Several of the Indians could speak English, and she knew several of them very well, having often seen them go up and down the Alleghany river; two of them she knew to be Senecas, and two Munsees, who had got their guns mended by her husband about two years ago.

They sent two Indians with her, and the others took their course towards Puckty. She, the children, and the two Indians had not gone above two hundred yards, when the Indians caught two of her uncle's horses, put her and the youngest child on one, and one of the Indians and the other child on the other. The two Indians then took her and the children to the Alleghany river, and took them over in bark canoes, as they could not get the horses to swim the river. After they had crossed the river, the oldest child, a boy about five years of age, began to mourn for his brother, when one of the Indians tomahawked and scalped him. They travelled all day very hard, and that night arrived at a large camp, covered with bark, which, by appearance, might hold fifty men. That night they took her about three hundred yards from the camp, into a large dark bottom, bound her arms, gave her some bed clothes, and lay down one on each side of her.

The next morning they took her into a thicket, on the hill side, and one remained with her till the middle of the day, while the other went to watch the path, lest some white people should follow them. They then exchanged places during the remainder of the day. She got a piece of dry venison, about the size of an egg, that day, and a piece about the same size the day they were marching; that evening, (Wednesday, 23d) they moved her to a new place, and secured her as the night before. During the day of the 23'd, she made several attempts to get the Indian's gun or tomahawk, that was guarding her, and, had she succeeded, she would have put him to death. She was nearly detected in trying to get the tomahawk from his belt.

The next morning one of the Indians went out, as on the day before, to watch the path. The other lay down and fell asleep. When she found he was sleeping, she stole her short gown, handkerchief, a child's frock, and then made her escape; the sun was then about half an hour high--she took her course from the Alleghany, in order to deceive the Indians, as they would naturally pursue her that way; that day she travelled along Conequenessing creek. The next day she altered her course, and, as she believes, fell upon the waters of Pine Creek, which empties into the Alleghany. Thinking this not her best course, she took over some dividing ridges,--lay on a dividing ridge on Friday night, and on Saturday came to Squaw run--continued down the run until an Indian, or some other person, shot a deer; she saw the person about one hundred and fifty yards from her--the deer running and the dog pursuing it, which, from the appearance, she supposed to be an Indian dog.

She then altered her course, but again came to the same run, and continued down until she got so tired that she was obliged to lie down, it having rained on her all that day and the night before; she lay there that night; it rained constantly. On Sunday morning, she proceeded down the run until she came to the Alleghany river, and continued down the river till she came opposite to Carter's house, on the inhabited side, where she made a noise, and James Closier brought her over the river to Carter's house.

Such outrages were frequent upon the frontier, in time of war with the Indians. Many instances of the generosity and hospitality of the red men are recorded. But when we remember that they made war and the chase the business of their lives, and that they never would be content to till the ground, as the neighbors of the whites we cannot regret that they have disappeared from our vicinity.

A Nocturnal Adventure with Six Lions

Mr. Cumming, whose adventures we have already found so entertaining, had a method of hunting for wild beasts, and especially lions, which was quite curious. He dug holes near the fountains or streams, where the animals were accustomed to resort at night for water, and concealed himself and his companions in them, to wait for their approach. The following is a specimen of this kind of adventure.

On the afternoon of the 4th I deepened my hole and watched the water. As the sun went down two graceful springboks and a herd of pallah came and drank, when I shot the best pallah in the troop. At night I watched the water with Kleinboy: very soon a cow black rhinoceros came and drank, and got off for the present with two balls in her. A little afterwards two black rhinoceroses and two white ones came to the waterside. We both fired together at the finest of the two black rhinoceroses; she ran three hundred yards, and fell dead. Soon after this the other black rhinoceros came up again and stood at the waterside; I gave her one ball after the shoulder; she ran a hundred yards and fell dead. In half an hour a third old borele appeared, and, having inspected the two dead ones, he came up to the waterside. We fired together; he ran two hundred yards and fell dead. I felt satisfied with our success, and gave it up for the night.

By the following evening the natives had cleared away the greater part of the two rhinoceroses which lay right in the way of the game approaching the water; I, however, enforced their leaving the third rhinoceros, which had fallen on the bare rising ground, almost opposite to my hiding-place, in the hope of attracting a lion, as I intended to watch the water at night. Soon after the twilight had died away, I went down to my hole with Kleinboy and two natives, who lay concealed in another hole, with Wolf and Boxer ready to slip, in the event of wounding a lion.

On reaching the water I looked towards the carcase of the rhinoceros, and, to my astonishment, I beheld the ground alive with large creatures, as though a troop of zebras were approaching the fountain to drink. Kleinboy remarked to me that a troop of zebras were standing on the height. I answered, "Yes," but I knew very well that zebras would not be capering around the carcase of a rhinoceros. I quickly arranged my blankets, pillow, and guns, in the hole, and then lay down to feast my eyes on the interesting sight before me. It was bright moonlight, as clear as I need wish, and within one night of being full moon. There were six large lions, about twelve or fifteen hyaenas, and from twenty to thirty jackals, feasting on and around the carcases of the three rhinoceroses. The lions feasted peacefully, but the hyenas and jackals fought over every mouthful, and chased one another round and round the carcases, growling, laughing, screeching, chattering, and howling without any intermission. The hyaenas did not seem afraid of the lions, although they always gave way before them; for I observed that they followed them in the most disrespectful manner, and stood laughing, one or two on either side, when any lions came after their comrades to examine pieces of skin or bones which they were dragging away. I had lain watching this banquet for about four hours, in the strong hope that, when the lions had feasted, they would come and drink. Two black and two white rhinoceroses had made their appearance, but, scared by the smell of the blood, they soon made off.

At length the lions seemed satisfied. They all walked about with their heads up, and seemed to be thinking about the water, and in two minutes one of them turned his face towards me, and came on; he was immediately followed by the second lion, and in half a minute by the other four. It was a decided and general move, they were all coming to drink right bang in my face, within fifteen yards of me.

I charged the unfortunate, pale, and panting Kleinboy to convert himself into a stone, and knowing, from old spoor, exactly where they would drink, I cocked my left barrel, and placed myself and gun in position. The six lions came steadily on along the ridge, until within sixty yards of me, when they halted for a minute to reconnoitre. One of them stretched out his massive arms on the rock and lay down; the others then came on, and he rose and brought up the rear. They walked, as I had anticipated, to the old drinking place, and three of them had put down their heads and were lapping the water loudly, when Kleinboy thought it necessary to show his ugly head. I turned my head slowly to rebuke him, and again taming to the lions I found myself discovered.

An old lioness, who seemed to take the lead, had detected me, and, with her head high and her eyes fixed full upon me, she was coming slowly round the corner of the little vley to cultivate further my acquaintance! This unfortunate proceeding put a stop at once to all further contemplation. I thought, in my haste, that it was perhaps most prudent to shoot this lioness, especially as none of the others had noticed me. I accordingly moved my arm and covered her: she saw me move and halted, exposing a full broadside, I fired; the ball entered one shoulder and passed out behind the other. She bounded forward with repeated growls, and was followed by her five comrades all enveloped in a cloud of dust; nor did they stop until they had reached the cover behind me, except one old gentleman, who halted and looked back for a few seconds, when I fired, but the ball went high. I listened anxiously for some sound to denote the approaching end of the lioness; nor listened in vain. I heard her growling and stationary, as if dying. In one minute her comrades crossed the vley a little below me, and made towards the rhinoceros. I then slipped Wolf and Boxer on her scent, and, following them into the river, I found her lying dead within twenty yards of where the old lion had lain two nights before. This was a fine old lioness, with perfect teeth, and was certainly a noble prize; but I felt dissatisfied at not having rather shot a lion, which I had most certainly done if my Hottentot had not destroyed my contemplation.

Attacks on Brookfield and Deerfield.

The early settlers of New England did not suffer much from the hostility of the Indians, until the breaking out of King Philip's war, in 1675. Philip was the son of Massasoit, who was the friend of the English from the time of the landing of the pilgrims until the day of his death. Offended at the manner in which the English behaved towards his brother, Alexander, Philip resolved upon a war of extermination, and, for this purpose, he united nearly all the New England tribes. The war was very destructive to the whites, though it ended in the total overthrow of the Indian power.

One of the first places attacked was the town of Brookfield, Massachusetts. Upon receiving intelligence that Philip had begun hostilities, the inhabitants all collected in one large house. Captains Wheeler and Hutchinson went into the country of the Nipmucks, to treat with them, but they, instigated by Philip, fired upon the party of whites, killed eight men and mortally wounded Captain Hutchinson. The rest fled to Brookfield, pursued by the Indians. The inhabitants were now surrounded by a host of foes, who burned every house in the place, except the one in which the people and soldiers were collected. Here they directed their whole force. Upon this house they poured a storm of musket balls for about two days. Countless numbers pierced through the walls, yet only one person was killed. Brands and rags dipped in brimstone were thrust against the house with long poles. The Indians shot arrows, tipped with fire, upon the roof. They loaded a cart with flax and tow, and with long poles fastened together, pushed it against the house. Destruction seemed inevitable, the house was kindling. The bold and resolute settlers were beginning to give up all hope, when a sudden and providential fall of rain quenched the flames.

The savages yelled with the fury of disappointment, and resorted to other schemes for the destruction of the house and its inmates. In all probability, they would have succeeded in effecting their object; but on the 4th of August, Major Willard, with a party of troops, appeared, and attacked the besiegers. The conflict was soon decided. The Indians never could withstand an equal number of whites in a fair field. They now gave way, after suffering a great loss. The people of Brookfield were thus happily delivered from their savage foe. But their houses were burned, and stock destroyed.

The next place attacked was Deerfield, upon the Connecticut river, which experienced the horror of Indian atrocity several times during the course of the war. The town was first attacked in September, 1675, when most of the houses were burned, and some of the inhabitants killed. At Deerfield, there were three thousand bushels of wheat in stock, which it was resolved to bring to the general magazine at Hadley. Captain Lathrop, with ninety men, guarded the teams employed in this service. On the way, they were assaulted by about seven hundred Indians. Few of the whites escaped. They fought bravely, and killed a great many of the Indians, but were nearly all slain. Captain Mosely marched from Deerfield to reinforce Captain Lathrop. Arriving too late, he was compelled to sustain the onset of the whole force of the enemy, until Major Treat came to his relief, and put the Indians to flight.

In the early part of February, a large body of Indians attempted to surprise Deerfield by night. But the inhabitants were alarmed and prepared, and after a short conflict succeeded in driving off the savages. Soon after a party of whites from Deerfield attacked a party of Indians in a swamp, near that town, and killed one hundred and twenty of them. But the whites, on their return, were waylaid, and as they had expended all their ammunition they fell an easy prey. Fifty were killed and eighty-four wounded. Such were the horrors of King Philip's war.

Attack on Mrs. Scraggs's House.

On the night of the 11th of April, 1787, the house of the widow Scraggs, in Bourbon county, Kentucky, was attacked by the Indians. The widow occupied what is called double cabin, one room of which was tenanted by the old lady herself, together with two grown sons and a widowed daughter, who was at that time suckling an infant, while the other was occupied by two unmarried daughters, from sixteen to twenty years of age, together with a little girl, not more than half grown.

The hour was eleven o'clock at night. One of the unmarried daughters was still busily engaged at the loom, but the other members of the family, with the exception of one of the sons, had retired to rest. Some symptoms of an alarming nature had engaged the attention of the young man for an hour before any thing of a decided character took place. The cry of owls was heard in the adjoining wood, answering each other in rather an unusual manner. The horses which were enclosed as usual in a pound near the house were more than commonly their excited, and by repeated snorting and galloping, announced the presence of some object of terror. The young man was often upon the point of awakening his brother, but was as often restrained by the fear of incurring ridicule and their reproach of timidity, at that time an unpardonable blemish in the character of a Kentuckian. At length, hasty steps were heard in the yard, and quickly afterwards several knocks at the door, accompanied by the usual exclamation, "who keeps house?" in very good English.

The young man, supposing from the language, that some benighted settlers were at the door, hastily arose and advancing to withdraw the bar which secured it, when his mother, who had long lived upon the frontiers, and had probably detected the Indian tone in the demand for admission, sprung out of bed, and ordered her son not to admit them, declaring that they were Indians. She instantly awakened her other son, and the two young men seizing their guns, which were always charged, prepared to repel the enemy.

The Indians finding it impossible to enter under their assumed characters, began to thunder at the door with great violence, but a single shot from a loophole, compelled them to shift the attack to some less exposed point; and, unfortunately, they discovered the door of the other cabin, which contained the three daughters. The rifles of the brothers could not be brought to bear upon this point, and by means of several rails taken from the yard fence, the door was forced from its hinges and the three girls were at the mercy of the savage. One was immediately secured, but the eldest defended herself desperately with a knife which she had been using in the loom, and stabbed one of the Indians to the heart, before she was tomahawked.