Part 5

One of the most remarkable pioneer fights, in the early history of the west, was that waged by Captain James Estill, and seventeen of his associates, on the 22d of March, 1782, with a party of Wyandotte Indians, twenty-five in number. Seventy-one years almost have elapsed since; yet one of the actors in that sanguinary struggle, Rev. Joseph Proctor, of Estill county, Kentucky, survived to the 2d of December, 1844, dying in the full enjoyment of his faculties at the age of ninety. His wife, the partner of his early privations and toils, and nearly as old as himself, deceased six months previously.

On the 19th of March 1782, Indian rafts, without any one on them, were seen floating down the Kentucky river, past Boonesborough. Intelligence of this fact was immediately dispatched by Colonel Logan to Captain Estill, at his station fifteen miles from Boonesborough, and near the present site of Richmond, Kentucky, together with a force of fifteen men, who were directed to march from Lincoln county to Estill's assistance, instructing Captain Estill, if the Indians had not appeared there, to scour the country with a reconnoitring party, as it could not be known at what point the attack would be made.

Estill lost not a moment in collecting a force to go in search of the savages, not doubting, from his knowledge of the Indian character, that they designed an immediate blow at his or some of the neighboring stations. From his own and the nearest stations, he raised twenty-five men. Whilst Estill and his men were on this excursion, the Indians suddenly appeared around his station at the dawn of day, on the 20th of March, killed and scalped Miss Innes, and took Munk, a slave of Captain Estill, captive. The Indians immediately and hastily retreated, in consequence of a highly exaggerated account which Munk gave them of the strength of the station, and number of fighting men in it. No sooner had the Indians commenced their retreat, than the women in the fort (the men being all absent except one on the sick list,) dispatched two boys, the late General Samuel South and Peter Hacket, to take the trail of Captain Estill and his men, and, overtaking them, give information of what had occurred at the fort. The boys succeeded in coming up with Captain Estill early on the morning of the 21st, between the mouths of Drowning creek and Red river. After a short search, Captain Estill's party struck the trail of the retreating Indians. It was resolved at once to make pursuit, and no time was lost in doing so. Five men of the party, however, who had families in the fort, feeling uneasy for their safety, and unwilling to trust their defence to the few who remained there, returned to the fort, leaving Captain Estill's party thirty-five in number. These pressed the pursuit of the retreating Indians, as rapidly as possible, but night coming on they encamped near the Little Mountain, at present the site of Mount Sterling.

Early next morning they put forward, being obliged to leave ten of the men behind, whose horses were too jaded to travel further. They had not proceeded far until they discovered by fresh tracks of the Indians, that they were not far distant. They then marched in four lines until about an hour before sunset, when they discovered six of the savages helping themselves to rations from the body of a buffalo which they had killed. The company was ordered to dismount. With the usual impetuosity of Kentuckians, some of the party fired without regarding orders, and the Indians fled. One of the party, a Mr. David Cook, who acted as ensign, exceedingly ardent and active, had proceeded in advance of the company, and seeing an Indian halt, raised his gun and fired. At the same moment another Indian crossed on the opposite side, and they were both leveled with the same shot. This occurring in view of the whole company, inspired them all with a high degree of confidence. In the meantime, the main body of Indians had heard the alarm and returned, and the two hostile parties exactly matched in point of numbers, having twenty-five on each side, and were now face to face. The ground was highly favorable to the Indian mode of warfare; but Captain Estill and his men, without a moment's hesitation, boldly and fearlessly commenced an attack upon them, and the latter as boldly and fearlessly (for they were picked warriors) engaged in the bloody combat. It is, however, disgraceful to relate, that, at the very onset of the action, Lieutenant Miller, of Captain Estill's party, with six men under his command, "ingloriously fled" from the field, thereby placing in jeopardy the whole of their comrades, and causing the death of many brave soldiers. Hence, Estill's party numbered eighteen, and the Wyandottes twenty-five.

The flank becoming thus unprotected, Captain Estill directed Cook with three men to occupy Miller's station, and repel the attack in that quarter to which this base act of cowardice exposed the whole party. The ensign with his party were taking the position assigned, when one of them discovered an Indian and shot him, and the three retreated to a little eminence whence they thought greater execution could be effected with less danger to themselves, but Cook continued to advance without noticing the absence of his party until he had discharged his gun with effect, when he immediately retreated, but after running some distance to a large tree, for the purpose of shelter in firing, he unfortunately got entangled in the tops of fallen timber, and halting for a moment, received a ball which struck him just below the shoulder blade, and came out below his collar bone. In the meantime, on the main field of battle, at the distance of fifty yards, the fight raged with great fury, lasting one hour and three-quarters. On either side wounds and death were inflicted, neither party advancing or retreating. "Every man to his man, and every man to his tree." Captain Estill at this period was covered with blood from a wound received early in the action; nine of his brave companions lay dead upon the field; and four others were so disabled by their wounds, as to be unable to continue the fight. Captain Estill's fighting men were now reduced to four. Among this number was Joseph Proctor.

Captain Estill, the brave leader of this Spartan band, was now brought into a personal conflict with a powerful and active Wyandotte warrior. The conflict was for a time fierce and desperate, and keenly and anxiously watched by Proctor, with his finger on the trigger of his unerring rifle. Such, however, was the struggle between these fierce and powerful warriors, that Proctor could not shoot without greatly endangering the safety of his captain. Estill had had his arm broken the preceding summer in an engagement with the Indians; and, in the conflict with the warrior on this occasion, that arm gave way, and in an instant his savage foe buried his knife in Captain Estill's breast; but in the very same moment, the brave Proctor sent a ball from his rifle to the Wyandotte's heart. The survivors then drew off as by mutual consent.--Thus ended this memorable battle. It wanted nothing but the circumstance of numbers to make it the most memorable in ancient or modern times. The loss of the Indians, in killed and wounded, notwithstanding the disparity of numbers after the shameful retreat of Miller, was even greater than that of Captain Estill.

It was afterwards ascertained by prisoners who were recaptured from the Wyandotte, that seventeen of the Indians had been killed, and two severely wounded. This battle was fought on the same day, with the disastrous battle of the Blue Licks, March 22d, 1782.

There is a tradition derived from the Wyandotte towns, after the peace, that but one of the warriors engaged in this battle ever returned to his nation. It is certain that the chief who led on the Wyandottes with so much desperation, fell in the action. Throughout this bloody engagement the coolness and bravery of Proctor were unsurpassed. But his conduct after the battle has always, with those acquainted with it, elicited the warmest commendation. He brought off the field of battle, and most of the way to the station, a distance of forty miles, on his back, his badly wounded friend, the late brave Colonel William Irvine, so long and so favorably known in Kentucky.

A PIONEER MOTHER.

The mothers of the west deserve as wide a fame as their fearless husbands and brothers. In no situation were courage and resolution so much required in women as in the western wilderness, during the Indian wars, and even the celebrated heroines of European history seem to us ordinary in comparison.

In the fall of 1779, Samuel Daviess, who resided in Bedford county, Virginia, moved with his family to Kentucky, and lived for a time, at Whitley's station, in Lincoln. After residing for some time in the station, he removed for a time to a place called Gilmer's Lick, some six or seven miles distant from said station, where he built a cabin, cleared some land, which he put in corn next season, not apprehending any danger from the Indians, although he was considered a frontier settler. But this imaginary state of security did not last long; for one morning in August, 1782, having stepped a few paces from his door, he was suddenly surprised by an Indian appearing between him and the door, with tomahawk uplifted, almost within striking distance. In this unexpected condition, and being entirely unarmed, his first thought was, that by running round the house, he could enter the door in safety, but to his surprise, in attempting to effect this object, as he approached the door he found the house full of Indians. Being closely pursued by the Indian first mentioned, he made his way into the cornfield, where he concealed himself with much difficulty, until the pursuing Indian had returned to the house.

Unable as he was to render any relief to his family, there being five Indians, he ran with the utmost speed to the station of his brother, a distance of five miles. As he approached the station, his undressed condition told the tale of his distresses, before he was able to tell it himself. Almost breathless, and with a faltering voice, he could only say, his wife and children were in the hands of the Indians. Scarcely was the communication made when he obtained a spare gun, and the five men in the station, well armed, followed him to his residence. When they arrived at the house, the Indians, as well as the family were found to be gone, and no evidence appeared that any of the family had been killed. A search was made to find the direction the Indians had taken; but owing to the dryness of the ground, and the adroit manner in which they had departed, no discovery could be made. In this study and perplexity, the party being all good woodsmen, took that direction in pursuit of the Indians, which they thought it most probable they would take. After going a few miles, their attention was arrested by the howling of a dog, which afterwards turned out to be a house-dog that had followed the family, and which the Indians had undertaken to kill, so as to avoid detection, which might happen from his occasionally barking. In attempting to kill the dog, he was only wounded, which produced the howling that was heard. The noise thus heard, satisfied them that they were near the Indians, and enabled them to rush forward with the utmost impetuosity. Two of the Indians being in the rear as spies, discovering the approach of the party, ran forward to where the Indians were with the family--one of them knocked down the oldest boy, about eleven years old, and while in the act of scalping him, was fired at, but without effect. Mrs. Daviess, seeing the agitation and alarm of the Indians, saved herself and sucking child, by jumping into a sink hole. The Indians did not stand to make fight, but fled in the most precipitate manner. In that way the family was rescued by nine o'clock in the morning, without the loss of a single life, and without any injury but that above mentioned. So soon as the boy had risen on his feet, the first words he spoke were, "Curse that Indian, he has got my scalp!" After the family had been rescued, Mrs. Daviess gave the following account of how the Indians had acted.

A few minutes after her husband had opened the door and stepped out of the house, four Indians rushed in, whilst the fifth, as she afterwards learned, was in pursuit of her husband. Herself and children were in bed when the Indians entered the house. One of the Indians immediately made signs, by which she understood him to inquire how far it was to the next house. With an unusual presence of mind, knowing how important it would be to make the distance as far as possible, she raised both her hands, first counting the fingers of one hand, then of the other--making a distance of eight miles. The Indian then signed to her that she must rise; she immediately got up, and as soon as she could dress herself, commenced showing the Indians one article of clothing after another, which pleased them very much; and in that way, delayed them at the house nearly two hours. In the meantime, the Indian who had been in pursuit of her husband, returned with his hands stained with poke berries, which he held up, and with some violent gestures, and waving of his tomahawk, attempted to induce the belief, that the stain on his hands was the blood of her husband, and that he had killed him. She was enabled at once to discover the deception, and instead of producing any alarm on her part, she was satisfied that her husband had escaped uninjured.

After the savages had plundered the house of everything that they could conveniently carry off with them, they started, taking Mrs. Daviess and her children--seven in number, as prisoners along with them. Some of the children were too young to travel as fast as the Indians wished, and discovering, as she believed, their intention to kill such of them as could not conveniently travel, she made the two oldest boys carry them on their backs. The Indians, in starting from the house, were very careful to leave no signs of the direction which they had taken, not even permitting the children to break a twig or weed, as they passed along. They had not gone far, before an Indian drew a knife and cut off a few inches of Mrs. Daviess' dress, so that she would not be interrupted in travelling.

Mrs. Daviess was a woman of cool, deliberate courage, and accustomed to handle the gun so that she could shoot well, as many of the women were in the habit of doing in those days. She had contemplated, as a last resort, that if not rescued in the course of the day, when night came and the Indians had fallen asleep, she would rescue herself and children by killing as many of the Indians as she could--thinking that in a night attack as many of them as remained, would most probably run off. Such an attempt would now seem a species of madness; but to those who were acquainted with Mrs. Daviess, little doubt was entertained, that if the attempt had been made, it would have proved successful.

The boy who had been scalped, was greatly disfigured, as the hair never after grew upon that part of the head. He often wished for an opportunity to avenge himself upon the Indians for the injury he had received. Unfortunately for himself, ten years afterwards, the Indians came to the neighborhood of his father and stole a number of horses.

Himself and a party of men went in pursuit of them, and after following them for some days, the Indians finding that they were likely to be overtaken, placed themselves in ambush, and when their pursuers came up, killed young Daviess and one other man; so that he ultimately fell into their hands when about twenty-one years old.

The next year after the father died; his death being caused, as it was supposed, by the extraordinary efforts he made to release his family from the Indians.

We cannot close this account, without noticing an act of courage displayed by Mrs. Daviess, calculated to exhibit her character in its true point of view.

Kentucky, in its early days, like most new countries, was occasionally troubled with men of abandoned character, who lived by stealing the property of others, and after committing their depredations, retired to their hiding places, thereby eluding the operation of the law. One of these marauders, a man of desperate character, who had committed extensive thefts from Mr. Daviess, as well as from his neighbors, was pursued by Daviess and a party whose property he had taken, in order to bring him to justice. While the party were in pursuit, the suspected individual, not knowing any one was pursuing him, came to the house of Daviess, armed with his gun and tomahawk--no person being at home but Mrs. Daviess and her children. After he had stepped in the house, Mrs. Daviess asked him if he would drink something--and having set a bottle of whiskey upon the table, requested him to help himself. The fellow not suspecting any danger, set his gun up by the door, and while drinking, Mrs. Daviess picked up his gun, and placing herself in the door, had the gun cocked and levelled upon him by the time he turned around, and in a peremptory manner, ordered him to take a seat, or she would shoot him. Struck with terror and alarm, he asked what he had done. She told him, he had stolen her husband's property, and that she intended to take care of him herself. In that condition, she held him a prisoner, until the party of men returned and took him into their possession.

THE SQUATTER'S WIFE AND DAUGHTER.

On the Illinois river, near two hundred miles from its junction with the Mississippi, there lived in 1812, an old pioneer, known in those days as "Old Parker the squatter." His family consisted of a wife and three children, the oldest a boy of nineteen, a girl of seventeen, and the youngest a boy of fourteen. At the time of which we write, Parker and his oldest boy had gone in company with three Indians on a hunt, expecting to be absent some five or six days.--The third day after the departure, one of the Indians returned to Parker's house, came in and sat himself down by the fire, lit his pipe and commenced smoking in silence. Mrs. Parker thought nothing of this, as it was no uncommon thing for one or sometimes more of a party of Indians to return abruptly from a hunt, at some sign they might consider ominous of bad luck, and in such instances were not very communicative. But at last the Indian broke silence with "ugh, old Parker die." This exclamation immediately drew Mrs. Parker's attention, who directly enquired of the Indian, what's the matter with Parker? The Indian responded Parker sick, tree fell on him, you go, he die. Mrs. Parker then asked the Indian if Parker had sent for her, and where he was? The replies of the Indian somewhat aroused her suspicions. She, however, came to the conclusion to send her son with the Indian to see what was the matter. The boy and Indian started. That night passed, and the next day too, and neither the boy or Indian returned. This confirmed Mrs. Parker in her opinion that there was foul play on the part of the Indians. So she and her daughter went to work and barricaded the door and windows in the best way they could. The youngest boy's rifle was the only one left, he not having taken it with him when he went to hunt after his father. The old lady took the rifle, the daughter the axe, and thus armed they determined to watch through the night; and defend themselves if necessary. They had not long to wait after night fall, for shortly after that some one commenced knocking at the door, crying out "Mother! mother!" but Mrs. Parker thought the voice was not exactly like that of her son--in order to ascertain the fact, she said "Jake, where are the Indians?" The reply which was "um gone," satisfied her on that point. She then said, as if speaking to her son, "Put your ear to the latch-hole of the door I want to tell you something before I open the door." The head was placed at the latch-hole, and the old lady fired through the same spot and killed an Indian. She stepped back from the door instantly, and it was well she did so, for quicker than I have penned the last two words two rifle bullets came crashing through the door. The old lady then said to her daughter, "Thank God there are but two, I must have killed the one at the door--they must be the three who went on the hunt with your father. If we can only kill or cripple another of them, we will be safe; now we must both be still after they fire again, and they will then break the door down, and I may be able to shoot another one; but if I miss them when getting in, you must use the axe."--The daughter equally courageous with her mother assured her she would. Soon after this conversation two more rifle bullets came crashing through the window. A death-like stillness ensued for about five minutes, when two more balls in quick succession were fired through the door, then followed a tremendous punching with a log, the door gave way, and with a fiendish yell an Indian was about to spring in, when the unerring rifle fired by the old lady stretched his lifeless body across the thresh-hold of the door. The remaining, or more properly the surviving Indian fired at random and ran, doing no injury. "Now" said the old heroine to her undaunted daughter "we must leave." Accordingly with the rifle and the axe, they went to the river, took the canoe, and without a mouthful of provision except one wild duck and two black birds which the mother shot, and which were eaten raw, did these two courageous hearts in six days arrive among the old French settlers at St. Louis. A party of about a dozen men crossed over into Illinois--and after an unsuccessful search returned without finding either Parker or his boys. They were never found. There are yet some of the old settlers in the neighborhood of Peoria who still point out the spot where "old Parker the squatter" lived.

CAPTAIN WILLIAM HUBBELL.

In the year 1791, when the Indians were very troublesome on the banks of the Ohio, Captain William Hubbell, Mr. Daniel Light, Mr. William Plascut, Mrs. Plascut and eight children embarked in a flat-bottomed boat to proceed down the Ohio.