An event now took place that at once exhibited both the wily strategy of the Little Turtle as a military leader, and the blundering bravado of Colonel John Hardin. On the morning of the nineteenth, Hardin moved forward over the Indian trail leading to the northwest. At a distance of some five or six miles from the main army, the detachment came upon an abandoned Indian camp. Here a halt was made, probably to examine the ground, when Hardin hurriedly ordered another advance, thinking he was close on the heels of fleeing red men. In the confusion attending this second movement, Captain Faulkner's company was left in the rear. Hardin now proceeded about three miles, and had routed two Indians out of the thicket, when he suddenly discovered that he had left Faulkner behind. He now dispatched Major James Fontaine with a part of the cavalry to locate that officer. About this time Captain John Armstrong, who was in command of a little company of thirty regulars marching with the militia, informed Hardin that a gun had been fired in front of them which he thought was an alarm gun, and that he had discovered the tracks of a horse that had come down the trail and had returned. Hardin with a dare-devil indifference paid no attention. He moved rapidly on without scouts and without flankers. Armstrong now warned Hardin a second time. He said that he had located the camp fires of the Indians and that they must be close at hand. Hardin rode on, swearing that the Indians would not fight.

All at once the army marched into the entrance of a narrow prairie, flanked on each side by heavy timber. At the far end of the prairie a fire had been kindled and some trinkets placed in the trail. The front columns came up to these baubles and halted—the whole detachment, save Faulkner's company, was in the defile. To the right and left of them, concealed in the underbrush, were three hundred Miamis, led by the Little Turtle. The Indians had divided and "back-tracked" the trail, and were now watching the Americans enter the trap. At the moment the army halted, a furious fire was opened, and all but nine of the militia at once fled, carrying Hardin along with them. The company of Faulkner, coming up in the rear, suddenly saw two horsemen approaching. Each of them had a wounded man behind him covered with blood. The fugitives were yelling: "For God's sake retreat! You will all be killed! There are Indians enough to eat you all up!" The regulars, however, true to tradition, stood their ground. All were stricken down in their tracks except five or six privates, and their captain and ensign. Captain Armstrong sank to his neck in a morass, and the savages did not find him. "The Indians remained on the field; and the ensuing night, held the dance of victory, over the dead and dying bodies of their enemies, exulting with frantic gestures, and savage yells, during the ceremony." The captain was a witness of it all. The scene of this conflict was at what is now known as Heller's Corners, eleven miles northwest of Fort Wayne, at the point where the Goshen road crosses the Eel river.

On the day of Hardin's defeat the main body of the army had moved down the north bank of the Maumee about two miles and had occupied the Shawnee village of Chillicothe. On the twentieth, Harmar ordered the burning and destruction of every house and wigwam in the town, and censured the "shameful cowardly conduct of the militia who ran away, and threw down their arms without firing scarcely a single gun." He was in a fury, and was now determined to march back to Fort Washington, and on the twenty-first of October the whole army moved back for a distance of seven miles and encamped at a point south and east of the present site of Fort Wayne.

Hardin was chagrined. He determined if possible to retrieve his own credit and that of the Kentucky militia. In the night he approached Harmar. He told the general that the Indians had probably returned to their towns as soon as the army had left them. Now was the time for a grand surprise. Harmar, after much importunity, gave his consent to a second expedition. Late in the night, three hundred and forty picked militiamen and sixty regulars started back for Kekionga. The detachment marched in three columns, the federal troops in the center with Captain Joseph Asheton, a brave officer and a good fighter at their head; the militia were on both flanks. Major John P. Wyllys and Colonel Hardin rode at the front.

The sun has risen, and the advance guards of the small army now ascend the wooded heights overlooking the Maumee. Beyond lie the brown woods, the meadows, and the Indian corn fields. A few savages appear, digging here and there for hidden treasures of corn. All are seemingly unaware of hostile approach. Wyllys now halts the regulars, with the militia in the advance, and forms his plan of battle. Major Hall with his battalion is to swing around the bend of the Maumee, cross the St. Marys and come in on the western side of the Indian towns. There he is to wait for the main attack. Major McMullen's battalion, Major Fontaine's cavalry and Wyllys with his regulars are to cross the ford in front, encompass the savages on the south, east and north, and drive them into the St. Joseph. Hemmed in on all sides, exposed to a murderous crossfire, their escape will be impossible. Strict orders are given that the troops are on no account to separate, but the battalions are to support each other as the circumstances may require.

What a terrible fate awaits the regulars. The Little Turtle had observed that in Trotter's expedition on the morning of the eighteenth, the four field officers of the militia had left their commands to pursue a lone Indian on horseback. As the militia emerge on the northern bank of the Maumee a few warriors expose themselves, and the Kentuckians disregarding all orders, instantly give chase. The Indians fly in all directions, the militia after them, and the regulars are left alone. This is the opportune moment. As the regulars cross the ford and climb the opposite bank, the painted and terrible warriors of the Miami chief arise from their hiding places and fire at close range. Wyllys falls, his officers fall, all but a handful are remorselessly mowed down, scalped and mutilated, and the day is won. Thus for the second time has the cunning Little Turtle completely outwitted his paleface antagonists.

The remaining details of this disordered conflict are soon told. The parties of militia under McMullen and Fontaine, sweeping up the east side of the St. Joseph, drove a party of Indians into the river near the point of the old French fort. Fontaine was hit by a dozen bullets and fell forward in his saddle. The Indians were now caught between Hall's battalion on the west and McMullen's riflemen and Fontaine's cavalry on the east. A brief massacre ensued, and Captain Asheton and two soldiers killed a number of the savages in the water with their bayonets. The red men finally charged on Hall's battalion—it gave way—and they made their escape.

Captain Joseph Asheton in commenting on this last battle at the Maumee, makes the following observation: "If Colonel (Major) Hall, who had gained his ground undiscovered, had not wantonly disobeyed his orders, by firing on a single Indian, the surprise must have been complete." The question of whether there was any surprise at all or not, remains in doubt. The Fort Wayne Manuscript, which possesses some historical value at least, says that about eight hundred Indians were present; three hundred Miamis under the Little Turtle, and a body of five hundred more savages, consisting of Shawnees, Delawares, Potawatomi, Chippewas and Ottawas. That the Shawnees were commanded by Blue Jacket, and the Ottawas and Chippewas by an Ottawa chief named Agaskawak. The battle itself, was skillfully planned on the part of the savages. They must have known that the militiamen were in the vanguard and would cross the Maumee first. They rightly calculated that the impetuosity of the Kentuckians and their lack of discipline, would lead them at once into a headlong charge. This would make the destruction of the regulars comparatively easy and lead to the demoralization of the whole detachment. A plan so well designed as this, and so skillfully executed, is not formed on the instant. Besides, it is not probable that the Little Turtle remained out of touch with the American army while it was in the immediate vicinity of the Indian towns.

On November sixth, Governor St. Clair wrote to the secretary of war that the savages had received "a most terrible stroke." It is true that they had suffered a considerable damage in the burning of their cabins and the destruction of their corn, but the total loss of warriors was only about fifteen or twenty. The American army, on the other hand, had lost one hundred and eighty-three in killed, and thirty-one wounded. Among the slain were Major Wyllys and Lieutenant Ebenezer Frothingham, of the regular troops, and Major Fontaine, Captains Thorp, McMurtrey and Scott, Lieutenants Clark and Rogers, and Ensigns Bridges, Sweet, Higgins and Thielkeld, of the militia.

"The outcome of the campaign," says B. J. Griswold, the Fort Wayne historian, "considered from the most favorable angle, gave naught to the American government to increase its hopes of the pacification of the west." On the other hand, the savages, their spirit of revenge aroused to the white heat of the fiercest hatred, assembled at the site of their ruined villages, and there, led to renewed defiance of the Americans through the fiery speech of Simon Girty, set about the work of preparation to meet the next American force which might be sent against them. In a body, these savages, led by Little Turtle, LeGris and Blue Jacket, proceeded to Detroit, where they "paraded the streets, uttering their demoniac scalp yelps while bearing long poles strung with the scalps of many American soldiers."

Governor St. Clair expressed regret that a post had not been established; it would be the surest means of obliging the Indians to be at peace with the United States. On December second, 1790, Major John Hamtramck, writing from Vincennes, gave it as his opinion that "nothing can establish peace with the Indians as long as the British keep possession of the upper posts, for they are daily sowing the seed of discord betwixt the measures of our government and the Indians." He further summed up the situation as follows: "The Indians never can be subdued by just going to their towns and burning their houses and corn, and returning the next day, for it is no hardship for the Indians to live without; they make themselves perfectly comfortable on meat alone; and as for houses, they can build with as much facility as a bird does his nest." Speaking of this campaign and of its effects on the Miamis, Roosevelt says that "the blow was only severe enough to anger and unite them, not to cripple or crush them. All the other western tribes made common cause with them. They banded together and warred openly; and their vengeful forays on the frontier increased in number, so that the suffering of the settlers was great. Along the Ohio people lived in dread of tomahawk and scalping knife; the attacks fell unceasingly on all the settlements from Marietta to Louisville."

The expedition of Hamtramck against the Kickapoo towns on the Vermilion river was a failure. He destroyed the Indian village at the site of the old Shelby farm, near Eugene, but the warriors being absent, he returned to Vincennes. Some local historian has written a bloodcurdling description of the merciless massacre of old men, women and children by Hamtramck's army, but this tale is an injustice both to the worthy Major and the soldiers under him. The only truthful part of this sketch is that "the adjoining terrace lands were filled with thousands of the greatest varieties of plum bushes and grape vines and it was known as the great plum patch." Since General Harrison's march to Tippecanoe the crossing at this river has been known as "the Army Ford."



CHAPTER XII

SCOTT AND WILKINSON

—The Kentucky raids on the Miami country along the Wabash in 1791.

The effects of Harmar's campaign were soon apparent. In the closing months of 1790, the citizens of Ohio, Monongahela, Harrison, Randolph, Kanawha, Green-Briar, Montgomery, and Russel counties, in western Virginia, sent an appeal for immediate aid to the governor of that state, stating that their frontier on a line of nearly four hundred miles along the Ohio, was continually exposed to Indian attack; that the efforts of the government had hitherto been ineffectual; that the federal garrisons along the Ohio could afford them no protection; that they had every reason to believe that the late defeat of the army at the hands of the Indians, would lead to an increase of the savage invasions; that it was better for the government to support them where they were, no matter what the expense might be, than to compel them to quit the country after the expenditure of so much blood and treasure, when all were aware that a frontier must be supported somewhere. On the second of January, 1791, between "sunset and daylight-in," the Indians surprised the new settlements on the Muskingum, called the Big Bottom, forty miles above Marietta, killing eleven men, one woman, and two children. General Rufus Putnam, writing to President Washington, on the eighth of the same month, said that the little garrison at Fort Harmar, consisting of a little over twenty men, could afford no protection to the settlements. That the whole number of effective men in the Muskingum country would not exceed two hundred and eighty-seven, and that many of them were badly armed, and that unless the government speedily sent a body of troops for their protection, they were "a ruined people." Virginia, Pennsylvania and Kentucky, were all being sorely pressed by savage incursions.

It was a fortunate circumstance for the future welfare of the great west, that George Washington was president of the United States. Great numbers of the people in the Atlantic states, according to Secretary of War Knox, were opposed to the further prosecution of the Indian war. They considered that the sacrifice of blood and treasure in such a conflict would far exceed any advantages that might possibly be reaped by it. The result of Harmar's campaign had been very disheartening, and the government was in straitened circumstances, both as to men and means. But by strenuous efforts, President Washington induced Congress to pass an act, on the second day of March, 1791, for raising and adding another regiment to the military establishment of the United States, "and for making further provision for the protection of the frontiers." Governor Arthur St. Clair was appointed as the new commander-in-chief of the army of the northwest, and Colonel Richard Butler, of Pennsylvania, was promoted and placed second in command. St. Clair was authorized to raise an army of three thousand men, but as there were only "two small regiments of regular infantry," the remainder of the force was to be raised by special levies of six months' men, and by requisitions of militia. In the meantime, the government, owing to the pressing demands of the western people, had authorized the establishment of a local Board of War for the district of Kentucky. This Board was composed of Brigadier-General Charles Scott, leader of the Kentucky militia, Harry Innes, John Brown, Benjamin Logan and Isaac Shelby, and they were vested with discretionary powers "to provide for the defense of the settlements and the prosecution of the war." The government had now fully determined on a definite plan of action. First, a messenger was to be dispatched to the Wabash Indians with an offer of peace. This messenger was to be accompanied by the Cornplanter, of the Seneca Nation, and such other Iroquois chiefs as might be friendly to the United States. Second, in case this mission of peace should fail, expeditions were to be organized to strike the Wea, the Eel river and the Kickapoo towns, in order to prevent them from giving aid to the main Miami and Shawnee villages at the head of the Maumee. Third, a grand expedition under the command of St. Clair himself, was to capture Kekionga, establish a military post there, and check the activities of both the Indians and British in the valleys of the Wabash and the Maumee. The instructions of the secretary of war to General St. Clair with reference to Kekionga were specific. "You will commence your march for the Miami village, in order to establish a strong and permanent military post at that place. In your advance, you will establish such posts of communication with Fort Washington, on the Ohio, as you may judge proper. The post at the Miami village is intended for the purpose of awing and curbing the Indians in that quarter, and as the only preventive of future hostilities. It ought, therefore, to be rendered secure against all attempts and insults by the Indians. The garrison which should be stationed there ought not only to be sufficient for the defense of the place, but always to afford a detachment of five or six hundred men, either to chastise any of the Wabash, or other hostile Indians, or to secure any convoy of provisions. The establishment of such a post is considered as an important object of the campaign, and is to take place in all events."

First as to the mission of peace. In December, 1790, the Cornplanter and other chiefs of the Seneca tribe, being in Philadelphia, "measures were taken to impress them with the moderation of the United States, as it respected the war with the western Indians; that the coercive measures against them had been the consequence of their refusal to listen to the invitations of peace, and a continuance of their depredations on the frontiers." The Cornplanter seemed to be favorably impressed. On the twelfth of March, Colonel Thomas Proctor, as the agent and representative of the United States government, was sent forward to the Seneca towns. His instructions from the secretary of war were, to induce the Cornplanter and as many of the other chiefs of the Senecas as possible, to go with him as messengers of peace to the Miami and Wabash Indians. They were first to repair to Sandusky on Lake Erie, and there hold a conference with the Delaware and Wyandot tribes who were inclined to be friendly. Later they were to go directly to the Miami village at Kekionga, there to assemble the Miami confederates, and induce them to go to Fort Washington at Cincinnati, and enter into a treaty of peace with General St. Clair.

On the twenty-seventh of April, Proctor arrived at Buffalo Creek, six miles from Fort Erie, situated on the north side of the lake, and twenty-five miles distant from Fort Niagara on the south shore of Lake Ontario. Both posts were held by the British. Here he found the Farmer's Brother, Red Jacket, and practically all of the Iroquois chieftains under the influence of the British officers. The Farmer's Brother, "was fully regimented as a colonel, red faced with blue, as belonging to some royal regiment, and equipped with a pair of the best epaulets." The Indians had practically given up hunting and were being directly fed and supported out of the English store-houses. From the very beginning, Red Jacket and the Farmer's Brother questioned his credentials. Proctor learned from a French trader, that about seven days prior to his arrival, Colonel Butler of the British Indian department and Joseph Brant had been in the village. They had told the Senecas to pay no attention to Proctor's talk, and to give him no aid in going to the Miamis, for they would all be killed.

In two or three days Proctor succeeded in getting the Indians into a council. He argued that it was the duty of all men, red or white, to warn the Miamis to discontinue their thefts and murders, before a decisive blow should be "levelled at them" by the United States. The lives of hundreds of their fellow men might thus be saved. He invited them to bring forward any gentleman of veracity to examine his papers, or to hear his speeches. In answer to this, Red Jacket proposed that the council fire be removed to Fort Niagara, so that all proceedings might take place under the eyes of the British counsellors. Proctor would not assent to this course, but indicated that he had no objection to the British officers being present. They were accordingly sent for, but in the meantime the Farmer's Brother and other British adherents were telling the Indians that Proctor proposed taking them to the "verge of the ocean" and that the treaty grounds were twelve months' journey away.

Shortly afterwards Colonel Butler with a staff of British army officers came into camp. Butler was bold, and told the Indians in Proctor's presence that Colonel Joseph Brant, of Grand River, and Alexander McKee, the British agent of Indian affairs at Detroit, were now preparing to go among the Indians at war with the Americans, "to know what their intentions were, whether for war or for peace;" that nothing must be done until their return, for should any embassy be undertaken, this would certainly bring down the wrath of war upon themselves, and result in the death of all, for the Miamis were angry with them already.

A strange event now happened. The Iroquois women suddenly appeared in the Indian councils and seconded the pleas of the American peace commissioner. Seated with the Indian chiefs, they easily swung the scales, and carried the day. Red Jacket and other chiefs and warriors were appointed to accompany Proctor to the west. But the English now played their final trump card. On the fifth of May, Proctor had written to Colonel Gordon, the British commandant at Niagara, to obtain permission to freight one of the schooners on Lake Erie, to transport the American envoy and such Indian chiefs as might accompany him, to Sandusky. He now received a cold and insolent answer that at once blasted all his hopes. Gordon refused to regard Proctor "in any other light than a private agent," and peremptorily refused to let him charter any of the craft upon the lake. This made the contemplated mission impossible.

Let us now see what Alexander McKee and Joseph Brant were doing in the west. Shortly before Proctor's arrival at Buffalo Creek, Brant had received private instructions from British headquarters to set out for the Grand River, and to go from thence to Detroit. It appears that shortly after Harmar's defeat, the confederated nations of the Chippewas, Potawatomi, Hurons, Shawnees, Delawares, Ottawas, and Miamis, together with the Mohawks, had sent a deputation of their chiefs to the headquarters of Lord Dorchester at Quebec, to sound him on the proposition as to what aid or assistance they might expect in the event of a continuance of the war. They also demanded to know whether the British had, by the treaty of peace, given away any of their lands to the Americans. Dorchester, while hostile to the new republic, and firmly resolved to hold the posts, was not ready as yet to come out in the open. He informed the tribes that the line marked out in the treaty of peace, "implied no more than that beyond that line the King, their father, would not extend his interference;" that the king only retained possession of the posts until such time as all the differences between him and the United States should be settled; that in making peace, the king had not given away any of their lands, "inasmuch as the King never had any right to their lands, other than to such as had been fairly ceded by themselves, with their own free consent, by public convention and sale. * * * * In conclusion, he assured the deputation, that although the Indians had their friendship and good will, the Provincial Government, had no power to embark in a war with the United States, and could only defend themselves if attacked."

In strange contradiction to the Canadian governor's words, Alexander McKee came to the Rapids of the Miami in the month of April to hold a council with the Wabash confederates. Thither came Brant, summoned from Buffalo Creek. McKee waited three months for the gathering of the tribes, but about July first they were all assembled. "Not only the Shawnees, Delawares, Wyandots, Ottawas, Potawatomis and others," says Roosevelt, "who had openly taken the hatchet against the Americans, but also representatives of the Six Nations, and tribes of savages from lands so remote that they carried no guns; but warred with bows, spears, and tomahawks, and were clad in buffalo-robes instead of blankets. McKee in his speech to them did not incite them to war. On the contrary, he advised them, in guarded language, to make peace with the United States; but only upon terms consistent with their "honor and interest." He assured them that, whatever they did, he wished to know what they desired; and that the sole purpose of the British was to promote the welfare of the confederated Indians. Such very cautious advice was not of a kind to promote peace; and the goods furnished the savages at the council included not only cattle, corn and tobacco, but also quantities of powder and balls." England was determined that the Miami chieftains should command the valleys of the Wabash and the Maumee, and while breathing forth accents to deceive the credulous, were arming the red men with the instruments of war.

On the sixteenth of May, the American prisoner, Thomas Rhea, captured by a party of Delawares and "Munsees" arrives at Sandusky. An Indian captain is there with one hundred and fifty warriors. Parties are coming in daily with prisoners and scalps. Alarm comes in on the twenty-fourth of May that a large body of American troops in three columns are moving towards the Miami towns. The Indians burn their houses and move to Roche de Bout, on the Maumee. Here are Colonels Joseph Brant and Alexander McKee, with Captains Bunbury and Silvie, of the British troops. They are living in clever cabins built by the Potawatomi and other Indians, eighteen miles above Lake Erie. They have great stores of corn, pork, peas and other provisions, which, together with arms and ammunition, they are daily issuing to the Indians. Savages are coming in in parties of one, two, three, four and five hundred at a time, and receiving supplies from McKee, and going up the Maumee to the Miami villages. Pirogues, loaded with the munitions of war are being rowed up the same stream by French-Canadians. They are preparing for an American attack.

Rhea hears some things. While he is on the Maumee he tells Colonel McKee and other British officers that he has seen Colonel Thomas Proctor on his way to the Senecas and has talked with him. That Proctor told him he was on his way to Sandusky and the Miami villages, and that he expected the Cornplanter to accompany him and bring about peace; that he (Proctor), expected to get shipping at Fort Erie, The British officers who hear these things, say that if they were at Lake Erie, Proctor would get no shipping. The Mohawks and other Indians declare that if Proctor, or any other Yankee messenger, arrives, he will not carry back any message. Simon Girty and one Pat Hill assert, that Proctor should never return, even if he had a hundred Senecas with him.

On the ninth of March, 1791, the secretary of war issued orders to General Charles Scott of Kentucky, to lead an expedition against the Wea or Ouiatenon towns on the Wabash. The expedition was not to proceed until the tenth day of May, as hopes were entertained that Proctor might negotiate a peace. The force to be employed was to consist of seven hundred and fifty mounted volunteers, including officers. All Indians who ceased to resist were to be spared. Women and children, and as many warriors as possible, were to be taken prisoners, but treated with humanity.

The tenth day of May arrived, but Proctor was not heard from. The hostility of the savages was daily increasing. Scott was delayed a few days longer in the hope that intelligence might arrive, but on the twenty-third of May he crossed the Ohio at the mouth of the Kentucky and plunged into the wilderness. Before him lay one hundred and fifty-five miles of forest, swamp and stream. The rain fell in torrents and every river was beyond its banks. His horses were soon worn down and his provisions spoiled, but he pressed on. On the morning of the first of June, he was entering the prairies south of the Wea plain and approaching the hills of High Gap. He now saw a lone Indian horseman to his right and tried to intercept him, but failed. He pushed on rapidly to the Indian towns.

On the morning of June first, 1791, the landscape of the Wea is a thing of beauty. To the north lies the long range of the Indian Hills, crowned with forest trees, and scarped with many a sharp ravine. At the southern edge of these hills flows the Wabash, winding in and out with graceful curves, and marked in its courses by a narrow fringe of woodland. To the east lies Wea creek, jutting out into the plain with a sharp turn, and then gliding on again to the river. Within this enclosure of wood and stream lie the meadows of the Ouiatenons, dotted here and there with pleasant groves, and filled with the aroma of countless blossoms.

"Awake from dreams! The scene changes. The morning breath of the first day of summer has kissed the grass and flowers, but it brings no evil omen to the Kickapoo villages on this shore, nor to the five Wea towns on the adjacent plain. High noon has come, but still birds and grass and flowers bask in the meridian splendor of a June sunshine, unconscious of danger or the trampling of hostile feet. One o'clock! And over High Gap hostile horsemen are galloping. They separate; one division wheels to the left led by the relentless Colonel Hardin, still smarting from the defeat of the last year by the great Miami, Little Turtle. But the main division, led by the noble Colonel Scott, afterward the distinguished soldier and governor of Kentucky, moves straight forward on to Ouiatenon."

Scott's advance since the morning has been swift and steady. He fears that the Indian horseman will give the alarm. At one o'clock he comes over High Gap, a high pass through the hills to the southwest of the present town of Shadeland. To the left he perceives two Indian villages. One is at a distance of two miles and the other at four. They were probably situated in the prairie groves. He now detaches Colonel John Hardin with sixty mounted infantry and a troop of light horse under Captain McCoy, and they swing to the left. Scott moves briskly forward with the main body for the villages of the Weas, at the mouth of Wea creek. The smoke of the camp fires is plainly discernible.



As he turns the point of timber fringing the Wea, and in the vicinity of what is now the Shadeland Farm, he sees a cabin to the right. Captain Price is ordered to assault it with forty men. Two warriors are killed. Scott now gains the summit of the eminence crowning the south bank of the Wabash. The Wea villages are below him and scattered along the river. All is in confusion and the Indians are trying to escape. On the opposite shore is a town of the Kickapoos. He instantly orders his lieutenant-commandant, James Wilkinson, to charge the Weas with the first battalion, and the eager Kentuckians rush to the river's edge, just as the last of five canoes loaded with warriors, has pushed from the shore. With deadly and terrible aim the riflemen empty the boats to the last man.

In the meantime, a brisk fire has been kept up from the Kickapoo camp. Scott now determines to cross the river and capture the town, but the recent rains have swelled the stream and he cannot ford it. He orders Wilkinson to cross at a ford two miles above, and detaches King's and Logsdon's companies, under conduct of Major Barbee, to cross the river below. Wilkinson fails, for the river is swift and very high. Barbee is more successful. Many of the hardy frontiersmen breast the stream, and others pass in a small canoe. But the instant the Kentuckians foot the opposite shore, the Indians discover them and flee.

About this time Scott hears from Colonel Hardin. The redoubtable old Indian fighter who was saved to die in the service of his country, has pushed on and captured the two villages observed from High Gap, and is encumbered with many prisoners. He now discovers a stronger village farther to the left, and proceeds to attack. This latter village is probably in the neighborhood of the present site of Granville, and opposite the point where the Riviere De Bois Rouge, or Indian creek, enters the Wabash. Scott at once detaches Captain Brown and his company to support the Colonel, but nothing can stop the impetuous Kentuckian, and before Brown arrives, "the business is done," and Hardin joins the main body before sunset, having killed six warriors and taken fifty-two prisoners. "Captain Bull," says Scott, "the warrior who discovered me in the morning, had gained the main town, and given the alarm a short time before me; but the villages to my left were uninformed of my approach, and had no retreat."

The first day of fighting had been very encouraging. The next morning Scott determined to destroy Kethtipecanunck, or Tippecanoe, eighteen miles up the river. His knowledge of geography was poor, for he talks about Kethtipecanunck being at the mouth of the Eel river, but his fighting qualities were perfect. On examination, however, he discovers that his men and horses are greatly worn down and crippled by the long march and the fighting of the day before. Three hundred and sixty men are at last selected to make the march on foot. At half after five in the evening they start out under the command of lieutenant-commandant Wilkinson and at one o'clock the next day they have returned, having completely burned and destroyed what Scott denominated as "the most important settlement of the enemy in that quarter of the federal territory." Wilkinson's detachment had reached the village near daybreak. The advance columns of the Kentuckians charged impetuously into the town just as the Indians were crossing the Wabash, and a brief skirmish ensued from the opposite shores, during which several Indian warriors were killed and two Americans wounded. Many of the inhabitants of Kethtipecanunck were French traders and lived in a state of semi-civilization. "By the books, letters, and other documents found there," says Scott, "it is evident that place was in close connection with, and dependent upon, Detroit; a large quantity of corn, a variety of household goods, peltry, and other articles, were burned with this village, which consisted of about seventy houses, many of them well furnished." Scott lamented that the condition of his troops prevented him from sweeping to the head of the Wabash. He says he had the kind of men to do it, but he lacked fresh horses and provisions and was forced to return to Kentucky. On the fourth of June, he released sixteen of the weakest and most infirm of his prisoners and gave them a written address of peace to the Wabash tribes. It was written in a firm, manly tone, but without grandiloquence. He now destroyed the villages at Ouiatenon, the growing corn and pulse, and on the same day of the fourth, set out for Kentucky. The grand old man, who was to fight with Wayne at Fallen Timbers, had done well. Without the loss of a single man, and having only five wounded, he had killed thirty-two warriors "of size and figure," and taken fifty-eight prisoners. He took a receipt from Captain Joseph Asheton of the First United States Regiment at Fort Steuben, for forty-one prisoners.

On the twenty-fifth of June, governor St. Clair wrote to the Kentucky Board of War to send a second expedition against the Wabash towns. On the fifth day of July the Board appointed James Wilkinson as the commander. The troops were ordered to rendezvous at Fort Washington, by the twentieth of July, "well mounted on horseback, well armed, and provided with thirty days' provisions." In certain instructions from Governor St. Clair to General Wilkinson, of date July thirty-first, Wilkinson's attention is called to a Kickapoo town "in the prairie, northward and westward of L'Anguille," about sixty miles. This town will be mentioned later. Wilkinson was directed also to restrain his command from "scalping the dead." With a Kentuckian, the only good Indian was a dead one.

On the first day of August, Wilkinson rode out of Cincinnati with five hundred and twenty-five men. His destined point of attack was the Eel river towns, about six miles above the present city of Logansport. The country he had to pass through was mostly unknown, full of quagmires and marshes, and extremely hard on his horses. He made a feint for the Miami village at Kekionga, but on the morning of the fourth, he turned directly northwest and headed for Kenapacomaqua, or L'Anguille, as the Eel river towns were known. After some brief skirmishes, with small parties of warriors and much plunging and sinking in the bogs, he crossed the Wabash about four and one half miles above the mouth of the Eel river, and striking an Indian path, was soon in front of the Indian towns. He now dismounted and planned an attack. The second battalion was to cross the river, detour, and come in on the rear of the villages. The first battalion was to lie perdue until the maneuver was executed, when a simultaneous charge was to be made on all quarters of the town. Before the plan could be executed, however, the troops were discovered, whereupon an instant charge was made by plunging into the river and attacking the town on the front. Six warriors were killed, "and in the hurry and confusion of the charge, two squaws and a child."

Wilkinson found the towns of the Eel river tribes scattered along Eel river for a distance of three miles. These villages were separated by almost impassable bogs, and "impervious thickets of plum, hazel and black-jack." The head chief of the tribe, with his prisoners and a number of families were out digging a root, which the Indians substituted for the potato. A short time before Wilkinson arrived, most of the warriors had gone up the river to a French store to purchase ammunition. This ammunition had come from Kekionga on the same day. Several acres of green corn with the ears in the milk were about the town. All of this was destroyed. Thirty-four prisoners were taken and a captive released.

After encamping in the town for the night, Wilkinson started the next morning for the Kickapoo town "in the prairie." He considered his position as one of danger, for he says he was in the "bosom of the Ouiatenon country," one hundred and eighty miles from succor, and not more than one and a half days' forced march from the Potawatomi, Shawnees and Delawares. This was, of course, largely matter of conjecture.

The Kickapoo town that Wilkinson was headed for was in fact about sixty miles from Kenapacomaqua and in the prairie. But it was south and west of the Eel river villages instead of north and west. The imperfect geographical knowledge of the times led Wilkinson to believe it was on the Illinois river, but it was in fact on Big Pine creek, near the present town of Oxford, in Benton County, Indiana. Wilkinson was right in one regard, however, for he knew that the village he sought was on the great Potawatomi trail leading south from Lake Michigan. This trail passed down from the neighborhood of what is now Blue Island, in Chicago, south through Momence and Iroquois, Illinois, south and east again through Parish Grove, in Benton County, across Big Pine Creek and on to Ouiatenon and Kethtipecanunck, or Tippecanoe. It was a great fur trading route and of great commercial importance in that day. This Kickapoo village "in the prairie," was about twenty miles west of the present city of Lafayette, and about two and one-half miles from the present site of Oxford, at a place known in later years as "Indian Hill." It was well known to Gurdon S. Hubbard, who visited it in the early part of the last century and had an interesting talk with the Kickapoos there about the battle of Tippecanoe. Jesse S. Birch, of Oxford, an accurate local historian, has preserved an interesting account of this village as seen by the early settlers in the years from 1830 to 1840. The Kickapoos had, at that time, moved on to other places, but bands of the Potawatomi were still on the ground. "Pits," says Birch, "in which the Indians stored their corn, were to be seen until a few years ago. The burying grounds were about half a mile northwest of the village and only a short distance west of the Stembel gravel pit. The Potawatomi were peaceful, John Wattles, who describes their winter habitations, visited them often in his boyhood days. Pits, the sides of which were lined with furs, were dug four or five feet deep, and their tents, with holes at the top to permit the escape of smoke, were put over them. By keeping a fire on the ground in the center of the pit, they lived in comparative comfort, so far as heat and Indian luxuries were concerned, during the coldest weather. There are evidences of white men having camped near this village. Isaac W. Lewis found an English sovereign while at play on his father's farm, but a short distance from the site of the village. In the early 30's, his father and eldest brother, while plowing, found several pieces of English money." The glittering coins of "the great father," had easily found their way into savage hands.

But Wilkinson was not destined to strike this main Kickapoo town. He encamped the first night six miles from Kenapacomaqua, and the next day he marched west and then northwest passing between what are now the points of Royal Center and Logansport, and "launched into the boundless prairies of the west with the intention to pursue that course until I could strike a road which leads from the Potawatomi of Lake Michigan immediately to the town I sought." Here for eight hours he floundered about in an endless succession of sloughs and swamps, wearing out his horses and exhausting his men. "A chain of thin groves extending in the direction of the Wabash at this time presented to my left." Wilkinson now extricated himself from the swamps and gained the Tippecanoe trail, and camped at seven o'clock in the evening. He had marched a distance of about thirty miles, and several of his horses were completely broken down.

At four o'clock the next morning this little army was in motion again. At eight o'clock signs were discovered of the proximity of an Indian town. At twelve o'clock noon, he entered Kethtipecanunck, but the savages had fled at his approach. They had returned since the expedition of June and cultivated their corn and pulse. These were in a flourishing condition. Having refreshed his horses and cut down the corn, he resumed his march for the Kickapoo town "in the prairie, by the road which leads from Ouiatenon to that place." After proceeding some distance he discovered some "murmurings" among the Kentuckians, and found on examination that two hundred and seventy of his horses were lame, and that only five days' provisions were left for his men. Under these circumstances, he abandoned the contemplated assault on the main Kickapoo town, and "marched forward to a town of the same nation, situated about three leagues west of Ouiatenon." He destroyed the town of thirty houses and "a considerable quantity of corn in the hills," and the same day moved on to Ouiatenon, forded the Wabash, and encamped on the margin of the Wea plains. At all the villages destroyed by Scott he found the corn re-planted and in a state of high cultivation. He destroyed it all, and on the twelfth of August he fell in with General Scott's return trace and marched to the Ohio, where he arrived on the twenty-first day of the month. He had traveled a distance of four hundred and fifty-one miles in twenty-one days; a feat of horsemanship, considering the wild and difficult nature of the country, of no small degree of merit.



The expedition had in all things been a success. He had captured a number of prisoners, cut down four hundred and thirty acres of corn in the milk, and destroyed at least two Indian towns.

Some of the historians who have commented on these campaigns of Scott and Wilkinson and the Kentucky militia, have sought to minimize and even to discredit these expeditions. Says Albach: "The expeditions of Harmar, Scott and Wilkinson were directed against the Miamis and Shawnees, and served only to exasperate them. The burning of their towns, the destruction of their corn, and the captivity of their women and children, only aroused them to more desperate efforts to defend their country, and to harass their invaders." The review of Secretary of War Knox, communicated to President Washington on the twenty-sixth of December, 1791, however, contains the following: "The effect of such desultory operations upon the Indians, will, by occupying them for their own safety and that of their families, prevent them spreading terror and destruction along the frontiers. These sort of expeditions had that precise effect during the last season, and Kentucky enjoyed more repose and sustained less injury, than for any year since the war with Great Britain. This single effect, independent of the injury done to the force of the Indians, is worth greatly more than the actual expense of such expeditions."

Other effects produced were equally important. The brave Kentuckians, for the first time, were acting in conjunction with, and under the direction and control of the federal authorities. The cement of a common interest, as Washington would say, was binding state and nation together. Not only were the soil and the long suffering people of Kentucky rendered more secure against Indian attack, but the hardy descendants of the pioneers were being trained for the eventful conflict of 1812, when seven thousand of the valorous sons of that commonwealth should take the field in the defense of their country.



CHAPTER XIII

ST. CLAIR'S DEFEAT

—The first great disaster to the Federal armies brought about by the Miamis.

The objectives of General St. Clair have already been mentioned. He was now to take the village of Kekionga, establish a garrison there, and erect a chain of posts stretching from the new establishment to Fort Washington at Cincinnati.

The army with which St. Clair was expected to accomplish this task consisted of "two small regiments of regulars, two of six months' levies, a number of Kentucky militia, a few cavalry, and a couple of small batteries of light guns." In all there were fourteen hundred men and eighty-six officers. The Kentucky militia were under the command of Colonel Oldham, a brave officer who afterwards fell on the field of battle. The levies were "men collected from the streets and prisons of the city, hurried out into the enemy's country and with the officers commanding them, totally unacquainted with the business in which they were engaged." Their pay was miserable. Each private received two dollars and ten cents a month; the sergeants three dollars and sixty cents. Being recruited at various times and places, their terms of enlistment were expiring daily, and they wanted to go home. As they were reckless and intemperate, St. Clair, in order to preserve some semblance of order, removed them to Ludlow's Station, about six miles from Fort Washington. Major Ebenezer Denny, aide to St. Clair, says that they were "far inferior to the militia." On the morning of October twenty-ninth, when St. Clair's army was penetrating the heart of the Indian country, this disorderly element was keeping up a constant firing about the camp, contrary to the positive orders of the day.

In the quartermaster's department everything "went on slowly and badly; tents, pack-saddles, kettles, knapsacks and cartridge boxes, were all 'deficient in quantity and quality.'" The army contractors were positively dishonest, and the war department seems to have been fearfully negligent in all of its work. Judge Jacob Burnet records that "it is a well authenticated fact, that boxes and packages were so carelessly put up and marked, that during the action a box was opened marked 'flints,' which was found to contain gun-locks. Several mistakes of the same character were discovered, as for example, a keg of powder marked 'for the infantry,' was found to contain damaged cannon-powder, that could scarcely be ignited."

St. Clair was sick, and so afflicted with the gout that he was unable to mount or dismount a horse without assistance. On the night before his great disaster he was confined to his camp bed and unable to get up. Born in Edinburgh, in Scotland, in 1734, he was now fifty-seven years of age, and too old and infirm to take command of an army in a hazardous Indian campaign. Besides, he had had no experience in such a contest. He was, however, a man of sterling courage. He had been a lieutenant in the army of General Wolfe at Quebec. He espoused the cause of the colonies, and had fought with distinguished valor at Trenton and Princeton. Under him, and second in command, was General Richard Butler, of Pennsylvania. Butler was a man of jealous and irritable temperament and had had a bitter controversy with Harmar over the campaign of the year before. A coolness now sprang up between him and St. Clair, which, as we shall see, led to lamentable results. The mind of General Harmar was filled with gloomy forebodings. Taking into consideration the material of which the army was composed and the total inefficiency of the quartermaster and the contractors, "it was a matter of astonishment to him," says Denny, "that the commanding general * * * * should think of hazarding, with such people, and under such circumstances, his reputation and life, and the lives of so many others, knowing, too, as both did, the enemy with whom he was going to contend; an enemy brought up from infancy to war, and perhaps superior to an equal number of the best men that could be taken against them."

Owing to delays the army which was to rendezvous at Fort Washington not later than July tenth, did not actually start into the wilderness until the fourth day of October. On the seventeenth of September, a halt had been made on the Great Miami, and Fort Hamilton erected. Twenty miles north of this place, a light fortification known as Fort St. Clair, was built. About six miles south of the present town of Greenville, in Darke county, Ohio, the army threw up the works of Fort Jefferson, and then moved forward at a snail's pace into the forests and prairies. Every foot of the road through the heavy timber had to be cleared. Rains were constant. The troops were on half rations and terribly impatient. Parties of militia were daily deserting. On the twenty-seventh of October, Major Denny entered in his diary the following: "The season so far advanced it will be impracticable to continue the campaign. Forage entirely destroyed; horses failing and cannot be kept up; provisions from hand to mouth." The Little Turtle was again on the watch. A hostile army was entering the sacred domain of the Miamis. Indian scouts and runners were constantly lurking on the skirts of the army. In after years, a woman heard the great chief say of a fallen enemy: "We met; I cut him down; and his shade as it passes on the wind, shuns my walk!" This terrible foe, like a tiger in his jungle, was waiting for the moment to spring on his prey. It soon came. On the thirty-first of October, a party of militia, sixty or seventy in number, deserted the camp and swore that they would stop the packhorses in the rear, laden with provisions. St. Clair sent back after them the First United States Regiment under Major John Hamtramck, the most experienced Indian fighters in the whole army. These were the men the Indians most feared. The savage chieftain determined to strike.

Later than usual, and on the evening of November third, the tired and hungry army of St. Clair emerged on the headwaters of the river Wabash. "There was a small, elevated meadow on the east banks of this stream, while a dense forest spread gloomily all around." A light snow was on the ground, and the pools of water were covered with a thin coat of ice. The Wabash at this point was twenty yards wide. The militia were thrown across the stream about three hundred yards in advance of the main army. As they took their positions, a few Indians were routed out of the underbrush and fled precipitately into the woods. The main body of troops was cooped up in close quarters. The right wing was composed of Butler's, Clark's, and Patterson's battalions, commanded by Major General Butler. These battalions formed the first line of the encampment. The left wing, consisting of Bedinger's and Gaither's battalions, and the Second United States Regiment of regulars, under the command of Colonel William Darke, formed the second line. An interval between these lines of about seventy yards "was all the ground would allow." St. Clair thought that his right flank was fairly well secured by a creek, "while a steep bank, and Faulkner's corps, some of the cavalry, and their picquets, covered the left flank." No works whatever were thrown up to protect the army, but the great camp-fires of the soldiers illumined the whole host. In the circumjacent forests, and a little in advance of the position occupied by the militia, was a camp of over eleven hundred Indians, composed of Miamis, Shawnees, Potawatomi, Delawares, Ottawas, Chippewas and Wyandots, with a number of British adherents from Detroit, waiting for the first hours of dawn of the coming day.

What strange sense of security lulled the vigilance of the American leaders will never be known. During the night the frequent firing of the sentinels disturbed the whole camp, and the outlying guards reported bands of savages skulking about in considerable numbers. "About ten o'clock at night," says Major Denny, "General Butler, who commanded the right wing, was desired to send out an intelligent officer and party to make discoveries. Captain Slough, with two subalterns and thirty men, I saw parade at General Butler's tent for this purpose, and heard the general give Captain Slough very particular verbal orders how to proceed." Slough afterwards testified before a committee of Congress, that he was sent out during the night with a party of observation and that he saw a force of Indians approaching the American camp, with a view to reconnoitering it, whereupon, he hastened to the camp of the militia and reported to their leader. "I halted my party," says Slough, "near Colonel Oldham's tent, went into it, and awakened him, I believe about twelve o'clock. I told him that I was of his opinion, that the camp would be attacked in the morning, for I had seen a number of Indians. I proceeded to the camp, and as soon as I had passed the camp guards, dismissed the party, and went to General Butler's tent. As I approached it, I saw him come out of the tent, and stand by the fire. I went up to him, and took him some distance from it, not thinking it prudent that the sentry should hear what I had seen. I also told him what Colonel Oldham had said, and that, if he thought proper, I would go and make a report to General St. Clair. He stood some time, and after a pause, thanked me for my attention and vigilance, and said, as I must be fatigued, I had better go and lie down." Fatuous and unexplainable conduct in the face of certain peril!

At a half hour before sunrise on the morning of November fourth, 1791, the army of St. Clair is at parade. The soldiers have just been dismissed and are returning to their tents, when the woods in front ring with the shots and yells of a thousand savages. On the instant the bugles sound the call to arms, but the front battalions are scarce in line, when the remnants of the militia, torn and bleeding, burst through them. The levies, firing, check the first mad rush of the oncoming warriors, but the Indians scattering to right and left, encircle the camp. The guards are down, the army in confusion, and under the pall of smoke which now settles down to within three feet of the ground, the murderous red men approach the lines. The yelling has now ceased, but from behind every tree, log and stump a pitiless fire rains on the troops. The officers shout, the men discharge their guns, but they see nothing. The artillery thunders with tremendous sound, but soldiers are falling on every hand.

St. Clair is valorous, but what can valor do in a tempest of death? He tries to mount a horse, but the horse is shot through the head, and the lad that holds him is wounded in the arm. He tries to mount a second, but horse and servant are both mowed down. The third horse is brought, but fearing disaster, St. Clair hobbles to the front lines to cheer his troops. He wears no uniform, and out from under his great three cornered hat flows his long gray hair. A ball grazes the side of his face and cuts away a lock. The weight of the savage fire is now falling on the artillery in the center. The gunners sink beneath their guns. The herculean lieutenant-colonel, William Darke, who has fought at Yorktown, is ordered to charge on the right front. The troops rush forward with levelled bayonets, the savages are routed from their coverts, are visible a moment, and then disappear. As the levies advance the savages close in behind. Darke is surrounded on all sides—his three hundred men become thirty, and he falls back.

In the absence of Darke, the left flank of the army is now pressed in. Guns and artillery fall into the hands of the foe. Every artillery-man is killed but one, and he is badly wounded. The gunners are being scalped. St. Clair leads another charge on foot. The savages skip before the steel, disappear in the smoke and underbrush, and fire on the soldiers from every point as they make retreat. Charge after charge is made, but all are fruitless. The regulars and the levies, out in the open, unable to see the enemy, die by scores. The carnage is fearful.

The troops have fought for about three hours, and the remnants of the army are huddled in the center. The officers are about all down, for the savages have made it a point to single them out. Butler is fatally wounded and leaning against a tree. The men are stupefied and give up in despair. Shouts of command are given, officers' pistols are drawn, but the men refuse to fight. The wounded are lying in heaps, and the crossfire of the Indians, now centering from all points, threatens utter extermination. There is only one hope left—a desperate dash through the savage lines, and escape. "It was past nine o'clock," says Denny, "when repeated orders were given to charge towards the road. * * * Both officers and men seemed confounded, incapable of doing anything; they could not move until it was told that a retreat was intended. A few officers put themselves in front, the men followed, the enemy gave way, and perhaps not being aware of the design, we were for a few moments left undisturbed."



In after years it was learned that Captain William Wells was in charge of a party of about three hundred young Indian warriors, who were posted behind logs and trees, immediately under the knoll on which the artillery stood. They picked off the artillery-men one by one, until a huge pile of corpses lay about the gun wheels. As the Indians swarmed into the camp in the intervals between the futile charges of the regulars, the artillery-men were all scalped. Wells belonged to a Kentucky family and had been captured by the Miamis when a child twelve years of age, and is said to have become the adopted son of Little Turtle. He had acquired the tongue and habits of a savage, but after the battle with St. Clair he seems to have been greatly troubled with the thought that he might have slain some of his own kindred. Afterwards when Wayne's army advanced into the Indian country he bade the Little Turtle goodbye, and became one of Wayne's most trusty and valuable scouts. After Fallen Timbers he returned to his Indian wife and children, but remained the friend of the United States. In General Harrison's day he was United States Indian agent at Fort Wayne, but was killed in the massacre of Fort Dearborn, in 1812, by the faithless bands of Potawatomi under the chief Blackbird.

The retreat of St. Clair's army was very precipitate. "It was, in fact, a flight." The fugitives threw away their arms and accouterments and made a mad race for the walls of Fort Jefferson, twenty-nine miles away, arriving there a little after sunset. The loss of the Americans was appalling, and recalled the disaster of Braddock's defeat on the Monongahela. Out of an army of twelve hundred men and eighty-six officers, Braddock lost seven hundred and twenty-seven in killed and wounded. St. Clair's army consisted of fourteen hundred men and eighty-six officers, of whom eight hundred and ninety men and sixteen officers were killed or wounded. The slaughter of officers of the line had been so disastrous, that in the spring of the next year, Anthony Wayne, the new commander, found it extremely difficult to train the new troops. He had first to impart the military tactics to a group of young officers. "Several pieces of artillery, and all the baggage, ammunition, and provisions, were left on the field of battle, and fell into the hands of the Indians. The stores and other public property, lost in the action, were valued at thirty-two thousand eight hundred and ten dollars and seventy-five cents." The loss of the Indians was trifling. As near as may be ascertained, they had about thirty killed and fifty wounded.

The field of action was visited by General James Wilkinson about the first of February, 1792. An officer who was present relates the following: "The scene was truly melancholy. In my opinion those unfortunate men who fell into the enemy's hands, with life, were used with the greatest torture—having their limbs torn off; and the women had been treated with the most indecent cruelty, having stakes, as thick as a person's arm, drove through their bodies." In December, 1793, General Wayne, having arrived at Greenville, Ohio, sent forward a detachment to the spot of the great defeat. "They arrived on the ground, on Christmas day, and pitched their tents at night; they had to scrape the bones together and carry them out to make their beds. The next day holes were dug, and the bones remaining above ground were buried; six hundred skulls being found among them."

The whole nation was terribly shocked by the news of the defeat. The bordermen of Pennsylvania, Virginia and Kentucky were immediately exposed to a renewal of Indian attacks and the government seemed powerless. St. Clair came in for severe censure, more severe in fact, than was justly warranted. The sending back of Hamtramck's regiment, the unfortified condition of the camp on the night before the attack, the posting of the militia in advance of the main army, and the utter lack of scouts and runners, were all bad enough, but on the other hand, the delay and confusion in the quartermaster's department, the dereliction of the contractors, and the want of discipline among the militia and the levies, were all matters of extenuation. To win was hopeless. To unjustly denounce an old and worthy veteran of the Revolution, who acted with so much manly courage on the field of battle, ill becomes an American. A committee of Congress completely exonerated him.

The administration itself and the department of war, were sharply criticized. But the representatives of the people themselves were more to blame than the government. Thousands had deprecated the attempt of the President to protect the frontiers and to sustain the arm of the western generals. The mean and niggardly support accorded the commander-in-chief, was largely instrumental in bringing about the lamentable result. The jealous and parsimonious states of the east, had regarded only their own selfish ends, to the utter exclusion of the national interest.



CHAPTER XIV

WAYNE AND FALLEN TIMBERS

—Final triumph of the Government over Indians and British.

The great soul of Washington was sorely tried, but he did not falter. The first thing to do was to raise an efficient army, and that was done. Early in the year 1792, the forces of the United States were put on a new footing. The military establishment was now to consist of "five thousand one hundred and sixty-eight non-commissioned officers, privates and musicians." Enlistments were to be made for a period of three years, and the pay of the soldiers increased. General Anthony Wayne was appointed commander and instructed by Washington to spare neither powder nor ball, 'so that his men be made marksmen.'

Wayne was a fighter of fearless courage and daring brilliancy. He was now forty-seven years of age and had entered the revolution as a Colonel in the Continental Army. He had fought with Washington at Brandywine and Germantown, and had driven the Hessians at the point of the bayonet. "At Monmouth he turned the fortunes of the day by his stubborn and successful resistance to the repeated bayonet charges of the Guards and Grenadiers." The storming of Stony Point is ranked by Lossing as one of the most brilliant achievements of the Revolutionary war. He fought at Yorktown and later drove the English out of Georgia. His favorite weapon of offense was the bayonet. General William Henry Harrison, who was aide to Wayne at the battle of Fallen Timbers, said to him: "General Wayne, I am afraid you will get into the fight yourself, and forget to give me the necessary field orders." "Perhaps I may," replied Wayne, "and if I do, recollect the standing order of the day is, 'Charge the damned rascals with the bayonets!'"

In the month of June, 1792, Wayne arrived at Pittsburgh to take charge of his new command. Most of the new army were ignorant of military tactics, and without discipline, but the General at once entered vigorously upon his great task. On the twenty-eighth of November, the army left Pittsburgh and encamped at Legionville, twenty-two miles to the south. Here the great work of training the raw recruits proceeded. "By the salutary measures adopted to introduce order and discipline, the army soon began to assume its proper character. The troops were daily exercised in all the evolutions necessary to render them efficient soldiers, and more especially in those maneuvers proper in a campaign against savages. Firing at a mark was constantly practiced, and rewards given to the best marksmen. To inspire emulation, the riflemen and the infantry strove to excel, and the men soon attained to an accuracy that gave them confidence in their own prowess. On the artillery the General impressed the importance of that arm of the service. The dragoons he taught to rely on the broadsword, as all important to victory. The riflemen were made to see how much success must depend on their coolness, quickness and accuracy; while the infantry were led to place entire confidence in the bayonet, as the certain and irresistible weapon before which the savages could not stand. The men were instructed to charge in open order; each to rely on himself, and to prepare for a personal contest with the enemy." The orders and admonitions of Wayne fell not on deaf ears. The Legion of the United States became a thing of life. In the battle at the Miami Rapids a soldier of the Legion met a single warrior in the woods and they attacked each other, "the soldier with his bayonet, the Indian with his tomahawk. Two days after, they were found dead; the soldier with his bayonet in the body of the Indian—the Indian with his tomahawk in the head of the soldier."

About the first of May, 1793, the army moved down the Ohio in boats and encamped near Fort Washington, Cincinnati, at a place which was named "Hobson's Choice." At this place the main body of the troops was halted until about the seventh of October, to await the outcome of the repeated attempts of the government to make peace with the Indian tribes.

The difficulties that beset the pathway of President Washington at the opening of the year 1792, seemed insurmountable. On the one hand, the people of the east regarded the westerners as the real aggressors in the border conflicts, and were extremely loath to grant aid to the government. The debates in Congress reflected their attitude. On the other hand, the people of Kentucky regarded the efforts of the government to secure to them the navigation of the Mississippi, as procrastinating and futile. They even suspected the good faith of Washington himself, but in this they erred, for negotiations were on foot that finally secured to them the desired end. Moreover the failure of Harmar and the disaster of St. Clair had filled the backwoodsmen with misgivings and they had no faith in the regular army or its generals. The extreme poverty of the government, the utter lack of support from all sections, would have brought dismay to the heart of any man but Washington. He, however, remained firm. Forced by what Roosevelt has termed as the "supine indifference of the people at large," he determined to make one more effort to secure peace, but failing in that, the army of Anthony Wayne should be made ready for the final appeal to arms.

On the seventh of April, 1792, Freeman and Gerrard, two messengers of peace, were sent forward to the Maumee, but both were killed. About the twentieth of May, Major Alexander Trueman, of the First United States Regiment, and Colonel John Hardin, of Kentucky, left Fort Washington with copies of a speech from President Washington to the Indians. The President expressed his desire to impart to the tribes all the blessings of civilized life; to teach them to cultivate the earth and to raise corn and domestic animals; to build comfortable houses and to educate their children. He expressly disaffirmed any intention to seize any additional lands, and promised that compensation should be made to all tribes who had not received full satisfaction. The threat of Simon Girty against Proctor, was now made good as against both Hardin and Trueman. Hardin was to go among the Wyandots at Sandusky, while Trueman proceeded to the Rapids of the Maumee. Months after they had departed, one William May, who had been captured by the Indians, testified that he saw the scalp of Trueman dangling on a stick, and that Trueman's papers fell into the hands of Alexander McKee, who forwarded them to Detroit. Later he saw another scalp said to be the brave Colonel Hardin's, and Hardin's papers fell into the hands of Matthew Elliott. This was the answer of the savage allies to the flag of truce.

In May, 1792, General Rufus Putnam, of Ohio, and the Reverend John Heckewelder, of the Moravian missions, were sent to the Wabash tribes to make a treaty. The instructions to Putman were of the most pacific nature. He was told to renounce on the part of the United States, "all claim to any Indian land which shall not have been ceded by fair treaties, made with the Indian nations." "You will make it clearly understood, that we want not a foot of their land, and that it is theirs, and theirs only; that they have the right to sell, and the right to refuse to sell, and the United States will guarantee to them the said just right." Putnam carried forward with him about one hundred women and children captured by Scott and Wilkinson, and a number of presents for the Wea and other chiefs. A treaty was finally made with a small number of Weas, Kickapoos, and other Wabash and Illinois tribes at Vincennes on the twenty-seventh of September, but all attempts to induce the Miamis to join in the negotiations were unavailing. Pricked on by Elliott, the Girtys and McKee, the chiefs at Kekionga were threatening the Potawatomi and the tribes of the lower Wabash with the destruction of their villages, if they failed to oppose the advances of the Americans. The treaty at Vincennes had little, if any, effect, upon the posture of affairs.

Still other efforts were made by the government. Joseph Brant, the Mohawk chieftain, was induced to come to Philadelphia in June, 1792, and he received the most "marked attention," at the hands of the government officials. He remained at the capital some ten or twelve days, and it was sincerely hoped that he could be persuaded to undertake the office of a messenger of peace, but he was a pensioner of the British and thoroughly under their control. The next summer we find him urging the northwestern tribes to arms, and offering the aid of his tomahawk to Alexander McKee. The government next turned to Cornplanter and the chiefs of the more friendly Iroquois. In March, 1792, about fifty headmen of these tribes visited the city of Philadelphia and communed on terms of amity with the American officers. The Cornplanter, with forty-eight chiefs of the Six Nations, were now deputed to a grand council of the Miami confederates held at Au Glaize on the Maumee in the fall of 1792. "There were so many nations," says the Cornplanter, "that we cannot tell the names of them. There were three men from the Gora Nations; it took them a whole season to come, and twenty-seven nations from beyond Canada." Joseph Brant, who detested the Cornplanter, was not present, but Blue Jacket and the Shawnees were there filled with hate. They accused the Iroquois with speaking 'from the outside of their lips,' and told their chiefs that they came with the 'voice of the United States folded under their arm.' Every word was haughty, proud and defiant, but in the end the Iroquois wrung a promise from them to suspend hostilities until the ensuing spring, when a council of peace should be held with the Americans. This promise was not kept. War parties of Shawnees constantly prowled along the Ohio stealing horses and cattle, burning cabins, and leading away captives to the Indian towns. On the morning of the sixth of November, an army of three hundred Indians composed of Miamis, Delawares, Shawnees and Potawatomi, commanded by the Little Turtle, attacked a party of about one hundred Kentucky militia under the walls of Fort St. Clair, situated on the line of march from Fort Washington to the Miami villages. They were under the command of Major John Adair, afterwards governor of the State of Kentucky. Little Turtle's object was to wipe out a white settlement at the mouth of the Little Miami, but capturing two men near Fort Hamilton, he learned that the Kentuckians were escorting a brigade of packhorses on their way to Fort Jefferson, and he determined to waylay them. The attack occurred just before daybreak and was opened by a hideous chorus of Indian yells, but the Kentuckians bravely stood their ground and repelled the assault. Six men were killed, including Lieutenant Job Hale, and five men wounded. The camp equipment and about one hundred and forty horses were lost. The Indians had two killed.

The spring of 1793 came, the time for the proposed council. The British had promised to give their aid and co-operation in the forming of a friendly compact. Full credence seems to have been given to their statements. The President appointed Benjamin Lincoln, of Massachusetts, Beverly Randolph, of Virginia, and Timothy Pickering, of Pennsylvania, as commissioners. The basis of their negotiations was to be the treaty of Fort Harmar, of 1789, which the government considered "as having been formed on solid grounds—the principle being that of a fair purchase and sale." They were to ascertain definitely the Indian proprietors northward of the Ohio and south of the Lakes; to secure a confirmation of the boundary established at Fort Harmar, and to guarantee to the tribes the right of the soil in all their remaining lands. Liberal payment was to be made for all concessions, and annuities granted. The commissioners were to be accompanied by the Reverend John Heckewelder, who had gone with Putnam to Vincennes, and who was thoroughly conversant with the Delaware language. Some Quakers were also in the party.

The commissioners left Philadelphia in April, and arrived at Fort Niagara on the southern shore of Lake Ontario in the month of May. Niagara was then in command of Colonel Simcoe, of the British army, who invited them to take up quarters at Navy Hall. This invitation was accepted, and the commissioners now awaited the termination of the preliminaries of a grand council of the northwestern tribes which was being held at the Rapids on the Maumee. On the seventh of June, the commissioners addressed a note to Simcoe, suggesting the importance of the coming conference, their wish to counteract the deep-rooted prejudices of the tribes, and their desire for a full co-operation on the part of the English officers. Among other things, they called the Colonel's attention to a report circulated by a Mohawk Indian to the effect that "Governor Simcoe advised the Indians to make peace, but not to give up any lands." The Colonel promptly replied, tendering his services in the coming negotiations, appointing certain officers to attend the treaty, and particularly denying the declaration of the Mohawk. But in his reply he used these words: "But, as it has been, ever since the conquest of Canada, the principle of the British government, to unite the American Indians, that, all petty jealousies being extinguished, the real wishes of the tribes may be fully expressed, and in consequence all the treaties made with them, may have the most complete ratification and universal concurrence, so, he feels it proper to state to the commissioners, that a jealousy of a contrary conduct in the agents of the United States, appears to him to have been deeply impressed upon the minds of the confederacy." In view of the subsequent results, the story of the Mohawk may not have been wholly without foundation.

On the fifth day of July, Colonel John Butler, of the British Indian department, Joseph Brant, and about fifty Indians from the council of the tribes on the Maumee, arrived at Niagara. On the seventh, the commissioners, and a number of the civil and military officers of the crown being present, Brant addressed the American envoys and said in substance that he was representing the Indian nations who owned all the lands north of the Ohio "as their common property;" that the treaty had been delayed on account of the presence of the American army north of the Ohio; that the tribes wanted an explanation of these warlike appearances, and desired to know whether the commissioners were authorized "to run and establish a new boundary line between the lands of the United States, and of the Indian nations." On the next day, the commissioners gave full answer. They informed the Indian deputation that the purposes of the United States were wholly peaceful; that the Great Chief, General Washington, had strictly forbidden all hostilities, and that the governors of the states adjoining the Ohio had issued orders to the same effect. However, to satisfy the tribes, they would immediately dispatch a messenger on horseback to the seat of the government, with a request that the "head warrior," General Wayne, be instructed to remain quietly at the posts until the event of the treaty could be known. This was faithfully done. With reference to the running of a new boundary line, the commissioners expressly stated that they were vested with full authority to that end, but that mutual concessions were necessary to a reconcilement, and that this should be plainly understood by both sides. On the ninth of July, Brant gave assurance that the answer of the commissioners had been satisfactory, "Brothers: We think, from your speech, that there is a prospect of our coming together. We, who are the nations at the westward are of one mind; and, if we agree with you, as there is a prospect that we shall, it will be binding and lasting. Brothers; Our prospects are the fairer, because all our minds are one. You have not spoken before to us unitedly. Formerly, because you did not speak to us unitedly, what was done was not binding. Now you have an opportunity of speaking to us together; and we now take you by the hand, to lead you to the place appointed for the meeting." In explanation of this peaceful language and his subsequent conduct, Brant afterwards wrote that, "for several years (after the peace of 1783), we were engaged in getting a confederacy formed, and the unanimity occasioned by these endeavors among our western brethren, enabled them to defeat two American armies. The war continued without our brothers, the English, giving any assistance, excepting a little ammunition; and they seeming to desire that a peace might be concluded, we tried to bring it about at a time when the United States desired it very much, so that they sent commissioners from among their first people, to endeavor to make peace with the hostile Indians. We assembled also, for that purpose, at the Miami River, in the summer of 1793, intending to act as mediators in bringing about an honorable peace; and if that could not be obtained, we resolved to join with our western brethren in trying the fortunes of war. But to our surprise, when on the point of entering on a treaty with the Commissioners, we found that it was opposed by those acting under the British government, and hopes of further assistance were given to our western brethren, to encourage them to insist on the Ohio as a boundary between them and the United States." Whatever the truth may be as to Brant's peaceful intentions on the ninth of July, his attitude was certain on the fourth of the succeeding August. On that date, according to Roosevelt, the treacherous pensioner wrote to Alexander McKee that "we came here not only to assist with our advice, but other ways, * * * we came here with arms in our hands." Following the advice of his British counsellors, he advised the northwestern Indians not to yield an inch, and to stand on the Ohio as their southern boundary.

The Commissioners of the United States were doomed to meet with a sudden and unexpected interruption of their proceedings. On the twenty-first of July they arrived at the mouth of the Detroit river. They immediately addressed a note to McKee informing him of their arrival, and expressing a desire to meet with the confederated tribes. On the twenty-ninth of July a deputation of over twenty Indians, among whom was the Delaware chief, Buck-ong-a-he-las, arrived with Captain Matthew Elliott. On the next day, and in the presence of the British officers, the Wyandot chief, Sa-wagh-da-wunk, after a brief salutation, presented to the Commissioners a paper writing. It contained this ultimatum, dictated beyond doubt by the British agents: "Brothers: You are sent here by the United States, in order to make peace with us, the confederate Indians. Brothers: You very well know that the boundary line, which was run between the white people and us, at the treaty of Fort Stanwix, was the river Ohio. Brothers: If you seriously design to make a firm and lasting peace, you will immediately remove all your people from our side of that river. Brothers: We therefore ask you, are you fully authorized by the United States to continue, and firmly fix on the Ohio river, as the boundary between your people and ours?" This document was signed by the confederated nations of the Wyandots, Delawares, Shawnees, Miamis, Mingoes, Potawatomi, Ottawas, Connoys, Chippewas and Munsees, at the Maumee Rapids on the twenty-seventh of July, 1793.

The remaining passages between the Commissioners and the Indian allies are briefly told. In vain did the Commissioners urge that settlements and valuable improvements had been made on the faith of past treaties; that it was not only impracticable but wholly impossible to consider the Ohio as the boundary; that the treaty of Fort Harmar had been made in good faith and with the very tribes who professed to own the lands ceded. In vain did they admit the former mistakes of the government in setting up a claim to the whole country south of the Great Lakes. The jealous and apprehensive chieftains, spurred on and encouraged by British promise of support, refused to listen to all appeals, contemptuously rejected all offers of money or compensation, and insisted to the last on the Ohio as the boundary.

That the full responsibility for this action on the part of the tribes must be laid at the door of the British, goes without successful challenge. If at the beginning they had only furnished a little ammunition, as Brant says, they were now fast becoming openly hostile. The French Revolution had opened, and England and France were battling for supremacy. In order to cut off supplies of food from the French people, England had seized all cargoes of corn, flour and meal bound for French ports, and had purchased them for the benefit of his majesty's service. This action had greatly irritated the American merchants and had led to serious remonstrance on the part of the government. England had also asserted the right to board neutral vessels and impress British seamen whenever found. Many an American ship had been hailed on the high seas, and forced to submit to a humiliating search. It was claimed that many American sailors had been seized and forced to enter the British service. Added to all this, the Citizen Genet had, in the early part of the year 1793, arrived in America. As the representative of the French Republic he was armed with numerous blank commissions for privateers, to be delivered "to such French and American owners as should apply for the same." An attack was to be launched on British commerce. Before he arrived at Philadelphia the British minister had laid before the President a list of complaints "founded principally on the proceedings of Mr. Genet, who, at Charleston, undertook to authorize the fitting and arming of vessels, enlisting men, and giving commissions to cruise and commit hostilities on nations with whom the United States were at peace." Washington did everything in his power to preserve neutrality. On the twenty-second of April, 1793, and twenty-three days before Genet arrived at Philadelphia, the President issued a proclamation, declaring that "the duty and interest of the United States required that they should, with sincerity and good faith, adopt and pursue a conduct friendly and impartial toward the belligerent powers." But the vast majority of the people of the United States, including many high in public life, were in open sympathy with the French and utterly detested England. These sentiments were particularly marked in the western countries, for there the people had suffered from all the cruelty and savagery of the Indian warfare, and they fiercely denounced the British agents.

Under all these circumstances the relations between Great Britain and the United States had become tense and strained. The provincial officers at Quebec and the Indian partisans at Detroit quickly echoed the mood of the home government. In the event of a new war, England could again command the savage allies and ravage the frontiers as she had done during the revolution. The Indians would not only prove to be a useful barrier in the event of an American invasion of Canada, but they might help England to regain in part the territory she had lost. "Hence, instead of promoting a pacification, the efforts of the Canadian government were obviously exerted to prevent it." This, no doubt, accounts for what Brant has noted concerning the exchanges with the American commissioners at the mouth of the Detroit river. The western tribes were suddenly given assurance by the British that England would come to their aid, and were told to insist on the Ohio as the limit of concession. This put an effectual stop to all further measures for peace.

Wayne was now free to go forward with his campaign again, but so much time had been consumed by the commissioners, and the militia were so slow in arriving from Kentucky that the army did not take up its march from Hobson's Choice until the seventh of October. The general now had about twenty-six hundred effective men, including officers, thirty-six guides and spies, and about three hundred and sixty mounted volunteers. With these he determined to push forward to a position about six miles in advance of Fort Jefferson, and about eighty miles north of Cincinnati. He would thus excite a fear on the part of the savages for the safety of their women and children, and at the same time protect the frontiers. He expected resistance, for the Indians were "desperate and determined," but he was prepared to meet it. The savages constantly hung on his flanks, making attacks on his convoys of provisions, and picking off the packhorses. On the morning of the seventeenth of October, a force of ninety non-commissioned officers and men under Lowry and Boyd, who were escorting twenty wagons loaded with grain, were suddenly assaulted about seven miles north of Fort St. Clair. Fifteen officers and men were killed, seventy horses killed or carried away, and the wagons left standing in the road. Nothing daunted, Wayne pushed on. On the twenty-third of October, he wrote to the Secretary of War that, "the safety of the western frontiers, the reputation of the Legion, the dignity and interests of the nation, all forbid a retrograde maneuver, or giving up one inch of ground we now possess, until the enemy are compelled to sue for peace."

In the meantime General Charles Scott had arrived from Kentucky with about one thousand mounted infantry and had camped in the vicinity of Fort Jefferson, but the season was so far advanced, that Wayne now determined to send the Kentuckians home, enter into winter quarters, and prepare for an effectual drive in the spring. Unlike his predecessors, Wayne entertained no distrust of the frontiersmen, but determined to utilize them with telling force. The hardy riflemen were quick to respond to a real leader of men. They looked on the wonderful bayonet practice, the expert marksmanship of the Legion, and the astonishing maneuvers of the cavalrymen with great admiration. When they went to their homes for the winter they were filled with a new confidence in the government, and in its ability to protect their firesides. The vigilance, the daring, and the unflinching discipline of the continental general, gave them assurance. Fort Greenville was now erected on a branch of the Big Miami, and here Wayne established his headquarters. In December, eight companies of infantry and a detachment of artillery erected Fort Recovery, on the spot made memorable by St. Clair's defeat.

At the opening of the year 1794, "the relations between Great Britain and the United States had become so strained," says Roosevelt, "that open war was threatened." On the tenth of February, Lord Dorchester addressed a deputation of prominent chiefs of the northwestern tribes as follows: "Children: I was in the expectation of hearing from the people of the United States what was required by them: I hoped that I should be able to bring you all together, and make you friends. Children: I have waited long, and listened with great attention, but I have not heard one word from them. Children: I flattered myself with the hope that the line proposed in the year eighty-three, to separate us from the United States, which was immediately broken by themselves as soon as the peace was signed, would have been mended, or a new one drawn, in an amicable manner. Here, also, I have been disappointed. Children: Since my return, I find that no appearance of a line remains; and from the manner in which the people of the United States rush on, and act and talk, on this side; and from what I learn of their conduct toward the sea, I shall not be surprised, if we are at war with them in the course of the present year; and if so, a line must then be drawn by the warriors." Copies of this speech were circulated everywhere among the tribes. Alexander McKee, Lieutenant-Colonel John Butler, of the British army, and Joseph Brant were active. Large presents were sent up from Quebec, ammunition and arms were distributed, and the Ottawas and Chippewas summoned from the far north. In April, 1794, Lieutenant-Governor Simcoe, of Canada, openly advanced into the American territory, built a fort at the Miami Rapids, and garrisoned it with British redcoats. Massive parapets were constructed on which were mounted heavy artillery. The outer walls were surrounded by a deep fosse and "frasing" which rendered it secure from escalade. The Indians, thus buttressed, as they supposed, by British support, were openly defiant and refused to make peace.

The indignation of the American people may well be imagined. To a long train of secret machinations the British now added open insult. Washington, justly aroused by England's long course of treachery and double-dealing, wrote to Jay concerning Simcoe's action as follows: "Can that government, or will it attempt, after this official act of one of their governors, to hold out ideas of friendly intentions toward the United States, and suffer such conduct to pass with impunity? This may be considered the most open and daring act of the British agents in America, though it is not the most hostile or cruel; for there does not remain a doubt in the mind of any well-informed person in this country, not shut against conviction, that all the difficulties we encounter with the Indians—their hostilities, the murder of helpless women and innocent children along our frontiers—result from the conduct of the agents of Great Britain in this country. In vain is it, then, for its administration in Britain to disavow having given orders which will warrant such conduct, whilst their agents go unpunished; whilst we have a thousand corroborating circumstances, and indeed almost as many evidences, some of which cannot be brought forward, to know that they are seducing from our alliance, and endeavoring to move over the line, tribes that have hitherto been kept in peace and friendship with us at heavy expense, and who have no causes of complaint, except pretended ones of their creating; whilst they keep in a state of irritation the tribes who are hostile to us, and are instigating those who know little of us or we of them, to unite in the war against us; and whilst it is an undeniable fact that they are furnishing the whole with arms, ammunition, clothing, and even provisions to carry on the war; I might go farther, and if they are not much belied, add men also in disguise." The President also called on the British minister, Mr. Hammond, for an explanation. Hammond, while admitting the authenticity of Dorchester's speech and the construction of the British fort on the Maumee, pointed to pretended acts of hostility on the part of the United States. This was the insolent tone assumed toward a government considered to be too weak to defend its lawful rights.