Part 8 (1/2)

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.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: Another view of the Wabash, a land of great beauty.

Photo by Heaton]

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 ma.s.sacre 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 sc.r.a.pe 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 n.i.g.g.ardly 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 Was.h.i.+ngton 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 Was.h.i.+ngton 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 Was.h.i.+ngton 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 d.a.m.ned 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 a.s.sume 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 Was.h.i.+ngton, 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 Was.h.i.+ngton 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 att.i.tude. 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 Was.h.i.+ngton 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 Was.h.i.+ngton. 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 Was.h.i.+ngton with copies of a speech from President Was.h.i.+ngton 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. p.r.i.c.ked 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 Was.h.i.+ngton 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 a.s.sault. 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 Ma.s.sachusetts, 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 sh.o.r.e of Lake Ontario in the month of May.