The Life and Times of Col. Daniel Boone, Hunter, Soldier, and Pioneer

CHAPTER XIV

Colonel Clark's Invasion of the Indian Country – Boone is Promoted to the Rank of Colonel – His Brother Killed at Blue Licks and Boone narrowly Escapes Capture – Attack upon the Shelbyville Garrison – News of the Surrender of Cornwallis – Attack upon Estill's Station – Simon Girty the Renegade – He Appears before Bryant's Station, but Withdraws

This same year 1780 was noteworthy for two memorable incidents in the history of Kentucky. The first was Colonel Byrd's invasion, and the other was the retaliatory invasion of the Indian country by the gallant Colonel Clark, and his attack upon the Shawanoe towns.

The prisoners taken by the Indians at Ruddell's Station were kept by their captors, who released a few after the expiration of several years, but a great many perished by the tomahawk and knife.

Byrd's invasion created great excitement, and the proposed retaliatory measure of Colonel Clark was received with enthusiasm. The brave settlers rallied to his standard from every direction, and in a short time he had a full thousand men under his command.

Such a force, composed of such material, might well be considered invincible, for no combination of Indians could have been formed on the frontier capable of checking its march.

Colonel Clark, at the head, marched directly into the Indian country, spreading devastation wherever he went. The towns were burned and the corn-fields laid waste – a piece of cruelty, but war is always cruel – and by destroying their crops, the warriors were given something else to do besides forming expeditions against the frontier settlements. No attempt was made to check the advance of Colonel Clark, and his force having inflicted an incalculable amount of injury, withdrew and disbanded.

Only one skirmish had taken place; that was at an Indian village where about twenty men were killed on each side.

In the same year the organization of the militia of Kentucky was perfected. Colonel Clark was appointed brigadier-general and commander-in-chief of all the militia. Major Daniel Boone was advanced to the rank of colonel, and with Pope and Trigg held second rank, Floyd, Logan and Todd holding first.

A singular fatality seemed to attach itself to Blue Licks, already the scene of several disasters to the whites. In October, 1780, Boone and his brother visited the place, and had scarcely reached it when they were fired upon by a number of Indians in ambush, and the brother fell dead.

Boone himself dashed into the woods and fled for life, the Indians pursuing with the help of a dog. The latter clung so close to the heels of the fugitive, that, when he got a safe distance, he turned about and shot him, then resuming his flight, he soon placed himself beyond all danger from the savages.

In March, 1781, a number of straggling Indians entered Jefferson county at different points, and hiding along the paths, treacherously shot down several settlers. This served as a reminder to the pioneers that it was too soon to count upon any degree of safety from the red men.

In fact there was a state of continual unrest along the border. Among those killed in the manner mentioned, was Colonel William Linn. Captain Whitaker, with the resolve to punish the assassins, started in hot pursuit of them.

Striking their trail, he followed it rapidly to the Ohio, where he entered several canoes purposing to cross and continue the pursuit. He supposed that the warriors had already gone over, but such was not the case, the Indians being concealed on the Kentucky shore.

Just as Captain Whitaker and his men were pushing off, the savages fired, killing and wounding nine of them, but the others turned with such fierceness, that the Indians were put to flight, several of their number being left dead.

In the succeeding month a small station near Shelbyville, which had been founded by Boone, became so alarmed that the settlers determined to remove to Bear's Creek. While engaged in doing so, they were attacked by Indians and many killed.

Colonel Floyd hastily gathered twenty-five men and started in pursuit, but he was ambushed, half his party killed, and he himself would have been tomahawked, but for the assistance of the noted scout, Captain Wells, who helped him off the ground.

Toward the close of 1781, news reached Kentucky that Lord Cornwallis had surrendered at Yorktown, that the war was ended, and the Independence of the American colonies secured forever. It is impossible to imagine the delight which thrilled the country at this joyful tidings. America now took her place among the nations, and began that career of progress, advancement and civilization which has made her people the foremost of the world.

The settlers along the frontier believed their day of security and safety had come at last, and that now they might give their whole attention to the development of the country.

But the hope was an unsubstantial one. The American Indians, as a rule, are as regardless of treaties as are we, and they showed no disposition to recognize the fact that the war was over and the dawn of universal peace had come.

In May, 1782, twenty-five Wyandots suddenly appeared in front of Estill's Station, and after killing one man, and taking a prisoner, retreated. Captain Estill, with an equal force, started in pursuit, and overtook them at Hinkston's, where he savagely attacked them. His lieutenant, Miller, showed the white feather, failed to carry out instructions, and Captain Estill and nine of his men were killed and scalped, the Indians also losing their leader and half their warriors.

Simon Girty the renegade figures as an actor in the darkest deeds in the history of the West. He was a soldier at the fierce battle of Point Pleasant, but was so maltreated by his Commander, General Lewis, after the battle, that he forswore his race, and became one of the leaders of the Indians and the most merciless enemy of the settlers.

In the month of August, a runner arrived at Bryant's Station with news that Girty, at the head of a large force of Indians, was pushing through the woods with the intention of capturing the station. Immediate preparations were made to receive them, and when the Indians appeared, on the 14th of August, everything possible had been done to put the place in the best form of defence.

Girty was at their head, as had been announced, and he at once advanced to the clearing and summoned the settlers to surrender, telling them that no other course was left, for, besides the large force under him he had a number of re-enforcements marching to join him with artillery.

The sound of the last word was alarming to most of the settlers, but Reynolds, one of their number, took upon himself to answer Girty, who had assured them of honorable treatment in case of capitulation, and the tomahawk in the event of their failure to accept the terms.

The answer of Reynolds to this demand was of the most insulting nature. He laughed at the threats of Girty and challenged him to make them good; he said he was the owner of one of the mangiest and most worthless curs ever seen, and that he put the last crowning disgrace upon the poor dog by naming him "Girty;" that if he had military artillery or re-enforcements, he was invited to exhibit them, and that, finally, if Girty remained two hours longer before the fort, they would go out and scalp him and all the warriors he had with him.

This was an emphatic reply to the question, and Girty expressed in turn his regret that the settlers were so blind to the fate of themselves and those dependent upon them; but he had given them fair warning, and their blood must be on their own heads.

They had deliberately chosen to disregard the proffer of peace and safety, and the world could not blame him now for carrying out his threat – that of putting every one to death with the tomahawk.

The resistance which they had determined to offer would only excite the Indians to the highest point of fury, and they would now be irrestrainable.

Thereupon Simon Girty went back to where his Indian allies were awaiting him, placed himself at their head, and then deliberately turned about and marched away, without firing a shot at the station!

CHAPTER XV

Arrival of Boone with Re-enforcements – Pursuit of the Indian Force – Boone's Counsel Disregarded – A Frightful Disaster – Reynold's Noble and Heroic Act – His Escape

On the morning succeeding the departure of Girty and his Indians from the front of Bryant's Station, Boone reached the place with re-enforcements, among them being his son Israel and his brother Samuel. Before the day closed, Colonel Trigg came in from Harrodstown, and Colonel Todd from Lexington, each with a similar force, so that the retreat of the noted renegade was the best thing that could have taken place for his own personal safety.

The company that gathered within the station was a curious one – numbering about two hundred, one-fourth of whom were commissioned officers. A noisy consultation was held, and amid much uproar and wrangling, it was resolved to pursue the Indians at once, without awaiting the arrival of Colonel Logan, who was known to be approaching with a large force, and was certain to arrive within the succeeding twenty-four hours.

Accordingly the pursuit was begun without delay, and it proved most easy to keep up, for the retreat of Girty and his Indians was marked by such a broad and plain trail that there could be no mistaking it.

The bushes had been bent down, the bark was hacked off the trees with tomahawks, and articles were strewn along the way with most remarkable prodigality.

Indeed there was so much pains taken to show the trail that Boone and his older companions were alarmed. They believed Girty had caused it to be done for the very purpose of drawing them in pursuit, and Boone spoke to many of the officers. But they laughed at his fears and pressed forward with the ardor of Kentuckians who see the certainty of a fierce struggle close at hand, where the victory is likely to be on their side.

When the settlers reached Blue Licks – an ominous name for them – they discovered several Indians on the other side of the Licking, who leisurely retreated into the woods, without showing any special alarm over the pursuit of the Kentuckians.

As it was certain that Girty and his whole force were immediately in front, another consultation was held; for the pursuers began to feel the need of care and caution in their movements. After a long discussion, all turned to Boone, who they felt was the best qualified to advise them in the emergency.

The grave face and manner of the great pioneer showed that he appreciated the danger.

"Our situation is a critical one," said he; "you know nothing of the nature of the country on the other side of the Licking, and the Indians have acted in such a manner that I'm satisfied they have laid an ambush for us. In my opinion, we have the choice of two courses: the first is to divide our men and send one half up the river to cross it at the Rapids and attack in the rear, while the rest make a simultaneous assault in front. But the other course and the one which I most earnestly urge is to await the coming of Colonel Logan and his re-enforcements. We have a strong body in front of us, and we have been taught more than one lesson by the disasters of the past few years, which we cannot afford to forget to-day. At any rate, we ought not to try to cross the river until we have sent forward spies to learn the number and disposition of the troops."

These were the words of wisdom and prudence, but they fell upon unwilling ears, and the majority bitterly opposed the advice of the old pioneer. They insisted that the Indians were fleeing in alarm, and that such delay would give them time to get away unscathed, while the proposal to divide the settlers would so weaken them that the Indians would fall upon the detachments separately and destroy them. It may be said there was reason in the last objection, but none in the former.

It is probable there was little discipline in this wrangling assemblage which was engaged in discussing a most momentous question, for while the arguments were going on, Major McGary sprang upon his horse, spurred him at full gallop toward the river, calling upon all those who were not cowards to follow him.

The next instant he was plunging through the stream, and the whole shouting rabble rushed tumultuously after him. There was no semblance of order as they shouted, struggled, and hurried pell-mell to their doom. Simon Girty, the renegade, from the woods on the other side, must have smiled grimly, as he saw his victims doing everything in their power to hasten their own destruction, just as the majority of the expeditions against the Indians did before and have done since.

The soldiers hastened forward, until they reached the point against which Boone had warned them – the heading of two ravines. They had scarcely halted, when a party of Indians appeared and opened fire upon them. McGary returned the fire, but his position was disadvantageous, being on an exposed ridge, while, as usual, the Shawanoes were in a ravine with plenty of opportunity to conceal themselves, while picking off the whites.

The majority of the settlers had not yet come up, but they were hurrying forward in the same wild disorder, and continued rushing up the ridge, in time to meet the fire from the Indians which grew hotter and more destructive every minute.

Although placed at such disadvantage, the whites fought with great bravery, loading and shooting rapidly, though without any attempt at discipline and regularity. The fact was, the whites saw they were entrapped, and each and all were fighting for their very lives.

Had the warriors been given their choice of ground, they would have selected in all probability that taken by the respective combatants, for nothing could have been more in favor of Girty and his savages.

The Indians gradually closed in around the whites, loading and firing with great rapidity, while the settlers fell fast before the bullets rained in upon them from every quarter.

Among the officers, Todd, Trigg, Harland and McBride were soon killed, and Daniel Boone's son Israel, while gallantly doing his duty, fell pierced by bullets. The savages gaining confidence from their success continued to extend their line, so as to turn the right of the Kentuckians, until they got in their rear and cut off their retreat to the river.

The soldiers saw what the Indians were doing, for the heavy fire indicated it, and they became panic-stricken. At once every one thought of saving only himself, and a tumultuous, headlong rush was made for the river. As a matter of course, the savages did not allow the invitation to pass unaccepted, and they swarmed down upon the demoralized whites, tomahawking them without mercy.

Most of the horsemen escaped, but the slaughter of the foot soldiers was terrible. Nearly all of those who were in Major McGary's party were killed, and at the river the scene became appalling. Horsemen, foot soldiers, and painted Indians were mingled in fierce confusion, fighting desperately in the water, which was crowded from shore to shore.

A score of soldiers, having got across, halted and poured a volley into the red men, which checked them for a few minutes; but they quickly rallied and resumed the massacre and pursuit, the latter continuing for fully twenty miles. More than sixty Kentuckians were killed, a number made prisoners; and another disaster was added to the long roll of those which mark the history of the attempts at civilization in the West.

Daniel Boone bore himself in this fight with his usual intrepidity and coolness, doing his utmost to check the hurricane-like rush of the Indians, and endeavoring to rally those around him into something like organized resistance. Could this have been done, the renegade Girty and his merciless horde would have been routed, for some of those who fought on his side admitted years afterward that they were once on the very point of breaking and fleeing in disorder.

But Boone saw his son and many of his closest friends shot dead, and himself almost surrounded by Indians, before he comprehended his imminent personal peril.

The ford which was looked upon by most of the settlers as the only door of escape was crowded with fugitives, and several hundred warriors were between him and the river. Instead of seeking to reach the stream, he turned toward the ravine from which the Shawanoes themselves had emerged, and, with several comrades, made a desperate dash for it.

There was firing all along the line at the few who took this exceptional means, and several small parties sprang after them. Boone and his companions were fleet of foot, but he succeeded in eluding their enemies more by strategy than speed, and finally brought his friends to the river bank at a point so far below the ford that they were invisible to the Indians.

Here they swam across and then started for Bryant's Station, which they reached without further molestation.

Such an utter rout and irretrievable disaster is always marked by some extraordinary incidents. Reynolds, who made the insulting reply to Simon Girty, when he demanded the surrender of Bryant's Station, was in the battle and fought furiously against the renegade and his allies, but was forced back by the turbulent tide which, once set in motion, swept everything before it.

Reynolds was making for the river, when he overtook an officer on foot who was so weak from wounds received in a former engagement with the Indians, that he could not keep up with the fugitives, and, indeed, was so exhausted, that he was ready to fall fainting to the ground.

Reynolds sprang from his horse and helped the officer upon it, and then told him to do the best he could. The captain did so and saved himself.

Reynolds was now placed in great peril, but he made a plunge into the river, and soon carried himself by powerful strokes to the other side, where he was immediately made prisoner.

The Shawanoes, at this juncture, were so engaged in capturing and killing the fugitives, that they could not leave very large guards to keep those who fell into their hands.

Thus it came about that the guard placed over Reynolds was a single Indian, but he was tall and muscular, and would have preferred to tomahawk his prisoner and join in the general massacre.

Reynolds did not give him time to debate the matter, but, turning quickly upon the warrior, dealt him a blow which felled him like an ox, and then, before he could rise, Reynolds was in the woods, speeding for life.

One of the first men whom he encountered, after reaching the settlement, was the officer to whom he had given his horse, when there was no other means by which he could be saved.

The officer appreciated the favor, and showed it by making Reynolds a present of two hundred acres of land.

CHAPTER XVI

General Clark's Expedition – A Dark Page in American History – Colonel Crawford's Disastrous Failure and his own Terrible Fate – Simon Girty

Kentucky now approached an eventful period in her history. As we have stated, the career of Daniel Boone is woven in the very warp and woof of the narrative of the early days of the West, and in order to reach a proper understanding of the life and character of the great pioneer, it is necessary to carry the two along together.

The defeat and massacre at Blue Licks excited a profound shock and indignation along the frontier, and the feeling was general that necessity demanded the chastisement of the Indians, who would be likely otherwise to continue their depredations.

The gallant and clear-headed officer, General George Rogers Clark, the "Hannibal of the West," issued a call for volunteers to assemble at Bryant's Station. The General was so popular, and the confidence in him so universal, that hundreds flocked to the rendezvous, where, in a brief time, he placed himself at the head of one of the most formidable forces ever raised in that portion of the country during its early days.

The Indians were too wise to meet this army in anything like open battle. They carefully kept out of its way, expending their energies in picking off stragglers, and occasionally sending in a stray shot from some point, from which they could flee before it could be reached by the infuriated soldiers.

General Clark pushed forward, burned several Indian towns, and laid waste many fields. A few prisoners were taken, and a few killed, when the expedition returned and disbanded.

This was the only enterprise of the kind that was set on foot by Kentucky during the year 1782, which, however, was marked by one of the darkest deeds on the part of white men, which blacken the pages of our history.

On the 8th of March, Colonel Daniel Williamson, with a body of men, marched to the Moravian town of Gnadenhutten, where he obtained possession of the arms of the Christian Indians through treachery, and then massacred one hundred of them in as cruel and atrocious manner as that shown by Nana Sahib at Cawnpore. The harvest of such an appalling crime was rapine and death along the frontier, as it has been demonstrated many a time since.

These outrages became so numerous that Colonel William Crawford organized an expedition in Western Pennsylvania, numbering 450 men, with which he started against the Wyandot towns on the Sandusky.

His force in fact was nothing but an undisciplined rabble, and no one could predict anything but disaster, when it should penetrate the Indian country. It was this lack of discipline that had given the death-blow to so many expeditions against the tribes on the frontier, and which is the strongest ally an enemy can have.

Early in June, Colonel Crawford's force reached the plains of Sandusky, straggling along like the remnants of a defeated army, and so mutinous that numbers were continually straying back, deserting openly and caring nothing for the wishes or commands of their leader.

Colonel Crawford saw that a crisis was approaching, and calling a council, it was agreed that if a large force of Indians was not encountered within the succeeding twenty-four hours, they would withdraw altogether from the country.

A thousandfold better would it have been had they done so at once.

Within the succeeding hour, scouts came in with the news that a large body of savages were marching against them, and at that moment were almost within rifle-shot.

The proximity of danger impressed itself upon the soldiers and officers, who made hurried preparations to receive the warriors that appeared shortly after, swarming through and filling the woods by the hundred.

The whites were eager for battle and they opened upon them at once, keeping up a hot galling fire until dark, when the Indians drew off. The soldiers slept on their arms.

At daylight the fight was renewed, but it assumed the nature of a skirmish more than that of a regular battle. The Indians had suffered severely, and they were more careful of exposing themselves. They took advantage of the trees and bushes, firing rapidly and doing considerable damage.

But the soldiers were accustomed to such warfare, and they not only held their own ground, but maintained a destructive, though desultory fire which was more effective than that of the enemy.

The most alarming fact was that the Indians were not only waiting for re-enforcements but were receiving them all through the day. The spies of Colonel Crawford reported that other warriors were continually coming in, it being evident that runners had been sent out by the chiefs to summon all the help they could command.

This caused a great deal of uneasiness on the part of the whites, who saw the probability of an overwhelming force gathering in front of them, with the awful sequel of massacre, which had marked so many expeditions into the Indian country.

At sunset, when the second day's battle ceased, an anxious consultation was held by the officers of Crawford's command, at which the momentous question was discussed as to what was to be done.

The conviction was so general that they would be attacked by a resistless force, if they remained on the ground another day, that it was agreed to retreat during the night. As the savage force was already very large and was hourly increasing, it will be understood a withdrawal could only be accomplished by the utmost secrecy, and amid the most profound silence.

It was decided, therefore, that the march should begin at midnight, in perfect silence, and preparations were made to carry out the decision of the council of officers.

At a late hour the troops were arranged in good order, and the retreat was begun. A few minutes after, some confusion and the firing of guns were noticed in the rear and threatened a panic, but the soldiers were speedily quieted, and the withdrawal resumed in an orderly manner.

Probably it would have been continued as intended, but, at the critical moment, some terrified soldier called out that the Indians had discovered what they were doing and were coming down upon them in full force.

The retreat at once became a rout, every man feeling that scarcely a hope of escape remained. The cavalry broke and scattered in the woods, and the desperate efforts of Colonel Crawford, who galloped back and forth, shouting and seeking to encourage them to stand firm, were thrown away.

As if it was decreed that nothing should be lacking in this grotesque tragedy, the men shouted and yelled like crazy persons, so that the impression went to the astounded Indians that "the white men had routed themselves and they had nothing to do but to pick up the stragglers."

The sequel can be imagined. The warriors sprang to the pursuit and kept it up with the ferocious tenacity of blood-hounds, all through the night and into the succeeding day. The massacre went on hour after hour, until over a hundred of the soldiers had been killed or captured, and still another frightful disaster was added to those which already marked the history of the development of the West.

Among the prisoners captured were two – Dr. Knight, the surgeon of the company, and Colonel Crawford himself.

Dr. Knight and the Colonel were taken at the close of the second day, the latter having incurred unusual danger from his anxiety respecting the fate of his son. Their captors were a small party of Delawares, who carried them to the old Wyandot town. Just before reaching it, a halt was made, and the celebrated chief, Captain Pipe, painted Dr. Knight and Colonel Crawford black. This meant they had already been doomed to death by being burned at the stake!

Their immediate experience did not tend to lessen their terrors. As they moved along, they continually passed bodies of their friends that had been frightfully mangled by their captors, who were evidently determined that the massacre of the Christian Indians should be fully avenged.

When near the Indian town, they overtook five prisoners who were surrounded by a mob that were tormenting them by beating and taunting. Suddenly the Indians sprang upon them with a yell, and every one was tomahawked. Colonel Crawford was turned over to a Shawanoe doctor, and Surgeon Knight went along with them.

A few minutes previous, Simon Girty, the renegade, rode up beside them and became more fiendish in his taunts than the Indians. He had been acquainted with Colonel Crawford years before, and had special cause for enmity, because the Colonel had used his efforts to defeat Girty for some military office he was eager to obtain.

He now commented upon their appearance (being painted black and of course in great distress of mind), and he assured them that their death at the stake was one of the certainties of the immediate future. He laughed and swore and was in high spirits, as well he might be; for, inspired as he was by the most rancorous hatred of his own race, he had been gratified that day by assisting in one of the most dreadful disasters to the settlers that had ever occurred on the frontier.

When the village was reached, Colonel Crawford seized a forlorn hope of escaping by appealing to a Shawanoe chief named Wingenund, who had frequently visited his house, and between whom quite a strong friendship existed.

When the chief learned that Colonel Crawford was painted black, he knew that nothing could save him, and he withdrew to his own lodge that he might not witness his sufferings; but Crawford sent for him, and the chief could not refuse to go to his friend.

Their meeting was quite affecting, the chief showing some embarrassment and pretending to be uncertain of the identity of the prisoner, through his paint.

"You are Colonel Crawford, I believe."

"Yes, Wingenund, you must remember me."

"Yes, I have not forgotten you; we have often drank and eaten together, and you have been kind to me many times."

"I hope that friendship remains, Wingenund."

"It would remain forever, if you were in any place but this, and were what you ought to be."

"I have been engaged only in honorable warfare, and when we take your warriors prisoners we treat them right."

The chief looked meaningly at the poor captive and said,

"I would do the most I can for you, and I might do something, had you not joined Colonel Williamson, who murdered the Moravian Indians, knowing they were innocent of all wrong and that he ran no risk in killing them with their squaws and children."

"That was a bad act – a very bad act, Wingenund, and had I been with him, I never would have permitted it. I abhor the deed as do all good white men, no matter where they are."

"That may all be true," said the chief, "but Colonel Williamson went a second time and killed more of the Moravians."

"But I went out and did all I could to stop him."

"That may be true, too, but you cannot make the Indians believe it, and then, Colonel Crawford, when you were on the march here, you turned aside with your soldiers and went to the Moravian towns, but found them deserted. Our spies were watching you and saw you do this. Had you been looking for warriors, you would not have gone there, for you know the Moravians are foolish and will not fight."