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

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.