"Colonel Gansevoort to General Sullivan.
"Albany, October 8, 1779.
"Sir,
"Agreeably to my orders, I proceeded by the shortest route to the lower Mohawk castle, passing through the Tuscarora and Oneida castles (towns), where every mark of hospitality and friendship was shown the party. I had the pleasure to find that not the least damage nor insult was offered any of the inhabitants. On the 25th I arrived at Fort Schuyler, where, refreshing my party, I proceeded down the river, and on the 29th effectually surprised the lower Mohawk castle, making prisoners of every Indian inhabitant They then occupied but four houses. I was preparing, agreeable to my orders, to destroy them, but was interrupted by the inhabitants of the frontiers, who have been lately driven from their settlements by the savages, praying that they might have liberty to enter into the Mohawks' houses, until they could procure other habitations; and well knowing those persons to have lately lost their all, humanity tempted me in this particular to act in some degree contrary to orders, although I could not but be confident of your approbation; especially when you are informed that this castle is in the heart of our settlements, and abounding with every necessary; so that it is remarked that these Indians live much better than most of the Mohawk river farmers. Their houses were very well furnished with all necessary household utensils, great plenty of grain, several horses, cows, and wagons; of all which I have an inventory, leaving them in the care of Major Newkirk, of that place, who distributed the refugees in the several houses. Such being the situation, I did not allow the party to plunder at all.
"The prisoners arrived at Albany on the 2d instant, and were closely secured in the fort. Yesterday, the 7th, I received a letter from General Schuyler, (of which I enclose a copy,) respecting the prisoners, desiring that the sending the prisoners down might be postponed until an express shall arrive from General Washington. Agreeably to this request, a sergeant and twelve men are detained to keep charge of the prisoners until his pleasure is known.
"It is with the greatest regret I mention my indisposition being so great as to hinder my taking charge of the party to headquarters. I have been several days confined, and my surgeon informs me that my complaint is bilious fever. Captain Sytez takes command of the detachment, and will proceed with all expedition to head-quarters with the baggage of the several regiments, where I hope shortly to join the army. I remain, &c., &c."
It seems that General Schuyler, then at the head of the Northern Commission of the Indian Department, having heard of the harsh measure adopted in regard to the lower castle Mohawks, had interposed in their behalf. The following is the letter referred to by Colonel Gansevoort, a copy of which was enclosed to General Sullivan:—
"General Schuyler to Colonel Gansevoort.
"Albany October 7, 1779.
"Dear Sir,
"Having perused Gen. Sullivan's orders to you respecting the Indians of the lower Mohawk castle and their property, I conceive they are founded on misinformation given to that gentlemen; these Indians have peaceably remained there under the sanction of the public faith repeatedly given them by the commissioners of Indian affairs, on condition of peaceable demeanor; this contract they have not violated to our knowledge. It is therefore incumbent on us, as servants of the public, to keep the public faith inviolate; and we therefore entreat you to postpone the sending the Indians from hence until the pleasure of his Excellency, Gen. Washington, can be obtained, and a letter is already despatched to him on the occasion, and in which we have mentioned this application to you. I am, dear Sir, your most obedient, humble servant,
"Ph. Schuyler, President of the Board of Commissioners of Indian affairs, N. Department."
Copies of these letters were at the same time enclosed to the Commander-in-chief by Colonel Gansevoort, and the result was a speedy release of the poor Indians, with directions from General Washington that the Commissioners should "lay them under such obligations for their future good behavior as they should think necessary." [FN]
[FN] MS. letter of Washington to Colonel Gansevoort. In justice to General Sullivan respecting this crusade against the little neighborhood of friendly Mohawks, it should be stated that he acted under misinformation. In his official report, written from Tioga, September 30, he said:—"I directed Colonel Gansevoort to destroy the lower Mohawk castle in his route, and capture the inhabitants, consisting of only six or seven families, who were constantly employed in giving intelligence to the enemy, and in supporting their scouting parties when making incursions on our frontiers. When the Mohawks joined the enemy, those few families were undoubtedly left to answer those purposes, and keep possession of their lands."
Thus ended the memorable campaign of General Sullivan against the country of the Six Nations; and, however harshly that officer may have been spoken of by others, it is certain, from the letters of the Commander-in-chief, that his conduct was viewed in that quarter with the most decided approbation. The officers of the several corps engaged in the expedition held separate meetings, and testified the warmest regard in his behalf, and their approbation of the manner in which he had conducted the campaign. On the 14th of October Congress passed a resolution of thanks to General Washington for directing this expedition, and to "General Sullivan and the brave officers and soldiers under his command for its effectual execution." But at the very time of the adoption of the resolution, it was evident that it was carried by a reluctant vote. Sullivan had made such high demands for military stores, and had so freely complained of the government for inattention to those demands, as to give much offence to some members of Congress and to the Board of War. [FN] He, in consequence, resigned his commission on the 9th of November, under the convenient pretext of ill health. The resignation was accepted by Congress on the 30th of that month—accompanied, however, by a vote of thanks for past services.
[FN] Allen's Biographical Dictionary.
But there was yet another expedition against the Indians, devised and executed in conjunction, or rather simultaneously, with that of General Sullivan. This movement took place under the direction of Colonel Daniel Brodhead, then commanding at Fort Pitt, and was originally designed by the Commander-in-chief, after accomplishing the destruction of the Mingo, Munsey, and a portion of the Seneca Indians settled on the Allegheny river, for co-operation with that of Sullivan, by a junction at Niagara—a point, as it happened, unattained by either. Preparatory to this campaign, Washington had written to Colonel Brodhead, on the 22d of March, directing him to throw forward detachments of troops, the first to take post at Kittaning, and the second at Venango, and to build stockade forts at both places—observing the greatest possible secrecy in regard to ulterior operations. [FN-1] From various unforeseen difficulties, the project of a direct co-operation with Sullivan was abandoned on the 21st of April, and Colonel Brodhead was directed to make the necessary reconnaissances for a movement against Detroit, should such an expedition be deemed advisable. [FN-2] The result, however, was an independent campaign against the tribes or clans of Indians last above mentioned, inhabiting the head waters of the Allegheny river, French Creek, and other tributaries of the Ohio. Colonel Brodhead left Pittsburgh on the 11th of August, at the head of six hundred rank and file, including volunteers and militia, with provisions for one month. The first Indian town designed to be attacked was Cannowago. On their way thither, four days after their departure from Fort Pitt, Colonel Brodhead's advanced guard met a party of between thirty and forty Indian warriors descending the Allegheny in canoes. The Indians landed to give battle; but were defeated after a sharp brush, and put to flight, leaving five warriors dead, and evident marks that others had been carried off wounded. On arriving at Cannowago, the troops were mortified to find that the town had been deserted for eighteen months. Proceeding onward, however, they successively entered several towns, which were abandoned by the Indians on their approach. They were all destroyed, together with the adjacent corn-fields. At the upper Seneca town, called Yoghroonwago, they found a painted image, or war-post, clothed in dog-skin. There were several towns in the vicinity of this place, containing, in all, one hundred and thirty houses, some of which were large enough to accommodate three or four families each. These were all destroyed, together with their fields of corn, so extensive that the troops were occupied three days in accomplishing the object. The old towns of Buckloons and Maghinquechahocking, consisting of thirty-five large houses, were likewise burnt. The Indians had fled so precipitately as to leave some packages of skins and other booty, to the value of three thousand dollars—all of which was taken. Fields of corn were destroyed at least to the extent of five hundred acres. From the number of new houses building, and the extent of lands preparing for cultivation, it was conjectured that it was the intention of the whole Seneca and Munsey nation to plant themselves down in those settlements. [FN-3] The distance traversed by Colonel Brodhead, going and returning, was four hundred miles, and not a man was lost during the expedition.
[FN-1] Letter from Washington to Colonel Brodhead, March 22, 1779—Vide Sparks's Life and Correspondence, vol. vi.
[FN-2] Letter from the same to the same, April 21, 1779.
[FN-3] Official account of Colonel Brodhead. Upon this expedition, in connexion with that of Sullivan, the historian, Ramsay, remarks—"In this manner the savage part of the war was carried on. Waste, and sometimes cruelty, were inflicted and retorted, with infinite variety of scenes of horror and disgust. The selfish passions of human nature, unrestrained by social ties, broke over all bounds of decency or humanity."
The thanks of Congress were likewise voted to General Washington for devising, and to Colonel Brodhead for executing, this expedition. It has already been remarked, that as but few of the enemy were slain in these expeditions, the only immediate effect, beyond the destruction of provisions and property, was to exasperate the Indians. A more remote effect was to throw the whole body of the hostiles of the Six Nations back upon their British employers, for their entire support the following winter. Another consequence was, that from the want and distress of the Indians during that winter, a mortal disease was superinduced among them, which swept great numbers into eternity.
Still another effect of these sweeping invasions of the Indian country, was, at least for the time being, to terrify some of the tribes yet more remote. On Colonel Brodhead's return to Fort Pitt, September 14th, he found the chiefs of the Delawares, the principal chiefs of the Wyandots or Hurons, and the King of the Maquichee branch of the Shawanese, awaiting his arrival. Three days afterward the Colonel held a council with these forest dignitaries, on which occasion Doonyontat, the Wyandot chief, delivered the following speech:—
"Brother Maghingive Keeshuch, [FN] listen to me!"
[FN] The Indian name conferred upon Colonel Brodhead.
"Brother: It grieves me to see you with the tears in your eyes. I know it is the fault of the English.
"Brother: I wipe away all those tears, and smooth down your hair, which the English, and the folly of my young men, have ruffled.
"Now, my Brother, I have wiped away all the stains from your clothes, and smoothed them where my young men had ruffled them, so that you may now put on your hat, and sit with that ease and composure which you would desire.
"Four strings of white wampum.
"Brother: Listen to the Huron chiefs.
"Brother: I see you all bloody by the English and my young men. I now wipe away all those stains, and make you clean.
"Brother: I see your heart twisted, and neck and throat turned to the one side, with the grief and vexation which my young men have caused; all which disagreeable sensations I now remove, and restore you to your former tranquility, so that now you may breathe with ease, and enjoy the benefit of your food and nourishment.
"Brother: Your ears appear to be stopped, so that you cannot listen to your Brothers when they talk of friendship. That deafness I now remove, and all stoppage from your ears, that you may listen to the friendly speeches of your Brothers, and that they may sink deep into your heart.
"Seven strings of white wampum.
"Brother: Listen to me. When I look around me, I see the bones of our nephews lie scattered and unburied.
"Brother: I gather up the bones of all our young men on both sides, who have fallen in this dispute, without any distinction of party.
"Brother: I have now gathered up the bones of our relations on both sides, and will bury them in a large deep grave, and smooth it over so that there shall not be the least sign of bones, or any thing to raise any grief or anger in any of our minds hereafter.
"Brother: I have now buried the bones of all our relations very deep. You very well know that there are some of your flesh and blood in our hands prisoners: I assure you that you shall see them all safe and well.
"Eight strings of white wampum.
"Brother: I now look up to where our Maker is, and think there is some darkness still over our heads, so that God can hardly see us, on account of the evil doings of the King over the great waters. All these thick clouds, which have arisen on account of that bad King, I now entirely remove, that God may look and see us in our treaty of friendship, and be a witness to the truth and sincerity of our intentions.
"Four strings of white wampum.
"Brother: As God puts all our hearts right, I now give thanks to God Almighty, to the chief men of the Americans, to my old father the King of France, and to you, Brother, that we can now talk together on friendly terms, and speak our sentiments without interruption.
"Four strings of black and white wampum.
"Brother: You knew me before you saw me, and that I had not drawn away my hand from yours, as I sent you word last year by Captain White Eyes.
"Brother: I look up to Heaven, and call God Almighty to witness to the truth of what I say, and that it really comes from my heart.
"Brother: I now tell you that I have forever thrown off my father the English, and will never give him any assistance; and there are some amongst all the nations that think the same things that I do, and I wish that they would all think so.
"Brother: I cannot answer for all the nations, as I don't know all their thoughts, and will speak only what I am sure of.
"Brother: Listen to me. I love all the nations, and hate none, and when I return home they shall all hear what you say and what is done between us.
"Brother: I have just now told you that I loved all the nations, and I see you raising up the hatchet against my younger Brother, the Shawanese. [FN] I beg of you to stop a little while, as he has never yet heard me; and when he has heard me, if he does not choose to think as we do, I will tell you of it immediately."
[FN] Colonel Clarke, the captor of Hamilton, was at that time preparing to invade the principal Shawanese towns—a purpose which he executed some time afterward.—Author.
"Brother: I intend to speak roughly to my younger brother, and tell him not to listen to the English, but throw them off, and listen to me, and then he may live as I do.
"Brother: I thank you for leaving the fortress at Tuscarawas, and am convinced by that that you have taken pity on us, and want to make us your friends.
"Brother: I now take a firmer hold of your hand than before, and beg that you will take pity upon the other nations who are my friends; and if any of them should incline to take hold of your hand, I request that you would comply, and receive them into friendship.
"A black belt of eleven rows.
"Brother: Listen. I tell you to be cautious, as I think you intend to strike the man near to where I sit, not to go the nighest way to where he is, lest you frighten the owners of the lands who are living through the country between this and that place." [FN]
[FN] Referring to the projected movement of Colonel Brodhead against Detroit—a purpose never executed.
"Brother: You now listen to me, and one favor I beg of you is, that when you drive away your enemies, you will allow me to continue in possession of my property, which, if you grant, will rejoice me.
"Brother: I would advise you, when you strike the man near where I sit, to go by water, as it will be the easiest and best way.
"Brother: If you intend to strike, one way is to go up the Allegheny, and by Presq' Isle; another way is to go down this river and up the Wabash.
"Brother: The reason why I mentioned the road up the river is, that there will be no danger of your being discovered until you are close upon them, but on the road down the river you will be spied.
"Brother: Now I have told you the way by Presq' Isle, and that it is the boundary between us and your enemies; if you go by the Wabash, your friends will not be surprised.
"Brother: You must not think that what I have said is only my own thoughts, but the opinion of all the Huron chiefs, and I speak in behalf of them all. If you grant what favors I have asked of you, all our friends and relations will be thankful and glad as far as they can hear all round.
"Brother: The reason why I have pointed out these two roads is, that when we hear you are in one of them, we will know your intentions without farther notice; and the Huron chiefs desired me particularly to mention it, that they may meet you in your walk, and tell you what they have done, who are your enemies, and who are your friends, and I, in their name, request a pair of colors to show that we have joined in friendship.
"Fourteen strings of black wampum.
"Brother: The chiefs desired me to tell you that they sent Montour before to tell you their intention, and they leave him to go with you, that when you meet your Brothers, you may consult together, and understand one another by his means."
On the 19th Colonel Brodhead addressed the Huron chief in reply, after the Indian form. He told him, distinctly, that fair words were no longer to be taken, unless their sincerity was attested by their deeds. In regard to the roads to Detroit, he said he should select whichever he pleased. As for the Shawanese, the Colonel told the chief that he had sent them a fair speech, which they had thrown into the fire, and he should not now recall Colonel Clarke. And in regard to the people of the chief himself, the Colonel demanded, as the basis of peace, that they should stipulate to restore all American prisoners in their hands; to kill, scalp, and take, as many of the English and their allies as they had killed and taken of the Americans; and on every occasion to join the Americans against their enemies. The Wyandots assented to the terms, and hostages were required for the faithful performance of their agreement.
The Delawares were at that time at peace with the United States, and a small body of their warriors had accompanied Colonel Brodhead on the expedition from which he had just returned. The business having been closed with the Huron chiefs the Delawares interposed in behalf of the Maquichee clan of the Shawanese. These Indians were now apparently very humble; but, apprehensive that they might not perhaps manage their own case very well, the Delawares had kept them back from the council, and undertaken their cause themselves. Kelleleman, a Delaware chief, informed Colonel Brodhead that on arriving there, their grand-children [FN] had addressed them thus:—
[FN] In Indian parlance the Delawares were styled the "Grandfathers" of the Shawanese; and hence the use, in these proceedings, of the terms reciprocally of "Grand-children" and "Grandfathers."
"Grandfathers: We are humble, and are now come unto you. Now I am come to you, I take my hands and wipe your eyes, that you may clearly see the light, and that these are your grand-children who now appear before you, and likewise remove every obstruction from your eyes, that you may hear and understand me. I also compose your heart, that you may be disposed to pity your poor grand-children, as your ancient chiefs used to pity their grand-children, the Maquichees, when they were poor or humble before them. Now, my grandfathers, I tell you to pity your grand-children, the Maquichees, and whatever you direct them to do, will be done. Now you have heard your grand-children speak, and you will judge what to say to your brother, Maghingive Keeshuch:
"Two strings of white wampum.
"Now, grandfathers, here is a little tobacco to fill your pipes, that you may consider and pity your grand-children the Maquichees."
Kelleleman farther reported to Colonel Brodhead, that after the foregoing speech, Keeshmattsee, a Maquichee chief, rose and said to the Delawares:—
"Grandfathers: I now take my chief and counselor, Nimwha, and set him down on the ground before you, that he may assist you in considering the distressed situation of your grand-children."
Another Delaware chief, named Killbush, then addressed Colonel Brodhead thus:—
"Brother Maghingive Keeshuch: Listen to me. You always told me that when any nations came to treat of peace, I should first speak to them, and tell you my sentiments of them; which I am now come to do in regard to my grand-children, the Maquichees.
"I told them I was much obliged to them for clearing my eyes, my ears, and composing my heart, and that it was time, for many bad things enter into my ears."
Then turning to the Maquichees, Killbush continued his speech:—
"I remember you told me to pity you, and it is true I have pitied you, my grand-children, the Shawanese.
"Now I tell you, my grand-children, it is very well you put me in mind of my wise ancestors, who, out of pity, took you up and placed you before them.
"My grand-children: The Maquichees, it is true, you have done no harm, but I see some stains of blood upon you, which the mischief and folly of some of your young men have occasioned. Now, my grand-children, I will advise you how to be cleansed from your bloody stains; deliver to our brother Maghingive Keeshuch all his flesh and blood which are prisoners in your hands, and the horses you have stolen from the Americans. My grand-children, when you have done this, you will then be clean; your flesh and heart will be the same as mine, and I can again take you up and set you down before me, as our wise chiefs formerly did.
"Now, my grand-children, I tell you that for several years past you have been fraught with lies, which I am tired of hearing, and in future you must tell me nothing but the truth.
"Now listen to me, my grand-children; you see how dreadful the day looks, and how thick the clouds appear; don't imagine this day to be like that on which you first came to your grandfathers. I tell you that I have finished the chain of friendship. The thirteen United States and I are one. I have already assisted my brother in taking the flesh of the English and the Mingoes. You told me just now, that whatever I told you, you would do; now I offer you the flesh of the English and Mingoes to eat, and that is the only method I know of by which your lives may be preserved, and you allowed to live in peace," (delivering them a string of wampum and two scalps.) They received the string and scalps, and said they were glad to know this; and, as they had before said, whatever their grandfathers told them, they would do, so they told them again on receiving the scalps. They said, "now, grandfathers, I am very glad to hear what you have said; I have got in my hand what you say will save my life," and immediately sang his war-song. The speaker, having danced, delivered the scalps to the king, who likewise rose and sang the war-song, and said; "Now, my grandfathers, although you have often sent good speeches to the other tribes of the Shawanese nation, yet they would not receive them, but still took up the tomahawk to strike your brothers. I will now go and deliver them what I now have in my hands, which I suppose they will receive."
These proceedings were closed by the following speech from one of the Delawares to Colonel Brodhead:—
"Brother: We now let you know the result of our council respecting the Maquichees.
"Brother: Listen. This is the way I have considered the matter, and if I am mistaken I am very sorry for it Brother, let us both consider of it. I thought when I looked in his eyes that he was sincere.
"Brother: I think the Maquichees are honest In former times they were the best of the Shawanese nation. I think we may take them by the hand; and you know you told me that any nation I took by the hand, you would also receive."
The conference appears to have been satisfactory to Colonel Brodhead. But if the Maquichee clan of the Shawanese preserved their fidelity, the main body of the nation became none the less unfriendly by their means. And although Colonel Brodhead had admonished them that he would not countermand the orders to Colonel Clarke to strike them, it so happened that the first and severest blow was struck by the Shawanese themselves. It was but a short time after the closing of the council at Fort Pitt, that a detachment of seventy men from the Kentucky district of Virginia, under the command of Major Rodgers, was surprised while ascending the Ohio, and nearly exterminated. The Kentuckians were drawn ashore by a stratagem. At first a few Indians only appeared, standing upon a sand-bar near the mouth of the Licking river, while a canoe, with three other Indians, was paddling toward them as though to receive them on board. Rodgers immediately put in to the Kentucky shore, and having made fast his boats, went in pursuit. Only five or six Indians had been seen, and Rodgers, presuming that the whole party would not probably exceed fifteen or twenty at farthest, felt perfectly sure of an easy victory—having seventy men, well armed and provided. Proceeding cautiously toward the point where he supposed he should surround the enemy, and having adjusted his movements with that design, at the very moment when he was preparing to rush forward and secure them, he found himself with his whole force in the midst of an ambuscade! The Indians rose in a cloud of hundreds on all sides of him, and pouring in a close and deadly fire upon the Americans, rushed upon the survivors tomahawk in hand. Major Rodgers, and forty-five of his men were killed almost instantly. The residue ran for the boats, but the guard of only five men who had been left in charge, had sought security by putting off in one of them, while the Indians had already anticipated the fugitives by taking possession of the others. The possibility of retreat being thus cut off, the brave fellows now turned furiously upon the enemy; and as night was approaching, after a sharp fight for some time, a small number, aided by the darkness, succeeded in effecting their escape to Harrodsburgh.
Among the wounded in this sharp and bloody encounter, who escaped both death and captivity, were Captain Robert Benham, and another man, whose cases, together, form a novel and romantic adventure. Benham was shot through both hips, and the bones being shattered, he instantly fell. Still, aided by the darkness, he succeeded in crawling among the thick branches of a fallen tree, where he lay without molestation through the night and during the following day, while the Indians, who had returned for that purpose, were stripping the slain. He continued to lie close in the place of his retreat until the second day, when, becoming hungry, and observing a raccoon descending a tree, he managed to shoot it—hoping to be able to strike a fire, and cook the animal. The crack of the rifle was followed by a human cry, which at first startled the Captain; but the cry being repeated, several times, the voice of a Kentuckian was at length recognized; the call was returned; and the parties were soon together. The man proved to be one of his comrades, who had lost both of his arms in the battle. Never before did misery find more welcome company. One of the parties could use his feet, and the other his hands. Benham, by tearing up his own and his companion's shirts, dressed the wounds of both. He could load his rifle and fire with readiness, and was thus enabled to kill such game as approached, while his companion could roll the game along upon the ground with his feet, and in the same manner collect wood enough together to cook their meals. When thirsty, Benham could place his hat in the teeth of his companion, who went to the Licking, and wading in until he could stoop down and fill it, returned with a hat-full of water. When the stock of squirrels, and other small game in their immediate neighborhood, was exhausted, the man on his legs would roam away, and drive up a flock of wild turkeys, then abundant in those parts, until they came within the range of Benham's rifle. Thus they lived, helps meet for each other, during the period of six weeks, when they discovered a boat upon the Ohio, which took them off. Both recovered thoroughly from their wounds. [FN]
[FN] Captain Benham afterward served with bravery in the Indian wars of 1789-94, sharing the disaster of St. Clair and the victory of Wayne. At the close of the Revolution, he purchased the land whereon he was wounded at the time of Rodgers's defeat, built a house there, and there lived and died.
No other events of moment occurred in the region professedly embraced in the present history, during the residue of the year 1779; and the progress of the war in other parts of the Union had been marked with but few signal actions. The active operations of this year between the British forces proper and the Americans, had commenced in the south, to the command of which section of the country General Lincoln had been assigned at the close of 1778. The first occurrence was the surprise and defeat, on the 3d of March, of General Ash, commanding a body of fifteen hundred North Carolina militia, stationed at the confluence of Briar Creek, on the Savannah river, by the British General Provost. There were about sixty regular troops under General Ash, who fought well. But the militia, as usual, threw away their arms and fled, with the exception of about three hundred, who were either killed or taken. In May, General Provost invested Charleston, but raised the siege on the approach of Lincoln upon his rear. He at first retired to the island, but soon withdrew to Savannah, where he was in turn besieged by Lincoln in October, on the land side, and by the French fleet under the Count D'Estaing by water. Repulsed in an injudicious assault, after much brave fighting by both Americans and French, the fleet of the latter left the continent, and the siege was raised—the militia flying to their homes, and General Lincoln retiring to Charleston. In this assault, among other proud spirits, fell the brave Polish Count Pulaski—who had signalized himself in his own country by carrying off King Stanislaus from his capital, assisted by only a party of associate Catholic conspirators. The only relief to this disastrous affair, was the capture, by Colonel John White of Georgia, and Captain Elholm, with four other men, of a British detachment of one hundred men, forty sailors, and five armed vessels, at Ogechee, by a very ingenious and efficacious stratagem. Kindling a large number of fires, after the manner of an encampment, they summoned the British commander, Captain French, to surrender, or they would cut his flotilla to pieces. Supposing, by the lines of fires, that there was a greatly superior force against them, the enemy surrendered at discretion.
In the middle and northern sections of the Union, the contest during the Summer had assumed the character rather of a predatory warfare than of regular campaigns. Sir George Collier and General Matthews made a plundering expedition on the coast of Virginia, and after sacking Norfolk and parts adjacent, returned to New-York with their booty. In July a combined expedition by land and water was directed, under Sir George and Governor Tryon, against Connecticut. New-Haven was taken and sacked. Several houses in East Haven were burnt. Fairfield, Green's Farms, and Norwalk, were likewise taken, plundered, and laid in ashes. The Americans, consisting chiefly of militia, under General Lovell, made an attempt upon a British post at Penobscot, which was commenced gallantly. But the arrival of Sir George Collier's fleet, with reinforcements, obliged the General to abandon the enterprise. These untoward events, however, were relieved by Major Lee's surprise and capture of the British fort at Paulus Hook, and by the still more brilliant affair of the capture of Stony Point by General Wayne.
CHAPTER II.
Progress of the war in the South—Fall of Charleston—Brilliant achievements—Rigorous winter of 1780—Destruction of the Oneida Castle and villages—Third marriage of Brant—Irruption into Harpersfield—Captivity of Captain Harper, Freegift Patchin, and others—Conduct of Brant—Consultation whether to put the prisoners to death—-Sagacity and firmness of Harper—Marched off for Niagara—Remarkable adventures by the way—Murder of an old man—Cure of the fever and ague—A thrilling scene—Sufferings for food—Justice and impartiality of Brant—Approach to Niagara—The ordeal—Humane device of Brant to save his Prisoners from the trial—Arrival at Niagara—Farther irruptions of the Indians—Shawangunk—Saugerties— Captivity of Captain Snyder and his son—Arrival at Niagara—Examination—Guy Johnson, Butler and Brant—Prisoners sent to Montreal—The Mohawk Valley—Bravery of Solomon Woodruff—Irruption to Little Falls—Burning of Ellis's Mills—Incidents on the Ohio—Bold exploit of McConnel—Attack of Colonel Bird, with his Indians, upon the Licking Settlement—Colonel Clarke takes vengeance upon the Shawanese.
The succeeding year opened inauspiciously to the American arms. No sooner had Sir Henry Clinton heard of the departure of Count D'Estaing from the Southern coast with the French fleet, than he prepared for a formidable descent upon South Carolina. Charleston was the first and most prominent object of attack. The expedition destined upon this service left New-York about the close of January, and in due season the troops effected their landing about thirty miles from Charleston. The object of the enemy could not be mistaken, and General Lincoln made every exertion for the defence of the important post entrusted to his command, by increasing his forces and strengthening his works. Before the middle of April the town was invested by sea and land, and Lincoln was summoned to surrender—which summons with modest firmness he declined to obey. Clinton having succeeded in all his preliminary operations—Tarleton having cut up Colonel White's cavalry on the Santee, and Fort Moultrie having surrendered to the Royal Navy—the garrison, finding itself without reasonable hope of relief, proposed terms of capitulation, which were rejected by the British commander. Hostilities were meantime prosecuted with great energy, and after a tremendous cannonade and bombardment, lasting from the 6th to the 11th of May, General Lincoln was forced into a capitulation. His garrison consisted, all told, of about five thousand men—of whom no more than two thousand were continental troops. The loss was heavy—including upward of four hundred pieces of cannon.
Having accomplished this object, Sir Henry divided his forces into three columns, dispatching them in as many directions, with a view of overrunning the whole Southern states. Clinton, himself, returned to New-York; and then commenced that remarkable course of partizan warfare in the South, which called forth so much of high and chivalrous daring in Marion, Sumpter, and their associates in arms, and which was attended with so many brilliant exploits. There are no more vivid and thrilling pages in American history than the records of those partizan operations, the incidents of which amounted to little in themselves, separately considered; but in the general results they were of infinite importance to the cause of the republic—since the invaders were, in fact, weakened by every victory, while defeat did not discourage the Americans, who were gaining both moral and physical strength by the protraction of the struggle. But these distant glances are incidental—the North being the main field of research.
The devastation of their country by General Sullivan—the destruction of their houses, as well as their means of subsistence—had driven the Indians back upon Niagara for the winter of 1779-80—the usual winter-quarters of Brant, Guy Johnson, and the Butlers—father and son. As had been anticipated by the American Commander-in-chief, the Indians suffered greatly by destitution and consequent sickness during that winter, which was one of unexampled rigor in North America. [FN-1] But neither the inclemency of the weather, nor the wants of the Indians at Niagara, prevented them from fulfilling the threat of Sir Frederick Haldimand against the Oneidas. Their villages and castle were invaded by the hostile Indians, aided by a detachment of British troops, or more probably by a corps of Butler's rangers, and entirely destroyed—their castle, their church, and their dwellings being alike laid in ashes; while the Oneidas themselves were driven down upon the white settlements for protection and support. They were subsequently planted in the neighborhood of Schenectady, where they were supported by the government of the United States until the close of the war. [FN-2]
[FN-1] The harbor of New-York was not merely choked with ice for a time during the Winter of 1779-80, but so thoroughly frozen that cannon were wheeled over to the city on the ice from Staten Island.
[FN-2] There is difficulty in ascertaining the exact time of Brant's invasion of the Oneida towns. Although an important event in the border ware, the author has not been able to obtain dates or particulars. The fact is well known; and President Kirkland, (son of the Oneida Missionary,) has spoken of the incident several times in his communications to the Massachusetts Historical Society—published in their valuable collections. In one of those communications, Dr. Kirkland remarks that this dispersion of the Oneidas, and the devastation of their country, were greatly detrimental to their nation. When the war came on, they had attained to some degree of regularity, industry, and prosperity. But, driven from their homes, reduced to want, dependence, and abject poverty, their habits became more intemperate and idle than ever, and they never recovered from their depression.
Aside from the destruction of the Oneida country, it is believed that no important object was undertaken by Thayendanegea until the opening of Spring. It may be noted, however, incidentally, as an illustration of the character of the Mohawk chief, that during this winter he was married to his third wife, at the fort of Niagara, under circumstances somewhat peculiar. Among the prisoners taken to that post from Cherry Valley, was a Miss Moore, who, being detained in captivity with Mrs. Campbell and others, was courted and married by an officer of the garrison. Thayendanegea was present at the wedding; and although he had for some time previous been living with his wife, bound only by the ties of an Indian marriage, he nevertheless embraced the opportunity of having the English marriage ceremony performed, which was accordingly done by Colonel Butler, acting as one of the King's commission of the peace for Tryon County.
But the chief was seldom inactive. The month of April found him on the war-path, at the head of a small party of Indians and Tories, whom he led against the settlement of Harpersfield, which was taken by surprise and destroyed. In consequence of their exposed situation, most of the inhabitants had left the settlement, so that there were but few persons killed, and only nineteen taken prisoners. Proceeding from Harpersfield, it was Brant's design to make an attack upon the upper fort of Schoharie, should he deem it prudent to encounter the risk, after duly reconnoitering the situation of the fort and ascertaining its means of defence. The execution of this part of his project was prevented by an unexpected occurrence. Harpersfield was probably destroyed on the 5th or 6th of April. It happened that nearly at the same time, Colonel Vrooman, who was yet in command of Old Schoharie, had sent out a scout of fourteen militia-minute-men, with directions to pass over to the head waters of the Charlotte river, and keep an eye upon the movements of certain suspected persons living in the valley of that stream. It being the proper season for making maple sugar, the minute-men were likewise directed to remain in the woods and manufacture a quantity of that article, of which the garrison were greatly in want. On the 2d of April, this party, the commander of which was Captain Alexander Harper, commenced their labors in the "sugar-bush," at the distance of about thirty miles from Schoharie. They were occupied in the discharge of this part of their duty, very cheerfully and with good success, for several days, entirely unapprehensive of danger; more especially as a new fall of snow, to the depth of three feet, would prevent, they supposed, the moving of any considerable body of the enemy, while in fact they were not aware of the existence of an armed foe short of Niagara. But their operations were most unexpectedly interrupted. It seems that Brant, in wending his way from Harpersfield toward Schoharie, fell suddenly upon Harper and his party on the 7th of April, at about two o'clock in the afternoon, and immediately surrounded them—his force consisting of forty-three Indian warriors and seven Tories. So silent and cautious had been the approach of the enemy, that the first admonition Harper received of their presence, was the death of three of his little band, [FN] who were struck down while engaged in their work. The leader was instantly discovered in the person of the Mohawk chief, who rushed up to Captain Harper, tomahawk in hand, and observed—"Harper, I am sorry to find you here!" "Why are you sorry, Captain Brant?" replied the other. "Because," rejoined the chief, "I must kill you, although we were school-mates in our youth,"—at the same time raising his hatchet, and suiting the action to the word. Suddenly his arm fell, and with a piercing scrutiny, looking Harper full in the face, he inquired—"Are there any regular troops at the forts in Schoharie." Harper caught the idea in an instant. To answer truly, and admit that there were none, as was the fact, would but hasten Brant and his warriors forward to fall upon the settlements at once, and their destruction would have been swift and sure. He therefore informed him that a reinforcement of three hundred Continental troops had arrived to garrison the forts only two or three days before. This information appeared very much to disconcert the chieftain. He prevented the farther shedding of blood, and held a consultation with his subordinate chiefs. Night coming on, Harper and his ten surviving companions were shut up in a pen of logs, and guarded by the Tories, under the charge of their leader, a cruel fellow named Becraft, and of bloody notoriety in that war. Controversy ran high among the Indians during the night—the question being, whether the prisoners should be put to death or carried to Niagara. They were bound hand and foot, but were so near the Indian council as to hear much of what was said, and Harper knew enough of the Indian tongue to comprehend the general import of their debates. The Indians were for putting them to death; and Becraft frequently tantalized the prisoners, by telling them, with abusive tones and epithets, that "they would be in hell before morning." Brant's authority, however, was exerted effectually to prevent the massacre.
[FN] The late General Freegift Patchin, of Schoharie, was one of Harper's party, as also were his brother, Isaac Patchin, Ezra Thorp, Lt. Henry Thorp, and Major Henry. It is from Priest's Narrative of the captivity of General Patchin, that the author obtained the facts of this transaction.
On the following morning Harper was brought before the Indians for examination. The Chief commenced by saying, that they were suspicious he had not told them the truth. Harper, however, had great coolness and presence of mind; and although Brant was eying him like a basilisk, he repeated his former statements without the improper movement of a muscle, or betraying the least distrustful sign or symptom. Being satisfied, therefore, of the truth of his story, Brant determined to retrace his steps to Niagara. This he did with great reluctance—admitting to Captain Harper that the real object of his expedition was to fall upon Schoharie, which place, as they had been informed, was almost entirely undefended. He had promised to lead his warriors to spoils and victory, and they were angry at being thus cut short of their expectations. Under these circumstances of chagrin and disappointment, it had only been with great difficulty that he could restrain his followers from putting them to death. Brant then said to Captain Harper, that he and his companions should be spared, on condition of accompanying him as prisoners of war to Niagara.
Their march was forthwith commenced, and was full of pain, peril, and adventure. The prisoners were heavily laden with the booty taken from Harpersfield, and well guarded. Their direction was first down the Delaware, where they stopped at a mill to obtain provisions. The miller was a Tory, and both himself and daughters counseled Brant to put his prisoners to death. On the following day they met another loyalist, who was well acquainted with Brant, and with Captain Harper and his party. He assured the former that Harper had deceived him, and that there were no troops at Schoharie. The Captain was, therefore, brought to another scrutiny; but he succeeded so well in maintaining the appearance of sincerity and truth, as again to avert the upraised and glittering tomahawk. On the same day an aged man, named Brown, was accidentally fallen in with and taken prisoner, with two youthful grandsons; the day following, being unable to travel with sufficient speed, and sinking under the weight of the burden imposed upon him, the old man was put out of the way with the hatchet. The victim was dragging behind, and when he saw preparations making for his doom, he took an affectionate farewell of his little grandsons, and the Indians moved on, leaving one of their number, with his face painted black—the mark of an executioner—behind with him. In a few moments afterward, the Indian came up, with the old man's scalp dangling from between the ramrod and muzzle of his gun.
Having descended the Delaware a sufficient distance, they crossed over to Oghkwaga, where they constructed floats, and sailed down the Susquehanna to the confluence of the Chemung, at which place their land-traveling again commenced. Being heavily encumbered with luggage, and withal tightly pinioned, the prisoners must have sunk by the way, at the rate the Indians traveled, and would probably have been tomahawked but for the indisposition of Brant, who, providentially for the prisoners, was attacked with fever and ague—so that every alternate day he was unable to travel. These interruptions gave them time to rest and recruit. Brant wrought his own cure by a truly Indian remedy. Watching upon the southern side of a hill, where serpents usually crawl forth in the Spring to bask in the sunbeams, he caught a rattlesnake, which was immediately made into soup, of which he ate. A speedy cure was the consequence.
But a new trial awaited the prisoners soon after they reached the Chemung. During his march from Niagara on this expedition, Brant had detached eleven of his warriors to fall once more upon the Minisink settlement for prisoners. This detachment, as it subsequently appeared, had succeeded in taking captive five athletic men, whom they secured and brought with them as far as Tioga Point. The Indians sleep very soundly, and the five prisoners had resolved at the first opportunity to make their escape. While encamped at this place during the night, one of the Minisink men succeeded in extricating his hands from the binding cords, and with the utmost caution unloosed his four companions. The Indians were locked in the arms of deep sleep around them. Silently, without causing a leaf to rustle, they each snatched a tomahawk from the girdles of their unconscious enemies, and in a moment nine of them were quivering in the agonies of death. The two others were awakened, and springing upon their feet, attempted to escape. One of them was struck with a hatchet between the shoulders, but the other fled. The prisoners immediately made good their own retreat, and the only Indian who escaped unhurt, returned to take care of his wounded companion. As Brant and his warriors approached this point of their journey, some of his Indians having raised a whoop, it was instantly returned by a single voice with the death yell! Startled at this unexpected signal, Brant's warriors rushed forward to ascertain the cause. But they were not long in doubt. The lone warrior met them, and soon related to his brethren the melancholy fate of his companions. The effect upon the warriors, who gathered in a group to hear the recital, was inexpressibly fearful. Rage, and a desire of revenge, seemed to kindle every bosom, and light every eye as with burning coals. They gathered round the prisoners in a circle, and began to make unequivocal preparations for hacking them to pieces. Harper and his men of course gave themselves up for lost, not doubting that their doom was fixed and irreversible. But at this moment deliverance came from an unexpected quarter. While their knives were unsheathing, and their hatchets glittering, as they were flourished in the sunbeams, the only survivor of the murdered party rushed into the circle and interposed in their favor. With a wave of the hand as of a warrior entitled to be heard—for he was himself a chief—silence was restored, and the prisoners were surprised by the utterance of an earnest appeal in their behalf. It has already been observed that Captain Harper knew enough of the Indian language to understand its purport, though unfortunately not enough to preserve its eloquence. In substance, however, the Chief appealed to his brother warriors in favor of the prisoners, upon the ground that it was not they who had murdered their brothers; and to take the lives of the innocent would not be right in the eyes of the Great Spirit. His appeal was effective. The passions of the incensed warriors were hushed, their eyes no longer shot forth the burning glances of revenge, and their gesticulations ceased to menace immediate and bloody vengeance.
True, it so happened that the Chief who had thus thrown himself spontaneously between them and death, knew all the prisoners—he having resided in the Schoharie canton of the Mohawks before the war. He doubtless felt a deeper interest in their behalf on that account. Still, it was a noble action, worthy of the proudest era of chivalry, and in the palmy days of Greece and Rome, would have ensured him almost "an apotheosis and rites divine." The interposition of Pocahontas, in favor or Captain Smith, before the rude court of Powhattan, was perhaps more romantic; but when the motive which prompted the generous action of the princess is considered, the transaction now under review exhibits the most of genuine benevolence. Pocahontas was moved by the tender passion—the Mohawk sachem by the feelings of magnanimity, and the eternal principles of justice. It is matter of regret that the name of this high-souled warrior is lost, as, alas! have been too many that might have served to relieve the dark and vengeful portraitures of Indian character, which it has so well pleased the white man to draw! The prisoners themselves were so impressed with the manner of their signal deliverance, that they justly attributed it to a direct interposition of the providence of God.
The march was now resumed toward Niagara, along the route traveled by Sullivan's expedition the preceding year. Their sufferings were great for want of provisions—neither warriors nor prisoners having any thing more than a handful of corn each for dinner. A luxury, however, awaited them, in the remains of a horse which had been left by Sullivan's expedition to perish from the severity of the winter. The wolves had eaten all the flesh from the poor animal's bones, excepting upon the under side. When the carcass was turned over, a quantity of the flesh yet remained, which was equally distributed among the whole party, and devoured. On reaching the Genessee river, they met a party of Indians preparing to plant corn. These laborers had a fine horse, which Brant directed to be instantly killed, dressed, and divided among his famishing company. They had neither bread nor salt; but Brant instructed the prisoners to use the white ashes of the wood they were burning as a substitute for the latter ingredient, and it was found to answer an excellent purpose. The meal was partaken of, and relished as the rarest delicacy they had ever eaten. In regard to provisions, it must be mentioned to the credit of Captain Brant, that he was careful to enforce an equal distribution of all they had among his own warriors and the prisoners. All fared exactly alike.
On his arrival at the Genessee river, and in anticipation of his own departure with his prisoners for Niagara, Brant sent forward a messenger to that post, bearing information of his approach, with the measure of his success and the number of his prisoners. But it was not merely for the purpose of conveying this intelligence that he dispatched his avant courier. He had another object in view, as will appear in the sequel, the conception and execution of which add a link to the chain of testimony establishing the humanity and benevolence of his disposition. Four days more of travel brought the party to within a few miles of the fort; and the Tories now took special delight in impressing upon the prisoners the perils and the sufferings they must endure, in the fearful ordeal they would have to pass, on approaching the two Indian encampments in front of the fort. This ordeal was nothing less than running the gauntlet, as it is called in Indian warfare—a doom supposed to be inevitable to every prisoner; and one which, by direct means, even Thayendanegea himself had not sufficient power to prevent.
The running of the gauntlet, or rather compelling their prisoners to run it, on the return of a war-party to their camp or village, is a general custom among the American aboriginals—a preliminary that must precede their ultimate fate, either of death or mercy. It is not always severe, however, nor even generally so, unless in respect to prisoners who have excited the particular animosity of the Indians; and it is often rather a scene of amusement than punishment. Much depends on the courage and presence of mind of the prisoner undergoing the ordeal. On entering the village or camp, he is shown a painted post at the distance of some thirty or forty yards, and directed to run to, and catch hold of it as quickly as possible. His path to the post lies between two parallel lines of people—men, women, and children,—armed with hatchets, knives, sticks, and other offensive weapons; and as he passes along, each is at liberty to strike him as severely and as frequently as he can. Should he be so unfortunate as to stumble, or fall in the way, he may stand a chance to lose his life—especially if any one in the ranks happens to have a personal wrong to avenge. But the moment he reaches the goal he is safe, until final judgment has been pronounced upon his case. When a prisoner displays great firmness and courage, starting upon the race with force and agility, he will probably escape without much injury; and sometimes, when his bearing excites the admiration of the savages, entirely unharmed. But woe to the coward whose cheeks blanch, and whose nerves are untrue! The slightest manifestation of fear will deprive him of mercy, and probably of his life. [FN]
[FN] Heckewelder. "In the month of April, 1782, when I was myself a prisoner, at Lower Sandusky, waiting for an opportunity to proceed to Detroit, I witnessed a scene of this description which fully exemplified what I have above stated. Three American prisoners were one day brought in by fourteen warriors from the garrison of Fort McIntosh. As soon as they had crossed the Sandusky river, to which the village lay adjacent, they were told by the Captain of the party to run as hard as they could to a painted post which was shown to them. The youngest of them, without a moment's hesitation, immediately started for it, and reached it fortunately without receiving a single blow; the second hesitated for a moment, but recollecting himself, he also ran as fast as he could, and likewise reached the post unhurt. But the third, frightened at seeing so many men, women, and children, with weapons in their hands ready to strike him, kept begging the Captain to spare his life, saying he was a mason, and would build him a large stone house, or do any work for him that he should please. 'Run for your life,' cried the Chief to him, 'and don't talk now of building houses!' But the poor fellow still insisted, begging and praying to the Captain; who, at last, finding his exhortations vain, and fearing the consequences, turned his back upon him, and would not hear him any longer. Our mason now began to run, but received many a hard blow, one of which nearly brought him to the ground, which, if he had fallen, would at once have decided his fate. He, however, reached the goal, not without being badly bruised, and he was, besides, bitterly reproached and scoffed at all round as a vile coward; while the others were hailed as brave men, and received tokens of universal approbation"—Idem.
Such was the scene which Harper and his fellow-prisoners now had in near prospect. They of course well knew the usages of Indian warfare, and must expect to submit. Nor was the chance of escape from injury very cheering, enfeebled and worn down as they were by their journey and its privations. Miserable comforters, therefore, were their Tory guards, who were tantalising them in anticipation, by describing this approaching preliminary cruelty. But on emerging from the woods, and approaching the first Indian encampment, what was the surprise of the prisoners, and the chagrin of their conductors, at finding the Indian warriors absent from the encampment, and their place supplied by a regiment of British soldiers! There were only a few Indian boys and some old women in the camp; and these offered no violence to the prisoners, excepting one of the squaws, who struck young Patchin over the head with an instrument which caused the blood to flow freely. But the second encampment, lying nearest the fort, and usually occupied by the fiercest and most savage of the Indian warriors, was yet to be passed. On arriving at this, also, the Indians were gone, and another regiment of troops were on parade, formed in two parallel lines, to protect the prisoners. Thus the Mohawk chief led his prisoners directly through the dreaded encampments, and brought them safely into the fort. Patchin, however, received another severe blow in this camp, and a young Indian menaced him with his tomahawk. But as he raised his arm, a soldier snatched the weapon from his hand, and threw it into the river.
The solution of this unexpected deliverance from the gauntlet-race was this:—Miss Jane Moore, the Cherry Valley prisoner whose marriage to an officer of the Niagara garrison has already been mentioned, was the niece of Captain Harper—a fact well known to Brant. Harper, however, knew nothing of her marriage, or in fact of her being at Niagara, and the chief had kept the secret to himself. On his arrival at the Genessee river, his anxious desire was to save his prisoners from the cruel ordeal-trial, and he despatched the runner, as before mentioned, with a message to Jane Moore's husband, whose name was Powell, advising him of the fact, and proposing an artifice, by which to save his wife's uncle, and his associates, from the accustomed ceremony. For this purpose, by concert with Brant, Powell had managed to have the Indian warriors enticed away to the Nine Mile Landing, for a frolic, the means of holding which were supplied from the public stores. Meantime, for the protection of the approaching prisoners from the violence of the straggling Indians who remained behind, Powell caused the two encampments to be occupied in the manner just described. It was a generous act on the part of Brant, well conceived and handsomely carried through. The prisoners all had cause of gratitude; and in the meeting with his niece in the garrison, Captain Harper found a source of pleasure altogether unexpected.
The prisoners, nevertheless, were doomed to a long captivity. From Niagara they were transferred to Montreal, thence to a prison in Chamblee, and thence to Quebec. They were afterward sent down to Halifax, and only restored to their country and homes after the peace of 1783. Their sufferings, during the three intervening years, were exceedingly severe, particularly in the prison at Chamblee, which is represented as having been foul and loathsome to a degree. [FN]
[FN] In the early part of this narrative of Harper's and Patchin's captivity, the name of Becraft, a Tory, occurs as one of their captors. His conduct toward the prisoners was particularly brutal throughout. On one occasion, when he and his Tory associates were enumerating their exploits, Becraft boasted of having assisted in massacring the family of a Mr. Vrooman, in Schoharie. The family, he said, were all soon despatched, except a boy of fourteen years old, who ran from the house. Becraft pursued and overtook him at a fence which he was attempting to climb. He there deliberately cut his throat, took his scalp, and hung his body across the fence! After the peace, he had the hardihood to return to Schoharie. But no sooner was it known, than a party of several indignant citizens, among whom were the prisoners who heard him make the confession here given, assembled and seized him. They stripped him naked, bound him to a tree, and ten of them, with hickory whips, gave him a tremendous castigation. They plied the whips with full vigor, and at intervals paused, and informed him for what particular misdeeds they were to inflict the next ten scorpion lashes, and so on. Having punished him thus, they dismissed him with a charge never to show himself in that county again. He never did.
Another of these Tories, who were guarding Harper and his party during the same night of their journey, made a yet more horrible confession than that of Becraft. His name was Barney Cane. He boasted of having killed, upon Diamond Island, (Lake George,) one Major Hopkins. A party of pleasure, as he stated, had been visiting the island on a little sailing excursion, and having lingered longer upon that beautiful spot than they were conscious of, as night drew on, concluded to encamp for the night—it being already too late to return to the fort. "From the shore where we lay hid," said Cane, "it was easy to watch their motions; and perceiving their defenceless situation, as soon as it was dark we set off for the island, where we found them asleep by their fire, and discharged our guns among them. Several were killed, among whom was one woman, who had a sucking child, which was not hurt. This we put to the breast of its dead mother, and so we left it. But Major Hopkins was only wounded, his thigh bone being broken; he started from his sleep to a rising posture, when I struck him," said Barney Cane, "with the butt of my gun, on the side of his head; he fell over, but caught on one hand; I then knocked him the other way, when he caught with the other hand, a third blow, and I laid him dead. These were all scalped except the infant. In the morning, a party from the fort went and brought away the dead, together with one they found alive, although he was scalped, and the babe, which was hanging and sobbing at the bosom of its lifeless mother."—Gen. Patchin's Narrative.
The Indians were likewise early busy in other directions. Some scattering settlements, situated between Wyoming and the older establishments, were fallen upon by them, and a number of persons killed, several houses burned, and eight prisoners carried away.
But the Dutch border settlements along the base of the Kaatsbergs, or Catskill mountains, from Albany down to Orange county, were again severe sufferers during this period of the revolutionary war. Many of the inhabitants were friendly to the royal cause, and numbers of them had joined the royal standard. Some of these served as leaders and guides to the Indians, in parties for prisoners, scalps, and plunder. This petty mode of warfare was reduced to such a system, that those engaged in it were supplied with small magazines of provisions, concealed in the earth and among clefts of rocks at suitable distances from the western sides of the Kaatsbergs, over to the Delaware, and thence down to the point whence they were wont to cross with their prisoners and booty to the Susquehanna, and thence again by the usual track, along the Chemung and Genessee rivers to Niagara. The sacking of Minisink, and the incursions into Warwasing, in the preceding year, have already been chronicled. But there were several irruptions into the Dutch settlements farther north, along the western borders of Ulster County, in the Spring of 1780, some of which were marked by peculiar features of atrocity, or of wild adventure. Among these was an attack, by a small party of Indians and Tories, upon the families of Thomas and Johannes Jansen, wealthy freeholders in a beautiful but secluded portion of the town of Shawangunk. One of these gentlemen was a colonel of militia. Both had erected substantial stone-houses, and were living in affluence. Their mansions were plundered by Indians and Tories, who were known to them; several of their neighbors and their Negroes were made prisoners; and among those who were slain, under circumstances of painful interest, were a Miss Mack and her father, residing somewhat remote in one of the mountain gorges; and also a young lady on a visit at Shawangunk, from the city of New-York. From considerations of acquaintanceship with the Jansens, however, the females of their families were not injured, although their houses were plundered and their barns laid in ashes. [FN]
[FN] An elaborated narrative of this tragic visitation was published fifteen or twenty years ago by Charles G. De Witt, Esq.
The same savage party, or rather a party composed in part of the same band of Tories and Indians who had committed the outrages just related, fell upon a settlement in the town of Saugerties, in May of the same year—making prisoners of Captain Jeremiah Snyder and Isaac Snyder his son. After plundering his house of provisions and money, they marched the Captain and his son over the mountains to the Delaware, and thence to Niagara, by the same route traversed by Thayendanegea and his warriors in conducting Harper and his fellow captives to that post. The adventures of these prisoners during their rough and wearisome journey were but the counterpart of those endured a month before by Captain Harper and his company, excepting that their captors, being acquaintances, rendered their sufferings less severe. Their supplies of food, though coarse, were sufficient. They were pinioned at night, and the Indians lay upon the cords by which they were fastened to saplings, or other fixtures of security. They met several parties of Indians and Tories after crossing the Susquehanna, and on one occasion fell in with a beautiful white woman, married to an Indian. By all these they were treated kindly. While traversing the valley of the Genessee, their principal Indian conductor, named Runnip, pointed them to a couple of mounds by the way-side. "There lie your brothers," said he to Captain Snyder, in Dutch. "These mounds are the graves of a scout of thirty-six men, belonging to Sullivan's army, which had been intercepted and killed by the Indians." [FN]
[FN] The Indian referred to the company of Lieut. Boyd.
On their arrival at Niagara, the prisoners were less fortunate than Harper and his companions had been, since they were compelled to run the gauntlet between long lines of the savages—a ceremony which they looked upon with great dread, particularly on account of their debilitated condition and the soreness of their feet. But in this operation they were favored by their captors, who interposed to prevent injury. In his narrative, Captain Snyder described fort Niagara at that time as a structure of considerable magnitude and great strength, enclosing an area of from six to eight acres. Within the enclosure was a handsome dwelling-house, for the residence of the Superintendent of the Indians. It was then occupied by Colonel Guy Johnson, before whom the Captain and his son were brought for examination. Colonel Butler, with his rangers, lay upon the opposite, or northern side of the river. At a given signal, the Colonel, with two of his subalterns, crossed over to attend the examination. Indeed, the principal object for the capture of Captain Snyder seems to have been to obtain information. Their examination was stern and searching, but the examiners were unable to elicit enough of news to compensate for the trouble of their taking.
Captain Snyder described Guy Johnson as being a short, pursy man, about forty years of age, of stern countenance and haughty demeanor—dressed in a British uniform, powdered locks, and a cocked hat. His voice was harsh, and his tongue bore evidence of his Irish extraction. While in the guard-house, the prisoners were visited by Brant, of whom Captain Snyder says—"He was a likely fellow, of a fierce aspect—tall and rather spare—well spoken, and apparently about thirty (forty) years of age. He wore moccasins, elegantly trimmed with beads—leggings and breech-cloth of superfine blue—short green coat, with two silver epaulets—and a small, laced, round hat. By his side hung an elegant silver-mounted cutlass, and his blanket of blue cloth, purposely dropped in the chair on which he sat, to display his epaulets, was gorgeously decorated with a border of red." He asked many questions, and among others, from whence they came. On being answered Æsopus, he replied—"That is my fighting ground." In the course of the conversation, Brant said to the younger Snyder—"You are young, and you I pity; but for that old villain there," pointing at the father, "I have no pity." Captain Snyder was of course not very favorably impressed toward the Mohawk chief, and has recorded his dislike.