CHAPTER VIII. BATTLE OF THE THAMES.

Harrison's Advance—Proctor's Retreat—Nature of the Ground—Disposition of the Indians—The Battle—Death of Tecumseh—Flight of Proctor—Results of the Campaign.

The opportunity which General Harrison had been waiting for had now arrived. He had been joined by Governor Shelby, of Kentucky, who brought three thousand five hundred mounted men, and also by two hundred Indians. His preparations for an invasion of Canada were complete; and Perry's victory not only gave him the necessary means of transportation, but removed a hostile fleet that might have prevented his landing an army on Canadian soil. His troops rendezvoused on the peninsula near Sandusky; the total force, including a few regulars, numbering about five thousand men.

Colonel Richard M. Johnson, with his regiment of cavalry, was sent to Detroit by land, there to cross the river. All the other troops, with their equipments, were taken on board Perry's vessels and carried up Detroit River, and landed, on the 27th of September, at a point three miles below Amherstburg.

They marched at once on Malden, and took possession of that post without opposition. The British General Proctor had abandoned it, but not till he had destroyed the barracks, the stores, and as much of the fortifications as was possible. Harrison expected a fight, and had his forces formed in battle order as they advanced; but Proctor's purpose was simply to get out of the way of his enemy, and escape if possible to Niagara. He had about six hundred white soldiers who were fit for duty, and a force of Indians variously estimated at from eight hundred to fifteen hundred.

Harrison left detachments at Detroit, Amherstburg, and Sandwich, and with the remainder of his force—about three thousand five hundred men—set out, on the 2d of October, in pursuit of Proctor. The enemy had retreated along the southern shore of Lake St. Clair, and thence up the river Thames, which flows into that lake. Proctor's baggage and artillery were carried by water, in small vessels; and Harrison in his pursuit was materially aided by Captain Perry, whose boats carried the baggage and supplies the whole length of the lake and fifteen miles up the river. At that point Perry left the water, and served on Harrison's staff.

Four considerable streams crossed the line of retreat, and Proctor might have seriously delayed the pursuit, and perhaps entirely stopped it, by destroying the bridge over any one of them. He seems not to have thought of this at the first stream, where the Americans found the bridge intact. At the second, a lieutenant and eleven men had been left with orders to destroy the bridge; but before they had accomplished their task, Harrison's advance guard came up and captured them. The third bridge, partially destroyed, was defended by a considerable body of Indians; but a few shots from two six-pounders dispersed them, and the structure was soon repaired. The fourth bridge was likewise partly destroyed, and guarded by Indians, who were not so easily driven away. The mounted Kentuckians pushed forward, and had a brisk skirmish with the savages, in which half a dozen of the whites were killed or wounded, and thirteen of the Indians were killed. The enemy then set fire to a large house, near the bridge, a distillery, and three vessels that were loaded with military stores, and continued his retreat. As soon as the bridge could be repaired, Harrison's troops crossed it, extinguished the fire in the house, and found in it two thousand stand of arms. Early on the 5th the pursuit was renewed. The route was still along the Thames, and in the course of the day the Americans captured two gunboats and several batteaux, all laden with provisions and ammunition. By this time, Proctor's Indians were tired of retreating, and were determined either to have a fight of some sort or leave him. About sixty of them actually deserted, and offered their services to Harrison, who declined them—not because he disbelieved in the employment of Indians, for he had some in his own force, but probably because he thought it unwise to employ troops of any sort who recognized no principle and were ready to go from one side to the other as the fortunes of war might fluctuate.

Both armies were now on the north side of the Thames, and Harrison's scouts brought news that the enemy had formed in line of battle at a point about two and a half miles from Moravian Town, four miles in advance of where Harrison then was. At the place chosen there was a marsh, the edge of which was about five hundred yards distant from the river and parallel with it for two miles. Midway between was a little marsh. The road ran between the little marsh and the river. The ground was largely covered with an open growth of forest trees, but there was no underbrush.

Proctor placed his best English troops, with his artillery, in a line stretching from the river to the little marsh, his cannon commanding the road. Behind this line were his reserves. The Indians, commanded by Tecumseh, who was a brigadier-general in the British service, formed a line between the two marshes, and a large number of them were thrown forward in the edge of the great marsh, that they might fall upon the left flank of the Americans.

Harrison placed his mounted troops in front, and behind them two thirds of his infantry, while the remainder was thrown back at an angle on the left, to be able to face the Indians in the marsh. The mounted men were formed in two columns, all under command of Colonel Richard M. Johnson, who rode with the left column. The right column was commanded immediately by his brother, Lieutenant-Colonel James Johnson.

At the sound of the bugle, the columns rode forward, slowly and steadily at first. As the right column came within musket-shot of the enemy, it received a volley or two, and here and there a trooper tumbled from his horse. The pace was immediately quickened, and in two minutes a solid column of a thousand dragoons went crashing through the British line, cutting down every opposing soldier within reach of its sabres. The column immediately re-formed in rear of the enemy's position, and repeated the charge, at the same time firing into the broken ranks, when the entire left wing was thrown into confusion before the men could fix their bayonets, and four hundred and seventy of them, with their officers, surrendered.

On the other wing, as Colonel Richard M. Johnson's column rode up at a charge, the Indians reserved their fire till they were within a few paces, and then gave them a destructive volley. Almost the whole of the advance guard fell before it, and Colonel Johnson was wounded. Finding that the ground here, between the two marshes, was unsuitable for horses, Colonel Johnson at once ordered his men to dismount, and for eight or ten minutes there was hard fighting, at close range, with the rifle. After charges and counter-charges, the Indians began to give way. At this moment Governor Shelby brought up the reserves, and about the same time Tecumseh fell, and the savages then broke and fled.

The question, who killed Tecumseh, though not of much importance, has been warmly discussed. Thomson, one of the earliest authorities for the history of this war, says: "Colonel R. M. Johnson had been five times wounded, and in that state, covered with blood, and exhausted by pain and fatigue, he personally encountered Tecumseh. The Colonel was mounted on a white charger, at which, being a conspicuous object, the Indians had continually levelled their fire. A shower of bullets had fallen round him; his holsters, his clothes, and most of his accoutrements were pierced in several places; and at the instant when he discovered Tecumseh, his horse received a second wound. Tecumseh, having discharged his rifle, sprang forward with his tomahawk, and had it already raised to throw, when Colonel Johnson's horse staggered back, and immediately the Colonel drew forth a pistol, shot the Indian through the head, and both fell to the ground together."

When the savages in front were defeated, those that had been posted in the edge of the great marsh vanished through the woods.

General Proctor, when he saw his lines broken, abandoned the field and drove off with all possible speed in his carriage, accompanied by a mounted body guard. He was conscious that he deserved no quarter for his cold-blooded massacres, and feared that if he fell into the hands of American soldiers he might get his deserts. As a matter of fact, General Harrison had instructed his men before the battle that if Proctor was captured he should be brought in unharmed. A detachment sent in pursuit of him pressed him so closely that he abandoned his carriage, leaving his sword and private papers in it, and took to the woods; where, as he was well mounted and familiar with the country, they could not overtake him. But though he escaped the Americans, by his own government he was court-martialled, reprimanded, and suspended for six months. If he had previously been punished for violating the laws of war, and an abler and better man put into his place, this disaster might not have befallen the British arms. It was not when they massacred defenceless people, but only when they lost battles, that the English Government was dissatisfied with unsoldier-like conduct in its officers.

In this action, the Americans lost about fifty men killed or wounded. Among the killed was Colonel Whitley, a soldier of the Revolution, who had volunteered as a private. The British lost about a hundred and eighty killed or wounded, and nearly all the remainder were made prisoners. It was supposed that about a hundred and twenty Indians were killed; at least thirty-three were left dead on the field, and an unknown number carried away. Among the spoils of the victory were several brass cannon which had been captured with Burgoyne at Saratoga, surrendered by Hull at Detroit, and now came a second time into the hands of the Americans.

Harrison destroyed Moravian Town the day after the battle, and then marched back to Detroit. Proctor had the good taste to send a flag of truce, requesting that the prisoners be humanely treated. As General Harrison had already given up his own tent to some of the wounded British officers, it is probable that they were.

By this brief and brilliant campaign, Harrison destroyed the British power in that part of Canada, restored the territory of Michigan to the United States, killed the great Indian leader who had been the most dangerous enemy of the Americans in the West, separated the tribes that had been assisting the English, and compelled some of them to make peace on his own terms. At Detroit he discharged Shelby's volunteers, gave the place a garrison of a thousand men, restored civil law, and made General Cass provisional governor of the territory. Three weeks later, he and the remainder of his troops were taken on board Perry's fleet and carried to Buffalo.

On the same day that the battle of the Thames was fought, Commodore Chauncey, in pursuit of Yeo's fleet on Lake Ontario, captured a cutter and four transports, on board of which were two hundred and sixty-four British officers and soldiers.








CHAPTER IX. WILKINSON'S EXPEDITION.

Armstrong's Plans—Position of the Troops—Descent of the St. Lawrence—Battle of Chrysler's Field—Hampton's Defeat—Cost of the Campaign—Effects on the Niagara Frontier—Capture of Fort Niagara—Destruction of Buffalo and other Villages.

The final military operations of this year on the northern border were the most disappointing, and on the whole the most disgraceful, of any that had been undertaken. General John Armstrong had become Secretary of War early in the year, and in February had submitted a plan, which the President at once approved, for the conquest of Canada by means of an expedition against Montreal.

Armstrong had seen service in the Revolution, and was the author of the anonymous "Newburg Addresses," which had given Washington so much trouble. Although he planned the expedition in February, he allowed the entire summer to go by before attempting its execution, and it set out in October, the worst time of year for such an undertaking. The first requisite for any military movement is, that it shall be under the supreme command of some one man. But the left wing of the army which was to make this one was commanded by General James Wilkinson, at Sackett's Harbor, while the right wing was under General Wade Hampton, at Plattsburg, and between these two officers there was not only no cordial friendship, but a positive jealousy that rendered it almost impossible for them to act in concert. Although Wilkinson was the ranking officer, Hampton maintained that his own must be considered as a separate and independent command, and himself not subordinate to anybody but the Secretary of War. He thus put in practice on a small scale a vicious principle whose advocacy on a vastly larger scale has since given some of his descendants an unenviable prominence.

So old a soldier as Armstrong should have known that the first thing necessary to the success of his scheme was the removal of one or the other of these officers, and conferring upon some one general the absolute command of all forces that were to take part in it. As he had stationed himself and his War Department at Sackett's Harbor, he perhaps imagined that he could direct the expedition from there, and, holding both generals subordinate to himself, cause the two wings to act in concert. If so, he was wofully mistaken. A man sixty years of age, who owned three thousand slaves and was accustomed to no check upon his least caprice, who now had four thousand troops under his command —a large number in that war—and was distant a hundred and fifty miles from his superior, with a wilderness between, could not be expected to hold himself subordinate to anybody.

General Wilkinson had removed most of the troops from Fort George on the Niagara, taking them down the lake, and he now had a total force of about eight thousand men. The right wing, under Hampton, numbered half as many more. The final plan was, to move down the St. Lawrence with Wilkinson's force, while Hampton's moved northward to unite with it at or near the mouth of the Chateaugua; the combined force then to strike for Montreal. Wilkinson rendezvoused his troops at Grenadier Island, eighteen miles below Sackett's Harbor, near the point where the waters of the lake find their outlet in the St. Lawrence. The British were apprised of the movement, and drew a large force from the Niagara frontier to Kingston, supposing that was to be the point of attack; and indeed this had been the first intention of the Americans. To strengthen this impression on the part of the enemy, and induce him to hold his forces at Kingston as long as possible, Wilkinson appointed a second rendezvous at the mouth of French Creek, eighteen miles farther down. The command of the advance was given to General Jacob Brown, who had successfully defended Sackett's Harbor in May. On the 1st and 2d of November the British squadron attacked the advance, but without effecting anything.

On the 5th Wilkinson's entire force moved down the St. Lawrence. They occupied more than three hundred boats, which made a procession five miles long. At Prescott the river was commanded by British batteries, and to avoid them Wilkinson debarked his troops and stores a short distance above that place, and sent them by land to Red Mill, some distance below. The boats were run by the batteries at night, and escaped injury, though under a heavy fire for a considerable time.

But it was found that the enemy had planted batteries at several other places, to obstruct and if possible destroy the flotilla. Colonel Alexander Macomb was ordered to cross the river with twelve hundred of the best troops in the army, and, marching down the north bank, abreast of the flotilla, drive away or capture the gunners. In this task he was assisted by Forsyth's riflemen, who crossed a little later. The cavalry and Brown's brigade passed over next day.

They found plenty of fighting to do, though of a desultory kind. There was a battery at nearly every narrow place in the river, and small parties of the enemy were continually hanging on the rear of the Americans, firing whenever they found a chance. Eight miles below Hamilton, Macomb had a fight with a party strongly posted in a block-house, and succeeded in driving them out.

Meanwhile General De Rottenburg, who had come down to Kingston from Queenstown, sent a force of fifteen hundred men, with two schooners and seven gunboats, to follow the expedition and attack its rear guard at every opportunity. It was Commodore Chauncey's duty to prevent any British force from leaving the harbor of Kingston at this time; but unaccountably he failed to do it. On the 9th the American riflemen had a brisk skirmish with a body of Canadian militia and Indians, and finally drove them off.

By the 10th the Long Rapid was reached, and Wilkinson put most of his men ashore, that the boats might shoot the rapid with greater safety. That evening the British gun-boats came up and opened a cannonade upon the barges, which for a time threatened to destroy them. But the Americans took two eighteen-pounders ashore, and improvised a battery, with which they soon drove off the gun-boats.

By this time the enemy's forces were pretty well united in the rear of the expedition, and the gunboats had been brought to act in concert. It was evident that the Americans could not safely proceed farther till a battle had been fought.

The troops were encamped on the farm of John Chrysler, a captain in the British service, a short distance below Williamsburg. On the morning of the 11th it was found that the enemy had taken a position close in the rear, in battle order, his left resting on a swamp, and his right on the river, where his gun-boats were moored. His line was well placed, and he had three pieces of artillery in position. As General Wilkinson was too ill to take the field, or even rise from his bed, the command of the American forces devolved upon General John Parker Boyd. Boyd, now about fifty years of age, had entered the United States service as early as 1786, but later had been a soldier of fortune in India, raising and equipping there, at his own expense, a force of fifteen hundred men, and selling their services to the highest bidder. Still later he returned to the United States, and was with Harrison at the battle of Tippecanoe.

Orders were given to drive back the enemy, and General Robert Swartwout's brigade dashed into the woods and routed the British advance, which fell back upon the main body. The brigade of General Leonard Covington supported Swartwout's, attacking the British right while Swartwout attacked the left. It was a cold, raw day, and part of the time there was snow and sleet in the air. There were charges and counter-charges, the contending columns alternately advancing and retiring across ploughed fields, where the men were often up to their knees in mud. All the romance of war was lacking, while all its disagreeable elements were present in full force. There were wounds enough, and death enough, and misery enough, and, as it proved, no decisive or profitable victory for either side. The Americans had the greater number of men, but this advantage was fully counterbalanced by the fact that they were, the attacking party, and there were several deep ravines which they could not cross with their artillery to bring it into use, while the British used their own guns throughout the action.

The attack was spirited and determined, and seemed likely to succeed; but after a while the American right wing found its ammunition exhausted, and about the same time the left was discouraged and thrown into some confusion by the fall of General Covington, mortally wounded. The enemy now massed troops on his right wing, and pressed forward heavily, so that he captured one of the American guns; a charge of cavalry under AdjutantGeneral Walbach, and the coolness and bravery of Captain Armstrong Irvine, being all that prevented him from seizing the others.

For two hours longer the contest swayed to and fro across the miry fields for the distance of a mile, till the Americans brought up a reserve of six hundred men under Lieutenant-Colonel Upham, by which order was restored and the line firmly established, to await the next onset of the enemy. But no further assault was made, and in the night the Americans retired unmolested to their boats.

This action is sometimes called the battle of Williamsburg, sometimes the battle of Chrysler's Field. Both sides claimed the victory, and there has been much dispute both as to the number of men engaged and as to the losses. The British probably had a thousand men, including Indians; the Americans seventeen hundred. General Wilkinson reported a loss of one hundred and two killed, and two hundred and thirty-seven wounded—one man in five. The British loss was reported at one hundred and eighty-eight killed, wounded, or missing—nearly one in five. Among the American officers who distinguished themselves on this field was Lieutenant William J. Worth, who afterward rose to eminence as a major-general.

Disregarding the military maxim which forbids an invading army to leave an enemy in its rear, Wilkinson next day passed down the Long Rapids with his whole force, and near Cornwall was joined by General Brown, who had been sent forward to attack the post at the foot of the rapids. This had been done by a fight at Hoophole Creek, where about eight hundred of Brown's men, under the immediate command of Colonel Scott, had defeated an equal number of the enemy and taken many prisoners.

But here a courier arrived at Wilkinson's headquarters, bringing a letter from General Hampton, in which he announced that he would not join the expedition as ordered, or attempt to invade Canada any farther.

The truth was, Hampton had moved down the Chateaugua with about four thousand men, intending to join Wilkinson. He was opposed by a force of about one thousand, including Indians, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel De Salaberry. The active opposition began at a point where the road passed through a forest. Here the enemy had felled trees across the line of march, constructed abattis, and posted light troops and Indians in the woods. But Hampton sent a regiment to turn the enemy's flank and occupy the open country in the rear, while strong working parties opened a new road by a detour, enabling his whole force to follow, and thus the first obstruction was skilfully passed.

But eight or ten miles in advance a more formidable obstacle was encountered. Here was another forest, in which the enemy had constructed not only abattis but timber breastworks, and planted artillery. The guides assured Hampton that the river, along whose bank his route lay, was fordable opposite the enemy's flank. He thereupon formed an elaborate plan for sending a force to ford the stream above, march to a point below the enemy, ford again, and fall on his flank and rear; while the main body was to attack in front when the firing was heard. The detachment was commanded by Colonel Purdy, who afterward said it "was intrusted to the guidance of men, each of whom repeatedly assured him [Hampton] that they were not acquainted with the country, and were not competent to direct such an expedition; while at the same time he had a man who had a perfect knowledge of the country, whom he promised to send, but which he neglected to do."

The detachment, which left camp in the evening of October 25th, crossed the stream, and soon got lost in a hemlock swamp, where it wandered about in the darkness, sometimes doubling on its tracks, so that the two ends of the column would come in contact with each other and wonder whether they had met friend or foe. As might have been expected, it completely failed to find the lower ford.

In the afternoon of the 26th, though nothing had been heard from the detachment, the main force moved against the works in front. De Salaberry boldly threw forward a force to meet it, resting his left on the river and his right on a thick wood, in the edge of which he posted a body of Indians. The cracking of rifles began at once, and sharp and persistent fighting ensued. Slowly and steadily the Americans, under the immediate command of General George Izard, pressed back this advance upon the main body of the enemy. But at this point the detachment across the river encountered a detachment of British troops. Purdy's advance guard was driven back, and then fire was opened upon him by a concealed body of militia, which threw him into confusion and caused a disorderly retreat. At the same time, Hampton was deceived by a ruse of De Salaberry's, who had placed buglers at several points in the woods, with orders to sound an advance. Thoroughly disconcerted, and perhaps frightened by this failure of his plan, and the supposed onset of a great force of the enemy, Hampton at once withdrew his troops and abandoned the attack, falling back soon afterward to Chateaugua Four Corners. He had lost about forty men killed or wounded; the enemy about twenty-five.

On learning of the defection of Hampton, Wilkinson called a council of war, the result of which was a determination to ascend Salmon River and go into winter quarters. Thus ended ingloriously one more of the ill-advised and ill-managed attempts to conquer Lower Canada.

The cost of these campaigns had been enormous to both belligerents. The Americans had spent about two and a half million dollars in building vessels on lakes Erie, Ontario, and Champlain; which was a large sum for that day, and yet was small in comparison with the incidental cost of maintaining considerable bodies of troops in idleness through a whole summer while waiting for the fleets to be built. It was estimated that the conveyance of each cannon to Sackett's Harbor had cost a thousand dollars. The flour for Harrison's army, by the time it reached the troops, had cost a hundred dollars a barrel. There were long distances through the wilderness of Western New York and Northern Ohio where supplies could only be carried on packhorses, half a barrel to a horse, and other horses had to follow with forage for those that were carrying the supplies. Most of the horses were used up by a single trip. Of four thousand used in carrying provisions to Harrison, but eight hundred were alive the next spring. In Canada the hardships of war rested heavily upon the people as well as the soldiers. All their salt had come from the United States, and what little there was on that side of the border when communication with this country ceased was held at a dollar a quart. At Kingston flour was thirty dollars a barrel. So scarce were provisions of all kinds, that the Government appointed commissioners to determine how much food each family should be permitted to consume. In the British camps, lean cattle were killed to prevent their starving to death, and then the meat was eaten by the soldiers. In later wars we have often succeeded in shooting more men, but seldom in producing more misery.

The withdrawal of troops from the Niagara frontier to take part in Wilkinson's expedition left the defence of that line almost entirely to militia, and the term for which the militia had been called out expired on the 9th of December. The next day General George McClure, who had been left in command at Fort George, found himself at the head of but sixty effective men, while the British General Drummond had brought up to the peninsula four hundred troops and seventy Indians—released by the failure of Wilkinson's expedition—and was preparing to attack him. McClure thereupon determined to evacuate the fort, as the only alternative from capture or destruction, and remove his men and stores across the river to Fort Niagara. He also determined to burn the village of Newark, that the enemy might find no shelter. The laudable part of this plan was but imperfectly carried out; he failed to destroy the barracks, and left unharmed tents for fifteen hundred men, several pieces of artillery, and a large quantity of ammunition, all of which fell into the hands of Drummond's men. But the inexcusable part—the burning of a village in midwinter, inhabited by noncombatants who had been guilty of no special offence—was only too faithfully executed. The inhabitants were given twelve hours in which to remove their goods, and then the torch was applied, and not a house was left standing.

This needless cruelty produced its natural result; Drummond determined upon swift and ample retaliation. In the night of December 18th, just one week after the burning of Newark, he threw across the Niagara a force of five hundred and fifty men. They landed at Five Mile Meadows, three miles above Fort Niagara, and marched upon it at once, arriving there at four o'clock in the morning. McClure, who had received an intimation of the enemy's intention to devastate the American frontier, had gone to Buffalo to raise a force to oppose him. The garrison of the fort consisted of about four hundred and fifty men, a large number of whom were in the hospital. The command had been left to a Captain Leonard, who at this time was three miles away, sleeping at a farm-house.

The most elaborate preparations had been made for the capture of the fort, including scaling-ladders for mounting the bastions. But the Americans seemed to have studied to make the task as easy as possible. The sentries were seized and silenced before they could give any alarm, and the main gate was found standing wide open, so that the British had only to walk straight in and begin at once the stabbing which had been determined upon.

The guard in the south-east block-house fired one volley, by which the British commander, Colonel Murray, was wounded, and a portion of the invalids made what resistance they could. A British lieutenant and five men were killed, and a surgeon and three men wounded. Sixty-five Americans, two thirds of whom were invalids, were bayoneted in their beds; fifteen others, who had taken refuge in the cellars, were despatched in the same manner, and fourteen were wounded; twenty escaped, and all the others, about three hundred and forty, were made prisoners. Some accounts say also that the women, in the fort were treated with great cruelty and indignity.

On the same morning, General Riall, with a detachment of British troops and five hundred Indians, crossed from Queenstown and attacked Lewiston. The small force of Americans here, under Major Bennett, fought till they were surrounded, and then cut their way out through the enemy, losing eight men. The village was then plundered and burned, the savages adding all the atrocities characteristic of their mode of warfare.

Riall next marched his troops through the villages of Youngstown, Tuscarora, and Manchester (now Niagara Falls), and plundered and burned them all, while the terror-stricken inhabitants were butchered or driven away. Nor was the devastation confined to the villages. For several miles from the river, the houses and barns of the farmers were destroyed, and the women and children either killed or turned shelterless into the woods and fields.

The bridge over Tonawanda Creek had been destroyed by the Americans, and at this point the enemy turned back, and soon recrossed the Niagara to the Canada side.

The alarm at Buffalo brought General Hall, of the New York militia, to that village, where he arrived the day after Christmas. He found collected there a body of seventeen hundred men, whom it would have been gross flattery to call a "force." They were poorly supplied with arms and cartridges, and had no discipline and almost no organization. Another regiment of three hundred soon joined them, but without adding much to their efficiency.

On the 28th of December, Drummond reconnoitred the American camp, and determined to attack it; for which purpose he sent over General Riall on the evening of the 29th with fourteen hundred and fifty men, largely regulars, and a body of Indians. One detachment landed two miles below Black Rock, crossed Canajokaties Creek in the face of a slight resistance, and took possession of a battery. The remainder landed at a point between Buffalo and Black Rock, under cover of a battery on the Canadian shore. Poor as Hall's troops were, they stood long enough to fire upon the invaders and inflict considerable loss.

As the enemy landed here and formed in battle order, Hall with his raw militia attacked both wings and for a short time made a gallant fight, especially on the American left, where Lieutenant-Colonel Blakeslie handled four hundred Ontario county men remarkably well and disputed the ground with great firmness. Both sides had artillery, with which the action was opened. As it progressed, however, the American line was broken in the centre, and Hall was compelled to fall back. His subsequent attempts to rally his men were of no avail, and he himself seems to have lost heart; as Lieutenant Riddle, who had about eighty regulars, offered to place them in front for the encouragement of the militia to new exertion, but Hall declined. Riddle then offered, if Hall would give him two hundred men, to attempt to save the village from destruction, and at least to bring away the women and children, that they might not fall under the tomahawk and scalping-knife; but even this the General refused, and the village was then left to its fate, though Riddle went in with his own men and rescued the contents of the arsenal and some other property.

Both Buffalo and Black Rock were sacked and burned, and no mercy was shown. With but two or three exceptions, those of the inhabitants who were not able to run away were massacred, many of them being first submitted to torture and indignity. It is related that in Buffalo a widow named St. John "had the address to appease the ferocity of the enemy so far as to remain in her house uninjured." Her house and the stone jail were the only buildings not laid in ashes. In Black Rock every building was either burned or blown up, except one log house, in which a few women and children had taken refuge. Whether they had the peculiar address necessary to "appease the ferocity of the enemy," or were merely overlooked, is not recorded. Five vessels lying at the wharves were also burned.

In this expedition the British lost a hundred and eight men, killed, wounded, or missing. More than fifty of the Americans were found dead on the field. Truly, an abundant revenge had been taken for the burning of Newark. McClure, who had given the provocation for these atrocities, was an Irishman, and the absurdity of his whole course in the matter seemed calculated to justify the common sarcasms levelled against his countrymen for want of foresight.

All that the Americans had gained on the northern frontier during the year 1813, with the exception of the territory of Michigan, restored by Harrison's victory, had now been lost, and on New Year's day of 1814 the settlers along the whole length of the Niagara—those of them who survived—were shivering beside the smouldering embers of their homes.








CHAPTER X. WAR IN THE SOUTH.

Engagement at Lewistown—Fight in Delaware Bay—Burning of Havre de Grace, Georgetown, and Fredericktown—Battle at Craney Island—Destruction of Hampton—Troubles with the Southern Indians—Fight at Burnt Corn Creek—Massacre at Fort Mims—Jackson's Campaign—Fights at Talluschatches, Talladega, the Hillabee Towns, Autosse, and Econochaca—Dale's Canoe Fight.

While these costly and almost useless campaigns were being fought at the North, the Southern States were not without their war experiences, which in some instances were quite as bloody. Along the southern Atlantic coast the British had a great advantage from their heavy war-ships, which blockaded-the harbors, ran into the navigable inlets, bombarded the towns, and sent parties ashore to plunder and burn. The militia did what they could to repel these incursions, and in some cases, by handling a few pieces of artillery skilfully, drove off the invaders. Lewistown, on Delaware Bay, was bombarded in April. The shells fell short, and the rockets went over the town, but many of the solid shot went through the houses, doing considerable damage. In May, a party of sailors sent ashore to get water for the squadron near Lewistown were spiritedly attacked by militia, and compelled to return to their ships with empty casks. A fortnight later a party was sent ashore for provisions, but was driven off by the vigilant militia before a mouthful had been obtained.

On the 29th of July the British sloop-of-war Martin grounded in Delaware Bay, and eight gunboats and two sloops, commanded by Captain Angus, went down to attack her. They anchored within three quarters of a mile, and opened upon her with all their guns. The frigate Junon came to her assistance, and the cannonade was kept up for nearly two hours. The British sailors proved to be very poor gunners, in comparison with the Americans. Hardly a shot struck the gun-boats, while the sloop and the frigate were hulled at almost every discharge. At length the British manned their launches, barges, and cutters, to the number of ten, and pulled off to cut out some of the gun-boats at the end of the line. Eight of them attacked a single gun-boat commanded by Sailing-Master Shead, who used his sweeps to get his craft nearer the squadron, from which it had become separated, but all the while kept firing his twenty-four pounder at his pursuers, striking one or another of them with almost every shot. Finding they were rapidly gaining on him, he anchored and waited for them to attempt boarding. He gave them two more gunfuls, as they drew nigh, with terrible effect, when the piece became disabled. The barges completely surrounded the little gun-boat, and there was a desperate conflict hand-to-hand. But of course it could not last long. Shead's crew were soon overpowered, and the British flag waved triumphantly over his deck. Seven of the British sailors had been killed, and twelve wounded, while seven of Shead's men were wounded.

On the Chesapeake the Americans fared even worse. Early in the morning of the 3d of May, the British Admiral Cockburn sent a force in nineteen barges to destroy the town of Havre de Grace and ravage the country between it and Baltimore. A small battery had been erected for the defence of the place; but it was still dark when the enemy came, and the first notice the inhabitants had of his approach was given by the balls whistling through the houses. A panic and stampede ensued. But a few men ran to the battery, and fired at the barges till the British began to land, when they all joined in the flight, except an old man named O'Neill, who stood by one of the guns and continued to load and fire it till, in recoiling, it ran over his thigh and somewhat disabled him. He still had strength to get away, armed himself with two muskets, and tried in vain to rally the militia, but finally was taken prisoner. He and his companions at the battery had killed three of the enemy and wounded two.

As soon as the British forces had landed, fire was set to the houses not already destroyed by shells, while the sailors and marines went through them, smashing furniture, cutting open beds to feed the flames, insulting women, and spreading terror. One house only, filled with women, was spared after a special appeal to the Admiral. A church just outside of the town was gutted, farm-houses on the road to Baltimore were plundered, travellers were robbed, and bridges, furnaces, and mills were destroyed.

The little villages of Georgetown and Fredericktown, Maryland, were the next spoil of the Admiral, who led the ravaging party in person. But he did not succeed in landing till his men in the boats had suffered severely from the fire of a battery manned by thirty-five militiamen, which was kept up steadily for half an hour. Not a house was left standing in either of the villages, and the enemy enriched themselves with all the plunder they could carry away.

About this time Admiral Warren, who had issued from Bermuda a proclamation declaring New York, Charleston, Port Royal, Savannah, and the whole of the Mississippi River under blockade—a paper blockade, at which both Americans and neutrals laughed—joined Admiral Cockburn, in the Chesapeake, and they determined to extend as far as possible the pillaging and burning of towns on the coast.

The next one selected was Norfolk, Va. But the approach to the town was commanded by a battery on Craney Island, and this battery was promptly manned by a hundred American sailors, under command of Lieutenant Neale, of the navy, and fifty marines under Lieutenant Breckenridge. It was dawn of day on the 22d of June when four thousand British sailors and marines, in barges, came in sight of the island; and when they were fairly under the guns of the battery, it blazed out. The pieces were served rapidly and with such precision that many of the barges were cut clear in two, and their occupants would have been drowned had they not been promptly rescued by the others. The Admiral was in a boat fifty feet long, called the Centipede, and this was so riddled with shot that he and his crew had barely time to get out of it when it sank. Before this merciless and unremitting fire the squadron of barges at length retreated to the ships. At the same time, a body of eight hundred soldiers had been put ashore, to attack the town by land. But for them a force of Virginia volunteers, under Colonel Beatty, were waiting, with a well-placed battery of six guns. The enemy had not all landed when the battery opened upon them, with such effect that they retreated at once. A part of them took refuge in a house, from which they fired rockets at the battery-men; but an American gun-boat came up and sent a few twenty-four-pound balls crashing through the house, when the last of the enemy fled, making their way back to the fleet as speedily as possible.

Smarting under this defeat, the British commanders immediately planned the destruction of Hampton, eighteen miles from Norfolk, which they supposed would cut off communication between the latter place and the upper part of Virginia.

At daylight on the 25th, two thousand five hundred soldiers, commanded by Sir Sydney Beckwith, were landed several miles below Hampton, and marched on the town. At the same time, a squadron of boats, commanded by Admiral Cockburn and protected by the sloop-of-war Mohawk, drew up before the place and fired in rockets, shells, and solid shot. The entire garrison of the place consisted of six hundred and thirty-six men, commanded by Major Crutchfield, who had seven pieces of artillery.

As Cockburn's barges approached the town, fire was opened upon them with two twelve-pounders, which did so much execution that the Admiral found it discreet to draw off and take position behind a point of land where the American gunners could not see him. From this shelter he fired rockets and shells for an hour, but so wildly that not the slightest damage was effected by them.

Crutchfield sent a company of riflemen, under Captain Servant, with orders to conceal themselves in the woods near the road where Beckwith's column would pass in approaching the town, to annoy and delay it as much as possible. This was done so skilfully as to inflict considerable loss upon the enemy; and when Crutchfield saw that the barges would not approach the town again till it was in the possession of Beckwith, he marched with the greater part of his force to the assistance of the riflemen, leaving Captain Pryor with a few men to manage the battery and keep off the barges.

Crutchfield's column was fired upon just as the British column had been, by riflemen concealed in a wood; and as he wheeled to charge upon the hidden foe, he was greeted by a sudden fire from two six-pounders and a discharge of rockets. The enemy's artillery was so well handled that Crutchfield's column was broken up, and a portion of it driven from the field. The remainder made its way through a defile, all the while under fire, to a junction with Servant's riflemen. At the same time Captain Cooper, with what few cavalrymen the Americans had, was annoying the enemy's left flank.

Crutchfield kept up the fighting with spirit as long as possible, but of course was obliged to give way at last. Captain Pryor and his men held their ground at the battery, preventing any landing from the barges, till the enemy's land force came up in the rear and was within sixty yards of the guns. He then ordered the artillerists to spike the pieces, and break through the corps of British marines approaching in the rear; which order was at once obeyed, to the astonishment of the marines, who failed to hurt or capture a single man. With Captain Pryor still at their head, the little band plunged into a creek and swam across, those who had car-fines or side-arms taking them with them, and escaped beyond pursuit. Crutchfield in his retreat was followed for two miles by a strong force, which failed to overtake him, while he frequently halted his men behind fences and walls, to deliver a volley at the approaching enemy and then continue the retreat. In this fight the British had ninety men killed, and a hundred and twenty wounded. The American loss was seven killed, twelve wounded, and twelve missing.

The village of Hampton was now at the mercy of an enemy who showed no mercy, and was immediately given up to plunder and outrage, which continued for two days and nights. The town was not burned, but every house was ruined as to its furniture and decorations, except the one in which the commanding officers were quartered. Such deeds were perpetrated by the British soldiers and sailors, unrestrained by their officers, as had hardly been paralleled even in Indian warfare. Neither age nor sex nor innocence was any protection. In one case an old and infirm citizen was murdered in the presence of his aged wife; and when she remonstrated, a soldier presented a pistol at her breast and shot her dead. Women with infants in their arms were pursued till they threw themselves into the river to escape, children were wantonly killed, and such shameful scenes were enacted as cannot even be mentioned in a history written for youth. The soldiers destroyed all the medical stores, that were necessary for the care of the sick and wounded. They also stole a considerable number of slaves and sent them to the West Indies, not to be liberated, but to be sold and turned into cash. When they abandoned the town, they went in such haste that they left behind a large quantity of provisions, arms, and ammunition, and some of their men, who were captured next day by Cooper's cavalry.

The indignation aroused by the unhappy fate of Hampton was such that General Robert R. Taylor, commandant of the district, addressed a letter to Admiral Warren, inquiring whether the outrages were sanctioned by the British commanders, and if not, whether the perpetrators were to be punished. The Admiral referred the letter to Sir Sydney Beckwith, who did not attempt to deny that the outrages had been committed as charged, but said that "the excesses at Hampton, of which General Taylor complains, were occasioned by a proceeding at Craney Island. At the recent attack on that place, the troops in a barge which had been sunk by the fire of the American guns had been fired on by a party of Americans, who waded out and shot these poor fellows while clinging to the wreck of the boat; and with a feeling natural to such a proceeding, the men of that corps landed at Hampton." General Taylor at once appointed a court of inquiry, which by a careful investigation found that none of the men belonging to the wrecked barge had been fired upon, except one who was trying to escape to that division of the British troops which had landed, and he was not killed; while, so far from shooting the unfortunate men in the water, some of the Americans had waded out to assist them. The report embodying these facts was forwarded to Sir Sydney, who never made any reply—which perhaps is the most nearly graceful thing a man can do when he has been convicted of a deliberate and outrageous falsehood.

In the far South a better success attended the American arms this summer than either on the Northern border or the Atlantic coast. This was owing partly to the greater simplicity of the task that lay before the commanders, and partly to the greater energy with which they entered upon it, but chiefly to the difference in the enemy. In Canada and on the coast, our men contended with forces largely made up of British regulars, at that time perhaps the most efficient soldiery in the world. In Florida and Alabama they contended indeed with British arms, but they were in the hands of Indians.

The English agents at Pensacola, with the connivance of the Spanish authorities there—for Florida belonged to Spain till the United States purchased it in 1819—had supplied the Creeks with rifles, ammunition, and provisions, and sent them on the war-path, not against the American armies, for there were none in that region, but against the settlers and scattered posts along the navigable rivers. A premium of five dollars was offered for every scalp—whether of man, woman, or child—which the savages might bring to the British agency.

The militia of Georgia, Alabama, and Tennessee were called out to meet the emergency, and before the year was over the Creeks had been made to suffer a terrible retribution.

As one body of these Indians, commanded by a half-breed named McQueen, started for the interior, a militia force under Colonel James Caller set out to intercept them. On the 27th of July they were found encamped on a small, low peninsula enclosed in one of the windings of Burnt Corn Creek. Caller promptly attacked them, and after a sharp action routed them. But he called back the pursuing detachment too soon, the Indians rallied, a part of the whites fled in panic, and the remainder had a severe fight with the savages, in which they were outnumbered and defeated. Caller lost two men killed and fifteen wounded.

This victory inspired the Indians with new confidence, while it spread terror among the settlers. The next hostile movement was against Fort Mimson Lake Tensas, near Alabama River, forty miles northward of Mobile. This work was a stockade enclosure of about an acre, which a farmer named Mims had erected for the protection of his buildings and cattle. It was loop-holed for musketry all round, and at one corner was an uncompleted blockhouse. When the alarm of Indian raids had gone forth, the settlers flocked to Fort Mims from all sides, and Governor Claiborne sent a hundred and seventy-five volunteers, under Major Daniel Beasley, to defend it. The space was so crowded that it became necessary to extend the stockade, and another enclosure was made on the eastern side, but the fence between was left standing. On the 29th of August, a thousand Creek warriors, commanded by William Weathersford, a half-breed, arrived within a quarter of a mile of the fort, and concealed themselves in a ravine. Some of them were seen by two Negroes who had been sent out to tend cattle; but when they had given the alarm, and a scouting party had failed to find any trace of Indians, they were not only disbelieved, but severely flogged for lying.

After many false alarms, the occupants of the fort had become incredulous and careless of danger, their commander perhaps most so of all. On the 30th the gates stood wide open, no guard was set, and when the drum beat for dinner the soldiers laid aside their arms and went to their meal at the moment when the savages sprang from their hiding-place and with their well-known yell rushed toward the stockade. Officers and men sprang to arms at the frightful sound. Major Beasley, in attempting to close the outer gate, was knocked down and run over by the foremost of the assailants, many of whom poured into the outer enclosure, where they quickly murdered all the whites whom they found. Beasley himself crawled off in a corner to die, and the command devolved upon Captain Bailey.

When the Indians attempted to enter the inner enclosure, they were stopped by a fire through the loop-holes in the partition. Five of their prophets, who had proclaimed that their charms and incantations rendered the American bullets harmless, all fell dead at the first discharge. This produced a temporary check, but new swarms of the naked savages came up, and a desperate fight through the loop-holes was maintained for several hours. The soldiers stood manfully at their posts, were assisted by some of the women and boys, and killed a large number of the Indians, who, on the other hand, were sure of hitting somebody whenever they fired into the crowded enclosure. Numbers of the red-skins were constantly dancing, hooting, and yelling around the fort, many of whom were shot by the old men of the garrison, who had ascended to the attic of the largest house and cut holes in the roof.

The enemy were getting tired of this costly work, when Weathersford came up, exhorted them to new efforts, and directed fire-tipped arrows to be shot into the fort. In a short time the buildings were in flames, and the miserable inmates, driven by the heat, were huddled in one corner, when the Indians burst in and rapidly completed the massacre. Children were taken by the heels, and their brains dashed out against the walls; women were butchered in a manner unknown since the wars of the ancient Jews; a few Negroes were kept for slaves, but not one white person was left alive—excepting twelve, who had secretly cut an opening through the stockade and escaped by way of the lake. Of the five hundred and fifty-three persons in the fort at noon, at least four hundred perished before night; and it was believed that about as many of the Indians had been killed or wounded.

The tidings of this massacre of course excited horror and indignation in every part of the country, but nowhere met so prompt and practical a response as in Tennessee. The Legislature of that State called for thirty-five hundred volunteers—in addition to fifteen hundred whom she had already enrolled in the service of the general Government—voted an appropriation of three hundred thousand dollars, and placed them under command of General Andrew Jackson. * To General John Cocke was entrusted the work of gathering the troops from East Tennessee, and providing subsistence for the whole. Fayetteville was appointed as the general rendezvous, and Colonel John Coffee was sent forward to Huntsville, Alabama, with a cavalry force of five hundred men, which by the time he arrived there was increased to thirteen hundred.

Jackson reached Fayetteville on the 7th of October, began drilling his men, and on the 11th, hearing from Coffee that the enemy was in sight, marched them to Huntsville—thirty-two miles—in five hours. For the work in hand, he could not have asked for better material than these Western pioneers, who were skilled in wood-craft, who knew the tricks and manners of the enemy, and were as fearless as they were cunning. Among them were Sam Houston and the eccentric and now famous David Crockett.

The only serious trouble was in forwarding the

* At this time the General was lying helpless at Nashville, from wounds received in a disgraceful affray.

supplies. At the most southerly point on Tennessee River, while he sent out the cavalry to forage, Jackson drilled the infantry and built Fort Deposit, intended as a depot for provisions when the rise of water should allow them to be sent down.

Forty-five miles southward, at the Ten Islands of the Coosa, friendly Indians were calling for help against the hostile Creeks. By a week's march, in which he foraged on all sides and burned several villages, Jackson reached that place. The enemy were in camp at Talluschatches (now Jacksonville), thirteen miles eastward, and on the night of November 2d Colonel Coffee was sent out with a thousand mounted men and a few friendly Creeks, to attack them. At sunrise he divided his force into two columns, the heads of which united near the place, while the remainder, swinging outward and forward, made a semicircle about the little town. Within this, two companies were pushed forward to entice the Indians from their shelter. This accomplished, these companies retreated, and the whole line opened fire upon the savages and rapidly closed in upon them. "Our men rushed up to the doors of the houses," said Coffee in his report, "and in a few minutes killed the last warrior of them. The enemy fought with savage fury, and met death with all its horrors, without shrinking or complaining. Not one asked to be spared, but fought as long as they could stand or sit." About two hundred Indians were killed, and eighty-four women and children were made prisoners. The Americans lost five men killed and forty-one wounded.

At this point Jackson was joined after a time by the forces from East Tennessee under General Cocke, and here he built Fort Strother. But before Cocke's arrival he learned that a few friendly Indians in Fort Talladega, thirty miles south, were completely surrounded by a thousand Creeks, who would soon reduce them by starvation. The news was brought by a chief who had disguised himself in a hog-skin and escaped from the fort by night.

Jackson at once put himself at the head of two thousand men, and marched to the relief of the little fort. On the 9th of November he arrived within striking distance of the enemy, when he deployed his columns, placing the volunteers on the right, the militia on the left, and the cavalry on the wings. He adopted precisely the same plan of attack that Coffee had used at Talluschatches; but it was not so completely successful, for two companies of the militia temporarily gave way, and a part of the cavalry had to dismount and fill the gap. Jackson believed that but for this he should have killed every one of the thousand hostile Indians before him. As it was, two hundred and ninety-nine of them were left dead on the field, while the remainder were chased to the mountains, and left a bloody track as they ran. The loss of the whites was fifteen killed and eighty-six wounded.

The Indians of the Hillabee towns, in what is now Cherokee county, sent a messenger to Jackson to sue for peace, through whom he replied that they could only have it on condition of returning prisoners and property and surrendering for punishment those who had been engaged in the massacres. But while they awaited an answer, General Cocke, working his way down the Coosa, sent a force, under General White, to attack these towns. White marched rapidly, destroying everything in his path, and on the 18th of November appeared before the principal village, which he at once fell upon, and killed sixty unresisting Indians, and carried back with him the squaws and children. The Indians, who supposed all the whites were under Jackson's command, looked upon this as a piece of treachery, and became more desperate than ever. For this unfortunate affair, General Cocke has been severely blamed; but he was tried by a court-martial, and honorably acquitted, while his own published statement makes it clear that he acted in entire good faith. He was as destitute of provisions as Jackson was, and thought if he pushed on to Fort Strother it would only double the number of starving soldiers there.

While Jackson was coming down from the north, General John Floyd, with nine hundred and fifty Georgians and four hundred Indians, was coming from the east. He first found the enemy at Autosse, on the Tallapoosa, thirty miles east of the present site of Montgomery, where, on the 29th of November, he attacked them, drove them from their villages to holes and caves in the river-bank, burned all their dwellings, and then hunted down and killed as many of them as possible. At least two hundred fell. The whites lost eleven killed and fifty-four wounded.

General Ferdinand L. Claiborne entered the country from the west in July, and built small forts at various points. On the 12th of December he left Fort Claiborne (on the site of the present town of that name) with a thousand men, and after marching more than a hundred miles northeast, he came on the 23d to an Indian town of refuge, called Econochaca, on the Alabama, west of Montgomery. This village was built upon what the Indian prophets assured the tribe was holy ground, which no white man could set, foot upon and live. No path of any kind led to it. Here the women and children had been sent for safety; here, in a little square, the prophets performed their religious rites, which are supposed to have included the burning of captives at the stake. Several captives, of both sexes, it is said were standing with the wood piled about them when Claiborne's columns appeared before the town.

The Indians, who had hurried their women and children across the river, fought desperately for a short time, and then broke and fled, many of them swimming the river and escaping. About thirty were killed. The whites lost one killed and six wounded. Claiborne sacked and burned the village, and then returned to Fort Claiborne, where his forces rapidly melted away by the expiration of their terms of service. Jackson, at Fort Strother, was in a similar predicament; and thus closed the year on the campaign at the South. It had been attended with many instances of individual bravery and exciting and romantic adventure, one of the most famous of which is known as the Canoe Fight, of which General Samuel Dale was the hero. There can be no better account of it than Dale's own, as he related it some years afterward to his friend Hon. John H. F. Claiborne, who incorporated it in his "Life of Dale." The General was on his way, November 13th, with sixty men, to attack an Indian camp on the east side of the Alabama, near what is now Dale's Ferry. He says:

"I put thirty of my men on the east bank, where the path ran directly by the river-side. With twenty men I kept the western bank, and thus we proceeded to Randon's Landing. A dozen fires were burning, and numerous scaffolds for drying meat, denoting a large body of Indians; but none were visible. About half past ten A.M. we discerned a large canoe coming down stream. It contained eleven warriors. Observing that they were about to land at a cane-brake just above us, I called to my men to follow, and dashed for the-, cane-brake with all my might. Only seven of my men kept up with me. As the Indians were in the act of landing, we fired. Two leaped into the water. Jim Smith shot one as he rose, and I shot the other. In the mean time they had backed into deep water, and three Indians were swimming on the off side of the canoe, working her as far from the shore as they could, to get out of the range of our guns. The others lay in the bottom of the canoe, which was thirty odd feet long, four feet deep, and three feet beam, made of an immense cypress-tree, specially for the transportation of corn. One of the warriors shouted to Weathersford (who was in the vicinity, as it afterward appeared, but invisible to us), 'Yos-ta-hah! yos-ta-hah!' 'They are spoiling us.' This fellow was in the water, his hands on the gunwale of the pirogue, and as often as he rose to shout we fired, but ineffectually. He suddenly showed himself breast-high, whooping in derision, and said, 'Why don't you shoot?' I drew my sight just between his hands, and as he rose I lodged a bullet in his brains. Their canoe then floated down with the current. I ordered my men on the east bank to fetch the boats. Six of them jumped into a canoe, and paddled to the Indians, when one of them cried out, 'Live Indians! Back water, boys! back water!' and the frightened fellows paddled back whence they came. I next ordered Cæsar, a free Negro fellow, to bring a boat. Seeing him hesitate, I swore I would shoot him the moment I got across. He crossed a hundred yards below the Indians, and Jim Smith, Jerry Austill, and myself got in. I made Cæsar paddle within forty paces, when all three of us levelled our guns, and all missed fire! As the two boats approached, one of them hurled his scalping-knife at me. It pierced the boat through and through, just grazing my thigh as it passed. The next moment the canoes came in contact. I leaped up, placing one of my feet in each boat. At the same instant the foremost warrior levelled his rifle at my breast. It flashed in the pan. As quick as lightning, he clubbed it, and aimed at me a furious blow, which I partially parried, and, before he could repeat it, I shivered his skull with my gun. In the mean time an Indian had struck down Jerry, and was about to despatch him, when I broke my rifle over his head. It parted in two places. The barrel Jerry seized, and renewed the fight. The stock I hurled at one of the savages. Being then disarmed, Caesar handed me his musket and bayonet.

"Finding myself unable to keep the two canoes in juxtaposition, I resolved to bring matters to an issue, and leaped into the Indian boat. My pirogue, with Jerry, Jim, and Caesar, floated off. Jim fired, and slightly wounded the Indian next to me. I now stood in the centre of their canoe—two dead at my feet—a wounded savage in the stern, who had been snapping his piece at me during the fight, and four powerful warriors in front. The first one directed a furious blow at me with his rifle; it glanced upon the barrel of my musket, and I staved the bayonet through his body. As he fell, the next one repeated the attack. A shot from Jerry Austill pierced his heart. Striding over them, the next sprung at me with his tomahawk. I killed him with the bayonet, and his corpse lay between me and the last of the party. I knew him well—Tar-cha-chee, a noted wrestler, and the most famous ball-player of his clan. He paused a moment in expectation of my attack, but, finding me motionless, he stepped backward to the bow of the canoe, shook himself, gave the war-whoop of his tribe, and cried out, 'Sam tholocco Iana dahmaska, ia-lanes-tha—lipso—lipso—lanestha. Big Sam! I am a man—I am coming—come on!' As he said this, with a terrific yell he bounded over the dead body of his comrade, and directed a blow at my head with his rifle, which dislocated my left shoulder. I dashed the bayonet into him. It glanced round his ribs, and the point hitching to his back-bone, I pressed him down. As I pulled the weapon out, he put his hands upon the sides of the canoe and endeavored to rise, crying out, 'Tar-cha-chee is a man. He is not afraid to die!' I drove my bayonet through his heart. I then turned to the wounded villain in the stern, who snapped his rifle at me as I advanced, and had been snapping during the whole conflict. He gave the war-whoop, and, in tones of hatred and defiance, exclaimed, 'I am a warrior—I am not afraid to die.' As he uttered the words I pinned him down with my bayonet, and he followed his eleven comrades to the land of spirits. "During this conflict, which was over in ten minutes, my brave companions, Smith and Austill, had been struggling with the current of the Alabama, endeavoring to reach me. Their guns had become useless, and their only paddle had been broken. Two braver fellows never lived. Austin's first shot saved my life.