The Women Defending the Wagon.—fuge 8.

 

 

 

 
- TAT, Eas;
TRADITIONS AND ROMANCE

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| BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.

 

WOMEN DEFENDING THE WAGON.
CAPTIVITY OF JONATHAN ALDER.
MOODY THE REFUGEE.

THE LEAP FOR LIFE.

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. NEW TORS
BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,.
118 WILLIAM STREET. _

 
 

 

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by po
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.

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WOMEN DEFENDING THE WAGON.

BETWEEN the Blue Ridge and the western range of the Alleghany
Mountains, in the northern part of the State of Virginia, is located
Shenandoah County, which derives its name from the beautiful river,
one branch of which flows through its entire length, from south to
north. Its county seat is Woodstock, a thriving town, with a popu-
lation of between one and two thousand inhabitants. This place
was settled, previous to the French and Indian war, by hardy Ger-
man yeomanry from Pennsylvania, who were tempted to leave the
rugged hills of the Keystone State, by the glowing reports which had
reached their ears of the surprising fertility and beauty of the valley
of the Shenandoah. Gathering up their household goods, they
turned their backs upon the homes of their first choice, and took
their way through pathless forests to “the promised land.” Arrived
at their new home, they selected the site of the present flourishing
town as the nucleus of the settlement, and commenced, with a will,
the laborious task of felling the forest and the erection of their homes.
A stockade fort was erected as a protection against the incursions
of predatory bands of Indians. A short time sufficed to place them
in circumstances which, if not actually flourishing, were compara-
tively thrifty, and so far promising as to the future, that. they were
led to look forward with hope to a long continued prosperity. They
were a plain, frugal and industrious people, unacyuainted with the
luxuries and only desiring the substantial requisites ofan humble life,
which were furnished in abundance by the fertile soil of the valley in

which they had taken’ up their abode. A traveler among them

during the French and Indian war thus speaks jof their happy
condition : Baw ee

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TALES AND TRADITIONS.

“T could not but reflect with pleasure upon the situation of these
people, and think, if there is such a thing as true happiness, in this
life, they enjoy it. Far from the bustle of the world, they live in the
most delightful climate and possess the richest soil imaginable. They
are everywhere surrounded by beautiful prospects and sylvan scenes.
Lofty mountains, transparent streams, falls of water, rich valleys and
majestic woods—the whole interspersed with an infinite variety of
flowering shrubs—constitute the landscape surrounding them. They
are subject to few diseases, are generally robust, and live in perfect
liberty. They are ignorant of want, and are acquainted with few
vices. Their inexperience of the elegancies of life precludes any
regret that they have not the means of enjoying them; but they pos-
sess what many princes would give half their dominions for—health,
content and tranquility of mind.”

Among others who had been attracted to this valley by the glow-
ing accounts of its fertility and comparative security, were two heads

of families by the names of Sheits and Taylor. The former was of

German parentage, the latter of English birth, but having both mar-
ried American women, and being drawn together by that bond of
sympathy which, in a new country, where danger is a common herit-
age, unites with a stronger tie than that of blood—they were more

like one family than two separate households.

Being driven from their homes by the massacre of two of their
neighbors and their families, they hastily collected a few necessaries,
placed them, with their wives and children, in a wagon, to which

‘was attached their respective horses, and started in search of a new

home. .Woodstock was the nearest town, or station, where there
was a fort, and toward that place they directed their steps.

The family of Taylor embraced himself, wife, and three children,
while that of Sheits numbered but three—himself, wife, and one child.
The few @
ned natiy
of dra

he limited room in the wagon, and the hur-

  
  
     
    
     
    
    

pi arture allowed them to remoy e, were a chest
gift from the parents of Mrs. T., a feather

   

bed, also 4 to Mrs. §., a-brass kettle or two, some few
culinary artic nd the axes and rifles of the men. These and their
horses, and a t farm wagon, were all they had saved, yet they fe

  

were well cor to come off with their lives, and trudged along,

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THE WOMEN DEFENDING THE WAGON. 7
satisfied if they could but reach a haven of safety from the barbarities
which had been inflicted upon their less fortunate neighbors and
friends.

The greater portion of their way lay through the forest, where.

every sound to their affrighted ears gave token of an enemy lurking
in their path, and the rustling of a leaf, or the sighing wind, awoke
their fears, and called up their latent courage. This had been passed,
however, in safety, and they had reached the brow of the hill from
whence they had a view of the beautiful valley below, where they
hoped to find a haven of rest. Pausing for a moment-to admire the
scene which opened before them, they gave vent to their feelings in
eulogies upon the lovely landscape, and words of encouragement te
their wives and children. Alas, as they spoke, the deadly rifle of a
concealed foe was leveled full at their breasts, and the savage red-
skin was thirsting for their blood, within a few feet of them. Hidden
by the thick underbrush which grew up by the side of the road, five
tawny warriors, painted and bedecked with their war feathers, lay
crouching like wild beasts, ready to spring upon their prey. Just as
they started to resume their way, and descend the hill toward the
settlement, the crack of two rifles, the whizzing of two leaden mes-
sengers, and the fall of their husbands, alarmed the women and
widowed them at the same instant. The aim had been sure, and

wall
both the men fell without a groan, pierced through the heart with a

bullet from an unnerring rifle. Quick as the flash from a summer
cloud were all their hopes of safety and future happiness . blasted,
stricken to the earth with the fall of their husbands. No cry escaped
the now bereaved women. .Their feelings were too deep for utter-
ance, nor was there any time for grief or repining. Left in an instant
selfdependent, they looked around for the foe and for means of

Sry

defense. Nothing was within reach but the axes of their husbands; —

these they seized, awaiting the onset of the sayages. They had not —

long to wait. Pushing aside the foliage, the five warriors sprang, —

witha grunt of satisfaction, from the thicket into the road, and made
for the wagon to secure their prisoners. The first who came up
seized the son of Mrs. Taylor, and endeavored to drag him from the
wagon, but the little fellow resisted manfully, looking, meanwhile, up

into his mother’s faee, as if to implore protection at her hands. The

263

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8 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

appeal was not lost upon her. Seizing, with both hands, the axe of
her husband, and swinging it around her head, she brought it down,
with all the vengeful force of her arm, upon the shoulder of the In-
dian, inflicting a wound which sent him off howling with pain.
Turning to another, she served him in like manner, while Mrs.
Sheits had sent a third back to his lair with a severe blow across
the hand which severed all his fingers. The other two were wise
enough to keep without the reach of their blows, but endeavored to
intimidate them by terrific yells and brandished tomahawks. No-
thing daunted, however, the heroic women maintained their attitude
of defense, until wearied of their efforts, and, fearing the approach of
relief from the garrison of the fort, the two unwounded Indians
rushed into the thicket for their rifles, to end the conflict. Taking
advantage of this opportunity, the women started the horses, and
the red-skins, not daring to pursue them, they were permitted to
reach the fort in safety, from which a party set out to bring in the
dead and scalped bodies of their husbands.

Stories of such danger and fortitude as this can be but dimly real-
ized by the women of to-day. Yet the annals of our early history
are all too painfully darkened by such records; and it is well for the
heroes of the prosperous present to know through what hardships
this rich inheritance was secured to them. Emigration did not stop
in Virginia any more than it had rested in Pennsylvania :

“Westward to the star of empire takes its way ;””
and the glorious Valley of the Mississippi won forward the daring
steps of the pioneers. It is known how long and terrible was the
contest by which Kentucky was wrested, inch by inch, from her an-
cient owners, until her lovely soil, baptized in sorrow, received the
name of the “dark and bloody ground.” Here, as always where
there is a chance for her development, and she is permitted to play
her free part by the side of man, woman did her share of the oner-
ous work, and had her share of the perils. One of the most terrible
of the family histories of that period is the following, of the house-
hold of a widow, by the name of Shanks, full particulars of which
are given in the history of Kentucky.

On the night of the 10th of April, 1787, the house of Mrs. Shanks,
on Cooper’s Run, in Bourbon County, was attacked by Indians. This

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THE ATTACK. 9

house, which was a double cabin, consisting of two rooms, with an
open way between, contained, at the time the assault was made, be-
sides the widow herself, a widowed daughter, three other daughters,
a young girl, and two sons of adult age. Although the hour was
near midnight, one of the young men still remained up, and in the
opposite room a sister was busily engaged at the loom.

An hour before, while they were yet unconscious of the actual pres-
ence of Indians, the suspicions of the son was aroused by the cry of
owls, hooting to each other in the adjoining wood, in a rather un-
usual manner, and by the terror and excitement of the horses, who
were enclosed, as customary, in a pound near the house.

Several times the young man was on the point of awaking his
brother, but as often refrained, through fear of being ridiculed for his
timidity. At length hasty steps were heard without, and then came
several sharp knocks at the door, accompanied by the usual question
of the wayfarer, “Who keeps this house?” spoken in yery good
English.

He hastily advanced to withdraw the bolt which secured the door,
supposing the new comer to be some benighted settler; when his
mother, whose greater experience had probably detected the Indian
accent, instantly sprang out of bed, and warned her son that the men

outside were sayages. Psi

The other son being by this time aroused, the two young men,
seizing their rifles, which were always charged, prepared to repel the
enemy. “Conscious that their true character. was discovered, the In-
dians now strove to break in the door; but a single shot from the
loop-hole compelled them to shift their point of attack, when, unfor-
tunately, they discovered the door of the other cabin, which contained
the three daughters.

By some oversight in the construction of the cabin, none of the
loops enabled the brothers to cover the door of the room in which
their sisters were. The Indians soon forced it open by means of rails
taken from the yard fence. The girls being thus placed at the mercy
of the savages, one was instantly secured; but the eldest defended
herself desperately with a knife, and succeeded in mortally wounding

a savage before she was tomahawked. The youngest girl darted out

wh

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into the yard, and might have escaped in the darkness; but the poor

265

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10 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

creature ran around the house, and; wringing her hands in terror,
kept crying out that her sisters were killed.

The brothers, agonized almost to madness by her cries, were pre-
pared to sally out to her assistance, when their mother stayed them,
and calmly declared that the child must be abandoned to her fate.
The next instant, the child uttered a loud scream, followed by a few
faint moans, and then all was silent.

That portion of the house which had been occupied by the daugh-
ters was now set on fire, and the flames soon communicating to the
opposite room, the brothers were compelled to fling open the door,
and attempt to seck safety by flight.

The old lady, supported by her eldest son, sought to cross the
fence at one point, while the widowed daughter, with her child in her
arms, and attended by the younger of the brothers, ran in a different
direction. The blazing roof shed a light over the yard but little in-
ferior to that of day, and the savages were distinctly seen awaiting
the approach of their victims. The old lady was permitted to reach
the stile unmolested, but, in the act of crossing, received several balls
in her breast, and fell dead. Her son providentially remained unhurt,
and, by extraordinary agility, effected his escape. The other brother,
being assailed by the Indians, defended his sister desperately for some
. time, and drew the attention of the savages so closely to himself, that
: : she succeeded in eluding their vigilance. The braye and devoted
b young man was less fortunate; he fell beneath repeated blows from
FE the tomahawks of his enemies, and was found at daylight, scalped
and mangled in a most shocking manner.

Of the whole family, consisting of eight persons when the attack

   
   
   
  
  

commenced, only three escaped. Four were killed on the spot, and
one, the second daughter, carried off prisoner.

The alarm was soon given, and by daylight thirty men were as-
sembled under Colonel Edwards, who pursued the Indian trail at a
gallop, tracking the footsteps of the savages in the snow. The trail
led directly into the mountainous country bordering upon Licking, and
~ afforded evidences of great precipitation on the part of the Indians.

Unfortunately, a hound had been permitted to accompany the whites,
and, as the trail became fresh, and the scent warm, she pursued it
with eagerness, baying loudly and giving alarm to the savages. The
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THE PURSUIT. 11

consequence of this imprudence was soon displayed. The enemy,
finding the pursuit keen, and perceiving the strength of their pris-
oner beginning to fail, instantly sank their tomahawks in her head,
and left her, still warm and bleeding, upon the snow. As the whites
came up, she retained strength enough to wave her hand in token of
recognition, and appeared desirous of giving them some information
in regard to the enemy; but her strength was too far gone. Her
brother sprang from his horse, and endeavored to stop the effusion
of blood, but in vain. She gave him her hand, muttered some inar-
ticulate words, and expired within two minutes after the arrival of
the party.

The pursuit was renewed with additional ardor, and, in twenty
minutes, the enemy was within view. They had taken possession of
a narrow ridge, magnifying their numbers in the eyes of the whites,
by running rapidly from tree to tree, and maintaining a steady yell
in their most appalling tones.

The pursuers, however, were too experienced to be deceived by so
common an artifice. Being satisfied that the number of the enemy
must be inferior to their own, they dismounted, tied their horses, and
flanking out in such a manner as to enclose the savages, ascended
as rapidly as was consistent with a due regard to the shelter of their
persons.

The firing commenced, and now they discovered, for the first time,
that only two Indians were opposed to them. They had voluntarily
sacrificed themselves for the safety of the main body, and had suc-
ceeded in delaying pursuit until their friends could reach the moun-
tains. One of them was shot dead, and the other was badly
wounded, as was evident from the blood upon his blanket, as well as
that which filled the snow for a considerable distance. The pursuit
was recommenced, and urged keenly until night, when the trail en-
tered a running stream, and was lost.

We know of nothing more powerfully illustrating the life led by

the women of those days, than the following statements, brief and + :

simple as they are, made in the record of General Samuel Dale:

« About this time Joe Horn and Dave Calhoun went to their clear-
ings to plant corn, very imprudently tuking their wives and. children
with them, who camped in the field. Being both off api one

 
    

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12 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

day, the prowling savages made a clean sweep of these two families.
The poor, heart-stricken husbands, almost erazy, returned to the fort,
and the whole night was passed by all of us in lamentations and vows
of vengeance.

“For several months after this, we were not troubled, and my bro-
ther and. myself were boarded about ten miles off, at Halbert Mc-
Clure’s, to go to school. Returning, one morning, from a visit home,
we fell in with old Mr. Bush, of Castlewood Fort, who informed us
that he saw Shawnee ‘signs’ about, and that we must go back to
Glade Hollow, and give the alarm. Unfortunately, father had left,
the day before, for the salt works, on Holton river, and mother and
the children were alone. About nine at night, we saw two Indians
approaching. Mother immediately threw a bucket full of water on
the fire, to prevent their seeing us, made us lie on the floor, bolted
and barred the door, and posted herself there with an ax and a rifle.
We never knew why they desisted from an attack, or how father es
caped, who rode up three hours afterward.

“Tn two or three days all of us set out for Clinch Mountain, to
the wedding of Hoppy Kincaid, a clever young fellow from Holston,
and Sally McClure, a fine, bouncing girl of seventeen, modest and

pretty, yet fearless and free. We knew the Shawnees were about—

that our fort and household effects must be left unguarded, and might
probably be destroyed—that we incurred the risk of a fight, or an
ambuscade, capture, or even death, on the road; but in those days, in
that wild country, folks did not calculate consequences closely, and
the temptation to a frolic, a feast, a wedding, a dance till daylight,
and often for several days together, was not to be resisted, and off we
went.

“Tn half an hour we fell in with Captain Barnett, and twenty men
from Holston, who warned us that Indians were about,.and that he
was scouting for them. Father, ever eager for a fight, joined this
company, and we trudged on to Clinch Mountain. Instead of the
bridal party, the well-spread table, the ringing laughter, and the sound-
ing feet of buxom dancers, we found a pile of ashes and.six or seven
ghastly corpses, tomahawked and scalped! Poor Hardy McClure
was dead ; several others lay around. One daughter was still. breath-

ie ing, but soon expired. Mrs. McClure, her infant, and three other

268

 
  
 

THE ESCAPE. “B

children, including Sally, the intended bride, had been carried off by
the savages. They soon tore the poor infant from its mother’s arms,
and killed it, that she might travel faster.

“ While they were scalping this child, Peggy McClure, a girl twel
years old, perceived a sink-hole at her feet, and dropped silently into
it. It communicated with a ravine, down which she ran, and brought
the news into the settlement. The Indians were too apprehensive of
pursuit to search for her. The same night Sally, who had been tied
and forced to lie down between two warriors, contrived to loosen her
thongs and make her escape. She struck for the cane-brake, then
for the river, and, to conceal her trail, resolyed to descend it. It was
deep wading, and the current was so rapid, she had to fill her petti-
coat with gravel to steady herself. She soon, however, recovered
confidence, returned to shore, and finally reached the still-smoking
homestead about dark next evening. A few neighbors, well armed,
had just buried the dead. Kincaid was among them. The last
prayer had been said when the orphan girl stood among them, and
was soon in the arms of her lover. Resolved to leaye no more to
chance, at his entreaty, and by the advice of all, the weeping girl
gave her consent, and, by the grave of the household, and near the

ruined dweiling, they were immediately married.”

Can imagination add anything to this vivid picture ?

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TALES AND TRADITIONS.

é _ CAPTIVITY OF JONATHAN ALDER.

Tue narrative of the captivity of Jonathan Alder is one of great
interest and value, being a source from whence can be derived much

‘ important information regarding the customs, habits and manners of

the Indians, among whom he spent fifteen years of his early life.
We regret that it is impossible to give more than an outline sketch
of the incidents connected with his capture and adoption by the
savages.

He was born in New Jersey, but removed with his father to
Wythe County, Virginia, about 1780. In March, 1782, while he and
his brother David were in search of a mare and her foal, which had
strayed off into the woods, they were surprised by the appearance of
a small party of Indians, who darted upon them from behind the
trees, and, before Jonathan had time to make an effort at escape, he
found himself in the grasp of a stalwart warrior, who threatened him
with his tomahawk, and checked the effort, if the idea had risen in
his mind. David, however, started to run, and was pursued by one
of the Indians, who soon returned, leading him by one hand, and
with the other holding the handle of a spear, which he had thrown
at him, and which still remained in his body. On seeing this,
another savage stepped up and took hold of the boy, holding him
firmly in his grasp, while the first pulled the spear out of the wound
by main strength. The poor fellow uttered a shriek of pain at this
barbarous surgery, whereupon Jonathan moved toward him and
inquired if he was hurt. He replied that he was, and in a few mo-
ments sank dying to the ground. Jonathan was hurried forward,
while one of the Indians remained with the other boy; but in a few
moments made his appearance with the scalp of David in his hand,
and, as he approached, with an exhibition of the most fiendish
delight, he shook the reeking trophy, from which the blood was still
dripping, in the face of the lad, who was so, horror-stricken at the

fate of his brother as to be scarcely able to proceed. Finding it
270 ‘

 

 

 
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THE CAPTIVITY OF JONATHAN ALDER. 15

necessary, however, for the salvation of his own life, he urged him-
self to his utmost, and they soon overtook the balance of the party,
with whom he found a Mrs. Martin, a neighbor, and a child about
five years old, whom the Indians had taken captive after murdering
the husband of Mrs. Martin, and all the rest of her family. They
did not long leave her this solace to her misery, but finding the boy
somewhat troublesome, they killed and scalped it, and, to still the
agonizing cries of the broken-hearted mother, one of the inhuman
wretches drew the edge of his knife across her forehead, at the same
time crying “scalp! scalp!” to intimate the fate in store for her if
she did not stop her screams. Finding threats of no avail, they then
cut switches, with which they beat her until she became quiet. One
day, as the boy Alder was sitting on the ground, after eating his
dinner, and being completely worn out with the fatigue of their long
and rapid march, not having risen when ordered to do so, he observed
the shadow of some one standing behind him with a tomahawk in
his hand, in the attitude of striking. He turned suddenly around
and beheld a warrior just in the act of tomahawking him. Finding
himself discovered, perhaps, or struck with the good-natured look |
which the boy’s face wore, he withheld the blow, and commenced
feeling of his head. He afterward told the boy that the color of his
hair had saved his life; for, upon noticing that it was black and
thick, he had thought that he would make a good Indian, and there-
fore had concluded to take him to his tribe.

The party by whom Alder had been taken belonged to the Mingo
tribe, whose village was on the north side of Mad River. After
many days of weary travel, and foot-sore and weary, they arrived in
its vicinity. The usual scalp-yell and whoop, announcing the pres-
ence of prisoners in the party, having been given, the whole village
turned out to receive them, and Alder was obliged to undergo the
ordeal of running the gauntlet. Two rows of Indian boys and ease
were stationed in front of the council-house, armed with switches,
and, exhausted as he was, he was compelled to run between the
and make his way within the door of the council-house for safety
from their blows. Fortunately he accomplished this with his’ life, %
and was soon after adopted into an Indian family, after being pw ee

of his white blood. This was done by washing him in a de
71

  
 
  
 
 
    
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16 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

of herbs, with soap; and after being dressed in the Indian fashion,
with shirt, leggins, breech-clouts and moccasins, he was considered
as one of the tribe. It is not to be wondered at that it was long
before he could become in any way reconciled to his new way of
life, and that he should mourn for that home which he never again
expected to see. For all one year, the poor boy longed to return to
his mother, brothers and sisters. Every thing was new and strange
to him; he could not speak a word of their language; their food
and manner of life disagreed with him}; and, as if to render his
misery more complete, he suffered dreadfully with the fever and
ague. His adopted father was chief of the tribe, and he, as well as his
squaw, endeavored to comfort him in every way possible, and render
his situation comfortable; but they could not quiet his longings for
home, and the poor little fellow spent many lonely, bitter hours, near
the foot of a walnut-tree in the adjacent forest, weeping over his hard

lot. The chief had three daughters, named Mary, Sally and Han-

nah. Of these, Sally was harshest, making Jonathan do all the

work, and stigmatizing him as a “mean, lousy prisoner.” Mary, the
eldest, married a distinguished Shawnee chief, called Colonel Lewis,
and Jonathan went to live with them for a time. Of this couple he
speaks in the warmest eulogy. He says: “The Indians would gen-
erally collect at our camp evenings, to talk over their hunting expe-
ditions. I would sit up to listen to their stories, and frequently fell
asleep just where I was sitting. After they left, Mary would fix my
bed, and Colonel Lewis would carefully take me up and carry me to
it. On these occasions they would often say, supposing me to be
asleep: ‘Poorfellow, we have set up too long for him, and he has
fallen asleep on the cold ground.’ And then how softly would they
lay me down and cover me up. Oh, never have I, nor can‘, ex-
press the affection I had for these two persons.”

At the end of a year, or little more, Jonathan acquired their lan-
guage, and became in a measure reconciled and contented; but their
food, which was principally hominy and meat, went agaimst him for
a long time. As soon as he grew stout enough to carry a rifle, they
gave him an old musket to begin with, and told him he must learn

 
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THE CAPTIVITY OF JONATHAN ALDER.

   

* use of the piece. His first essays were made upon -mud-turtles,
which he would approach as they lay basking on a rock in the sun-
shine; and when he had acquired skill enough to kill them by hit-
; ting the rockfiiet beneath them, and thus blowing them into the air
| —sometimes to the height of six or seven feet—he tried his skill
upon larger game. Alder remained with the Indians until after the
treaty with Wayne, in 1795. He gives many. particulars of great
interest concerning the movements of the Indians during the long

and bloody wars which preceded that propitious event. Peace being

i established, and almost all the white prisoners having returned to
} their former homes and friends, he began to feel a desire to see his

mother and his relatives again. His long residence among the
{ Indians, however, had deprived him of all knowledge of the English -
language, and he had lost all recollection even of the State in which
i he had lived. He had not, therefore, the least clew to aid him in
the search.
Watching his opportunity, however, and having long entertained
- the idea of escaping, he at last succeeded in eluding the suspicions
+ of his red friends, and in beginning his enterprise. Choosing a sea- a
son of the year when game and berries were plenty, and stocking his
bag with dried venison, he set out, avowedly, on a hunting expedi- a
; tion ; and the true object of his journey was not suspected for some
days after the time of his expected return. He had nothing to guide
him toward the white settlements, except a knowledge that they lay

 

in a northerly direction. His skill in woodcraft being equal to that
of the Indians’, he was enabled to bear the fatigues and discourage-

-

ments of his wanderings. A band of red men, whom he encoun- ;
tered, treated him as one of themselves, they belonging to a friendly a

 

tribe ; and, after three weeks of solitary marches, sleeping at night as

the circumstances permitted, he emerged into a country once familiar + ; =
to him, but now considerably changed during the fifteen years of his °
absence.

But his friends, nor their surroundings, were not so much changed
as himself. He was not only an Indian in his appearance, but in hago
many of his feelings. Glad as he was to get back, he soon became ees
very home-sick for the wild life he had abandoned. The clothes, the
warm beds, the chairs, the food and table, the restraints of civiliz: tion,

* cer
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20 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

were, for a time, almost insupportable. It was but very gradually
that the white blood of his ancestors begun to stir anew in his veins,
and the powerful ties and instincts of early associations to break up
the strong bonds of more recent habits. He was alinost as many
years in becoming a white man as he had been in growing an In-
dian.

A writer upon the character of the Indians, in his defense of them,
says that if an Anglo-American were placed in the same circumstances
with a native, he would make a precisely similar person in every
trait and habit. “This averment is sustained by a reference to the
white people who had been taken prisoners in childhood and brought
up among the Indians. In every such case, the child of civilization
has become the ferocious adult of the forest, manifesting all the
peculiarities, tastes and preferences of the native Indian. His man-
ners, habits, propensities‘and pursuits have been the same; his fond-
ness for the chase and his aversion to labor the same; so that the
most astute philosophical observer has been unable to detect any
difference, except in the color of the skin; and, in some instances,
eyen this distinction has been removed by long exposure to the
weather, and the free use of oils and paints. - There have been cases
in which the children of white parents, who have been raised among
the Indians from early infancy, have been taken home, in middle
life, to their relatives, but have refused to remain, and:haye returned
to the tribes in which they were brought up. One case of this kind
occurred within the knowledge of the writer. A female, captured in
infancy, and reared among the Indians, was brought in by them at
the treaty of Greenville, and sent to her parents in Kentucky. She
soon became so discontented and restless that, in spite of all their
efforts, she left them, returned to her former associates, and was again
happy.” All of which is doubtless true, but does not disprove the
many barbarous instincts of the red-men.

In the fall of 1788, Matthias Van Bebber, aged eighteen, and Jacob,
aged twelve years, were out a short distance from Point Pleasant,
with a horse, when they were waylaid by four Indians. Jacob was
leading the horse, and Matthias was a short distance ahead, with a
rifle across his shoulder, when the Indians fired two guns at Matthias.

Cne of the balls struck him over the eyes, momentarily blinding him ;

276

 
 

BOQUET’S DEFENSE OF FORT PITT. 21

he sprang one side, and fell into a gully. Jacob, on hearing the
report of the guns, fled, pursued by three of the savages. Matthias,
in the mean e, sprang up and took to atree. The remaining
Indian did the same. The lad brought up his gun to an aim, the
Indian dodged, when the former improved the opportunity to fly,
and escaped to the fort. The other three, after a tight chase of half
a mile, caught Jacob, who, being very active, would have escaped,
had not his moccasins beén too large. They then retreated across
the Ohio with their prisoner. He was a sprightly little fellow, small
of his age, and his captors, pleased with him, treated him kindly.
On the first night of their encampment, they took him on their knees
and sang to him. He turned away his head to conceal his tears.

On arriving at their town, while running the gauntlet between the
children of the place, an Indian boy, much larger than himself, threw
a bone, which struck him on the head. Enraged by the pain, Jacob
drew back, and running with all his force, butted him over, to the
great amusement of the gazing warriors. He was adopted into an
Indian family, where he was used with kindness. On one occasion

his adopted father whipped him, but not severely, which affected his —

new mother and sister to tears. After remaining with the tribe
about a year, he escaped, traveling five days through the wilderness
to his home. When he arrived at maturity he was remarkable for
his fleetness. None of the Indians who visited the Point could
distance him in running. :

One of the most interesting histories on record of the return of
white prisoners from among the red-men is connected with Boquet’s
defense of Fort Pitt, and his expedition from that fort into the

wilderness, to overawe his adversaries by the display of his strength, :

and to recover the vast number of men, women and children, held
by the savages, amounting, in all, to over three hundred. Fort Pitt
stood on the present site of Pittsburg, and, at the time of which we
write, 1772, was the only spot, excepting Fort Detroit, from the Falls
of Niagara to the Falls of St. Mary, over which the English flag
waved. Our splendid territories were being ravaged by the Tndians ;
families, who had effected a home and comforts, being driven back by
the tomahawk, with»their scattered remnants, to the East, from which

they had emigrated, or into Fort Pitt, which ‘alone opposed itself ta
277

 

 

 
  

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“TALES AND TRADITIONS.

the murderous waves which dashed against, and threatened to under-
mine it. It withstood, like Fort Detroit, a long siege by the savages,
was reinforced, the reinforcements, before reaching the fort, having
given battle to, and defeated the Indians. -

The Indians, disheartened by their overwhelming defeat, and des-

_ pairing of success against the fort, now that it was so heavily rein-

forced, retired sullenly to their homes beyond the Ohio, leaving the
country between it and the settlement free from their ravages. Com-
munication being rendered safe, the fugitives were able to return to
their friends, or take possession of their abandoned cabins. By com-
paring notes, they were soon able to make out an accurate list of
those who were missing—either killed or prisoners among various
tribes—when it was found to contain the names of more than two
hundred men, women and children. Fathers mourned their daugh-
ters, slain or subject to a captivity worse than death ; husbands, their
wives, left mangled in the forest, or forced to follow their savage cap-
tors—some with babes at their breasts, and some, whose offspring
would first see the light in the red-man’s wigwam—and loud were
the cries for vengeance which went up on every hand.

Boquet wished to follow up his success, and march at once into the
enemy's country, and wring from the hostile tribes, by force of arms,
a treaty of peace, which should forever put an end to those scenes

an and the season
too far advanced. He matured his plans during the winter, and in
the spring began his preparations. The Indians, in the meantime,
had procured powder from the French, and, as soon as the snow
melted, commenced their ravages along the frontier. The aroused
and desperate people of Pennsylvania furnished a thousand men, and -
Virginia a corps of volunteers, which, added to Boquet’s five hun-
dred regulars, made a force of nearly two thousand men, with which
he was instructed to advance into the enemy’s territory, and, by one
grand movement, crush the offending tribes. His route was without any
water communication, and lay through the heart of an unbroken wil-
derness. The expedition was to be carried out without boats, wagons,
or artillery, and without a post to fall back upon in case of disaster.
It was, indeed, an isolated and a novel affair. It was autumn before

all obstacles were overcome, and the army under way. It struck di-
278

 
BOQUET’S EXPEDITION. 238

rectly into the trackless forest, with no definite point in view, and no
fixed limit to its advance. It was intended to overawe by its mag-
nitude—to move, as an awful exhibition of power, into the heart of
the red-man’s dominions. Expecting to be shut up in the forest at
least a month, receiving in that time no supplies from without, it had
to carry along an immense quantity of provisions. Meat, of course,
could not be preserved, and so the frontier settlements were exhausted
of sheep and oxen for its support. These necessarily caused the
march to be slow and methodical. The corps of Virginia volunteers
went in front, preceded by three scouting parties—one of which kept
the path—while the two others moved in a line abreast, on either
side, to explore the woods.

Under cover of these, the ax companies, guarded by two companies
of light infantry, cut two parallel paths, one each side of the main
path, for the troops, pack-horses, and cattle, which followed. First
marched the Highlanders, in column, two deep, in the centre path,
and in the side paths, in single file, abreast—the men six feet apart
—and behind them the corps of reserve, and the second battalion of
Pennsylvania militia. Then came the officers, and pack-horses, fol-
lowed by the droves of cattle, filling the forest with their loud com-
plainings. A company of light-horse walked slowly after these,
while the rear-guard closed the long array. No talking was allowed,
and no music cheered the way. In this order the unwieldy caravan
struggled along, neither extremity of which could be seen from the
centre, it being lost amid the thickly-clustering trunks and foliage in
the distance. |

Some days they would make but two or three miles, and again,
when the way was less obstructed, would make ten, fifteen or eigh-
teen miles. On the fourth day of their march, near some deserted
Indian huts, they came upon the skull of a child, stuck upon a
pole.
There was a large number of men in the army who had wives,
children and friends prisoners among the Indians, and who had ac-
companied the expedition for the purpose of recovering them. To
these the skull of this little child brought sad reflections. Some one
among them was, perhaps, its father, while the thought that it might
stand as an index, to tell the fate of all who were captured, made

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24 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

 

each one shudder. As they looked at it, bleached by the sun and
rain, the anxious heart asked questions it dared not answer.

Keeping on their course, they pursued their difficult march, day
after day, much of the time through a tangled wilderness, but occa-
sionally, from some high point, catching glimpses of marvellous
splendor of sky and scenery, the purpled sunlight of October wrap-
ping all objects in a kind of enchantment. At times the path was
so overgrown with bushes, that every step had to be cleared with
the ax; again, it would be over marshes, so wet that bridges had to
be constructed, to keep the cattle from sinking; and still again, the
men would be cheered by an easy and rapid day’s journey, along the
banks of some pleasant stream. Ohio is even yet renowned for its
glorious forests, and these, now dressed in all the gorgeous coloring
of Indian summer, gave frequent pictures of beauty which impressed
the roughest of the sturdy soldiers.

At length they descended to a small river, which they followed
until it joined the main force of the Muskingum, where a scene of a
very different character awaited them. A little above and below the
forks, the shores had been cultivated, and lined with Indian houses.
The place was called Tuscarora, and, for beauty of situation, could
not well be surpassed. The high, luxuriant banks, the placid rivers,
meeting and flowing on together, the green fields, sprinkled with
huts, and bordered with rich, autumnal foliage, all basking in the
mellow October light, and so out of the way there in the wilderness,
combined to form a sweet picture, which was doubly lovely to them
after being so long shut up in the forest. They reached this beautiful
spot Saturday afternoon, and, the next day being Sunday, they: re-
mained in camp, men and cattle being allowed a day of rest. The
latter, revived under the swell of green grass, and, roaming over the -
fields, gave a still more civilized aspect to the quiet scene. The next
day, the army moved two miles further down the Muskingum, and
encamped on a high bank, where the stream was three hundred feet
wide.

The following day six chiefs came into camp, saying that all the
rest were eight miles off, waiting to make peace. Boquet told them
he would be ready to receive them next day. In the meantime he
ordered a large bower to be built, a short distance from camp, while

280 j

 
THE PEACE TREATY. 25

sentinels were posted in every direction, to prevent surprise, in case
treachery was meditated.

The next day, the 17th, he paraded the Highlanders and Virginia
volunteers, and, escorted by the light-horse, led them to the bower,
where he disposed them in the most imposing manner, so as to im-
press the chiefs, in the approaching interview. The latter, as they
emerged from the forest, were conducted, with great ceremony to the
bower, which they entered with their accustomed gravity, where,
without saying a word, they quietly seated themselves, and com-
menced smoking. When they had finished they laid aside their pipes,

and drew from their pouches strings of wampum. The council,
being thus opened, they made a long address, in which they were

profuse in their professions of peace, laying the whole blame of the
war on the young men, whom, they said, they could not control.
Boquet, not wishing to appear eager to come to a settlement,

replied that he would give his answer the next day, and the council

broke up. <A passing storm, however, prevented a meeting of the
council until the day following that first set. Boquet’s answer was

long and conciliatory; but the gist of it was that he would make

peace on one condition, and no other—that the Indians should give —

up all the prisoners in their possession within ten days.

Remaining quietly in camp until Monday, he again ordered the
tents to be struck, and recommenced his march, to show his deter-
mination to enforce his commands. In three days he reached the
forks of the Muskingum ; and, judging this to be as central a position
as he could find, he resolved to remain there until his mission was
accomplished. He ordered four redoubts to be built, erected several
store-houses, a mess-house, a large number of ovens, and various
other buildings for the reception of captives, which, with the white

tents scattered up and down the forks of the river, made a large set-—

tlement in the wilderness, filling the Indians with alarm. A town
with nearly two thousand inhabitants, well supplied with horses, cat-

tle and sheep, and with ample means of defense, was well calculated
to awaken the gloomiest anticipations in the breasts of the ancient
inheritors. The steady sound of the ax, day after day, the lowing
of cattle, and all the bustle of civilization, echoing along the banks

of the Muskingum, within the very heart of their territory, was more
281

 

 
  

 

 

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26 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

alarming than the resistless march of a victorious army ; and, anxious
to get rid of such unwelcome company, they made eyery effort to
collect the prisoners scattered amid the various tribes.

Boquet remained here two weeks, occupied with sending and re-
ceiving messengers who were charged with business relating to the
restoration of the captives. At the end of this time, two hundred
and six, the majority of them women and children, had been received
into camp. An hundred more yet remained in the hands of the In-
dians. These they solemnly promised to restore in the spring, and,
as the leafless forest, the biting blast, and occasional flurries of snow,
reminded Boquet of the coming on of winter, he determined to re-
trace his steps to Fort Pitt.

These two weeks, during which the prisoners were being brought
in, were filled with scenes of the most intense, and often painful ex-
citement. Some of the captives had been for many years with the
Indians, recipients of their kindness and love ; others had passed from
childhood to maturity among them, till they had forgotten their na-
tive language, and the past was to them, if remembered at all, but a
half-forgotten dream. All of them—men, women and children—
were dressed in Indian costume, and their hair arranged in Indian
fashion. Their features, also, were bronzed by long exposure to the
weather, so that they appeared to have passed more than half way
to a. purely savage state. As troop after troop came in, the eager
looks and inquiries of those who had accompanied the army to find
their long-lost families and kindred, made each arrival a most tbrill-
ing scene. In some instances, where the separation had only been
for a short time, the recognition was simultaneous and mutual, and
the short, quick cry, and sudden rush into each other’s arms, brought
tears to the eyes of the hardy soldiers. In others, doubt, agony,
fear and hope, would in turn take possession of the heart, chasing
each other like shadows over the face, as question after question. was
put, to recall some event or scene familiar to both, till at last a com-
mon chord would be touched, when the dormant memory would
awake as by an electric shock, a flood of fond recollections sweep

away all uncertainty, and the lost one be hurried away amid sobs and

cries of joy. Sometimes the disappointed father or brother would

turn sorrowfully away, and, witn that hope deferred which maketh
282

 

 
 

SCENES OF RECOGNITION. 27

the heart sick, sadly await the arrival of another group. But the
most painful sight was when a mother recognized her own child,
which, however, in turn, persisted in looking on her as a stranger,
coldly turning from her embrace, and clinging to its savage protector ;
or when a mutual recognition failed to awaken affection on one
side, so entirely had the heart become weaned from its early attach-
ments. In these cases, the joy of the captors knew no bounds; the
most endearing epithets and caresses would be Javished on the whi-
lome prisoner. But when they saw them taken away, torrents of
tears attested their sincere affection and grief. The attitude of in-
tense interest, and the exhibition of uncontrollable sorrow of these
wild children of the forest, on one side, and, on the other, the ecstatic
joy of the white mother as she folded her long-lost child in her
arms, and the deep emotion of the husband as he strained his recoy-
ered wife to his bosom, combined to form one of the most moving,
novel spectacles ever witnessed in the American wilderness.

One of the captive women had an infant, three months old, at her
breast, born in the Indian’s wigwam. A Virginia volunteer instantly
recognized her as his wife, stolen from his log-cabin six months pre-
vious, and rushing forward he snatched her to his bosom, and flew
with her to his tent, where, tearing off the savage costumes of both,
he clothed them in their proper garments. After the first burst of
joy was over, he inquired after his little boy, two years old, who
was carried off at the same time she was made prisoner; but his
wife could give no tidings of him. A few days after, another party
of prisoners arrived, in which was a child whose appearance an-
swered to the description of this little fugitive. The woman was
sent for and the child placed before her. She looked at it a moment
and shook her head. But the next instant the powerful maternal
instinct triumphed, and, recognizing in the little savage before her
her lost darling, she dropped her babe,and snatching him to her
bosom, burst into a torrent of tears. The husband caught the babe
from the ground, and the couple hurried away to his tent. The

poor Indian mother watched their retreating forms, and then bury-
ing her head ‘in her blanket, sobbed aloud. A scene equally affect-
ing occurred between an aged mother and her daughter, who had

been carried off nine years before, and adopted in a distant tribe,
283 :
LPR See —

 

28 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

Though the latter had passed from childhood to womanhood in the ‘
forest, differing from other young squaws only in the tint of her

skin, which her wild life could not wholly bronze, the eyes of the

parent detected the features of her child in the handsome young ane
savage, and calling her by name, she rushed forward to embrace

her. The latter, having forgotten her name and language, and all

her childhood’s life, looked on wondering, and turned, frightened, to a
her Indian parent. The true mother tried in every way to recall

the memory of her child, and awaken recognition, but in vain. At

 

length, despairing of success, she gave way to the most passionate
grief. Boquet had been a silent witness of the painful interview.

} Moved at the grief of the mother, he approached her, and asked if
2 she could not recall some song with which she used to sing her
child to sleep. Brightening at the suggestion, she looked up through ©

her tears, and struck a familiar strain, with which she used to quiet
her babe. The moment the ears of the maiden caught the sound,

FP een rom NS RR Scarce”

her countenance changed, and as the strain proceeded, a strange
light stole over her features. All stood ‘hushed as death, as that *
simple melody floated out through the forest, watching with intense
interest the countenances of the two actors in this touching scene.

The eager, anxious look of the mother, as she sang, and the rapidly
changing expression of the captive’s face as she listened, awoke the
profoundest sympathy of Boquet’s generous heart, so that he could
hardly restrain his feelings. Slowly, almost painfully, the dormant
memory awoke from its long sleep; at length the dark cloud was
rent asunder, and the scenes of childhood came back in all the fresh-
ness of their early springtime, and the half-wild young creature sank

Pree

in joy on her mother’s bosom.

Some of the children had been so long with their captors that :
they regarded them as their true parents, crying bitterly at being cs
separated from them. Stranger still, the young women had become |
so attached to their savage but kind husbands, that, when told they
were to be given up to their white friends, they refused to go; and f
many of them had to be bound and brought as prisoners to camp.

The promise that they should take their half-breed children with

them, could not change their wishes. On the other hand, the In-

dians clung to them with a tenacity and fondness which made the
284

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SA te Hr OT

 

 
RETURN OF THE ARMY. 29

spectators forget that they were gazing upon savages. It was piti-
ful to see their habitual stoicism give way so completely at the pros-
pect of separation. They made no effort to conceal their grief; the
chieftain’s eye, which gleamed like his tomahawk in battle, now wept
like a child’s. His strong nature seemed wholly subdued; his
haughty bearing changed to one of humility, as he besought the
white men to treat his pale-face squaw tenderly. His wild life sud-
denly lost all its charms, and he hung round the camp to get a sight
of her whom, though she was lost to him, he still loved. He
watched near the log-building in which she was left, leaving it only
to bring from the forests pheasants, wild pigeons, or some delicacy
to lay at her feet. Some of the young captive wives refused to be
comforted, and, using that sagacity they had acquired during their
sojourn with the red-men, managed to escape from their white friends,
and, joining their swarthy lovers, fled with them to the forest.

The American wilderness neyer before presented such a spectacle
as was exhibited on the banks of the Muskingum. It was no longer
a hostile camp,*but a stage on which human nature was displaying
its most noble, attractive traits; or, rather, a sublime poem, enacted
in that lovely natural temple, whose burden was human affection,
and whose great argument, the common brotherhood of mankind.

Boquet and his officers were deeply impressed. They could hardly
believe their own eyes when they saw young warriors whose deeds
of daring ferocity had made their names a terror on the frontier,
weeping like children over their bereavement.

A treaty of peace haying been concluded _ between the yarious
tribes, Boquet, taking hostages to secure their good behavior, and the
return of the remaining prisoners, broke up his camp on the 18th of
November, and began to retrace his steps towards Fort Pitt. The
leafless forest rocked and roared above the little army, as it once
more entered its gloomy recesses; and that lovely spot on the banks
of the Muskingum, which had witnessed such strange scenes, lapsed

again into its primeval quiet.

285

 
 

 

 

 

TALES AND TRADITIONS.

MOODY, THE REFUGEE,

In about the central part of Sussex county, New Jersey, two miles
south of the village of Newton, the county seat, are two ponds or
bodies of water, which go by the name of the “ Big” and “ Little
Muckshaw.” The lower, or Little Muckshaw, loses itself, at its
western extremity, in a marsh or swamp, which is almost impassable,
except after a long drought. This vicinity possesses some consider-
able interest, from having been the haunt of one of those fiends in
human shape, Who preyed upon the substance of the patriotic citi-
zens of the neighborhood during that gloomy period in our Reyolu-
tionary contest, when even the Father.of his country ‘was wrapped
in despondency at, the prospect for the future.

Bonnel Moody was a ruffian of the deepest dye, and possessed of
all those qualities which constitute an accomplished freebooter and
highwayman. He was cunning as a fox; energetic and determined
in the pursuit of an object; void of all pity or remorse; avaricious
as a miser; and with a brute courage which made him formidable

‘in combat, he was. a dangerous enemy in the midst of the inhabit-

ants of Sussex county, as they learned to their cost during the war.
His place of retreat, or rather, his lair—for it was more like the
haunt of some wild beast than the abode of human beings—was on
the west side of the swamp above mentioned, where nature seemed
to have provided him with a retreat more impregnable than art
could have furnished him. A point of land projects into the west-
ern side of the marsh, affording only a very narrow and difficult
foothold for one man to pass between its base and an inlet of the
pond which washes the foot of the rocks. The ledge then recedes
in the shape of a crescent, forming a little cove, with water in front
and rocks behind and above. About forty-five yards from this point
is a huge rock, screened by overhanging trees and shrubs, in which

is a cavern, where Moody and his gang of marauders found shelter

when their deeds of rapine and murder had roused the inhabitants
286

 

 

 
 

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MOODY, THE REFUGEE. 81

of the vicinity to rid themselves of the dangerous foe. This cavern
is eighteen feet high in front, gradually receding until it meets the
foundation at a distance of fifteen feet, and about fifty feet in length
from north to south. Beyond this cavern the ledge again approaches
the marsh, into which it projects, forming an elbow almost impossible
to pass around, and on the opposite side it again recedes, presenting
a bold and rugged aspect, heightened by the gloom of perpetual
shade, numerous cayern-like fissures, and masses of rock which have
fallen, from time to time, from the overhanging ledge. One of these
is a large, flat slab, about ten feet long, six high, and between three
and four feet thick, which has fallen in such a position as to leave a
passage behind it of about a yard in width. The rocks above pro-
ject over this slab, so as to shield it effectually from that quarter,
and a half-dozen men might defend themselves behind this natural
buckler against the attack of an army. Such was the haunt of
Moody, and his congenial band of Tory cut-throats and murderers;
and from~here, like a flock of ravenous wolves would they issue,
when opportunity offered, and lay waste and destroy all within their
reach until danger threatened, when they would retreat to this natu-
ral fastness with their ill-gotten plunder, here to divide and secrete
it. From the brow of the ledge, which rises nearly a hundred fect
from the water, they had a fair view of every avenue to their hiding-
place, and no one eyer approached it alive except Moody and his ~
associates, or perhaps some friend of theirs, with provision or infor-
mation. There were those so lost to principle as to furnish this
crew of land-pirates with the necessaries of life, and with accurate
intelligence of every movement, on the part of the Americans, which
occurred in the vicinity. Several attempts to capture the wretch
were frustrated by these loyal friends. At one time, when a party,
having tracked him for some distance, were about to spring upon
him, he was alarmed by a negro in time to make his escape; and on
another occasion 4 young woman mounted a horse and rode some
twelve or fourteen miles, of a dark night, to warn him of a projected
attack by a party of Whigs, who had determined to eapture him at
all hazards. One cold winter night he broké into the house of a Mr.
Ogden, and after robbing it of every thing of any value, he took the

old man out in the yard, and made him take an oath not to make
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TALES AND TRADITIONS.

known his visit until a sufficient time had elapsed for himself and
his party to make their escape. Two or three men who were work-
ing for Mr. Ogden, and who slept in a loft up stairs, not feeling
bound ‘by the old man’s oath, alarmed the neighborhood and com-
menced a pursuit. Their track was easily followed in the snow, and
in the morning they came upon a camp where the marauders. had
slept over night, and where their fires were still burning. The chase
was kept up until they reached Goshen, in the State of New York,
where they recovered part of the plunder, but the rascals escaped.
These expeditions in pursuit of the Tory wretch were called

’

“Moody-hunting,’ and were followed up frequently with great
energ

One night, about twelve o’clock, he made his appearance at
the bedside of the jailer, and demanded the key of the jail. The
poor frightened oflicial readily gave it up, although he had often
declared that he would not surrender it to him, and with it Moody
opened the doors and set all the prisoners free. Two of them were
condemned to death; one, who was condemned to die for robbery,
being unacquainted with the neighborhood, wandered about all night
and next day in the woods,'and was discovered in a hollow tree the
next evening by a party of “ coon-hunters,’ who brought him back ;
and he was hung in front of the jail, protesting his innocence to the
last. He was subsequently proved to be guiltless of the crime for
which he suffered; and the wretch who actually committed the deed
confessed on his death-bed that he it was who did the act for which
another had suffered. On this occasion, Moody was more just than
the law, and the prisoner’s cause better than his fortune.

While the American army was encamped at Morristown, a man
very shabbily dressed, and mounted on a broken-down nag, all of
whose « points” were exhibited to the fullest extent, was seen. one
ony to enter the camp, and pass leisurely through it, se rutinizing
every thing as he went; and although he assumed a “perfect non-
chalance, and was to all appearance a simple-hearted and rather soft-
, headed country farmer, yet there was something in his manner which
attracted the attention of &n officer, who was drilling a squad of
‘Teeruits i in the open air. One of” these thought there was something

t the face which he recognized, and told his officer so, One of $y
Te ‘+
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Moody, the Refa

 
 
 

JOSEPH BETTYS. 85

the squad was mounted and ordered to bring him back. Moody—
for he it was who had thus boldly entered the American lines and
reconnoitered their ranks—shot him dead as he came up, and secreted
the body by the side of the road. Another being sent to assist the
first, Moody secreted himself in the woods and escaped. Having
been ‘driven from his former haunts by the untiring activity of the
Whigs, and being too well known to venture much abroad, he deter-
mined to join the British army in New York.. While attempting to
cross to the city with a companion in an open boat, they were cap-
tured, brought back to Morristown, and hung as traitors and spies.
Moody was said to have come from Kingwood township, Hunterton
County, and was employed by the British to obtain reeruits in New
Jersey among the Tory inhabitants, act as a spy upon the Americans,
and by his maraudings to keep the inhabitants so busy at home as to
prevent their joining or aiding the American army.
Another desperado of those days was Joseph, or “Joe Bettys,”

remarkable character, who figured in the border wars of the Revolu-

tion. He was a renegade from the American army, and for adon
é 7?

while was the scourge of the New York frontier. His deeds were

marked by an equal boldness and cruelty, that made him the terror
of Be who had the misfortune to be ranked ‘as his enemies. His
printip: 1 employment was the abduction of citizens to be conveyed
into Canada, for»each of whom he received a bounty; and in his
expeditions for this purpose, he was always accompanied by small
bodies of Indians. His hour for executing his projects was at night,
and it frequently happened that his conduct was not confined to the
securing. of prisoners, but he often reveled in the destruction of prop-
erty and the infliction of cruelty, and his victims were often tor-
mented by every means his savage ingenuity could devise. Cold-
blooded murder, and reckless barbarities of every kind, continually
stained his soul. The section of country which suffered from his
marauding expeditions, to this day is rife with stories of his daring
and ferocity.

In the year 1776, he entered as Sergeant in the New York forces,
in which capacity he served his country faithfully, until, being exas-
perated at the treatment which he received from one of his superior

officers, and retorting with threats and menaces, he was reducul to

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86 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

  

the position of a common sentinel. This was more than he could
bear, and he would have deserted, had not Lieutenant Ball, who had
before befriended him, anticipating such a step, applied and procured
for him appointment as Sergeant on board one of the vessels on Lake
Champlain, commanded by Arnold, which he accepted. In an action
that ensued, Bettys displayed a wonderful daring and gallantry,
which receiving no other notice than the thanks of his General, he
conceived himself slighted, and determined to retaliate. In the
spring of 1777, he deserted and went over to the British forces, where
he was soon eleyated to the position of a spy, in which character he
carried on the depredations we have spoken of.

Among the prisoners that he secretly seized and carried off in the
early part of his career, was Samuel Patchim, afterward a Captain in
the army. The account of his captivity and subsequent hardships,
as here given, is as it was related by himself:

“JT was captured by Bettys, taken into Canada, and confined in
Chamblee prison, in irons. I was the only prisoner whom he had
on this occasion brought into Canada. There were six or seven
more of my neighbors when ‘we started, to whom he gave the oath
of allegiance and sent them back. As for myself, he said I had
served Congress long enough, and that I should now serve the king.
He wished me to enlist in his conmany, but soon found that this was
not agreeable. to my feclings. Iie thea swore, that if I would not
serve the king, I should remain in irons. I was confined in Cham-
blee prison four months; then I was removed to Montreal, and
thence to an island, forty-five miles up the St. Lawrence, opposite
Cadalake Fort. There I remained about one year. There were five
prisoners in all, and we were guarded by sixty soldiers; seven senti-
nels at night. They had left no boats on the island by which we
might make our escape, yet we all crawled outigf the ‘vais at
night, and went to the river side; there we made a raft by means of
two or three logs and our suspenders, on ee we sailed down the
river five miles, when we landed on the Canada shore. There we
appropriated to our own use a boat belonging to the British, and
crossed over to the American shore. While going down the rapids,
we had lost our little stock of provisions, and for eight days out of

twelve which we spent in the woods, we had nothing to eat save
292

 

 
tuo

JOSEPH BETTYS. 87

frogs and rattlesnakes, and not half enough of them. We were
chased eight days by the Indians, and slept every night on the boughs
of some hemlock trees. At length we arrived at Northwest Bay,
on Lake Champlain, when my companions, unable longer to travel,
utterly gave out. I then constructed a raft on which to cross the
lake, and having stripped my companions of their clothing, in order
to make myself comfortable, left them to die of hunger and fatigue,
and committed myself to the wintry waves. When in about the
center of the lake, I was taken by the crew of a British ship, and
conveyed to St. John’s, from thence to Quebec, and finally to Boston,
where I was exchanged and sent home.”

Bettys seemed to have a particular delight in taking prisoners
among his own townsmen, and especially those against whom he
held any grudge. On one occasion, having taken one whom he sup-
posed to be the object he sought, and his prisoner managing to
escape, he deliberately shot him dead, and then discovered that he
had made a fatal mistake, and killed one of his best friends.

But his bloody career was destined to find a retributive end. One
day, in the winter of 1781-2, a suspicious-looking person was seen to
pass over the farm of one John Fulmer, situated near Ballston Lake,
in Albany County. A son of the farmer, Jacob, immediately obtained
the aid of three of his neighbors, James and. John Cory, and
Francis Perkins, and started in pursuit of the suspicious stranger.
There was a light fall of snow on the ground, by which means his
course was easily tracked, But we will give an account of the enter-
prise in the words of Jacob Fulmer, one of the party :

“The morning had been foggy, and it appeared by the track that
the man had made a circuitous route, as if lost or bewildered, After
making several turns, we came at length in sight of a log house,
where one Hawkitis, a noted Tory, lived, toward which it appeared
he had laid a regular line. We followed the track, and found that
it went into the house, ~We approached undiscovered, for the snow
was soft, and our footsteps were not heard. We went up to the
door, and found it was unfastened, but heard people talking within,
John Cory, who was the strongest of the party, now went forward,
we following closely behind, and burst open the door, The man

who was the object of our guspiciens and search sat at the table
293

   

  
 

338 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

eating his breakfast, with the muzzle of his gun leaning upon his
shoulder, and the breech upon the floor between his knees. He
grasped his musket, and presented it tq fire at us, but was hin-
dered for a moment to remove the deer-skin covering from the
Jock, and that moment lost his life. We seized him, took pos-
session of his gun, and also, two pistols, which he had in his coat
pockets, and a common jack-knife. We then bound his arms behind
him, with a pocket handkerchief, and conveyed him to my father’s
house. As. yet, we knew not the name of our prisoner, but having
asked him, he said: ‘My name is Smith.” My mother knew him,
and said: ‘It is Joe Bettys. He hung his. head, and said: ‘No,
my name is Smith.’ My sister Polly then came to the door, and
said: ‘This is Joe Bettys, I know him well.’ She had known him
before he went to Canada, as he had boarded at Lawrence Van Epps,
in Schenectady Patent, while she lived in the same house. We then
conveyed him to John Cory’s house, about a quarter of u mile distant,
where we pinioned him more firmly. He sat down in a chair by the
fire, and asked permission to smoke, which was granted, and he then
took out his tobacco box, and seemed to be engaged in filling his
pipe, but as he stooped down, under pretence of lighting it, he threw
something toward the fire which bounded from the forestick and fell
upon the hearth. He then seized it, and threw it into the fire, before
any one could prevent. John Cory then snatched it from the fire,
with a handful of live coals. It was not injured. It was a piece of
lead about three inches long, and one and a quarter inch wide, pressed
together, and contained within it a small piece of paper, on which
were twenty-six figures, which none of our company could under
stand It also contained an order, drawn on the Mayor of New
York, for thirty pounds sterling, payable on the delivery of the sheet-
lead and paper inclosed, Bettys showed much uneasiness at the loss
of the lead, and offered one hundred guineas to allow him to burn
the paper. This we refused, for, though we did not understand the

figures, we well knew the character of Bettys, as I had heard that
he had killed two men at Shenesborough, near Whitehall, for fear of
being betrayed in regard to the burning and plundering of a house in
Chaughnawaga, and that he was generally known as a spy.”

The narrative goes on to give the particulars of the journey to
294

 

 
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*

JOSEPH BETTYS. 89

Albany, and the precautions taken to convey their prisoner safely
through a district abounding with Tories, who were affected to Bet-
tys, but no rescue was attempted.

Much rejoicing was expressed at the capture of the notorious Bet-
tys, and when he was marched through Albany, the people gathered

_in masses to look upon him. In a short time he was brought to

trial, on the charge of being a spy, fouhd guilty, condemned, and ac-
cordingly executed in the month of April, 1782.

Among other similar excursions, Bettys once made an audacious
eruption into the city of Albany, for the purpose of abducting Gen-
eral Schuyler, for whom he would have received a most liberal reward
from the authorities in Canada, who so long and so vainly endeavored
to. get that chivalric officer into their possession. He was unsuccessful.

The attempt, referred to above, of Joe Bettys, to assassinate or
take prisoner General Schuyler, was not singular in the history of
that brave and beloved officer. He seemed fated to be ever sur-
rounded with perils, in the seclusion of his home quite as much as
on the field of battle. His noble private character, his fortune, and
his high, unequalled, unresting patriotism, made him a shining mark
for the malevolence of the British and Tories. His beautiful man-
sion, on Fish Creek, with his mills and property, to the amount of
twenty thousand dollars, was wantonly burned by order of Bur-
goyne ; and his life was in constant jeopardy from the hatred of his
minions.

On one occasion a Tory, by the name of Wattenneyer, with a
gang of miscreants like himself, assaulted his house, burst in the
doors, took the guards—who were asleep in the basement—prisoners,
and sought the person of the General; but, by a well-managed ruse,
he frightened them into the belief that they were being surrounded,
and they decamped, taking with them a large amount of silver plate
and other valuables. At another period, an Indian had crept stealth-
ily into the house, and concealed himself behind the door, where he:
awaited an opportunity to strike General Schuyler as he should pass
to his chamber. A female servant, coming in through the hall, see-
ing the gleam of a blade in the dim light, which just enabled her to
recognize the outline of a dusky figure, with much presence of mind,

appeared not to have made the discovery, but passed into the room
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49 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

where the General sat, and, while pretending to arrange some articles
upon the mantel, in a low voice informed him of her discovery at.
the same time adding, aloud:

“T will call the guard !”

This alarmed the secreted warrior, and, hearing the servant tread
upon a creaking board in another hall, and believing the household
aroused, he fled.

After the surrender of Burgoyne, the Tories, smarting under the
disappointment of that event, and more deeply incensed than ever at
General Schuyler, in whom they recognized one of the active causes
of the British defeat, resolved upon his destruction. To attain this
object, they selected two individuals, an Indian and a white man.
The former had been in the habit of hunting and fishing on the
General’s place, and knew every part of the grounds, with the places
in which they would be most likely to meet him, in his daily peram-
bulations. He was a powerfully-built and active fellow, a dangerous
opponent under any circumstances. The other was a weak-minded
Irishman, who had received many favors from the General, and was,
even then, in his employ ; notwithstanding which, he could not resist
the offered bribes, and consented to imbue his hands in his benefac-
tor’s blood, for a price. On the afternoon of a certain day, the two
secreted themselves in a leafy copse, near which the General must
pass in his accustomed ride. It was not long before they saw him
approaching on horseback, and they proposed to shoot him as he
passed.

General Schuyler had been made fully aware, by the abduction of
so many of his friends and neighbors, who had been dragged from
their homes and carried off to Canada—there to be retained as pris-
oners until exchanged

 

as well as by the many attempts to get pos-
session of his own person, that he was in constant danger of being

seized ; but he did not imagine that his enemies would descend to

the use of the assassin’s knife, and much less did he fea that such a

blow would come from those whom he had befriended-—who had

eaten of his bread and been nourished by his bounty. His was one

of these generous natures which, being devoid of guilt, loved not to

suspect others. But civil war destroys all ties, severs all bonds,

arouses man’s most vindictive passions, arraying friend against friend,
296

 
enero ne coerce eee ra errerene aOR DOSE

HOME DESECRATION, 41

sometimes brother against brother. Conscience will, at times, assert
herself, even under such influences. She reminded the Indian—say-
age as he was, unlettered, untutored in the finer feelings—of the
many favors he had received at the hands of the man he was about
to destroy ; even as his eye glanced along the barrel of the rifle aimed
at his benefactor, he repented his intention, and, with an impulse
which did credit to his heart, he struck up the weapon of his com-
panion, saying :
“T cannot kill him—T’ve eat his bread too often !”
The General rode by, unconscious that his life hung by the slender
thread of an Indian’s conscience.
One of the saddest pages in the history of our struggle for Inde-
° pendence is that which tells of hearths and homes desecrated, which
should have enjoyed immunity, even in times of warfare. Not only 3
did the British encourage the marauding of such desperadoes as
Moody and Bettys, but their more brutal Hessians seemed hired to
wreak the horrors of war updn the innocent dwellings of women
and children.

The Rev. James Caldwell, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church
in Elizabethtown, New Jersey, acted as Chaplain of the American
army while in New Jersey, and, by his zealous patriotism, and patri-
otic appeals, often contributed to arouse the spirits of the soldiers,
and to inspire them with a greater energy in the performance of their -
trying duties. He was very popular in the community, and received
the unlimited confidence of Washington.

But his lofty patriotism, and unflinching zeal in the American
cause, made him hated by the enemy, who sought every means to get <s
him into their power, and a price was set upon his head. When

‘ preaching, he frequently was compelled to lay his loaded pistols by
his side in the pulpit. At one time he resided in Springfield, but
afterward removed to “Connecticut Farms,” about four miles from
Elizabethtown. Here was enacted the first part of the tragedy we
ure about to relate.

A company of British troops from New York, under command of
the Hessian General, Knyphausen, landed in Elizabethtown, in June
of 1780, and, marching directly into the interior, proceeded to wreak

their cruelty upon every living thing that fell in their way. Houses
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42 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

were fired, cattle destroyed, helpless people murdered, or left without
shelter, clothing or food. Mr. Caldwell heard of their approach, and
immediately prepared to escape. He put his elder children in a
wagon, and sent them on to some of his friends for protection. He
then desired his wife, with the younger children, to take means of
flight, but she announced her determination of remaining, as none
would have cause to offer injury to her. Finding she would not yield
to his persuasion, and believing it impossible that their resentment
could extend to an unprotected mother, with her babe clasped to her
heart, Mr. Caldwell resolved to leave them, and seek his own safety
alone. He was mounted, and receiving the last assurance of her re-
solve to stay, when the gleam of arms announced the approach of
the enemy, and he rode rapidly off.

Mrs. Caldwell, having concealed what things were of value, took
her infant in her arms, and retired to her chamber, the window of
which commanded the road. Here, with her three little ones around,
she awaited the approach of the enemy, feeling conscious that her
unprotected state would secure respect and safety. One little girl
was standing by the window, watching the approach of the troops,
when one of the soldiers left the road, and came to the window,
which he had no sooner reached than he placed the muzzle of his
gun against it, and deliberately fired, when Mrs. Caldwell fell sud-
denly back, and almost instantly expired.

Not content with depriving her of lite, the inhuman monsters
wreaked their cruelty on her senseless body. Her clothes were
nearly torn off, and her body removed to the road-side, where it was
subjected to every indignity, while the torch was applied to the
dwelling, and then the work of destruction was done.

The effect of this terrible blow upon the husband can only be
imagined. He was, that morning, standing upon the heights of
Springfield, and, by the aid of a spy-glass, could see the smoke from
the burning houses.

“Thank God,” he exclaimed, “the fire is not in the direction of
my house.”

He was too soon to learn the sad mistake.

The royalists attempted to throw off the responsibility of this act,

by asserting that Mrs. Caldwell was killed by a chance shot. But
293

 
MURDER OF MRS. CALDWELL. 43

all the evidence goes to show that it was deliberately planned, and
that the soldier by whose hand the bloody deed was committed, only
acted in accordance with his orders. The fact that her body was al-
lowed to be so rudely treated, while many of the officers felt their
abhorrence for the deed, proves that, although they felt respect for
her remains, they knew the will of their superiors, and therefore
dared not show it.

The following anecdote, connected with this invasion, shows pretty
clearly who were the murderers of Mrs. Caldwell. The flames from
the burning dwelling could be seen from “ Liberty Hall,” the resi-
dence of Governor Livingston, who was, at that time, absent from
home. Parties of soldiers were confinually passing the house, but,
for some reason, it was spared. But about midnight a party of sol-
diers, partially intoxicated, rushed into the house. The maid-servant
—all the males in the establishment having taken refuge in the woods,
early in the day, to avoid being made prisoners—fastened herself in
the kitchen; and the ladies—Mrs. Livingston and her daughters—
crowded together like frightened deer, locked themselves in another
apartment. Their place of retreat was soon discovered by the ruf-
fians ; and, afraid to exasperate them by refusing to come out, one of
Governor Livingston’s daughter’s opened the door. A drunken sol-
dier seized her by the arm; she grasped the villain’s collar, and, at
the very moment, a flash of lightning illuminated the hall, and, fall-
ing upon her white dress, he staggered back, exclaiming, with an
oath :

“Tt’s Mrs. Caldwell, that we killed to-day.”

One of the party was at length recognized, and, by his map
tion, the house was finally cleared of the assailants.*

But the vengeance of Mr. Caldwell’s enemies was not yet satiated;
the tragedy so far was incomplete. It was on the 24th of November,
1781, that he himself fell beneath the ruthless murderer’s hand, and
the blow this time came from a source where he thought himself
secure. On the day above mentioned, he went to Elizabethtown
Point, for a Miss Murray, who had come from New York, under a
flag of truce. After conducting her to his gig, he returned to the
boat, to obtain a bundle which had been left behind. As he came on

*Life of Livingston.

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44 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

shore, the American sentinel challenged him, and demanded what
“contraband goods” he had there. Mr. Caldwell stepped forward
to tender the bundle to the proper officer, not wishing to enter into a
dispute about it then, when the report of a musket was heard, and
he fell dead, pierced by two balls. He had been shot by a man
named Morgan, who had just been relieved from duty as a sentinel.
He was arrested, tried, condemned, and was executed. There can
be no doubt but that he was bribed to the deed by British gold, as
there was no shadow of a cause to suppose that enmity existed be-
tween Mr. Caldwell and him.

Viewed from any point, these two murders were among the most
atrocious acts perpetrated by the invaders of our country, and, in a
history full of atrocities, they will always rank as bloody, fiendish
and treacherous.

THE LEAP FOR LIFE,

At the siege of Fort Henry, near Wheeling, by a band of Indians,
under the infamous Simon Girty, Major Samuel McCullough per-
formed an act of daring—nay, desperate horsemanship, which has
seldom, if ever, been equalled by man or beast, and before which the
effort of the Pomfret hero pales into insignificance. Let us turn to
the record.

Fort Henry was situated about a quarter of a mile above Wheel-
ing Creek, on the left bank of the Ohio river, and was erected to
protect the settlers of the little village of Wheeling, which, at the
time of its investment, consisted of about twenty-five cabins. In the
month of September, 1775, it was invested by about four hundred
warriors, on the approach of whom the settlers had fled into it, leay-
ing their cabins and their contents to the torch of the savages. The
whole force comprising the garrison consisted of forty-two fighting
men, all told; but there were among them men who knew the use of
the rifle, and who were celebrated throughout the borders as the im-
placable enemies of the red-man, and as the best marksmen in the

world. Of these, however, more than one half perished in an ill-
300

 
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THE LEAP FOR LIFE. 45 i

udvised sortie, before the siege commenced, and, when the fort was
surrounded by the foe, but sixteen men remained to defend it against
their overwhelming numbers. But their mothers, wives and daugh-
ters were there,-and nerved the Spartan band to deeds of heroism to
which the records of the wars of ancient and modern history present
no parallel. Here it was that Elizabeth Zane passed through the
fire of the whole body of red-skins, in the effort to bring into the
fort. the ammunition so necessary to its defense; here it was, also,
that the wives and daughters of its noble defenders marched to a
spring, in point blank range of the ambuscaded Indians, in going to
and fro, for the purpose of bringing water for the garrison.
Messengers had been dispatched at the earliest alarm to the neigh-
boring settlements for succor, and, in response to the call, Captain
Van Swearingen, with fourteen men, arrived from Cross Creek, and 5
fought his way into the fort without the loss of a man. Soon after- ;
ward, a party of forty horsemen, led by the brave and intrepid Me-
Culloch, were seen approaching, and endeavoring to force their way
through the dense masses of Indians, which nearly surrounded the q
station. Their friends within the fort made every preparation to re- z= a
ceive them, by opening the gates, and organizing a sortie to cover !
their attempt. After a desperate hand-to-hand. conflict, in which
they made several of the Indians bite the dust, they broke through
the lines, and entered the fort in triumph, without the loss of an in-
dividual. All except their daring leader succeeded in the effort. He
was cut off, and forced to fly in an opposite direction. McCulloch
was as well known to the Indians as to the whites, for his deeds of

 

prowess, and his name was associated in their minds with some of

 

the most bloody fights in which the white and red-men had contended.
To secure him alive, therefore, that they might glut their vengeance
upon him, was the earnest desire of the Indians, and to this end
they put forth the most superhuman exertions. There were very
few among them who had not lost arelative by the unerring aim and 7

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skill of the fearless woodsman, and they cherished toward him an -
almost phrenzied hatred, which could only be satisfied in his torture
at the stake.

With such feelings and incentives, they crowded around him as he

dashed forward in the rear of his men, and succeeded in cutting him. :
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TALES AND TRADITIONS.

off from the gate. Finding himself unable to accomplish his en-
trance, and seeing the uselessness of a conflict with such a force op-
posed to him, he suddenly wheeled his horse, and fled in the direction
of Wheeling hill, at his utmost speed. A cloud of warriors started
up at his approach, and cut off his retreat in this direction, driving
him back upon another party who blocked up the path behind ;
while a third closed in upon him on one of the other sides of the
square. The fourth and open side was in the direction of the brow
of a precipitous ledge of rocks, nearly one hundred and fifty feet in
height, at the foot of which flowed the waters of Wheeling Creek.
As he momentarily halted and took a rapid survey of the dangers
which surrounded him on all sides, he felt that his chance was a des-
perate one. The Indians had not fired a shot, and he well knew
what this portended, as they could easily have killed him had they
chosen to do so. He appreciated the feelings of hatred felt toward
him by the foe, and saw at a glance the intention to take him alive,
if possible, that his ashes might be offered up as a sacrifice to the
manes of their departed friends, slain by his hand. This was to die
a thousand deaths, in preference to which he determined to run the
risk of being dashed to pieces; and he strifck his heels against the
sides of his steed, who sprang forward toward the precipice. The
encircling warriors had rapidly lessened the space between them and
their intended victim, and, as they saw him so completely within
their toils, raised a yell of triumph, little dreaming of the fearful en-
ergy which was to battle their expectations. As they saw him push
his horse in the direction of the precipice, which they had supposed
an insurmountable obstacle to his escape, they stood in amazement,
scarcely believing that it could be his intention to attempt the awful
leap, which was, to all appearance, certain death. McCulloch still
bore his rifle, which he had retained, in his right hand, and, carefully
gathering up the bridle in his left, he urged his noble animal forward,
encouraging him by his voice, until they reached the edge of the
bank, when, dashing his heels against his sides, they hung, shivering
on the brink of the abyss:
“For the horse, in stark despair,

With his front hoofs poised in air,
On the last verge rears amain.

7

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ROBERT ROGERS’ SLIDE. 47

‘Now he hangs, he rocks between,
And his nostrils curdle in ;

: Now he shivers, head and hoof,
¥ . And the flakes of foam fall off,

| And his face grows fierce and thin!

“ And a look of human wo,
From his staring eyes did go;
And a sharp cry uttered he

_-

In a foretold agony *
Of the headlong death below.”

The next moment horse and rider were in the air. Down, down
they went with fearful velocity, without resistance or impediment,
until one-half of the space was passed over, when the horse’s feet
struck the smooth, precipitous face of the rock, and the remainder of
the distance was slid and scrambled over until they reached the bot-

\

tom, alive and uninjured! With a shout which proclaimed is tri-
umphant success to his foes above him, McCulloch pushed his steed

into the stream, and in a few moments horse and rider were seen
surmounting the banks on the opposite side.
> \ No pursuit was attempted, nor was a shot fired at the intrepid

‘ rider. His enemies stood, in awe-struck silence, upon the brow of Sg
the bank from whence he had leaped, and, as he disappeared from za
their view, they returned to the investment of the fort. They did. = +
not long continue their unavailing efforts, however, for its capture ;
the numerous additions it had received to its garrison, the fearlessness
exhibited in its defense, together with the feat they had witnessed,

 

disheartened them, and they beat a hasty retreat on the morning af-

ter the event I have attempted to describe—not, however, until they ae
had reduced to ashes the cabins without the stockade, and slaughtered =

some three hundred head of cattle belonging to the settlers.
An adventure equally marvellous, and somewhat resembling this,
is related of Major Robert Rogers.

Among the most noted characters, whose exploits upon the fron-

 

tier a century since were the theme and admiration of every tongue,
“lah be the leader of the celebrated “ Rogers’. tangers” stands pre-eminent.
{ . He was a man tall, vigorous, and lithe as the panther of the forest,
e with an eye that never quailed before the gaze of any human being.
A perfect master of the art of woodcraft, he was resolute and fearless,

pe 303

 

 
 

Be SF RE AS

48 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

ny

and yet so cautious at times as to incur a suspicion of cowardice ;_

but, although his name is tarnished by treachery to his own native
state and country, the impartial observer of his life and actions can-
not fail to award him the most unflinching courage and bravery.

Robert Roberts was born in New Hampshire, and, about the year
1760, was the leader of a body of provincial rangers, known by his m
own name. Among his associates was Isracl Putnam, whose most
daring exploits were performed while engaged with him in his forest
warfare.

The date which brought Rogers into notice was that in which the
great rival nations, France and England, were striving for the pos-
session of the American continent. The rivalry had been going on
for years, and, as might be expected, the Indians had been brought
into the contest. These, almost invariably, were upon the side of
the Pench ; but it availed nothing in the end. The steady, indomi-
table, persevering spirit of the English settler could be stayed by no
obstacle, and France saw that slowly and surely the red cross was
supplanting her own fleur de lis in ‘the depths of the American
forest. :

Rogers’ principal theater of action was that wild, mountainous
region round Lake George, “the dark and bloody ground” interven-
ing between the hostile forts of Crown Point and Ticondcroga.
Here, in these gloomy solitudes, his resolute spirit encountered the
jealous French, with their wily Indian allies, and here some of the
most sanguinary conflicts and desperate encounters of the war occur-
red. More than once did the lonely hunter encounter this band
threading their way through the woods as silent and as cautious as
the savage himself; in summer they glided across and around the
lake in their canoes, building their camp-fires in the wildest gorges of
that romantic country ; and in winter they skirted it on snow-shoes,
or shot from one portion to another on skates. Their daring soon
made their name famous through every civilized portion of the coun-
try. If a French messenger left Ticonderoga, he was almost certain
to fall into the hands of Rogers, and any scouting party that ven-

tured: forth was sure to get a taste of the mettle of these fellows be-

‘they returned. But for the subsequent course of Rogers, he

ht be not unaptly termed the Marion of the frontier.
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The Leap for Life.—Page 46.

 
 
 

 

ROBERT ROGERS’ SLIDE. 51

It was sometimes the custom of Rogers to leave his men in camp,
and venture into the forest unaccompanied by any one. At such
times he often wandered a dozen miles away, easily making his way
back through the trackless forest at night again. It was on one of
these occasions that he met with the following adventure.

It was in the dead of winter, and his men, as usual, were on snow-
shoes. They encamped at night in a deep hollow along the lake,
and the next morning Rogers left them, with instructions to remain
in their present quarters until his return.

He took a direction toward Ticonderoga, and, about the middle of
the day, reached a point near the northern end of the lake. During
this journey, it is hardly necessary to say that he was on the alert for
his enemies. He knew they lurked in every part of the forest, and
that the scalp of no white man would afford half the rejoicing that
his would. Up to this point, however, his experienced eye natn
to detect the first signs of their presence.

He was contemplating the scene around, carefully taking in all its
parts, when he heard the breaking of the snow-crust behind him.
Turning his head, he discovered, in one instant, that he had walked
directly into a trap. On one side was the steep, precipitous side of
the mountain, descending down to the lake; while on the other, radi-
ating outward, so as to cut off all escape, he saw nearly thirty Indians
rapidly shuffling toward him on their snow-shoes, yelling with aelight
and exultation at the prospect of his certain capture.

They had probably followed him for miles, in the hope of taking
him alive, and he had thus given them a better opportunity than even
they dared hope for.

Rogers comprehended his imminent danger, but-he stood a moment
as quiet and self-possessed as if they were his own men approaching.
It took searcely a second for him to understand his situation. He
saw it was impossible to elude the Indians by undertaking to dodge
through them—that is, by running toward them ; they were too many,
and the space afforded was too small. 4 ae

“ Howsumever, here’s my compliments,” said Rogers, raising his
rifle and shooting the leader of the party, “and you haven’t got my
top-knot yet.” a
' With this, he threw his rifle from him, and started off at the top

307

    
 

  

52 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

his speed, the pack pursuing with yells and shouts. Rogers was very
fleet of foot, and for a short distance he gained ground upon his pur-
suers. It was not exactly running, as a man on snow-shoes can not
properly be said to do that. The motion is entirely different, the
feet not being lifted, but shoved forward with all rapidity possible.
As Rogers expressed it, he did some “tall sliding” on that occasion,
the truth of which will soon be apparent.

At the moment of starting he had no well-defined idea of what he
should do; but after going a few rods, he formed the determination
that, before falling into the hands of the Indians, he would go over the
mountain! Those who have seen the mountain, near the northern
end of Lake George, known as “ Roger’s slide” (the name of which
is derived from the circumstance here given), will understand the
appalling nature of such an exploit as Rogers contemplated. Any
sane man would consider it downright suicide. We know not the
exact distance of this descent, but are certain that it is more than one
thousand feet to the edge of the lake, and the entire distance a sheer
precipice.

But Rogers did not hesitate; there was no time for hesitation.

‘His mortal enemies were behind and approaching. He reached the

edge of the mountain. He saw the white, field-like surface of Lake
George far below him, and the long, glistening snowy descent stretch-
ing down, down, down, till the brain grew dizzy with looking. He
appeared but a mere speck on the summit, viewed from below, so
great was his height. He gave one glance behind him, sprang high
in the air, so as to give his body a momentum at starting, and squat-
ting on his snow-shoes, down he went.

Oh, the ecstacy of that ride! Nothing on earth could equal it.
Rogers has said that the most thrilling moment of his life was the
one occupied in that fearful descent. As his body gathered motion,
a feeling similar to that produced by electricity passed through him,
and for the space of five minutes he was in reality insane. Down-
ward he shot like a meteor, his passage through the still air making
it seem like a hurricane, and the fine, sand-like particles of snow
making him appear as if shrouded in mist to the amazed Indians

above. Rogers scarcely breathed. He saw nothing, felt nothing but

a wild ecstacy, and knew nothing, until he awoke, as it were, and
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WEATHERFORD’S LEAP. 53

found himself gliding far out on the surface of the lake, carried for-
ward by the irresistible impulse he had gained in his descent.

Then he arose and looked about him. His snow-shoes were worn
out by the friction, and taking them off, he cast them from him.
The Indians still stood at the top of the mountain; but on beholding
his exploit, they believed him under the protection of the Great
Spirit, and did not attempt to continue the chase. Rogers made his
way back to his company, reaching them late at night, and none the
worse for his adventure, except in the loss of his snow-shoes and
his rifle.

There are many other incidents connected with Rogers’ career, but
the one given will suffice to show the intrepid spirit that ever char-
acterized him.

As if to prove that, brave as the pioneers were, they had their peers
amid the “red-skins,” we find the record of a leap, almost as’ mar-
velous as that of McCullough, performed by Weatherford, the cele-
brated half-breed, who gave Jackson trouble in his efforts to rid the
southern country of the Indians.

It was on the 29th of December, 1813, that the Mississippi volun-
teers attacked the Indians, under circumstances of almost unparalleled
difficulty, after enduring incredible hardships. Without tents or
blankets, without proper clothing, more than half starved, some of
them without shoes, in inclement weather, this heroic band had
marched over one hundred miles through a pathless forest, to meet
and subdue the wary foe. And now, on this 29th of December, says
General Samuel Dale, who was one of the party, “the weather was
very wet and bitter cold; we had neither meat, coffee, nor spirits.”
The savages were fortified in a strong defensive position, a town
which they called their holy city, and which their prophets declared
was invulnerable to the whites—that the ground would open and
swallow them up, should they venture to set foot on it. Neverthe-
less, the gaunt volunteers, worn with their sufferings, gave such fierce
battle to the confident Indians, that they drove them out of their holy
city of refuge, and Weatherford, one of their most trusted leaders,
barely escaped destruction. He was mounted on a powerful charger,
and being hotly pursued by a band of whites, who knew him well,
and were eager to secure the prize, he urged his horse to pe utmost:

 

    

 
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5a TALES AND TRADITIONS.

   

speed. Soon a ravine, at least twenty feet wide, and of great depth,
yawned before him; the very barrier of nature which he had relied
on as a protection in case of assault from enemies, now rose before
him, to threaten his own life. But he only drew ‘the rein a little
tighter, spoke a low word to his favorite steed, and over the horrible
ravine flew the obedient animal, as if love and fear had ‘given it
wings—over the gaping ruin, and down the bluff into the Alabama.
The gallant courser swam the river scornfully, his chief holding his
rifle excitedly over his head, and shouting his war-whoop exultingly,
as he ascended the opposite bank.

This renowned leader was born at the Hickory Ground, in the
Creek nation; his father, Charles Weatherford, was a Georgian ; his
mother, the beautiful Schoya, was half-sister of the famous Creek
chieftain, General McGillivray. William Weatherford had not the
education of his grandfather, but nature had endowed him with a
noble person, a brillant intellect, and commanding eloquence. He
was, in every respect, the peer of Tecumseh.

And now that we have mentioned the name of General Dale, we
can not forbear giving, in his own words, an account of one of his
characteristic adventures. His live was full of such. He calls it his
canoe fight :

“ After this rencounter, 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
denoted a large body of Indians; but none were visible. About
half past ten, A. M., we discovered 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 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 meantime, they had backed into deep
water; and three Indians were swimming on the off side of the canoe,
which was thirty odd feet long, four feet deep, and three feet beam,
made of an immense cypress-tree, especially for the transportation of

corn. One of the warriors shouted to Weatherford (who was in the
$10 *

 

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GENERAL DALE’S FIGHT. 55

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
sh6ut, we fired, but didn’t make out to hit him. 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
again 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 Injins! Back water, boys, back
ewater! and the frightened fellows paddled back faster than they
came. I next ordered Cesar, a free negro, to bring a boat. Seeing
him hesitate, I swore I would shoot him as soon asI got across. He
crossed a hundred yards below the Indians, and Jim Smith, Jerry
Anstill, and myself, got in. I made Cesar paddle within forty
paces, when all three of us leveled our guns, and all three missed
fire! As the two boats approached, one of the red-skins hurled a
scalping-knife at me. It pierced the boat through and through, just
grazing my thigh as it passed. The next minute the canoes came in
contact. I leaped up, placing one of my feet in each boat. At the
same instant, the foremost warrior leveled 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 meantime an
Indian had struck down Jerry, and was about to dispatch him, when
I broke my rifle over his head. It parted in two pieces. The barrel
Jerry seized, and renewed the fight. The stock I hurled at one of
the savages. Being then disarmed, Cesar 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 Cesar, floated
off. Jim fired, slightly 1 ding the savage nearest me. J now
stood in the center of their , 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 a rifle; it glanced upon the barrel of my musket,

and I staved the bayonet through his body. As he fell, the next one
$11
  

56

   

TALES AND TRADITIONS.

repeated the attack. A shot from Jerry Anstill pierced his heart.
Striding over them, the next sprang at me with his tomahawk. I
killed him with my bayonet, and his corpse lay between me and the
last of the party. JI knew him well—Tas-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: ‘Samtholocco, Iana dahmaska, ia-lanesthe,
lipso, lipso, lanestha /” (‘Big Sam,1 am aman! Iam coming! come
on!) As he said this, with a terrific yell, he bounded over we dead
body of his comrade, and directed a blow at my head with his rifle
which dislocated my shoulder. I dashed the bayonet into him, It
glanced around his ribs, and hitching into his back-bone, I pressed
him down. As I pulled the weapon out, he put his hands upon the
sides of the boat, and endeavored to rise, crying out: ‘TZas-cha-chee is
aman. He ts not afraid to-die’ 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, as he had been snapping it
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 these words, I pinned him down with my
weapon, and he followed his eleven comrades to the land of spirits.
During this conflict, which was over in ten minutes, my brave com-
panions, Smith and Anstill, had been struggling with the current of
the Alabama, endeavoring to reach me. Their guns had become
useless, and their only paddle was broken. Two braver fellows never
lived. Anstill’s first shot saved my life. By this time my men came
running down the bank, shouting that Weatherford was coming.
With our three canoes we crossed them all over, and reached the
fort in safety.”

This fight occurred November 18, 1813, at Randon’s Landing, Mon-
roe County, ten miles below Weatherford’s Bluff.

If any one thinks this a Munchausen account, given by Dale, of
his rencounter, he can satisfy himself of its exact truth, by reference
to the records, all the circumstances of this memorable fight having
been yerified before the Alabama Legislature.

One of the leading spirits in those stirring days was Mrs, Cather-
812

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é

Pm

MRS. CATHERINE SEVIER. 67

ine Sevier, wife of one of the most distinguished pioneers. Her
maiden name was Sherrill, and her family, as well as that of her
future husband, emigrated from North Carolina and Virginia to what
is now East Tennessee, settling first upon Watauga river. Mr. Sher-
rill’s residence was finally upon the Nola Chucka. He was a tiller
of the soil, a hard-working man, and “ well-to-do in the world;” but
he was also skilled in the use of the rifle, so that it was said, “ Sher-
rill can make as much out of the ground and out of the woods as
any other-man. He has a hand and eye to his work—-a hand, an
eye, and an ear, for the Indian and the game.”

Buffalo, deer, and wild turkeys came around the cabins of those
first settlers. A providence was in this which some of them recog-
nized with thankfulness. Ys

Jacob Brown, with his family and friends, arrived from North
Carolina about the same time with the Sherrills, and these two families
became connected by intermarriage with the Seviers, and ever remained
faithful to each other through all the hostile and civil commotions of
subsequent years. The Seviers were among the very earliest emigrants
from Virginia, aiding in the erection of the first fort on the Watauga.

With few exceptions, these emigrants had. in view the acquisition
of rich lands for cultivation and inheritance. Some, indeed, were
there, or came, who were absconding debtors, or refugees from jus-
tice, and from this class were the Tories of North Carolina mostly
enlisted.

The spirit of the hunter and pioneer cannot well content itself in
a permanent location, especially when the crack of a neighbor's rifle,
or the blast of his hunting-horn can be heard by his quick ear ; there-
fore did these advanced guards frequently change their homes when
others crowded them, at miles distance. It must be remembered that
their advance into the wilderness could only be made by degrees,
step by step, through years of tedious waiting and toilsome prepara-
tion. And thus, though they had a lease of the land for eight years
from the Cherokees, a foothold in the soil, stations of defense, and
evidently had taken a bond of fate, assuring them in the prospect of
rich inheritances for their children, they could not all abide while the
great West and greater Future invited onward. Richer lands, larger

herds of buffaloes, more deer, and withal so many Indians were in the
318

 

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58 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

 

distance, upon the Cumberland and Kentucky rivers. The emigrants
advanced, and they took no steps backward. In a few years they
were found organizing “ provisional governments” in Kentucky, and
at the Bluffs, the site of the beautiful capital of Tennessee. These
Watauga and Nola Chucka pioneers were leading spirits throughout.

In the first Cherokee war of 1776, the early settlements were in
great danger of being destroyed. The prowling savages plucked off
the settlers in detail, and, though somewhat successful in these aims,
they resolved to attack the settlements and stations at different points
on the same day—in June, 1776. But they were so defeated in the
battles of Long Island, and at the Island Flats, on the Holston, and
in their attack and siege of the Watauga Fort, that a happy chance
was wrought, and hopes of quiet were encouraged.

The attack on the latter station was conducted by an experienced
Indian chief, Old Abraham, of the Chilowee Mountain region. This
was a fierce attack, but the fort fortunately held within it two of the
most resolute men who ever touched the soil of Tennessee—James
Robertson and John Sevier—they having then no higher title than
Captains. Some thirty men were under their command or direction.

The approach of the Indians was stealthy, and the first alarm was
given by the flight and screams of some females, who were closely
pursued by the Indians in large force. One of the women was killed,
and one or two captured. In this party of females was Miss Cath-
erine Sherrill, daughter of Samuel Sherrill, who had moved into the
fort only on the previous day.

Miss Sherrill was already somewhat distinguished for nerve, fleet-
ness of foot, and decision of character. Although at other times she
proved herself to “ know no fear,’ and could remain unmoved when
danger threatened, yet on this occasion she admits that she did run,
and “run her best.” She was very tall and erect, her whole appear-
ance such as to attract the especial notice of the savages, who pur-
sued her with eagerness; and, as they intercepted the direct path to
the gate of the fort, she made a circuit to reach its inclosures on
another side, resolved, as she said, to “scale the palisades.” In this
effort, some one within the defenses attempted to aid, but his foot
slipped, or the object on which he was standing gave way, and both
fell to the ground on opposite sides of the wall. The Indians were

814

 

 
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CAPTAIN JOHN SEVIER. 59

coming with all speed, firing and shooting arrows repeatedly. “ In-
deed,” she said “the bullets and arrows came like hail. It was now
leap the palisades or die, for I would not live a captive.” She
recovered from the fall, and in a moment was over and within the
defenses, and “by the side of one in wniform.”

This was none other than Captain John Sevier, and this the first
time she ever saw him—the beginning of an acquaintance destined
in a few years to ripen into a happy union which endured for nearly
forty years. “The manner in which she ran and jumped on that
occasion was often the subject of remark, commendation and
laughter.”

In after life she looked upon this introduction, and the manner of
it, as a providential indication of their adaptation to each other—.-
that they were destined to be of mutual help in future dangers, and
to overcome obstacles requiring the peculiar strength of both. And
she always deemed herself safe when by his side. Many a time
she said:

“T could gladly undergo that peril and effort again, to fall into his
arms, and feel so owt of danger. But then,’ she would add, “it was
all of God’s good providence.” |

Captain Sevier was then a married man, his wife and younger
children not having yet arrived from Virginia.

In 1777, Captain Sevier received a commission frem the State of
North Carolina, and was thus decidedly enlisted in the cause of
American Independence ; not long after this he was honored with the
commission of Colonel, bearing the signature of George Washington.
Two years later, his wife died, leaving him ten children. The follow-
ing year he married Miss Sherrill, who devoted herself earnestly to
all the duties of her station, and to meet the exigencies of the times.

It may well be supposed that the women spun, wove and made
up the most of the clothing worn by these backwoods people. Girls
were as well skilled in these arts, as were the boys to those belong-
ing to their circle of duties. It was always a source of much gratifi-
cation to Mrs. Sevier, and one of which she fondly boasted, that,
“among the first work she did, after her marriage, was to make the
clothes which her husband and his three sons wore the day they

were in the memorable and important battle of King’s oo
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60 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

And she would remark: “Had his ten children been sons, and
large enough to serve in that expedition, I could have fitted them
out.”

Mrs. Sevier was often left alone to manage domestic affairs, not
only within doors, but without. The life of Colonel Sevier was one
of incessant action, adventure and contest. The calls of his fellow-
citizens, and the necessities of the times, withdrew him frequently
from home. Nocommander was more frequently engaged in conflicts
with the Indians, with equal success and such small loss of men.
Yet it is a notable fact that he enjoyed, to a remarkable extent, the
respect of the tribes and chiefs with whom he contended. It is an
historical fact that he took to his own home, on the Chucka, a num-
ber of Indian prisoners, where they were treated with so much
kindness by his wife and family, that several of them remained for
years, although they performed very little work, and this wholly
at their own option. The influence of Mrs. Sevier was intentionally
and happily exerted upon these captives, that it might tell, as it: did,
upon their friends within the nation; and the family, no doubt, en-
joyed more immunities than otherwise they could have expected.

The Colonel acquired a sobriquet among the Indians, which was
some evidence of their familiarity with, and attachment to him. As
long as he lived they called him “Chucka Jack.” They had one,
also, for Mrs. Sevier, but it has not been preserved. She usually re-
mained at the farm, and never would consent to be shut up in a
block-house, always saying:

“The wife of John Sevier
Knows no fear.”

“ Who would stay out if his family forted ?”

This was the spirit of the heroine—this was the spirit of Cather-
ine Sevier. Neither she nor her husband seemed to think there could
be danger or loss when they could encourage or aid others to daring,
to duty and to usefulness. Colonel Sevier at one time advised her to
go into the fort, but yielded to her respectful remonstrance. At one
time the Tories, who were worse and more troublesome enemies than
the savages, came to her house, and demanded her husband’s where-
abouts, finally avowing their intention was to hang him on the high-
est tree in front of his house, but that if she would tell them where

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THE WOMEN GOING TO THE SPRING. 61

he was, she and her children should be safe. Of course she refused
to give the information. One man drew a pistol, threatening to blow
her brains out if she did not tell, or, at least, give up all the money
she had.

“ Shoot, shoot!’ was her answer; “I am not afraid to die! But
remember, while there is a Sevier on the face of the earth, my blood
will not be unayenged !”

He dared not—did not shoot. The leader of the gang told the
man to put up his pistol, for “such a woman was too brave to die.”

Would it not be a good thing to make the study of the biography
of such heroines as Mrs. Sevier a part. of/the “ course” in the accom-
plishment of the fastidious young ladies‘of to-day ?

A peculiar incident is connected with the formidable attack upon
Bryant’s station, Kentucky, made by six hundred savage warriors,
headed by the infamous renegade, Simon Girty. Having been fore-
warned of the contemplated attack, the garrison was already under
arms when Girty and his savage band appeared. Supposing, by the
preparations made to receive them, that their actual presence in the
vicinity was known, a considerable body of Indians were placed in
ambush near the spring, which was at some distance from the fort,
while another and smaller body was ordered to take position in full
view of the garrison, with the hope of tempting them to an engage-
ment outside the walls. Had this stratagem been successful, the re-
mainder of the forces was so posted as to be able, upon the with-
drawal of the garrison, to storm one of the gates, and cut off their
retreat to the fort. Unconscious of the snare which had been laid
for them, and unaware of the full strength of the enemy, the garrison
were about to sally out, having already opened one of the gates for
this pnrpose, when they became alarmed by a sudden firing from
an opposite direction, and hastily falling back, they closed and secured
the gates.

One difficulty they had, however, to encounter—the want of water.
It was an oppressive day in the middle of August, and the want
was soon aggravated to an intolerable degree by the heat and thirst
consequent upon their exertions. To perish by thirst was as cruel as
to die by the rifle and tomahawk. Under these circumstances, a plan

was proposed, calculated to try the heroism of the women within
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62 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

   

the fort. Acting on the belief that, although there might be an am-
bush at the spring, yet the Indians, in desiring to effect the capture
of the fort by stratagem, would not unmask themselves to the women,
these were urged to go in a body to the spring, and each of them
bring up a bucket full of water. i

They would hardly hawe been human had they not quailed a little
at this daring proposition ; but, upon listening to the arguments of
the men, a few of the boldest declared their readiness to brave the
danger, and the younger and more timid, rallying in the rear of the
elderly matrons, they all marched down to the spring, a valiaiat com-
pany, each dipping her bucket, within point blank shot of five
hundred Indian warriors. Nota shot was fired. They filled their
buckets with the precious water, and regained the shelter of the fort
in safety. How their blood must have turned cold, as they reached
the dangerous spring, and how it must have thrilled and tingled in
their veins, as they turned their backs to the concealed enemy, un-
armed and perfectly helpless as they were! How long the distance
to the gate! How sweet the relief when their buckets of crystal
comfort were set down within the enclosure !

Had this thing occurred in the days of the old Roman glory, it
would have won immortality for the maids and mothers who parti-
cipated in it.

When General Greene was retreating from the Catawaba, an inci-
dent occurred which indicates the self-sacrificing spirit of the Ameri-
can women. On the line of his retreat he stopped at a house for
repose and refreshment. He had ridden all day in a severe rain
storm ; he was wet, fatigued, and he was oppressed by gloomy fore-
bodings. His landlady observed his despondency, and, upon asking
him about his condition, he replied that he was tired, hungry and
penniless. Refreshments were provided for him, and, after he had
partaken of them, the woman drew him into a private apartment,
where she placed in his hands two bags of specie, saying :

“Take these; I can do without them, and they are necessary to

»”

you
Let us imagine that this noble act cheered the saddened heart of
the General in the hour of his trouble.
In one district, during the war, the young women, at harvest-time,
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RELIEVING THE COURIER OF HIS DISPATCHES. 63°

formed themselves into a company of reapers, going to all the farms
of the neighborhood, and, if the reply to the question “Is the owner
out with the fighting men?” was in the affirmative, they would set
to, and cut and garner all the grain. It was no small undertaking,
as five or six weeks of unceasing toil were necessary to complete
their rounds. Similar companies were formed in New York and Long
Island. A Whig paper of July 25th, 1776, says:

“The most respectable ladies set the example, and say they will
take the farming business on themselves, so long as the rights and
liberties of their country require the presence of their sons, husbands
and lovers, in the field.”

Pride in such ancestors is an ennobling sentiment.

During the seige of Augusta, two ladies, Grace and Rachel Martin,
residing in the ninety-sixth district, South Carolina, learning, upon
one occasion, that a courier, under the protection of two British sol-
diers, was to pass their residence, bearing important dispatches, re-
solved, by a well-planned stratagem, to surprise the party, and de-
4 prive the courier of the papers. Disguising themselves in male attire,
and provided with arms, they concealed themselves in a thicket on
the roadside, and patiently awaited the approach of the enemy. It
was twilight, and the darkness favored their plan. They had not re-
mained long in their concealment, when the courier and the escort
made their appearance. They were riding carelessly along, when
suddenly two figures sprang from a bushy covert, loudly demanding
the dispatches, and at the same time presenting their pistols. Bewil-

dered and alarmed, the surprised party yielded, without attempting —
resistance. ‘

 

The ladies then placed them on parole, and, hastening home —
J through a short route by the woods, had hardly arrived there, and
by divested themselves of their male attire, when the same trio came

riding up to the door, requesting accommodations. The mother of
the heroines admitted them, asking why they had returned, after
passing her house but a short time before. They replied by exhibit-
‘ ing their paroles, and stating that they had been taken prisoners by
“two rebels.” The young ladies, unsuspected by their guests, rallied
them on their unfortunate adventure, asking “ why they did not use

their arms?” to which they replied that they were fallen upon so
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64 TALES AND TRADITIONS.

sudden, they had not time. During their stay, they were as severely
overcome by the malicious wit and raillery of the ladies, as they had
before been by their superior bravery and cunning. The dispatches
obtained in the heroic manner described, were sent to General Greene,

and proved of importance,

These ladies should have had the rank of “ Sergeant,’ at least,
conferred upon them, in acknowledgment of their bravery, wit, and
the good service rendered !

In the commencement of the American Revolution, when one of
the British king’s thundering proclamations made its appearance, the
subject was mentioned in a company in Philadelphia; a member of

Congress, who was present, turning to Miss Livingstone, said :
“Well, Miss, are you greatly terrified at the roaring of the British
lion ?”
“Not at all, sir, for I have learned from natural history that that
beast roars loudest when he is most frightened /” was her quiet reply.
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