University of Virginia Library

[188] CHAPTER XI.

No sooner had the adventurous advance of Col. Clarke,
and the success with which it was crowned, become known
at Detroit, than preparations were made to expel him
from Kaskaskias, or capture his little army, and thus rid
the country of this obstacle to the unmolested passage of
the savages, to the frontier of Virginia. An army of six
hundred men, principally Indians, led on by Hamilton, the
governor of Detroit—a man at once bold and active, yet
blood-thirsty and cruel, and well known as a chief instigator
of the savages to war, and as a stay and prop of tories—left
Detroit and proceeded towards the theatre of
Clarke's renown. With this force, he calculated on being
able to effect his purpose as regarded Col. Clarke and his
little band of bold and daring adventurers, and to spread
devastation and death along the frontier, from Kentucky
to Pennsylvania. Arriving at Fort St. Vincent,[1] on the
Wabash, about the middle of December, and deeming it
too late to advance towards Kaskaskias, he repaired its
battlements and converting it into a repository for warlike
implements of every description, he detached the
greater part of his force in marauding parties to operate
against the settlements on the Ohio river, reserving for
the security of his head quarters only one company of
men.

While these alarming preparations were being made,
Col. Clarke was actively engaged in acquiring an ascendency
over the neighboring tribes of Indians; and in endeavors
to attach them to the cause of the United States,
from principle or fear. The aid which had been voted
him, fell far short of [189] the contemplated assistance,
and had not yet arrived; but his genius and activity amply
compensated for the deficiency. In the heart of an

Indian country,—remote from every succour,—and in the
vicinity of powerful and hostile tribes, he yet not only
maintained his conquest and averted injury, but carried
terror and dismay into the very strongholds of the savages.
Intelligence of the movement of Hamilton at length
reached him, and hostile parties of Indians soon hovered
around Kaskaskias. Undismayed by the tempest which
was gathering over him, he concentrated his forces, withdrawing
garrisons from the other towns to strengthen
this, and made every preparation to enable him to endure
a siege, and withstand the assault of a powerful army.
The idea of abandoning the country never occurred to
him. He did not despair of being able to maintain his
position, and he and his gallant band resolved that they
would do it, or perish in the attempt. In this fearful
juncture, all was activity and industry, when the arrival
of a Spanish merchant who had been at St. Vincents
brought information of the reduced state of Hamilton's
army.[2] Convinced that a crisis had now arrived, Clarke
resolved by one bold stroke to change the aspect of affairs,
and instead of farther preparing to resist attack, himself
to become the assailant. For this purpose, a galley,
mounting two four pounders and four swivels, and having
on board a company of men, was despatched, with orders
to the commanding officer, to ascend the Wabash and station
himself a few miles below St. Vincents, allowing no
one to pass him until the arrival of the main army. Garrisoning
Kaskaskias, with militia, and embodying the inhabitants
for the protection of the other towns, Colonel
Clarke set forward on his march across the country, on
the 7th of February, 1779, at the head of one hundred
and thirty brave and intrepid men.[3]

Such was the inclemency of the weather, and so many
and great the obstacles which interposed, that in despite
of the ardor, perseverance and energy of the troops, they
could yet advance very slowly towards the point of destination.
They were five days in crossing the drowned
lands of the Wabash, and for five miles had to wade
through water and ice, frequently up to their breasts.
They overcame every difficulty and arrived before St. Vincents
on the evening of the twenty-third of February and
almost simultaneously with the galley.

Thus far fortune seemed to favor the expedition. The
army had not been discovered on its march, and the garrison
was totally ignorant of its approach. Much however
yet remained to be done. They had arrived within
view of the enemy, but the battle was yet to be fought.

Sensible of the advantage to be derived from commencing
the attack, while the enemy was ignorant of his
approach, at seven o'clock he marched to the assault. The
inhabitants instead of offering opposition, received the
troops with gladness, and surrendering [190] the town, engaged
with alacrity in the siege of the fort. For eighteen
hours the garrison resisted the repeated onsets of the
assailants; but during the night succeeding the commencement
of the attack, Colonel Clarke had an entrenchment
thrown up within rifle shot of the enemy's strongest
battery, and in the morning, from this position, poured
upon it such a well-directed shower of balls, that in fifteen
minutes he silenced two pieces of cannon without sustaining
any loss whatever. The advantages thus gained, induced
Hamilton to demand a parley, intimating an intention
of surrendering. The terms were soon arranged.
The governor and garrison became prisoners of war, and
a considerable quantity of military stores fell into the
hands of the conqueror.[4]

Clark's gruff reply, in rugged, but not unclerical chirography, was
as follows:

During the continuance of the siege, Colonel Clarke
received information that a party of Indians which had
been detached by Hamilton to harrass the frontiers, was
returning and then near to St. Vincents with two prisoners.
He immediately ordered a detachment of his men to
march out and give them battle—nine Indians were taken
and the two prisoners released.

History records but few enterprises, which display as
strikingly the prominent features of military greatness,
and evince so much of the genius and daring which are
necessary to their successful termination, as this; while
the motives which led to its delineation, were such, as
must excite universal admiration. Bold and daring, yet
generous and disinterested, Colonel Clarke sought not his
individual advancement in the projection or execution of
this campaign. It was not to gratify the longings of ambition,
or an inordinate love of fame, that prompted him
to penetrate the Indian country to the Kaskaskias, nor
that tempted him forth from thence, to war with the garrison
at St. Vincent. He was not one of

The distress and sufferings of the frontier of Virginia
required that a period should speedily be put to them,
to preserve the country from ravage and its inhabitants
from butchery. Clarke had seen and participated in that
distress and those sufferings, and put in requisition every
faculty of his mind and all the energies of his body, to alleviate
and prevent them. Providence smiled on his undertaking,
and his exertions were crowned with complete
success. The plan which had been concerted for the ensuing
campaign against the frontier of Virginia, threatening
to involve the whole country west of the Alleghany
mountains in destruction and death, was thus happily
frustrated; and he, who had been mainly instrumental in
impelling the savages to war, and in permitting, if not instigating
them to the commission of the most atrocious
barbarities, was a prisoner in the hands of the enemy. So
justly obnoxious had he [191] rendered himself by his
conduct, that a more than ordinary rigor was practised
upon him; and by the orders of the governor of Virginia,
the governor of Detroit was manacled with irons, and confined
in jail.[5]

Far different was the termination of the enterprise
entrusted to the conduct of General McIntosh. It has
been already seen that the approach of winter forced the
main army to retire to the settlements into winter quarters,
before they were able to accomplish any thing, but
the erection of Fort Laurens.[6] Colonel Gibson, the commandant
of the garrison, though a brave and enterprising
officer, was so situated, that the preservation of the fort,

was all which he could accomplish; and this was no little
hazard of failure, from the very superior force of the
enemy, and the scarcity of provisions for the subsistance
of the garrison. So soon as the Indians became acquainted
with the existence of a fort so far in their country, they put
in practice those arts which enable them, so successfully to
annoy their enemies.

Early in January, a considerable body of savages approached
Fort Laurens unperceived and before the garrison
was apprised that an Indian knew of its erection.[7] In
the course of the night they succeeded in catching the
horses outside of the fort; and taking off their bells, carried
them into the woods, some distance off. They then
concealed themselves in the prairie grass, along a path
leading from the fort, and in the morning commenced
rattling the bells, at the farther extremity of the line of
ambushment, so as to induce the belief that the horses was
there to be found. The stratagem succeeded. Sixteen
men were sent out to bring in the horses. Allured by the
sound of the bells, they kept the path, along which the
Indians lay concealed, until they found themselves unexpectedly
in the presence of an enemy, who opened upon
them a destructive fire from front and rear. Fourteen
were killed on the spot, and the remaining two were taken
prisoners.

On the evening of the day on which this unfortunate
surprise took place, the Indian army, consisting of eight
hundred and forty-seven warriors, painted and equipped
for war, marched in single file through a prairie near the
fort and in full view of the garrison, and encamped on an
adjacent elevation on the opposite side of the river. From
this situation, frequent conversations were held by them
with the whites, in which they deprecated the longer continuance
of hostilities, but yet protested against the encroachment
made upon their territory by the whites, the
erection of a fort and the garrisoning soldiers within their
country, not only unpermitted by them, but for some time
before they knew any thing of it. For these infringements
on their rights, they were determined on prosecuting the
war, and continued the investure of the fort, for six weeks.
In this time they became straitened for provisions, and
aware that without a fresh supply of them, they would be
forced to abandon the siege, they sent word to the commander
of the garrison, by a Delaware [192] Indian, calling
himself John Thompson, (who, though with the whites in
the fort, was permitted by both parties to go in and out, as
he choose) that they were desirous of peace, and were willing
to enter into a negotiation, if he would send them a barrel
of flour and some tobacco. Scarce as these articles had
actually become in the garrison, yet Col. Gibson complied
with their request, hoping that they might be induced to
make peace, or withdraw from the fort, and hopeless of
timely succours from the settlements. Upon the receipt of
those presents, the Indians raised the siege and marched
their army off, much to the relief of the garrison, although
they did not fulfil their promise of entering into a treaty.

During the time the Indians remained about the fort,
there was much sickness in the garrison; and when they
were believed to have retired, the commandant detached
Col. Clarke, of the Pennsylvania line,[8] with a party of
fifteen men, to escort the invalids to Fort McIntosh. They
proceeded but a small distance from the gate, where they

were attacked by some Indians, who had been left concealed
near the fort, for the purpose of effecting farther
mischief. A skirmish ensued; but overpowered by numbers
and much galled by the first fire, Col. Clarke could
not maintain the conflict. With much difficulty, he and
three others reached the fort in safety: the rest of the
party were all killed.

Col. Gibson immediately marched out at the head of
the greater part of the garrison, but the Indians had retreated
as soon as they succeeded in cutting off the detachment
under Col. Clarke, and prudence forbade to proceed
in pursuit of them, as the main army was believed to
be yet in the neighborhood. The dead were however
brought in, and buried with the honors of war, in front of
the fort gate.

In a few days after this, Gen. McIntosh arrived with
a considerable body of troops and a supply of provisions
for the garrison. While the savages were continuing the
siege, a friendly Indian, had been despatched by Col. Gibson
to acquaint Gen. McIntosh with the situation at Fort
Laurens, and that without the speedy arrival of a reinforcement
of men and an accession to their stock of provisions,
the garrison would have to surrender; or seek a
doubtful safety, by evacuating the fort and endeavoring to
regain the Ohio river, in the presence of an overwhelming
body of the enemy. With great promptitude the settlers
flocked to the standard of Gen. McIntosh, and loading
pack horses, with abundance of provisions for the supply
of the garrison at Fort Laurens, commenced a rapid march
to their relief. Before their arrival, they had been relieved
from the most pressing danger, by the withdrawal
of the Indian army; and were only suffering from the
want of flour and meat. A manifestation of the great joy
felt upon the arrival of Gen. McIntosh, had well nigh deprived
them of the benefit to be derived from the provisions
brought for them. When the relief army approached
the fort, a salute was fired by the garrison,
which, alarming the pack horses, caused them [193] to
break loose and scatter the greater part of the flour in

every direction through the woods, so that it was impossible
to be again collected.

The remains of those, who had unfortunately fallen
into the ambuscade in January, and which had lain out
until then, were gathered together and buried;[9] and a
fresh detachment, under Major Vernon, being left to garrison
the fort, in the room of that which had been stationed
there during winter, Gen. McIntosh, withdrew from
the country and returned to Fort McIntosh. In the ensuing
fall, Fort Laurens was entirely evacuated; the garrison
having been almost reduced to starvation, and it being
found very difficult to supply them with provisions at so
great a distance from the settlements and in the heart of
the Indian country.

During the year 1778, Kentucky was the theatre of
many outrages. In January, a party of thirty men, among
whom was Daniel Boone, repaired to the "Lower Blue
Licks" for the purpose of making salt; and on the 7th of
February, while Boone was alone in the woods, on a hunt
to supply the salt makers with meat, he was encountered
by a party of one hundred and two Indians and two Canadians,
and made prisoner. The savages advanced to the
Licks, and made prisoners of twenty-seven of those engaged
in making salt.[10] Their object in this incursion, was

the destruction of Boonesborough; and had they continued
their march thither, there is no doubt but that
place, weakened as it was by the loss of so many of its
men and not expecting an attack at that inclement season,
would have fallen into their hands; but elated with their
success, the Indians marched directly back with their
prisoners to Chillicothe. The extreme suffering of the
prisoners, during this march, inspired the savages with
pity, and induced them to exercise an unusual lenity
towards their captives. In March, Boone was carried to
Detroit, where the Indians refused to liberate him, though
an hundred pounds were offered for his ransom, and from
which place he accompanied them back to Chillicothe in
the latter part of April. In the first of June, he went with
them to the Scioto salt springs, and on his return found
one hundred and fifty choice warriors of the Shawanee
nation, painting, arming, and otherwise equipping themselves
to proceed again to the attack of Boonesborough.

[194] Hitherto Boone had enjoyed as much satisfaction,
as was consistent with his situation, and more than
would have been experienced by the most of men, in
captivity to the Indians; but when he found such great
preparations making for an attack on the place which
contained all that he held most dear, his love of family,
his attachment to the village reared under his superintending
hand, and to its inhabitants protected by his fostering
care, determined him to attempt an immediate
escape. Early on the morning of the 16th of June, he
went forth as usual to hunt. He had secreted as much
food as would serve him for one meal, and with this
scanty supply, he resolved on finding his way home. On
the 20th, having travelled a distance of one hundred and
sixty miles, crossed the Ohio and other rivers, and with
no sustenance, save what he had taken with him from
Chillicothe, he arrived at Boonesborough. The fort was
quickly repaired, and every preparation made to enable it
to withstand a siege.

In a few days after, another, of those who had been
taken prisoners at the Blue Licks, escaped, and brought
intelligence that in consequence of the flight of Boone,
the Indians had agreed to postpone their meditated irruption,
for three weeks.[11] This intelligence determined Boone

to invade the Indian country, and at the head of only ten
men he went forth on an expedition against Paint creek
town. Near to this place, he met with a party of Indians
going to join the main army, then on its march to Boonesborough,
whom he attacked and dispersed without sustaining
any loss on his part. The enemy had one killed
and two severely wounded in this skirmish; and lost their
horses and baggage. On their return, they passed the Indian
army on the 6th of August, and on the next day
entered Boonesborough.[12]

On the 8th of August, the Indian army, consisting of
four hundred and fifty men, and commanded by Capt. Du
Quesne, eleven other Frenchmen, and their own chiefs,
appeared before the Fort and demanded its surrender.[13]
In order to gain time, Boone requested two days' consideration,
and at the expiration of that period, returned for
answer, that the garrison had resolved on defending it,
while one individual remained alive within its walls.

Capt. Du Quesne then made known, that he was
charged by Gov. Hamilton, to make prisoners of the garrison,

but not to treat them harshly; and that if nine of
their principal men would come out, and negotiate a
treaty, based on a renunciation of allegiance to the United
States, and on a renewal of their fealty to the king, the
Indian army should be instantly withdrawn. Boone did
not confide in the sincerity of the Frenchman, but he determined
to gain the advantage of farther preparation for
resistance, by delaying the attack. He consented to negotiate
on the terms proposed; but suspecting treachery, insisted
that the conference should be held near the fort
walls. The garrison were on the alert, while the negotiation
continued, and did not fail to remark that many of
the Indians, not [195] concerned in making the treaty,
were stalking about, under very suspicious circumstances.
The terms on which the savage army was to retire were at
length agreed upon, and the articles signed, when the
whites were told that it was an Indian custom, in ratification
of compacts, that two of their chiefs should shake
hands with one white man. Boone and his associates,
consenting to conform to this custom, not without suspicion
of a sinister design, were endeavored to be dragged
off as prisoners by the savages; but strong and active,
they bounded from their grasp, and entered the gate, amid
a heavy shower of balls—one only of the nine, was slightly
wounded. The Indians then commenced a furious assault
on the fort, but were repulsed with some loss on their
part; and every renewed attempt to carry it by storm,
was in like manner, frustrated by the intrepidity and gallantry
of its inmates.[14]

Disappointed in their expectation of succeeding in
this way, the savages next attempted to undermine the
fort, commencing at the water mark of the Kentucky
river, only sixty yards from the walls. This course was
no doubt dictated to them by their French commanders,
as they are ignorant of the practice of war, farther than

depends on the use of the gun, and tomahawk, and the
exercise of stratagem and cunning. The vigilance of the
besieged however, soon led to a discovery of the attempt—
the water below, was colored by the clay thrown out
from the excavation, while above it retained its usual
transparency; and here again they were foiled by the active
exertion of the garrison. A countermine was begun
by them, the earth from which being thrown over the
wall, manifested the nature of their operations, and led
the enemy to raise the siege, and retire from the country.[15]

In the various assaults made on the fort by this savage
army, two only, of the garrison, were killed, and four
wounded. The loss of the enemy, as usual, could not be
properly ascertained: thirty-seven were left dead on the
field, and many, were no doubt wounded.[16]

So signally was the savage army repulsed, in their repeated
attacks on Boonesborough, that they never afterwards
made any great effort to effect its reduction. The
heroism and intrepidity of Boone and his assistants rendered
it impregnable to their combined exertions to demolish
it; while the vigilance and caution of the inhabitants,
convinced them, that it would be fruitless and unavailing
to devise plans for gaining admission into the fort,
by stratagem or wile. Still however, they kept up a war of
ravage and murder, against such as were unfortunately
found defenceless and unprotected; and levelled combined
operations against other and weaker positions.

[196] The success of the expedition under Col. Clarke,
though productive of many and great advantages to the

frontier inhabitants, did not achieve for them, an unmolested
security. Their property was still liable to plunder,
and families newly arrived among them, to be murdered
or taken prisoners. Combined efforts were required, to
put a period to savage aggression; and a meeting of the
settlers was held at Harrodsburg, to concert measures to
effect that object. Their consultation resulted in a determination,
to carry the war into the enemy's country; and
as the Shawanees had been most efficient in waging hostilities,
it was resolved to commence operations, against
their most considerable town. Two hundred volunteers
were accordingly raised, and when rendezvoused at Harrodsburg,
were placed under the command of Col. Bowman,
and proceeded against Chillicothe.[17]

The expedition thus fitted out, arrived, by forced
marches, near to Chillicothe in the evening towards the
latter end of July, 1779; and on deliberation, it was agreed
to defer the attack 'till next morning. Before dawn the
army was drawn up and arranged in order of battle. The
right wing led on by Col. Bowman, was to assume a position

on one side of the town, and the left, under Capt.
Logan, was to occupy the ground on the opposite side;
and at a given signal, both were to develope to the right
and left, so as to encircle and attack it in concert.[18] The
party, led on by Logan, repaired to the point assigned, and
was waiting in anxious, but vain expectation for the signal
of attack to be given, when the attention of the Indians
was directed towards him by the barking of their dogs.
At this instant a gun was discharged by one of Bowman's
men, and the whole village alarmed. The squaws and
children were hurried into the woods, along a path not
yet occupied by the assailants, and the warriors collected
in a strong cabin.[19] Logan, being near enough to perceive
every movement of the enemy, ordered his men quietly to
occupy the deserted huts, as a momentary shelter from the
Indian fires, until Col. Bowman should march forward.
It was now light; and the savages began a regular discharge
of shot at his men, as they advanced to the deserted
cabins. This determined him to move directly to the attack
of the cabin, in which the warriors were assembled;
and ordering his men to tear off the doors and hold them
in front, as a shield, while advancing to the assault, he was
already marching on the foe, when he was overtaken by an
order from Col. Bowman, to retreat.

Confounded by this command, Capt. Logan was for a
time reluctant to obey it; a retreat was however, directed;
and each individual, sensible of his great exposure while
retiring from the towns, sought to escape from danger, in
the manner directed by his own judgment; and fled to the
woods at his utmost speed. There they rallied, and resumed

more of order, though still too much terrified to stand a
contest, when the Indians sallied out to give battle. Intimidated
by the apprehension of danger, which they had
not seen, [197] but supposed to be great from the retreating
order of Col. Bowman, they continued to fly before
the savages, led on by their chief, the Black Fish. At
length they were brought to a halt, and opened a brisk,
though inefficient fire, upon their pursuers. Protected by
bushes, the Indians maintained their ground, 'till Capts.
Logan and Harrod, with some of the men under their
immediate command, mounted on pack horses, charged
them with great spirit, and dislodged them from their
covert. Exposed in turn to the fire of the whites, and seeing
their chief fall, the savages took to flight, and Col.
Bowman continued his retreat homeward, free from farther
interruption.[20]

In this illy conducted expedition, Col. Bowman had
nine of his men killed and one wounded. The Indian loss
was no doubt less: only two or three were known to be
killed. Had the commanding officer, instead of ordering
a retreat when Logan's men were rushing bravely to the
conflict, marched with the right wing of the army to their
aid, far different would have been the result. The enemy,
only thirty strong, could not long have held out, against

the bravery and impetuosity of two hundred backwoodsmen,
stimulated to exertion by repeated suffering, and
nerved by the reflection, that they were requiting it upon
its principal authors. Col. Bowman doubtless believed
that he was pursuing a proper course. The gallantry and
intrepidity, displayed by him on many occasions, forbid
the supposition that he was under the influence of any unmilitary
feeling, and prompted to that course by a disposition
to shrink from ordinary dangers. His motives were
certainly pure, and his subsequent exertions to rally his
men and bring them to face the foe, were as great as could
have been made by any one; but disheartened by the fear
of unreal danger, and in the trepidation of a flight, deemed
to be absolutely necessary for their safety, they could not
be readily brought to bear the brunt of battle. The efforts
of a few cool and collected individuals, drove back the
pursuers, and thus prevented an harrassed retreat.

Notwithstanding the frequent irruptions of the Indians,
and the constant exposure of the settlers to suffering
and danger, Kentucky increased rapidly in population.
From the influx of emigrants during the fall and winter
months, the number of its inhabitants were annually
doubled for some years; and new establishments were
made in various parts of the country. In April 1779, a
block house was erected on the present site of Lexington,[21]
and several stations were selected in its vicinity, and in the
neighborhood of the present town of Danville. Settlements
were also made, in that year, on the waters of Bear
Grass, Green and Licking rivers, and parts of the country
began to be distinguished by their interior and frontier
situation.