University of Virginia Library

[232] CHAPTER XIII.

The revengeful feelings which had been engendered,
by inevitable circumstances, towards the Moravian Indians,
and which had given rise to the expedition of 1781,
under Col. Williamson, were yet more deeply radicated by
subsequent events. On the night after their liberation
from Fort Pitt, the family of a Mr. Monteur were all
killed or taken captive; and the outrage, occurring so immediately
after they were set at liberty and in the vicinity
of where they were, was very generally attributed to them.
An irruption was made too, in the fall of 1781, into the
settlement on Buffalo creek, and some murders committed
and prisoners taken. One of these, escaping from captivity
and returning soon after, declared that the party
committing the aggression, was headed by a Moravian warrior.

These circumstances operated to confirm many in the
belief, that those Indians were secretly inimical to the
whites, and not only furnished the savages with provisions
and a temporary home, but likewise engaged personally in
the war of extermination, which they were waging against
the frontier. Events occurring towards the close of winter,
dispelled all doubt, from the minds of those who had
fondly cherished every suggestion which militated against
the professed, and generally accredited, neutrality and pacific
disposition of the Moravians.

On the 8th of February 1782, while Henry Fink and
his son John, were engaged in sledding rails, on their farm
in the Buchannon settlement, several guns were simultaneously
discharged at them; and before John had time to
reply to his father's inquiry, whether he were hurt, another
gun was fired and he fell lifeless. Having unlinked the
chain which fastened the horse to the sled, the old man
[233] galloped briskly away. He reached his home in
safety, and immediately moved his family to the fort. On

the next day the lifeless body of John, was brought into
the fort.—The first shot had wounded his arm; the ball
from the second passed through his heart, & he was afterwards
scalped.

Near the latter part of the same month, some Indians
invaded the country above Wheeling, and succeeded in
killing a Mr. Wallace, and his family, consisting of his wife
and five children, & in taking John Carpenter a prisoner.
The early period of the year at which those enormities
were perpetrated, the inclemency of the winter of 1781—2,
and the distance of the towns of hostile Indians from the
theatre of these outrages, caused many to exclaim, "the
Moravians have certainly done this deed." The destruction
of their villages was immediately resolved, and preparations
were made to carry this determination into effect.

There were then in the North Western wilderness, between
three and four hundred of the christian Indians,
and who, until removed by the Wyandots and whites in
1781, as before mentioned, had resided on the Muskingum
in the villages of the Guadenhutten, Salem and Shoenbrun.
The society of which they were members, had been established
in the province of Pennsylvania about the year
1752, and in a short time became distinguished for
the good order and deportment of its members, both as
men and as christians. During the continuance of the
French war, they nobly withstood every allurement which
was practised to draw them within its vortex, and expressed
their strong disapprobation of war in general; saying,
"that it must be displeasing to that Great Being, who
made men, not to destroy men, but to love and assist each
other." In 1769 emigrants from their villages of Friedenshutten,
Wyalusing and Shesheequon in Pennsylvania, began
to make an establishment in the North Western wilderness,
and in a few years, attained a considerable degree of
prosperity, their towns increased rapidly in population,
and themselves, under the teaching of pious and beneficent
missionaries, in civilization and christianity. In the war
of 1774, their tranquil and happy hours were interrupted,
by reports of the ill intention of the whites along the

frontier, towards them, and by frequent acts of annoyance,
committed by war parties of the savages.

This state of things continued with but little, if any,
intermission, occasionally assuming a more gloomy and
portentious aspect, until the final destruction of their
villages. In the spring of 1781, the principal war chief of
the Delawares apprised the missionaries and them, of the
danger which threatened them, as well from the whites as
the savages, and advised them to remove to some situation,
where they would be exempt from molestation by either.
Conscious of the rectitude of their conduct as regarded
both, and unwilling to forsake the comforts which their
industry had procured for them, and the fields rendered
productive by their labor, they disregarded the [234]
friendly monition, and continued in their villages, progressing
in the knowledge and love of the Redeemer of men,
and practising the virtues inculcated by his word.

This was their situation, at the time they were removed
to Sandusky, early in the fall of 1781. When their
missionaries and principal men were liberated by the governor
of Detroit, they obtained leave of the Wyandot
chiefs to return to the Muskingum to get the corn which
had been left there, to prevent the actual starvation of
their families. About one hundred and fifty of them,
principally women and children went thither for this purpose,
and were thus engaged when the second expedition
under Col. Williamson proceeded against them.

In March 1782, between eighty and ninety men assembled
themselves for the purpose of effecting the destruction
of the Moravian towns.[1] If they then had in

contemplation the achieving of any other injury to those
people, it was not promulgated in the settlements. They
avowed their object to be the destruction of the houses
and the laying waste the crops, in order to deprive the
hostile savages of the advantage of obtaining shelter and
provisions, so near to the frontier; and the removal of the
Moravians to Fort Pitt, to preserve them from the personal
injury which, it was feared, would be inflicted on them by
the warriors. Being merely a private expedition, each of
the men took with him, his own arms, ammunition and
provisions; and many of them, their horses. They took
up the line of march from the Mingo Bottom, and on the
second night thereafter, encamped within one mile of the
village of Gnadenhutten; and in the morning proceeded
towards it, in the order of attack prescribed by a council
of the officers.

The village being built upon both sides of the river,
and the scouts having discovered and reported that it was
occupied on both sides, one-half the men were ordered to
cross over and bear down upon the town on the western
bank, while the other half would possess themselves of
that part of it which lay on the eastern shore. Upon the
arrival of the first division at the river, no boat or other
small craft was seen in which they could be transported
across; and they were for a time, in some difficulty how
they should proceed. What appeared to be a canoe was
at length discovered on the opposite bank, and a young
man by the name of Slaughter, plunging in swam to it. It
proved to be a trough for containing sugar water, and
capable of bearing only two persons at a time. To obviate
the delay which must have resulted from this tedious
method of conveying themselves over, many of the men
unclothed themselves, and placing their garments, arms
and ammunition in the trough, swam by its sides, notwithstanding
that ice was floating in the current and the
water, consequently, cold and chilling.

When nearly half this division had thus reached the
western bank, two sentinels, who on the first landing had
been stationed a short distance in advance, discovered and

fired at, one of the Indians. [235] The shot of one broke
his arm,—the other killed him. Directions were then sent
to the division which was to operate on the eastern side of
the river, to move directly to the attack, lest the firing
should alarm the inhabitants and they defeat the object
which seemed now to be had in view. The few who had
crossed without awaiting for the others, marched immediately
into the town on the western shore.

Arrived among the Indians, they offered no violence,
but on the contrary, professing peace and good will, assured
them, they had come for the purpose of escorting
them safely to Fort Pitt, that they might no longer be exposed
to molestation from the militia of the whites, or the
warriors of the savages. Sick of the sufferings which they
had so recently endured, and rejoicing at the prospect of
being delivered from farther annoyance they gave up their
arms, and with alacrity commenced making preparations
for the journey, providing food as well for the whites, as
for themselves. A party of whites and Indians was next
despatched to Salem, to bring in those who were there.
They then shut up the Moravians left at Gnadenhutten, in
two houses some distance apart, and had them well guarded,
When the others arrived from Salem, they were treated in
like manner, and shut up in the same houses with their
brethren of Gnadenhutten.

The division which was to move into the town on the
eastern side of the river, coming unexpectedly upon one
of the Indian women, she endeavored to conceal herself in
a bunch of bushes at the water edge, but being discovered,
by some of the men, was quickly killed. She was the
wife of Shabosh, who had been shot by the sentinels
of the other division. Others, alarmed at the appearance
of a party of armed men, and ignorant that a like
force was on the opposite side of the river, attempted to
escape thither.—They did not live to effect their object.
Three were killed in the attempt; and the men then
crossed over, with such as they had made prisoners, to
join their comrades, in the western and main part of the
town.

A council of war was then held to determine on the

fate of the prisoners. Col. Williamson having been much
censured for the lenity of his conduct towards those Indians
in the expedition of the preceding year, the officers
were unwilling to take upon themseves the entire responsibility
of deciding upon their fate now, and agreed that it
should be left to the men. The line was soon formed, and
they were told it remained with them to say, whether the
Moravian prisoners should be taken to Fort Pitt or murdered;
and Col. Williamson requested that those who were
inclined to mercy, should advance and form a second link,
that it might be seen on which side was the majority.
Alas! it required no scrutiny to determine. Only sixteen,
or at most eighteen men, stepped forward to save the lives
of this unfortunate people, and their doom became sealed.[2]

From the moment those ill fated beings were immured
in houses they seemed to anticipate the horrid destiny
which awaited them; [236] and spent their time in
holy and heartfelt devotion, to prepare them for the awful
realities of another world. They sang, they prayed, they
exhorted each other to a firm reliance on the Saviour of
men, and soothed those in affliction with the comfortable
assurance, that although men might kill the body, they
had no power over the soul, and that they might again
meet in a better and happier world, "where the wicked
cease from troubling and the weary find rest." When
told that they were doomed to die, they all affectionately
embraced, and bedewing their bosoms with mutual tears,
reciprocally sought, and obtained forgiveness for any offences
which they might have given each other through
life. Thus at peace with God, and reconciled with one
another, they replied to those, who impatient for the
slaughter had asked if they were not yet prepared, "Yes!
We have commended our souls to God, and are ready
to die."

What must have been the obduracy of those, who
could remain inflexible in their doom of death, amid such
scenes as these? How ruthless & unrelenting their hearts,
who unmoved by the awful spectacle of so many fellow
creatures, preparing for the sudden and violent destruction
of life and asking of their God, mercy for themselves and
forgiveness for their enemies—could yet thirst for blood,
and manifest impatience that its shedding was delayed for
an instant? Did not the possibility of that innocence,
which has been ever since so universally accorded to their
victims, once occur to them; or were their minds so under
the influence of exasperation and resentment, that they
ceased to think of any thing, but the gratification of those
feelings? Had they been about to avenge the murder of
friends on its known authors, somewhat might have been
pardoned to retaliation and to vengeance; but involving
all in one common ruin, for the supposed offences of a few,
there can be no apology for their conduct,—no excuse for
their crime.

It were well, if all memory of the tragedy at Gnadenhutten,
were effaced from the mind; but it yet lives in
the recollection of many and stands recorded on the polluted
page of history.—Impartial truth requires, that it
should be here set down.

A few of the prisoners, supposed to have been actively
engaged in war, were the first to experience their
doom. They were tied and taken some distance from the
houses in which [237] they had been confined; despatched
with spears and tomahawks, and scalped. The remainder
of both sexes, from the hoary head of decrepitude, incapable
of wrong, to helpless infancy, pillowed on its mother's
breast, were cruelly & shockingly murdered; and the
different apartments of those houses of blood, exhibited
their bleeding bodies, mangled by the tomahawk, scalping
knife and spear, and disfigured by the war-club and the
mallet.[3]

Thus perished ninety-six of the Moravian Indians.
Of these, sixty-two were grown persons, one-third of whom
were women; the remaining thirty-four were children.[4]
Two youth alone, made their escape. One of them had
been knocked down and scalped, but was not killed. He
had the presence of mind to lie still among the dead, until
nightfall, when he crept silently forth and escaped. The
other, in the confusion of the shocking scene, slipped
through a trap door into the cellar, and passing out at a
small window, got off unnoticed and uninjured.

In the whole of this transaction the Moravians were
passive and unresisting. They confided in the assurances
of protection given them by the whites, and until pent up
in the houses, continued cheerful and happy. If when
convinced of the murderous intent of their visitors, they
had been disposed to violence and opposition, it would have
availed them nothing. They had surrendered their arms
(being requested to do so, as a guarantee for the security
of the whites,) and were no longer capable of offering any
effectual or available resistance, and while the dreadful
work of death was doing, "they were as lambs led to the
slaughter; & as sheep before the shearers are dumb, so
opened they not their mouths." There was but a solitary
exception to this passiveness, and it was well nigh terminating
in the escape of its author, and in the death of some
of the whites.

As two of the men were leading forth one of the supposed
warriors to death, a dispute arose between them,
who should have the scalp of this victim to their barbarity.
He was progressing after them with a silent dancing motion,
and singing his death song. Seeing them occupied
so closely with each other, he became emboldened to try
an escape. Drawing a knife from its scabbard, he cut the

cord which bound him; and springing forward, aimed a
thrust at one of his conductors. The cutting of the rope
had, however, drawn it so [238] tightly that he who held
it became sensible that it was wrought upon in some way;
and turning quickly round to ascertain the cause, scarcely
avoided the stab. The Indian then bounded from them,
and as he fled towards the woods, dexterously removed
the cord from his wrists. Several shots were discharged
at him without effect, when the firing was stopped, lest in
the hurry and confusion of the pursuit, some of their own
party might suffer from it. A young man, mounting his
horse, was soon by the side of the Indian, and springing
off, his life had well nigh been sacrificed by his rashness.
He was quickly thrown to the ground, and the uplifted
tomahawk about to descend on his head, when a timely
shot, directed with fatal precision, took effect on the Indian
and saved him.

Had the Moravians been disposed for war, they could
easily have ensured their own safety, and dealt destruction
to the whites. If, when their town was entered by a party
of only sixteen, their thirty men, aided by the youths of
the village, armed and equipped as all were, had gone
forth in battle array, they could have soon cut off those
few; and by stationing some gunners on the bank of the
river, have prevented the landing of the others of the expedition.
But their faith in the sincerity of the whites—
their love of peace and abhorrence of war, forbade it; and
the confidence of those who first rushed into the town, in
these feelings and dispositions of the Indians, no doubt
prompted them to that act of temerity, while an unfordable
stream was flowing between them and their only
support.

During the massacre at Gnadenhutten, a detachment
of the whites was ordered to Shoenbrun to secure the Moravians
who were there. Fortunately however, two of the
inhabitants of this village had discovered the dead body
of Shabosh in time to warn their brethren of danger, and
they all moved rapidly off. When the detachment arrived,
nothing was left for them but plunder.—This was secured,
and they returned to their comrades. Gnadenhutten was

then pillaged of every article of value which could be easily
removed; its houses—even those which contained the
dead bodies of the Moravians—were burned to ashes, and
the men set out on their return to the settlements.[5]

The expedition against the Moravian towns on the
Muskingum, was projected and carried on by inhabitants
of the [239] western counties of Pennsylvania,—a district
of country which had long been the theatre of Indian
hostilities. Its result (strange as it may now appear) was
highly gratifying to many; and the ease with which so
much Indian blood had been made to flow, coupled with
an ardent desire to avenge the injuries which had been
done them by the savages, led to immediate preparations
for another, to be conducted on a more extensive scale,
and requiring the co-operation of more men. And although
the completion of the work of destruction, which
had been so successfully begun, of the Moravian Indians,
was the principal inducement of some, yet many attached
themselves to the expedition, from more noble and commendable
motives.

The residence of the Moravians ever since they were
removed to the plains of Sandusky, was in the immediate
vicinity of the Wyandot villages, and the warriors from
these had been particularly active and untiring in their
hostility to the frontier settlements of Pennsylvania. The
contemplated campaign against the Moravians, was viewed
by many as affording a fit opportunity to punish those
savages for their many aggressions, as it would require
that they should proceed but a short distance beyond the
point proposed, in order to arrive at their towns; and they
accordingly engaged in it for that purpose.

Other causes too, conspired to fill the ranks and form
an army for the accomplishment of the contemplated objects.—The
commandants of the militia of Washington
and Westmoreland counties (Cols. Williamson and Marshall)[6]

encouraged the inhabitants to volunteer on this
expedition, and made known, that every militia man who
accompanied it, finding his own horse and gun, and provisions
for a month, should be exempt from two tours of
militia duty; and that all horses unavoidably lost in the
service, should be replaced from those taken in the Indian
country. From the operation of these different causes, an
army of nearly five hundred men was soon raised, who
being supplied with ammunition by the Lieutenant Colonel
of Washington county, proceeded to the Old Mingo
towns, the place of general rendezvous—where an election
was held to fill the office of commander of the expedition.[7]
The candidates were Colonel Williamson and Colonel
Crawford; and the latter gentleman being chosen immediately
organized the troops, and prepared to march.

[240] On the 25th of May, the army left the Mingo
towns, and pursuing "Williamson's trail," arrived at the
upper Moravian town on the Muskingum (Shoenbrun,)
where (finding plenty of corn of the preceding year's crop,
yet on the stalk) they halted to refresh their horses.
While here, Captains Brenton and Bean, discovered and
fired upon two Indians; and the report of the guns being
heard in camp, the men, in despite of the exertions of their
officers, rushed towards the source of alarm, in the most
tumultuous and disorderly manner.—Colonel Crawford,
used to the discipline of continental soldiers, saw in the
impetuosity and insubordination of the troops under his
command, enough to excite the liveliest apprehensions for

the event of the expedition. He had volunteered to go on
the campaign, only in compliance with the general wish
of the troops that he should head them, and when chosen
commander in chief of the forces assembled at the Mingo
towns, he is said to have accepted the office with reluctance,
not only sensible of the impracticability of controlling
men unused to restraint, but opposed to some of the
objects of the expedition, and the frequently expressed determination
of the troops, to spare no Indian whom accident
or the fortune of war should place in their power.

From Shoenbrun the army proceeded as expeditiously
as was practicable to the site of the Moravian village, near
the Upper Sandusky; but instead of meeting with this
oppressed and persecuted tribe, or having gained an opportunity
of plundering their property, they saw nothing
which manifested that it had been the residence of man,
save a few desolate and deserted huts,—the people, whom
it was their intention to destroy, had some time before,
most fortunately for themselves, moved to the Scioto.

Discontent and dissatisfaction ensued upon the disappointment.
The guides were ignorant of there being any
Indian towns nearer than those on Lower Sandusky, and
the men became impatient to return home. In this posture
of affairs, a council of war, consisting of the field
officers and captains, was held, and it was resolved to move
forward, and if no enemy appeared that day, to retrace
their steps. Just after this determination was made
known, an express arrived, from a detachment of mounted
men, which had been sent forward to reconnoitre, with information
that about three miles in advance a large body
of Indians had been discovered hastening [241] rapidly to
meet them. The fact was, that Indian spies had watched
and reported the progress of the expedition, ever after it
left the Mingo towns; and when satisfied of its destination,
every arrangement which they could make to defeat
its object, and involve the troops in the destruction to
which it was their purpose to consign others, was begun
by the savages. Having perfected these, they were marching
on to give battle to the whites.

Immediately upon the reception of this intelligence,

the army moved forward, and meeting the reconnoitreing
party coming in, had proceeded but a short distance farther,
when they came in view of the Indians hastening to occupy
a small body of woods, in the midst of an extensive
plain. The battle was then begun by a heavy fire from
both sides, and the savages prevented gaining possession
of the woods. A party of them having however, taken
post in them before the whites came up, continued much
to annoy the troops, until some of them, alighting from
their horses, bravely rushed forward and dislodged them.
The Indians then attempted to gain a small skirt of
wood on Colonel Crawford's right; but the vigilance of
the commanding officer of the right wing, (Major Leet)
detected the movement, and the bravery of his men defeated
it. The action now became general and severe and
was warmly contested until dark, when it ceased for a
time without having been productive of much advantage
to either side. During the night, both armies lay on their
arms; adopting the wise policy of kindling large fires
along the line of battle, and retreating some distance behind
them, to prevent being surprised by a night attack.

Early in the morning a few shots were fired, but at
too great distance for execution. The Indians were hourly
receiving reinforcements, and seemed busily engaged in
active preparations for a decisive conflict. The whites became
uneasy at their increasing strength; and a council
of the officers deemed it expedient to retreat. As it would
be difficult to effect this in open day, in the presence of an
enemy of superior force, it was resolved to postpone it
until night, making in the mean time every arrangement
to ensure its success.—The killed were buried, and fires
burned over the graves to prevent discovery,—litters were
made for bearing the wounded, and the army was formed
into three lines with them in the centre.

[242] The day passed, without an attack being made
by the Indians. They were still seen to traverse the plains
in every direction, and in large bodies; and not until the
troops were about forming the line of retreat, did they
seem to have any idea that such a movement was intended.
They then commenced firing a few shots, and in a little

while it became apparent that they had occupied every
pass, leaving open only that which led to Sandusky.
Along this way, the guides conducted the main army,
until they had passed the Indian lines about a mile; when
wheeling to the left, they marched round and gained the
trail of their outward march. Continuing in this they
proceeded to the settlements without any interruption.—
The savage warriors thinking it better to follow detached
parties than the main army.

The few shots which were fired by the Indians as the
whites were forming the line of retreat, were viewed by
many as evidence that their purpose had been discovered,
and that these were signal guns preceding a general attack.
Under these impressions, the men in front hurried
off and others following the example, at least one third of
the army were to be seen flying in detached parties, and
in different directions from that taken by the main body,
supposing that the attention of the Indians would be
wholly turned to this point. They were not permitted to
proceed far under this delusive supposition. Instead of
following the main army, the Indians pursued those small
parties with such activity, that not many of those composing
them were able to escape;—one company of forty men
under a Captain Williamson,[8] was the only party detached
from the principal body of the troops, fortunate enough
to get with the main army on its retreat. Late in the
night, they broke through the Indian lines under a heavy
fire and with some loss, and on the morning of the second
day of the retreat, again joined their comrades in the expedition,
who had marched off in a body; in compliance
with the orders of the commander-in-chief.

Colonel Crawford himself proceeded at the head of
the army for some short distance, when missing his son, his
son-in-law (Major Harrison) and two nephews,[9] he stopped
to enquire for them. Receiving no satisfactory information
respecting either of them, he was induced through

anxiety for their fate to continue still, until all had passed
on, when he resumed his flight, in company with doctor
Knight[10] and two [243] others. For their greater security,
they travelled some distance apart, but from the jaded and
exhausted condition of their horses could proceed but
slowly. One of the two men in company with the Colonel
and doctor Knight, would frequently fall some distance
behind the others, and as frequently call aloud for them
to wait for him. Near the Sandusky creek he hallooed to
them to halt, but the yell of a savage being heard near
him, they went on and never again was he heard of.
About day, Colonel Crawford's horse gave out and he
was forced to proceed on foot, as was also the other of
the two who had left the field with him and Knight.
They continued however to travel together, and soon overtook
Captain Biggs, endeavoriug to secured the safety of
himself and Lieutenant Ashly, who had been so badly
wounded that he was unable to ride alone. A heavy fall
of rain induced them to halt, and stripping the bark from
some trees, they formed a tolerable shelter from the storm,
and remained there all night. In the morning they were
joined by another of the troops, when their company consisted
of six—Colonel Crawford and Doctor Knight, who
kept about an hundred yards in front—Captain Biggs and
Lieutenant Ashly, in the center; and the other two men
in the rear. They proceeded in this way about two miles,
when a party of Delawares suddenly sprang from their
hiding places into the road, and making prisoners of
Colonel Crawford and Doctor Knight, carried them to the
Indian camp near to where they then were. On the next
day the scalps of Captain Biggs and Lieutenant Ashly,
were brought in by another party of Indians who had been
likewise watching the road. From the encampment, they
were led, in company with nine other prisoners, to the old
Wyandot town, from which place they were told they
would be taken to the new town, not far off. Before setting
out from this place, Colonel Crawford and Doctor
Knight were painted black by Captain Pipe, a Delaware
chief, who told the former, that he intended to have him
shaved when he arrived among his friends, and the latter
that he was to be carried to the Shawnee town, to see
some of his old acquaintance. The nine prisoners were
then marched off in front of Colonel Crawford and Doctor
Knight, who were brought on by Pipe and Wingenim,[11]
another of the Delaware chiefs. As they went on, they
passed the bodies of four of the captives, who had been
tomahawked and scalped on the way, and came [244] to
where the remaining five were, in time to see them suffer
the same fate from the hands of squaws and boys. The
head of one of them (John McKinley, formerly an officer
in one of the Virginia regiments) was cut off, and for some
time kicked about on the ground. A while afterwards
they met Simon Girty and several Indians on horseback;
when Col. Crawford was stripped naked, severely beaten
with clubs and sticks, and made to sit down near a post
which had been planted for the purpose, and around which
a fire of poles was burning briskly. His hands were then
pinioned behind him, and a rope attached to the band
around his wrist and fastened to the foot of a post about
fifteen feet high, allowing him liberty only to sit down, or
walk once or twice round it, and return the same way.
Apprehensive that he was doomed to be burned to death,
he asked Girty if it were possible that he had been spared
from the milder instruments of the tomahawk and scalping
knife, only to suffer the more cruel death by fire.
"Yes, said Girty, composedly, you must be burned Colonel."
"It is dreadful, replied Crawford, but I will endeavor to
bear it patiently." Captain Pipe then addressed the savages
in an animated speech, at the close of which, they
rent the air with hideous yells, and immediately discharged
a number of loads of powder at the naked body of their
victim. His ears were then cut off, and while the men
would apply the burning ends of the poles to his flesh, the
squaws threw coals and hot embers upon him, so that in a
little time he had too, to walk on fire. In the midst of
these sufferings, he begged of the infamous Girty to shoot
him. That worse than savage monster, tauntingly replied,
"how can I? you see I have no gun," and laughed
heartily at the scene.

For three hours Colonel Crawford endured the most
excruciating agonies with the utmost fortitude, when faint
and almost exhausted, he commended his soul to God, and
laid down on his face. He was then scalped, and burning
coals being laid on his head and back, by one of the squaws,
he again arose and attempted to walk; but strength failed
him and he sank into the welcome arms of death. His
body was then thrown into the fire and consumed to ashes.[12]

Of the whole of this shocking scene, Doctor Knight
was [245] an unwilling spectator; and in the midst of it
was told by Girty, that it should be his fate too, when he
arrived at the Shawanee towns. These were about forty
miles distant; and he was committed to the care of a
young warrior to be taken there. On the first day they
travelled about twenty-five miles, and when they stopped
for the night, the Doctor was securely fastened. In vain
did he anxiously watch for an opportunity to endeavor to

release himself from the cords which bound him. The Indian
was vigilant and slept none. About day light they
arose, and while the Indian was kindling a fire, the gnats
were so troublesome that he untied his prisoner, and set
him likewise to making a fire to relieve them from the annoyance.
The doctor took a burning coal between two
sticks, and going behind the Indian towards the spot at
which he was directed to excite a smoke, turned suddenly
around, and struck the savage with all his force. The Indian
fell forward, but quickly recovering and seeing his
gun in the hands of his assailant, ran off, howling hideously.—The
anxiety of Doctor Knight, saved the life of
the savage.—When he seized the gun, he drew back the
cock in such haste and with so much violence as to break
the main spring and render it useless to him; but as the
Indian was ignorant of this circumstance, he continued
his flight and the doctor was then enabled to escape. After
a toilsome travel of twenty-one days, during which time
he subsisted altogether on wild gooseberries, young nettles,
a raw terrapin and two young birds, he arrived safely at
Fort McIntosh—meagre, emaciated and almost famished.

Another instance of great good-fortune occurred in the
person of John Slover,[13] who was also made prisoner after
having travelled more than half the distance from the fatal
scene of [246] action to Fort Pitt. When only eight
years of age he had been taken by some Indians on New
river, and detained in captivity for twelve years. In this
time he became well acquainted with their manners and
customs, and attached to their mode of living so strongly,
that when ransomed by his friends, he left his Indian companions
with regret. He had become too, while with them,
familiar with the country north west of the Ohio, and an
excellent woodsman; and in consequence of these attainments
was selected a principal guide to the army on its
outward march. When a retreat was prematurely began
to be made by detached parties, he was some distance from

camp, and having to equip himself for flight, was left a
good way in the rear. It was not long however, before he
came up with a party, whose horses were unable to extricate
themselves from a deep morass, over which they had
attempted to pass. Slover's was soon placed in the same
unpleasant situation, and they all, alighting from them,
proceeded on foot. In this manner they traveled on until
they had nearly reached the Tuscarawa, when a party of
savages from the way side, fired upon them. One of the
men was killed, Slover and two others made prisoners, &
the fifth escaped to Wheeling.

Those taken captive were carried first to Wachatomakah
(a small town of the Mingoes and Shawanees,)
from whence after having been severely beaten, they were
conducted to a larger town two miles farther. On their
arrival here, they had all to pass through the usual ceremonies
of running the gauntlet; and one of them who
had been stripped of his clothes and painted black, was
most severely beaten, mangled, and killed, and his body
cut in pieces and placed on poles outside the town. Here
too, Slover saw the dead bodies of Col. McClelland, Major
Harrison and John Crawford; and learned that they had
all been put to death but a little while before his arrival
there; and although he was spared for some time, yet
every thing which he saw acted towards other prisoners,
led him to fear that he was reserved for a more cruel fate,
whenever the whim of the instant should suggest its consummation.
At length an express arrived from Detroit
with a speech for the warriors, which decided his doom.
Being decyphered from the belt of wampum which contained
it, the speech began by enquiring why they continued
to take prisoners, and said, "Provisions are scarce
and when you send in [247] prisoners, we have them to
feed, and still some of them are getting off, and carrying
tidings of our affairs. When any of your people are taken
by the rebels, they shew no mercy. Why then should
you? My children take no more prisoners of any sort,
men, women, or children." Two days after the arrival of
the express with this speech, a council of the different
tribes of Indians near, was held, and it was determined to

act in conformity with the advice of the Governor of Detroit.
Slover was then the only white prisoner at this
town; and on the morning after the council was dissolved,
about forty warriors came to the house where he was, and
tying a rope around his neck, led him off to another village,
five miles distant. Here again he was severely beaten
with clubs & the pipe end of the tomahawk, & then tied to
a post, around which were piles of wood. These were
soon kindled, but a violeut rain falling unexpectedly, extinguished
the flames, before they had effected him. It
was then agreed to postpone his execution, until the next
day, and being again beaten and much wounded by their
blows, he was taken to a block house, his hands tied, the
rope about his neck fastened to a beam of the building,
and three warriors left to guard him for the night.

If the feelings of Slover would have permitted him
to enjoy sleep, the conduct of the guard would have prevented
it. They delighted in keeping alive in his mind
the shocking idea of the suffering which he would have to
endure, & frequently asking him "how he would like to
eat fire," tormented him nearly all night. Awhile before
day however, they fell asleep, and Slover commenced untying
himself. Without much difficulty he loosened the
cord from his arms, but the ligature around his neck, of
undressed buffalo-hide, seemed to defy his exertions to remove
it; and while he was endeavoring to gnaw it in vain,
one of the sleeping Indians, rose up and going near to him,
sat and smoked his pipe for some time. Slover lay perfectly
still, apprehensive that all chance of escape was now
lost to him. But no—the Indian again composed himself
to sleep, and the first effort afterwards made, to loose the
band from his neck by slipping it over his head, resulted
in leaving Slover entirely unbound. He then crept softly
from the house and leaping a fence, gained the cornfield.
Passing on, as he approached a tree, he espied a squaw with
several children lying at its root; and fearing that some
of them might discover him and give the alarm of his
[248] escape, he changed his course. He soon after reached
a glade, in which were several horses, one of which he

caught; and also found a piece of an old rug, which afforded
him his only covering until he reached Wheeling.
This he was enabled to do in a few days, being perfectly
acquainted with the country.

The town, from which Slover escaped, was the one to
which Dr. Knight was to have been taken. The Indian
who had him in charge, came in while Slover was there,
and reported his escape—magnifying the Doctor's stature
to gigantic size and attributing to him herculean strength.
When Slover acquainted the warriors with the fact, that
Doctor Knight was diminutive and effeminate, they
laughed heartily at this Indian, and mocked at him for
suffering the escape. He however bore a mark which
showed that, weak and enfeebled as he was, the Doctor
had not played booty when he aimed the blow at his conductor.—It
had penetrated to the skull and made a gash
of full four inches length.

These are but few of the many incidents which no
doubt occurred, to individuals who endeavored to effect an
escape by detaching themselves from the main army. The
number of those, thus separated from the troops, who had
the good fortune to reach the settlements, was small indeed;
and of the many of them who fell into the hands
of the savages, Knight and Slover are believed to be the
only persons, who were so fortunate as to make an escape.
The precise loss sustained in the expedition, was never
ascertained, and is variously represented from ninety to
one hundred and twenty.

Among those of the troops who went out under Col.
Crawford, that came into Wheeling, was a man by the
name of Mills.[14] Having rode very fast, and kept his horse
almost continually travelling, he was forced to leave him,
near to the present town of St. Clairsville in Ohio. Not
liking the idea of loosing him altogether, upon his arrival
at Wheeling he prevailed on Lewis Wetsel[15] to go with
him to the place where his horse gave out, to see if they
could not find him. Apprehensive that the savages would

pursue the fugitives to the border of the settlements,
Wetsel advised Mills that their path would not be free
from dangers, and counselled him to "prepare for fighting."

When they came near to the place where the horse had
been left, they met a party of about forty Indians going towards
[249] the Ohio river and who discovered Mills and
Wetsel as soon as these saw them. Upon the first fire
from the Indians Mills was wounded in the heel, and soon
overtaken and killed. Wetzel singled out his mark, shot,
and seeing an Indian fall, wheeled and ran. He was immediately
followed by four of the savages, who laid aside
their guns that they might the more certainly overtake
him. Having by practice, acquired the art of loading his
gun as he ran, Wetsel was indifferent how near the savages
approached him, if he were out of reach of the rifles of
the others. Accordingly, keeping some distance ahead of
his pursuers whilst re-loading his gun, he relaxed his speed
until the foremost Indian had got within ten or twelve
steps of him. He then wheeled, shot him dead, and again
took to flight. He had now to exert his speed to keep in
advance of the savages 'till he should again load, & when
this was accomplished and he turned to fire, the second
Indian was near enough to catch hold of the gun, when as
Wetsel expressed it, "they had a severe wring." At length
he succeed in raising the muzzle to the breast of his antagonist,
and killed him also.

In this time both the pursuers and pursued had become
much jaded, and although Wetsel had consequently
a better opportunity of loading quickly, yet taught wariness
by the fate of their companions, the two remaining
savages would spring behind trees whenever he made a
movement like turning towards them. Taking advantage
of a more open piece of ground, he was enabled to fire on
one of them who had sought protection behind a sapling
too small to screen his body. The ball fractured his thigh,
and produced death. The other, instead of pressing upon
Wetsel, uttered a shrill yell, and exclaiming, "no catch
him, gun always loaded," returned to his party.