University of Virginia Library

[250] CHAPTER XV.

While expeditions were carrying on by the whites,
against the Moravian and other Indians, the savages were
prosecuting their accustomed predatory and exterminating
war, against several of the settlements. Parties of Indians,
leaving the towns to be defended by the united exertions
of contiguous tribes, would still penetrate to the
abode of the whites, and with various success, strive to
avenge on them their real and fancied wrongs.

On the 8th of March as William White, Timothy
Dorman and his wife, were going to, and in site of Buchannon
fort, some guns were discharged at them, and
White being shot through the hip soon fell from his horse,
and was tomahawked, scalped and lacerated in the most
frightful manner.[1] —Dorman and his wife were taken
prisoners. The people in the fort heard the firing and
flew to arms; but the river being between, the savages
cleared themselves, while the whites were crossing over.

After the killing of White (one of their most active

and vigilant warriors and spies) and the capture of Dorman,
it was resolved to abandon the fort, and seek elsewhere,
security from the greater ills which it was found
would befall them if they remained. This apprehension
arose from the fact, that Dorman was then with the savages,
and that to gratify his enmity to particular individuals
in the settlement, he would unite with the Indians,
and from his knowledge of the [251] country, be enabled to
conduct them the more securely to blood and plunder. He
was a man of sanguinary and revengeful disposition,
prone to quarrelling, and had been known to say, that if
he caught particular individuals with whom he was at variance,
in the woods alone, he would murder them and attribute
it to the savages. He had led, when in England, a
most abandoned life, and after he was transported to this
country, was so reckless of reputation and devoid of shame
for his villainies, that he would often recount tales of theft
and robbery in which he had been a conspicuous actor.
The fearful apprehensions of increased and aggravated injuries
after the taking of him prisoner, were well-founded;
and subsequent events fully proved, that, but for the evacuation
of the fort, and the removal of the inhabitants, all
would have fallen before the fury of savage warriors, with
this abandoned miscreant at their head.

While some of the inhabitants of that settlement
were engaged in moving their property to a fort in Tygart's
Valley (the others removing to Nutter's fort and
Clarksburg,) they were fired upon by a party of savages,
and two of them, Michael Hagle and Elias Paynter, fell.
The horse on which John Bush was riding, was shot
through; yet Bush succeeded in extricating himself from
the falling animal, and escaped though closely pursued by
one of the savages. Several times the Indian following
him, would cry out to him, "Stop, and you shall not be
hurt—If you do not, I will shoot you," and once Bush,
nearly exhausted, and in despair of getting off, actually
relaxed his pace for the purpose of yielding himself a
prisoner, when turning round he saw the savage stop also,
and commence loading his gun. This inspired Bush with
fear for the consequences, and renewing his flight he made

his escape. Edward Tanner, a mere youth, was soon
taken prisoner, and as he was being carried to their towns,
met between twenty and thirty savages, headed by Timothy
Dorman, proceeding to attack Buchannon fort. Learning
from him that the inhabitants were moving from it, and
that it would be abandoned in a few days, the Indians
pursued their journey with so much haste, that Dorman
had well nigh failed from fatigue. They arrived however,
too late, for the accomplishment of their bloody purpose;
the settlement was deserted, and the inhabitants safe
within the walls of other fortresses.

[252] A few days after the evacuation of the fort, some
of its former inmates went from Clarksburg to Buchannon
for grain which had been left there. When they came in
sight, they beheld a heap of ashes where the fort had
been; and proceeding on, became convinced that the savages
were yet lurking about. They however, continued
to go from farm to farm collecting the grain, but with the
utmost vigilance and caution, and at night went to an out
house, near where the fort had stood. Here they found a
paper, with the name of Timothy Dorman attached to it,
dated at the Indian towns, and containing information of
those who had been taken captive in that district of
country.

In the morning early, as some of the men went from
the house to the mill, they saw the savages crossing the
river, Dorman being with them. Thinking it best to impress
them with a belief that they were able to encounter
them in open conflict, the men advanced towards them,—
calling to their companions in the house, to come on. The
Indians fled hastily to the woods, and the whites, not so
rash as to pursue them, returned to the house, and secured
themselves in it, as well as they could. At night, Captain
George Jackson went privately forth from the house, and
at great hazzard of being discovered by the waylaying
savages, proceeded to Clarksburg, where he obtained such
a reinforcement as enabled him to return openly and escort
his former companions in danger, from the place of
its existence.

Disappointed in their hopes of involving the inhabitants

of the Buchannon settlements in destruction, the savages
went on to the Valley. Here, between Westfall's and
Wilson's forts, they came upon John Bush and his wife,
Jacob Stalnaker and his son Adam. The two latter being
on horse back and riding behind Bush and his wife, were
fired at, and Adam fell. The old gentleman, rode briskly
on, but some of the savages were before him and endeavored
to catch the reins of his bridle, and thus stop his flight.
He however, escaped them all. The horse from which
Adam Stalnaker had fallen, was caught by Bush, and both
he and Mrs. Bush got safely away on him.

The Indians then crossed the Alleghany mountains,
and coming to the house of Mrs. Gregg, (Dorman's former
master) made an attack on it. A daughter of that gentleman,
alone fell a victim to their thirst for blood. When
taken prisoner, [253] she refused to go with them, and
Dorman sunk his tomahawk into her head and then
scalped her. She however, lived several days and related
the circumstances above detailed.

After the murder of John Thomas and his family in
1781, the settlement on Booth's creek was forsaken, and
its inhabitants went to Simpson's creek, for greater security.
In the Spring John Owens procured the assistance
of some young men about Simpson's creek, and proceeded
to Booth's creek for the purpose of threshing some wheat
at his farm there.—While on a stack throwing down
sheaves, several guns were fired at him by a party of twelve
Indians, concealed not far off. Owens leapt from the
stack, and the men caught up their guns. They could
not, however, discover any one of the savages in their
covert and thought it best to retreat to Simpson's creek
and strengthen their force before they ventured in pursuit
of their enemy. They accordingly did so, and when they
came again to Booth's creek, the Indians had decamped,
taking with them the horses left at Owens'. The men
however found their trail and followed it until night.—
Early next morning, crossing the West Fork at Shinnston,
they went on in pursuit and came within sight of
the Indian camp, and seeing some of the savages lying
near their fires, fired at them, but, as was believed without

effect. The Indians again took to flight; and as they
were hastening on, one of them suddenly wheeled and
fired upon his pursuers. The ball passed through the
hunting-shirt of one of the men, & Benjamin Coplin
(then an active, enterprising young man) returning the
shot, an Indian was seen suddenly to spring into a laurel
thicket. Not supposing that Coplin's ball had taken effect,
they followed the other savages some distance farther, and
as they returned got the horses and plunder left at the
camp. Some time afterwards a gun was found in the
thicket, into which the Indian sprang, and it was then
believed that Coplin's shot had done execution.

In the same spring the Indians made their appearance
on Crooked run, in Monongalia county. Mr. Thomas
Pindall, having been one day at Harrison's fort, at a time
when a greater part of the neighbourhood had gone
thither for safety, prevailed on three young men, (Harrison,
Crawford and Wright, to return and spend the night
with him.) Some time after they had been abed, the females
waked Mr. Pindall, and telling him that they had
heard several times a noise very much [254] resembling
the whistling on a charger, insisted on going directly to
the fort. The men heard nothing, and being inclined to
believe that the fears of the females had given to the
blowing of the wind, that peculiar sound, insisted that
there was no danger and that it would be unpleasant to
turn out then, as the night was very dark. Hearing
nothing after this, for which they could not readily account,
the men rose in the morning unapprehensive of interruption;
and the females, relieved of their fears of being molested
by savages during the night, continued in bed.
Mr. Pindall walked forth to the woods to catch a horse,
and the young men went to the spring hard by, for the
the purpose of washing. While thus engaged three guns
were fired at them, and Crawford and Wright were killed.
Harrison fled and got safely to the fort.

The females alarmed at the report of the guns, sprang
out of bed and hastened towards the fort, pursued by the
Indians. Mrs. Pindall was overtaken and killed, but Rachael
Pindall, her sister-in-law, escaped safely to the fort.

In June some Indians came into the neighborhood of
Clarksburg, and not meeting with an opportunity of killing
or making prisoners any of the inhabitants without
the town, one of them, more venturous than the rest,
came so near as to shoot Charles Washburn as he was
chopping a log of wood in the lot, and then running up,
with the axe, severed his skull, scalped him, and fled
safely away. Three of Washburn's brothers had been
previously murdered by the savages.

In August as Arnold and Paul Richards were returning
to Richard's fort, they were shot at by some Indians,
lying hid in a cornfield adjoining the fort, and both fell
from their horses. The Indians leaped over the fence immediately
and tomahawked and scalped them.

These two men were murdered in full view of the
fort, and the firing drew its inmates to the gate to ascertain
its cause. When they saw that the two Richards' were
down, they rightly judged that Indians had done the
deed; and Elias Hughes, ever bold and daring, taking
down his gun, went out alone at the back gate, and entered
the cornfield, into which the savages had again retired, to
see if he could not avenge on one of them the murder of
his friends. Creeping softly along, he came in view of
them standing near the fence, reloading their guns, and
looking intently at the people at the fort gate. Taking
[255] a deliberate aim at one of them, he touched the
trigger. His gun flashed, and the Indians alarmed ran
speedily away.

A most schocking scene was exhibited some time before
this, on Muddy creek in Pennsylvania. On the 10th
of May as the Reverend John Corbly, his wife and five
children were going to meeting, (Mr. Corbly being a short
distance behind) they were attacked by a party of savages
waylaying the road. The shrieks of Mrs. Corbly
and the children, drew the husband and father to the fatal
spot. As he was approaching, his wife called to him, "to
fly." He knew that it was impossible for him to contend
successfully against the fearful odds opposed to him, and
supposing that his family would be carried away as prisoners,
and that he would be enabled either to recover

them by raising a company and pursuing the savages, or
to ransom them, if conducted to the Indian towns, he complied
with her wish, and got safely off, though pursued by
one of the savages. But it was not their intention to
carry them into captivity. They delighted too much, to
look upon the lifeblood flowing from the heart; and accordingly
shed it most profusely. The infant in its
mother's arms was the first on whom their savage fury
fell,—it was tomahawked and scalped. The mother then
received several severe blows, but not falling, was shot
through the body, by the savage who chased her husband;
and then scalped. Into the brains of a little son, six years
old, their hatchets were sunk to the heft. Two little girls,
of two and four years of age, were tomahawked and
scalped. The eldest child, also a daughter, had attempted to
escape by concealing herself in a hollow log, a few rods from
the scene of action. From her hiding place, she beheld all
that was done, and when the bleeding scalp was torn from
the head of her last little sister, & she beheld the savages
retiring from the desolation which they had wrought,
she crawled forth from concealment. It was too soon.
One of the savages yet lingered near, to feast to satiety on
the horrid spectacle. His eyes caught a glimpse of her as
she crept from the log, and his tomahawk and scalping
knife became red with her blood.

When Mr. Corbly returned, all his hopes vanished.
Which ever way he turned, the mangled body of some one
of his family was presented to his view. His soul sickened
at the contemplation of the scene, and he fainted and fell.
When he had revived, he was cheered with the hope that
some of [256] them might yet survive. Two of his
daughters had manifested symptoms of returning life, and
with care and attention were restored to him.

Thus far in the year 1782, the settlements only suffered
from the accustomed desultory warfare of the savages. No
numerous collection of Indians had crossed their border,—
no powerful army of warriors, threatening destruction to
the forts, those asylums of their safety, had appeared
among them.—But the scene was soon to change.

In August, there was a grand council convened at Chilicothe,

in which the Wyandots, the Shawanees, the Mingoes,
the Tawas, Pottowatomies, and various other tribes
were represented.[2] Girty and McKee—disgraces to human
nature—aided in their deliberations. The surrender of
Cornwallis, which had been studiously kept secret from
the Indians, was now known to them, and the war between
Great Britain and the United States, seemed to them to
be verging to a close.—Should a peace ensue, they feared
that the concentrated strength of Virginia, would bear
down upon them and crush them at once. In anticipation
of this state of things, they had met to deliberate, what
course it best became them to pursue. Girty addressed
the council. He reminded them of the gradual encroachments
of the whites;—of the beauty of Kentucky and its
value to them as a hunting ground.—He pointed out to
them the necessity of greater efforts to regain possession
of that country, and warned them that if they did not
combine their strength to change the present state of things,
the whites would soon leave them no hunting grounds;
and they would consequently, have no means of procuring
rum to cheer their hearts, or blankets to warm their
bodies. His advice was well received and they determined
to continue the war.[3]

When the council was adjourned, the warriors proceeded
to execute its determinations. Two armies, the
one of six hundred, and the other three hundred and fifty
men, prepared to march, each to it assigned station—The
larger was destined to operate against Kentucky, while
the smaller, was to press upon North Western Virginia;
and each was abundantly supplied with the munitions of
war.[4] Towards the last of August the warriors who were

to act in Kentucky, appeared before Bryant's station, south
of Licking river, and placed themselves under covert
during night,[5] and in advantageous [257] situations for
firing upon the station, so soon as its doors should be
thrown open.

There were at that time but few inhabitants occupying
that station. William Bryant, its founder, and one in
whose judgment, skill and courage, many confidently reposed
for security from savage enormity, had been unfortunately
discovered by some Indians near the mouth of
Cane run, and killed.—His death caused most of those
who had come to that place from North Carolina, to forsake
the station, and return to their own country. Emigrants
from Virginia, arriving some short time before, and
among whom was Robert Johnson, (the father of Richard
M. Johnson) to a certain extent supplied this desertion;
yet it was in respect to numbers so far inferior to the savage
forces, that the most resolute shuddered in apprehension
of the result.

The station too, was at that time, careless and inattentive
to its own defence; not anticipating the appearance
of a savage army before its gates. Indeed had the
Indians delayed their attack a few hours, it would have
been in almost an entirely defenceless condition; as the
men were on that morning to have left it, for the purpose
of aiding in the defence of another station, which was
then understood to be assailed by an army of Indians.
Fortunately however, for the inhabitants, as soon as the
doors of some of the cabins were opened in the morning,
the savages commenced the fire, and thus admonished
them of danger, while it was not yet too late to provide
against it.

The Indians in the attack on Bryant's station practised
their usual stratagem, to ensure their success. It was
begun on the south-east angle of the station, by one hundred
warriors, while the remaining five hundred were

concealed in the woods on the opposite side, ready to take
advantage of its unprotected situation when, as they anticipated,
the garrison would concentrate its strength, to
resist the assault on the south-east. But their purpose
was fully comprehended by the garrison, and instead of
returning the fire of the one hundred, they secretly sent
an express to Lexington for assistance, and commenced
repairing the pallisades, and putting themselves in the best
possible condition to withstand the fury of the assailants.
Aware that the Indians were posted near the spring, and
believing that they would not fire unless some of the men
should be seen going thither, the women [258] were sent
to bring in water for the use of the garrison. The event
justified their expectations—The concealed Indians, still
farther to strengthen the belief, that their whole force were
engaged in the attack on the south-east, forbore to fire,
or otherwise contradict the impression which they had
studiously sought to make on the minds of its inmates.

When a sufficiency of water had been provided, and
the station placed in a condition of defence, thirteen men
were sent out in the direction from which the assault was
made. They were fired upon by the assailing party of one
hundred, but without receiving any injury; and retired
again within the pallisades. Instantly the savages rushed
to the assault of, what they deemed, the unprotected side
of the station, little doubting their success. A steady, well
directed fire, put them quickly to flight. Some of the
more desperate and daring however, approached near
enough to fire the houses, some of which were consumed;
but a favorable wind drove the flames from the mass of
the buildings and the station escaped conflagration.

Disappointed of the expected success of their first
stratagem, the assailants withdrew a short distance, and
concealed themselves under the bank of the creek, to await
the arrival of the assistance, which was generally sent to
a besieged fort or station, arranging themselves in ambushment
to intercept its approach.

When the express from Bryant's station reached Lexington,
the male inhabitants had left there to aid in the
defence of Holder's station, which was reported to be attacked.

Following on their route, they overtook them at
Boonesborough, and sixteen mounted, and thirty footmen
were immediately detached to aid the inhabitants of Bryant's
station. When this reinforcement came near, the
firing had entirely ceased, no enemy was visible, and they
approached in the confidence that all was well. A sudden
discharge of shot from the savages in ambush, dispelled that
hope. The horsemen however, passed safely by. The cloud
of dust produced by the galloping of their horses, obscured
the view and hindered the otherwise deadly aim of the Indians.
The footmen were less fortunate. Two of them
were killed, and four wounded; and but for the luxuriant
growth of corn in the field through which they passed,
nearly all must have fallen, before the overwhelming force
of the enemy.

[259] Thus reinforced, the garrison did not for an instant
doubt of safety; while the savages became hopeless
of success by force of arms, and resorted to another expedient
to gain possession of the station. In the twilight
of evening, Simon Girty covertly drew near, and mounting
on a stump from which he could be distinctly heard,
demanded the surrender of the place. He told the garrison,
that a reinforcement, with cannon, would arrive that
night, and that this demand was suggested by his humanity,
as the station must ultimately fall, and he could assure
them of protection if they surrendered, but could not if
the Indians succeeded by storm; and then demanded, if
"they knew who was addressing them." A young man
by the name of Reynolds, (fearing the effect which the
threat of cannon might have upon the garrison, as the fate
of Ruddle's and Martin's stations was yet fresh in their
recollections,) replied, that he "knew him well, and held
him in such contempt, that he had named a worthless dog
which he had Simon Girty; that his reinforcements and
threats, were not heeded by the garrison, who expected to
receive before morning such an auxiliary force as would enable
them to give a good account of the cowardly wretches
that followed him, whom he held in such contempt
that he had prepared a number of switches with which to

drive them out of the country if they remained there
'till day."[6]

Affecting to deplore their obstinacy, Girty retired,
and during the night, the main body of the Indian army
marched off, leaving a few warriors to keep up an occasional
firing and the semblance of a siege.[7]

Shortly after the retreat of the savages, one hundred
and sixty men, from Lexington, Harrodsburg and Boonesborough,
assembled at Bryant's station, and determined
to pursue them.[8] Prudence should have prevailed with
them to await the arrival of Colonel Logan, who was
known to be collecting additional forces from the other
station; but brave and fearless, well equipped, and burning
with ardent desire to chastise their savage invaders,
they rather indiscreetly chose to march on, unaided,
sooner than risk suffering the enemy to retire, by delaying
for other troops. But the Indians had no wish to
retire, to avoid the whites. The trail left by them, to the
experienced eye of Daniel Boone, furnished convincing
evidence, that they were only solicitous to conceal their
numbers, in reality to tempt pursuit.

[260] When the troops arrived at the Lower Blue
Licks, they saw the only Indians, which had met their
eye on the route. These were slowly ascending the ridge
on the opposite side of the river. The party was halted,
and Boone consulted as to what course it would be best
to pursue. He was of opinion that the savage force
was much greater, than most had been led to believe by
the appearance of the trail, and anticipating pursuit, were
then in ambush in the ravines; and he advised that the
force be divided into two equal parts, the one, marching
up the river, to cross it at the mouth of Elk creek, above

the upper ravine, while the other party should take a position
below for the purpose of co-operating whenever occasion
might require; but that neither party should by
any means cross the river, until spies were sent out to
learn the position and strength of the enemy.[9] The officers
generally were inclined to follow the counsel of Boone,
but Major McGary, remarkable for impetuosity, exclaiming,
"Let all who are not cowards, follow me," spurred
his horse into the river. The whole party caught the contagious
rashness,—all rushed across the river. There was
no order,—no arrangement—no unity or concert. None
"paused in their march of terror," lest "we should hover
o'er the path," but each, following his own counsel, moved
madly towards the sheltered ravines and wooded ground,
where Boone had predicted the savages lay hid. The
event justified the prediction, and showed the wisdom of
his counsel.

At the head of a chosen band of warriors, Girty[10] advanced
with fierceness upon the whites, from the advantageous
position which he covertly occupied, and "madness,
despair and death succeed, the conflict's gathering
wrath." The Indians had greatly the advantage in numbers,
as well as position, and the disorderly front of the
whites, gave them still greater superiority. The bravery
of the troops for a while withstood the onset, and the contest
was fierce and sanguinary 'till their right wing being
turned, a retreat became inevitable. All pressed towards
the ford, but a division of the savage army, foreseeing this,
had been placed so as to interpose between them and it;
and they were driven to a point on the river, where it
could only be crossed by swimming. Here was indeed a
scene of blood and carnage. Many were killed on the

bank; others in swimming over, and some were tomahawked
in the edge of the water. Some of those who had
been foremost in getting across the river, wheeled and
opened a steady fire upon the pursuers. Others, animated
by the example, as soon as they reached the bank discharged
their guns upon the savages, and checking them
for a while enabled many to escape death. But for this
stand, the footmen would have been much harrassed, and
very many of them entirely cut off. As it was, the loss in
slain was great. Of one hundred and seventy-six (the
number of whites,) sixty-one were killed, and eight taken
prisoners. Cols. Todd and Trigg,—Majors Harland and
Bulger,—Capts. Gordon, McBride, and a son of Daniel
Boone, were among those who fell. The loss of the savages
was never known;—they [261] were left in possession
of the battle ground, and at leisure to conceal or carry off
their dead, and when it was next visited by the whites,
none were found.[11]

A most noble and generous act, performed by one of
the whites, deserves to be forever remembered. While
they were flying before the closely pursuing savages,
Reynolds (who at Bryant's station had so cavalierly replied
to Girty's demand of its surrender) seeing Col. Robert
Patterson, unhorsed and considerably disabled by his
wounds, painfully struggling to reach the river, sprang
from his saddle, and assisting him to occupy the relinquished
seat, enabled that veteran officer to escape, and
fell himself into the hands of the savages. He was not
long however, detained a prisoner by them. He was taken
by a party of only three Indians; and two whites passing
hurriedly on towards the river, just after, two of his captors
hastened in pursuit of them, and he was left guarded
by only one. Reynolds was cool and collected, and only

awaited the semblance of an opportunity, to attempt an
escape. Presently the savage in whose custody he was,
stooped to tie his moccason. Suddenly he sprang to one
side, and being fleet of foot, got safely off.

The battle of the Blue Licks was fought on the 19th
of August. On the next day Col. Logan, with three hundred
men, met the remnant of the troops retreating to
Bryant's station; and learning the fatal result of the contest,
hurried on to the scene of action to bury the dead,
and avenge their fall—if the enemy should be found yet
hovering near. On his arrival not a savage was to be seen.
Flushed with victory, and exulting in their revenge, they
had retired to their towns, to feast the eyes of their brethren,
with the scalps of the slain. The field of battle presented
a miserable spectacle. All was stillness, where so
lately had arisen the shout of the impetuous, but intrepid
whites, and the whoop and yell of the savages, as they
closed in deadly conflict; not a sound was to be heard but
the hoarse cry of the vulture, flapping her wings and
mounting into the air, alarmed at the intrusion of man.
Those countenances, which had so lately beamed with
daring and defiance, were unmeaning and inexpressive;
and what with the effect produced on the dead bodies, by
the excessive heat and the mangling and disfiguration of
the tomahawk and scalping knife, scarcely one could be
distinguished from another. Friends tortured themselves
in vain, to find friends, in the huge mass of slain,—fathers
to recognize their sons. The mournful gratification of
bending over the lifeless bodies of dear relations and gazing
with intense anxiety on their pallid features, was denied
them. Undistinguished, though not unmarked, all
were alike consigned to the silent grave, amid sighs of
sorrow and denunciations of revenge.

An expedition against the Indian towns was immediately
resolved upon, and in September, Gen. Clarke
marched towards them, at the head of nearly one thousand
men. Being discovered on their route and the intelligence
soon spreading that an army from [262] Kentucky was
penetrating the country, the savages deserted their villages
and fled; and the expedition was thus hindered of its

purpose of chastising them. The towns however were
burned, and in a skirmish with a party of Indians, five of
them were killed, and seven made prisoners, with the loss
of only one man.[12]

The Indian forces which were to operate against North
Western Virginia, for some time delayed their purpose,
and did not set out on their march, until a while before the

return of those who had been sent into Kentucky. On
their way, a question arose among them—against what
part of the country they should direct their movements—
and their division on this subject, rising by degrees 'till
it assumed a serious aspect, led many of the chiefs to determine
on abandoning the expedition; but a runner arriving
with intelligence of the great success which had
crowned the exertion of the army in Kentucky, they
changed that determination, and proceeded hastily towards
Wheeling.

In the first of September, John Lynn (a celebrated
spy and the same who had been with Capt. Foreman at
the time of the fatal ambuscade at Grave creek) being engaged
in watching the warriors paths, northwest of the
Ohio, discovered the Indians marching with great expedition
for Wheeling, and hastening to warn the inhabitants
of the danger which was threatening them, swam the
river, and reached the village, but a little while before the
savage army made its appearance. The fort was at this
time without any regular garrison, and depended for defence
exclusively, on the exertions of those who sought
security within its walls. The brief space of time which
elapsed between the alarm by Lynn, and the arrival of
the Indians, permitted only those who were immediately
present to retire into it, and when the attack was begun
to be made, there were not within its pallisades, twenty
effective men to oppose the assault. The dwelling house
of Col. Ebenezer Zane, standing about forty yards from
the fort, contained the military stores which had been
furnished by the government of Virginia; and as it was
admirably situated as an out post from which to annoy the
savages in their onsets, he resolved on maintaining possession
of it, as well to aid in the defence of the fort, as
for the preservation of the ammunition. Andrew Scott,
George Green, Mrs. Zane, Molly Scott and Miss McCullough,
were all who remained with him. The kitchen
(adjoining) was occupied by Sam (a negro belonging to
Col. Zane) and Kate, his wife.—Col. Silas Zane commanded
in the fort.

When the savage army approached, the British colors

were waving over them; and before a shot was discharged
at the fort, they demanded the surrender of the garrison.
No answer was deigned to this demand, but the firing of
several shot (by order of Silas Zane) at the standard
which they bore; and the savages rushed to the assault.
A well directed and brisk fire opened upon them from
Col. Zane's house and the fort, soon drove them back.
Again they rushed forward; and again were they repulsed.
The number of [263] arms in the house and fort, and the
great exertions of the women in moulding bullets, loading
guns and handing them to the men, enabled them to fire
so briskly, yet so effectively, as to cause the savages to
recoil from every charge. The darkness of night soon
suspended their attacks, and afforded a temporary repose
to the besieged. Yet were the assailants not wholly inactive.
Having suffered severely by the galling fire poured
upon them from the house, they determined on reducing
it to ashes. For this purpose, when all was quietness and
silence, a savage, with a fire brand in his hand crawled to
the kitchen, and raising himself from the ground, waving
the torch to and fro to rekindle its flame, and about to apply
it to the building, received a shot which forced him to
let fall the engine of destruction and hobble howling away.
The vigilance of Sam had detected him, in time to thwart
his purpose.

On the return of light, the savages were seen yet environing
the fort, and although for some time they delayed
to renew their suspended assault, yet it was evident they
had not given over its contemplated reduction. They
were engaged in making such preparations, as they were
confident would ensure success to their exertions.

Soon after the firing of the preceding day had subsided,
a small boat, proceeding from Fort Pitt to the Falls
of Ohio with cannon balls for the use of the troops there,
put to shore at Wheeling; and the man who had charge of
her, although discovered and slightly wounded by the
savages, reached the postern and was admitted to the fort.
The boat of course fell into the hands of the enemy, and
they resolved on using the balls aboard, for the demolition
of the fortress. To this end they procured a log, with

a cavity as nearly corresponding with the size of the ball,
as they could; and binding it closely with some chains
taken from a shop hard by, charged it heavily, and pointing
it towards the fort, in imagination beheld its walls
tumbling into ruin, and the garrison bleeding under the
strokes and gashes of their tomahawks and scalping knives.
All things being ready, the match was applied.—A dreadful
explosion ensued. Their cannon burst;—its slivers
flew in every direction; and instead of being the cause of
ruin to the fort, was the source of injury only to themselves.
Several were killed, many wounded, and all, dismayed
by the event. Recovering from the shock, they
presently returned with redoubled animation to the charge.
Furious from disappointment, exasperated with the unforseen
yet fatal result, they pressed to the assault with the
blindness of phrensy. Still they were received with a fire
so constant and deadly, that they were again forced to retire;
and most opportunely for the garrison.

When Lynn gave the alarm that an Indian army
was approaching, the fort having been for some time unoccupied
by a garrison, and Col. Zane's house being used
as a magazine, those who retired into the fortress had to
take with them a supply of ammunition for its defence.
The supply of powder, deemed ample at the time, by reason
of the long continuance of the savages, and the repeated
[264] endeavors made by them, to storm the fort was now
almost entirely exhausted, a few loads only, remaining.
In this emergency, it became necessary to replenish their
stock, from the abundance of that article in Col. Zane's
house. During the continuance of the last assault, apprized
of its security, and aware of the danger which
would inevitably ensue, should the savages after being
again driven back, return to the assault before a fresh supply
could be obtained, it was proposed that one of their
fleetest men should endeavor to reach the house, obtain a
keg and return with it to the fort. It was an enterprise
full of danger; but many of the chivalric spirits, then
pent up within the fortress, were willing to encounter
them all.

Among those who volunteered to go on this emprise,

was Elizabeth, the younger sister of Colonel Zane. She
was then young active and athletic;—with precipitancy to
dare danger, and fortitude to sustain her in the midst of it.
Disdaining to weigh the hazard of her own life, against
the risk of that of others, when told that a man would encounter
less danger by reason of his greater fleetness, she
replied—"and should he fall, his loss will be more severely
felt. You have not one man to spare;—a woman will not
be missed in the defence of the fort." Her services were
accepted. Divesting herself of some of her garments, as
tending to impede her progress, she stood prepared for the
hazzardous adventure; and when the gate was opened,
she bounded forth with the buoyancy of hope, and in the
confidence of success. Wrapt in amazement, the Indians
beheld her spring forward; and only exclaiming, "a squaw,
a squaw," no attempt was made to interrupt her progress.
Arrived at the door, she proclaimed her embassy. Col.
Zane fastened a table cloth around her waist, and emptying
into it a keg of powder, again she ventured forth.
The Indians were no longer passive. Ball after ball passed
whizzing and innocuous by. She reached the gate and
entered the fort in safety.[13]

Another instance of heroic daring, deserves to be recorded
[265] here. When intelligence of the investiture
of Wheeling by the savages, reached Shepherd's fort, a
party was immediately detached from it, to try and gain
admission into the besieged fortress, and aid in its defence.
Upon arriving in view, it was found that the attempt
would be hopeless and unavailing, and the detachment
consequently prepared to return. Francis Duke, (son-in-law
to Colonel Shepherd) was unwilling to turn his back
on a people, straitened as he knew the besieged must be,
and declared his intention of endeavoring to reach the
fort, that he might contribute to its defence. It was useless
to disuade him from the attempt;—he knew its danger,

but he also knew their weakness, and putting spurs to his
horse, rode briskly forward, calling aloud, "open the gate,—
open the gate." He was seen from the fort, and the gate
was loosed for his admission; but he did not live to reach
it.—Pierced by the bullets of the savages, he fell, to the
regret of all. Such noble daring, deserved a better fate.

During that night and the next day, the Indians still
maintained the seige, and made frequent attempts to take
the fort by storm; but they were invareiably repulsed by
the deadly fire of the garrison and the few brave men in
Colonel Zane's house. On the third night, despairing of
success, they resolved on raising the siege; and leaving
one hundred chosen warriors to scour and lay waste the
country, the remainder of their army retreated across the
Ohio, and encamped at the Indian Spring,—five miles from
the river. Their loss in the various assaults upon the fort,
could not be ascertained; but was doubtless very considerable.
Of the garrison, none were killed and only two
wounded,—the heroic Francis Duke was the only white
who fell during the siege. The gallantry displayed by all,
both men and women, in the defence of the fort, can not
be too highly commended; but to the caution and good conduct
of those few brave individuals who occupied Colonel
Zane's house, its preservation has been mainly attributed.

In the evening preceding the departure of the savages
from before Wheeling, two white men, who had been
among them for several years, and then held commands in
the army, deserted from them, and on the next morning
early were taken prisoners by Colonel Swearingen, who,
with ninety-five men, was on his way to aid in the defence
of Wheeling fort, and the chastisement of its assailants.
Learning from them [266] the determination of the savages
to withdraw from Wheeling, and detach a portion of their
force to operate in the country, he despatched runners in
every direction to alarm the country and apprize the inhabitants
of danger.[14] The intelligence was received by

Jacob Miller when some distance from home, but apprehensive
that the meditated blow would be aimed at the
fort where he resided, he hastened thither, and arrived in
time to aid in preparing for its defence.

The place against which the savages directed their
operations, was situated on Buffaloe creek, twelve or fifteen
miles from its enterance into the Ohio, and was known as
Rice's fort. Until Miller's return there were in it only five
men; the others having gone to Hagerstown to exchange
their peltries, for salt, iron and ammunition. They immediately
set about making preparations to withstand an
assault; and in a little while, seeing the savages approaching
from every direction, forsook the cabins and repaired
to the blockhouse. The Indians perceived that they were
discovered, and thinking to take the station by storm,
shouted forth the war whoop and rushed to the assault.
They were answered by the fire of the six brave and skilful
riflemen in tbe house, and forced to take refuge behind
trees and fallen timber. Still they continued the firing;
occasionally calling on the whites to "give up, give up. Indian
too many. Indian too big. Give up. Indian no kill."
The men had more faith in the efficacy of their guns to purchase
their safety, than in the proferred mercy of the savages;
and instead of complying with their demand, called
on them, "as cowards skulking behind logs to leave their
coverts, and shew but their yellow hides, and they would
make holes in them."

The firing was kept up by the savages from their protected
situation, until night, and whenever even a remote
prospect of galling them was presented to the whites, they
did not fail to avail themselves of it. The Indian shots in
the evening, were directed principally against the stock as
it came up as usual to the station, and the field was strewed
with its dead carcases. About ten o'clock of the night
they fired a large barn (thirty or forty yards from the
blockhouse) filled with grain and hay, and the flames from
which seemed for awhile to endanger the fort; but being
situated on higher ground, and the current of air flowing
in a contrary direction, it escaped conflagration. Collecting
on the side of the fort opposite [267] to the fire, the

Indians took advantage of the light it afforded them to
renew the attack; and kept it up until about two o'clock,
when they departed. Their ascertained loss was four warriors,—three
of whom were killed by the first firing of
the whites,—the other about sundown. George Folebaum
was the only white who suffered. Early in the attack,
he was shot in the forehead, through a port-hole, and
instantly expired; leaving Jacob Miller, George Leffler,
Peter Fullenwieder, Daniel Rice and Jacob Leffler, junior,
sole defenders of the fort; and bravely and effectually did
they preserve it, from the furious assaults of one hundred
chosen savage warriors.

Soon after the Indians left Rice's fort, they moved
across the hills in different directions and in detached
parties. One of these observing four men proceeding towards
the fort which they had lately left, waylaid the
path and killed two of them on the first fire. The remaining
two fled hastily; and one of them swift of foot,
soon made his escape. The other, closely pursued by one
of the savages, and in danger of being overtaken, wheeled
to fire. His gun snapped, and he again took to flight.
Yet more closely pressed by his pursuer, he once more attempted
to shoot. Again his gun snapped, and the savage
being now near enough, hurled a tomahawk at his head.
It missed its object and both strained every nerve for the
chase. The Indian gained rapidly upon him; and reaching
forth his arm, caught hold of the end of his belt. It
had been tied in a bow-knot, and came loose.—Sensible
that the race must soon terminate to his disadvantage unless
he could kill his pursuer, the white man once more
tried his gun. It fired; and the savage fell dead at his
feet.

Some time in the summer of this year, a party of Wyandots,
consisting of seven warriors, (five of whom were,
one of the most distinguished chiefs of that nation and his
four brothers) came into one of the intermediate settlements
between Fort Pitt and Wheeling, killed an old man
whom they found alone, robbed his cabin, and commenced
retreating with the plunder. They were soon discovered
by spies; and eight men, two of whom were Adam and

Andrew Poe, (brothers, remarkable for uncommon size,
great activity, and undaunted bravery) went in pursuit of
them. Coming on their trail not far from the Ohio, Adam
Poe, fearing an ambuscade, left his companions [268] to
follow it, while he moved across to the river under cover
of the high weeds and bushes, with the view to attack
them in the rear should he find them situated as he expected.—Presently
he espied an Indian raft at the water's
edge, but seeing nothing of the savages, moved cautiously
down the bank; and when near the foot, discovered the
large Wyandot chief and a small Indian standing near
and looking intently towards the party of whites, then
some distance lower down the bottom. Poe raised his
gun, and aiming surely at the chief, pulled trigger. It
missed fire, and the snap betrayed his presence. Too near
to retreat, he sprang forward; and seizing the large Indian
by the breast, and at the same instant encircling his arms
around the neck of the smaller one, threw them both to
the ground. Extricating himself from the grasp of Poe,
the small savage raised his tomahawk; but as he aimed
the blow, a vigorous and well directed kick, staggered
him back, and he let fall the hatchet. Recovering quickly,
he aimed several blows in defiance and exultation,—the
vigilance of Poe distinguished the real from the feigned
stroke, and suddenly throwing up his arm, averted it from
his head, but received a wound in his wrist. By a violent
effort, he freed himself from the grip of the chief, and
snatching up a gun, shot his companion through the
breast, as he advanced the third time with the tomahawk.

In this time the large chief had regained his feet; and
seizing Poe by the shoulder and leg threw him to the
ground.—Poe however, soon got up, and engaged with
the savage in a close struggle, which terminated in the fall
of both into the water. Now it became the object of each
to drown his antagonist, and the efforts to accomplish this
were continued for some time with alternate success;—
first one and then the other, being under water. At length,
catching hold of the long tuft of hair which had been
suffered to grow on the head of the chief, Poe held him
under water, until he supposed him dead; but relaxing

his hold too soon, the gigantic savage was again on his
feet and ready for another grapple. In this both were
carried beyond their depth, and had to swim for safety.
Both sought the shore, and each, with all his might,
strained every nerve to reach it first that he might end
the conflict with one of the guns lying on the beach. The
Indian was the more expert swimmer, and Poe, outstripped
by him, turned and swam farther into the river,
in the hope of avoiding being [269] shot by diving.
Fortunately his antagonist laid hold on the gun which had
been discharged at the little Indian, and he was enabled
to get some distance into the river.

At this juncture, two others of the whites came up;
and one of them mistaking Poe for a wounded savage attempting
to escape, shot and wounded him in the shoulder.
He then turned to make for shore, and seeing his brother
Andrew on the bank, called to him to "shoot the big Indian."
Having done this, Andrew plunged into the river
to assist Adam in getting out; and the wounded savage,
to preserve his scalp, rolled himself into the water, and
struggling onward, sunk and could not be found.

During the continuance of this contest, the whites
had overtaken the other five Indians, and after a desperate
conflict, succeeded in killing all but one; with the loss of
three of their companions.—A great loss, when the number
engaged is taken into consideration.