University of Virginia Library

MASSACRE AT SEYBERT'S FORT.

There is no accomplishment which the Indian warrior more
delights in than that of strategy. Studying from boyhood to
excel in this particular, he often becomes so skilful as to outwit
his more cautious, and frequently less sagacious antagonist.
Where, in ancient or modern history, do we find schemes
better matured and more successfully executed than those of
Pontiac? The capture of Mackinaw never has been surpassed
for ingenuity and skill; while the terrible catastrophe at fort
Massac, stands without a precedent either among civilized or
savage men. The famed wooden horse of old, from whose
capacious body issued the armed foe against the astonished
and bewildered Trojans, was but a dull idea compared with the
admirable finesse of the American savage on the lower Ohio,
or northern lake. We premise this much, to introduce a case
of fatal subtlety in our own State,—the capture of a small

frontier post known as Seybert's fort, which stood on the
south-branch of the Potomac, about twelve miles west of the
present town of Franklin, in Pendleton county. It was a rude
enclosure, cut out of the heart of the forest, but sufficiently
strong to have resisted any attack from the enemy had the
inmates themselves but been strong. Our artist has given a
very correct representation of this early and memorable fortress,
the history of which fills such a dark page in the annals
of Virginia.

Seybert's fort served as a place of resort for the people of
all the adjoining settlements. Into this they gathered in times
of threatening danger, and remained during the seasons when

the Indians were most troublesome. In May, 1758, a party
of Shawanese invested the fort, and demanded a surrender.
Finding neither threatening words nor bullets of any avail,
the cunning savages, after two days' trial, resorted to strategy,
and, unhappily, with most fatal success. They made
various propositions to the besieged to give up, and their
lives should be spared; if not, the siege should be continued
and every soul massacred.

The promise of safety lured the unfortunate victims from
their line of duty, and they yielded quiet possession of the fort.
There were thirty persons at the time within the enclosure,
and these the savages proceeded to secure. Instantly the
whites realized the horror of their situation, and saw the
inevitable doom which awaited them. In a moment of false
security, they trusted to the promise of savages, and now
were about to pay the folly with their lives. Of the whole
number, all were massacred but eleven. Various accounts of
the mode of massacre have been given, but the following is
doubtless most correct. Ten, whom they wished to save, were
secured and removed from the fort, the others were tied hand
and foot, and seated in a continuous line upon a log. Behind
each of the unfortunates stood a stalwart savage, who, at a
given signal, sunk his tomahawk through the skull of his
quivering victim. The work was soon finished, and the fort
destroyed. This horrible scene was witnessed by a youth
named Dyer, who was spared, although not of the number
removed from the limits of the fort. He was taken to Logstown,
on the Ohio, and thence to the Shawanee towns on the
Scioto. After nearly two years' captivity he escaped, and
made his way home. Of the other ten borne off as prisoners,
nothing satisfactory is known.

It was during this year (1758) that an incident occurred near
the present village of Petersburg, in Hardy, which stands
without a parallel in modern history. A man named Bingaman
lived with his family in a cabin, remote from any
neighbors. He had been cautioned against the Indians; but,

a man of most determined resolution and herculean strength,
he laughed at the idea of fear, and said, no cut-throat savages
should ever drive him from his home. In the fall of this
year, a party of eight Indians made a descent upon his
cabin, late at night, while all the family were asleep. Before
Bingaman was aware of his danger, the savages had forced
the door, and were in the house. Mrs. Bingaman, the
younger,[5] was shot through the left breast, but not dangerously
wounded. Bingaman got his parents, wife and child
beneath the bed, and then prepared for battle. The hired man
was called down, but refused to come. The room was dark,
and having discharged his gun, he commenced beating about
at random with his heavy rifle. In this manner he fought with
the desperation of a giant, and terribly did his blows tell
upon the enemy. One after another he beat down before him,
until finally, of the eight, but one remained, and he, terror-stricken,
made from the house, and escaped to tell his tribe,
that he had met with a man who was a "perfect devil." The
intrepid Virginian had actually killed seven of his foes, which
certainly, is unexampled in the history of single-handed combat.
During the fight, the Indians frequently grappled their
powerful antagonist, but were unable to keep him down, as
early in the engagement he had pulled off his shirt. In the
morning, when he found that his wife was wounded, he became
so exasperated at the cowardice of the hired man that
he would have killed him, had not Mrs. Bingaman interposed
to save his life.

Bingaman afterwards moved to Natchez, where his son
Adam, who was a lad at the time of the fight, had previously
moved, and there he (the elder) died. Most of these facts we
have derived personally from the venerable William Darby,
of Washington city, who knew both the Bingamans at Natchez,
and heard from each of them a recital of the incidents

of that terrible fight. Kercheval gives a somewhat different
version, but we have every reason to believe that our account
is in the main correct. We find in Kercheval another incident
illustrative of the energy and courage of this man, which
we give. A party of whites (of whom Bingaman was one) had
started in pursuit of some retreating Indians. They were
overtaken late at night, and the pursuing party dismounting,
the captain ordered Bingaman to remain with the horses,
whilst the rest made the attack. This he refused, and
followed after the company. "To make the destruction
of the enemy more certain, it was deemed advisable to wait
until daylight before they began the attack; but a young
man, whose zeal overcame his discretion, fired into the group,
upon which the Indians sprung to their feet and fled. Bingaman
singled out a fellow of giant-like size, whom he pursued,
throwing aside his rifle that his speed might not be retarded,
—passed several smaller Indians in the chase—came up with
him—and with a single blow of his hatchet cleft his skull.
When Bingaman returned to the battle-ground, the captain
sternly observed, `I ordered you to stay and guard the
horses.' Bingaman as sternly replied, `You are a rascal, sir;
you intended to disgrace me; and one more insolent word,
and you shall share the fate of that Indian,' pointing towards
the one he had just slain. The captain quailed under the stern
menace, and held his peace. The captain and Bingaman had,
a few days before, had a falling out. Several Indians fell in
this affair, while the whites lost none of their party."

The Indian depredations, during this and the following
years, were particularly fatal on the frontier settlements of
Virginia. Many families suffered severely and terribly. Of
these we will give a few as we find them related by the Historian
of the Valley. He gives many interesting incidents
connected with the early settlement of that part of Virginia,
which cannot but be interesting to the readers of the present
day.

In this year (1764), a party of eighteen Delawares crossed

the mountains. Furman's Fort was about one mile above
hanging-rock, on the South Branch. William Furman and
Nimrod Ashby had gone out from the fort to watch a deer lick
in the Jersey mountains.[6] The Indians discovered and killed
them both, and passed on into the county of Frederick,
where they divided into two parties. One party of eight
moved on to Cedar creek settlement; the other of ten attacked
the people in the neighborhood of the present residence of
Maj. John White. On this place a stockade was erected. The
people in the neighborhood had taken the alarm, and were on
their way to this fort, when assaulted by these Indians. They
killed David Jones and his wife. Also some of Mrs. Thomas'
family, and carried off one of the daughters. An old man,
named Lloyd, and his wife, and several of his children, were
killed. Esther Lloyd, their daughter, about thirteen years
old, received three tomahawk wounds in the head, was scalped,
and left lying, supposed to be dead. Henry Clouser and two
of his sons were killed, and his wife and four of his daughters
taken. The youngest daughter was about two years old;
and as she impeded the mother's travelling, they dashed her
brains out against a tree, in the presence of the agonized
parent. Mrs. Thomas was taken to the Wappatomaka; but
the river being pretty full, and deep fording, they encamped
near Furman's fort for the night. The next morning a party
of white men fired off their guns at the fort, which alarmed
the Indians, and they hurried across the river, assisting all
their female prisoners, except Mrs. Thomas, who being quite
stout and strong, was left to struggle for herself. The current,
however, proved too strong for her, and she floated down the
river—but lodged against a rock, upon which she crawled,
and saved herself from drowning.

The other party of eight Indians committed several murders
on Cedar creek. It is probable this party killed a Mr. Lyle,
a Mr. Butler, and some others. Mr. Ellis Thomas, the husband

of the woman whose story has just been given, was killed
the preceding harvest. This party of eight Indians took off
two female prisoners, but were pursued by some white men,
overtaken in the South Branch mountain, fired upon, and
one of the Indians killed. The others fled, leaving their
guns, prisoners and plunder.

The same year, (1764,) a party of eight Indians, with a
white man by the name of Abraham Mitchell, killed George
Miller, his wife and two children, within two miles of Strasburg.
They also the same day killed John Dellinger, and took his
wife, with her infant child, prisoners. In crossing Sandy
ridge, west of Capon river, this child had its brains beaten out
against a tree. A party of white men pursued them, overtook
them in the South Branch mountains, fired upon them,
and killed one, when the others fled, leaving every thing
behind.

In the latter part of this year, (1765,) the Indians made their
appearance in the neighborhood of Woodstock. They killed
an old man who, with some women and children, was making
his way to the fort at Woodstock. His name was George
Sigler.

Shortly before this, two Indians were discovered lurking
in the neighborhood of Mill creek. Matthias Painter, John
Painter, and William Moore, armed themselves, and went in
pursuit. They had not proceeded far, before they approached
a large fallen pine, with a very bushy top. As they neared
it, Matthias Painter observed, "We had better look sharp;
it is quite likely the Indians are concealed under the tops of
this tree." He had scarcely uttered the words before one of
them rose up and fired. The ball grazed the temple of John
Painter. Moore and Painter fired at the same instant; one
of their balls passed through the Indian's body, and he fell,
as they supposed, dead enough. The other fellow fled. The
white men pursued him some distance; but the fugitive was
too fleet for them. Finding they could not overhaul him, they
gave up the chase and returned to the pine tree: but to their
astonishment, the supposed dead Indian had moved off with

both guns and a large pack of skins. They pursued his trail,
and when he found they were gaining upon him, he got into
a sink hole, and as soon as they approached, commenced
firing at them. He had poured out a quantity of powder on
dry leaves, filled his mouth with bullets, and using a musket
which was a self-primer, he was enabled to load and fire with
astonishing quickness. He thus fired at least thirty times
before they could get a chance to dispatch him. At last Mr.
Moore got an opportunity, and shot him through the head.
Moore and Painter had many disputes which gave the fellow
the first wound. Painter, at length, yielded, and Moore got
the premium allowed by law for Indian scalps.

The fugitive who made his escape, unfortunately met with
a young woman on horseback, named Sethon, whom he tore
from her horse, and forced off with him. This occurred near
the present town of Newmarket, and after travelling about
twenty miles, it is supposed the captive broke down from
fatigue, and the savage monster beat her to death with a
heavy pine knot. Her screams were heard by some people
who lived upwards of a mile from this scene of horror, and
who next day, on going to the place to ascertain the cause,
found her stripped and weltering in her blood.

Allusion has been made in another part of this volume to
the murder of the three Eckarlys, brothers, who, in 1755,
settled on what is now known as Dunker's bottom, Cheat
river. The circumstances were about these. Dr. Thomas
Eckarly and his two brothers, all members of that peculiar
Christian sect called Dunkers, visited the west, and erected
a cabin, soon after the murder of the unfortunate Files
family, to which reference has elsewhere been made. The
three brothers continued to occupy undisturbed, for a number
of years, their peaceful and quiet possessions. Growing short
of ammunition, &c., the elder brother went on a trading expedition
to the east. In returning, he stopped at Fort
Pleasant, and there not being a very friendly feeling entertained

by many of the hardy bordermen toward this singular
sect, he was detained on a charge of being in alliance with
the Indians. At length, however, it was determined to send
a guard along with him, and if their suspicions were rightly
founded, he was to be brought back and dealt with accordingly.
In due time the escort reached the site of the humble
cabin in the forest, but, alas! the destroyer had been there,
and nothing remained but the half-consumed bodies of the
unfortunate brothers.

A few years subsequent to this, several settlers on the
Monongahela, near the mouth of Decker's creek, were cut off
by a party of Delawares. Of these, were Thomas Decker,
from whom the creek derives its name. But two or three
of the settlers escaped, and one of these, making his
way to Red-stone old fort, (Brownsville,) gave information
of the catastrophe. The commandant, Captain Paull, despatched
a message to Fort Pitt, conveying intelligence of
the visitation, and notifying Colonel Gibson of the probable
direction taken by the savages on their retreat. Colonel
Gibson, leaving the garrison in command of a subordinate
officer, passed rapidly down the river, hoping to intercept
them. In this, however, he failed; but came accidentally
upon a small party of Mingoes, encamped on Cross creek.
Little Eagle, a distinguished chief of that tribe, commanded
the party, and discovering the whites about the same time
that Gibson saw them, he gave a fearful whoop, and at the
same instant discharged his gun at the leader of the whites.
The ball passed through Gibson's coat, but without injuring
him. With the quickness of a tiger he sprang upon his foe,
and with one sweep of his sword, severed the head of Little
Eagle from his body. Two others were shot dead by the
whites, but the remainder escaped, and reported that the
white captain had cut off the head of their chief with a long
knife. This was the origin of that celebrated and fearfully
significant term, the "long-knives." It was applied throughout

the war to the Virginians, and even to this day has not
been forgotten by some of the western tribes. Captain Gibson,
himself a Virginian, acquired the soubriquet of "Long-knife
warrior," and was known by it always afterward.

In the Summer of 1761, there was an irruption of savages
into the James river settlement, attended with most fatal
results. The party embraced about fifty Shawanese warriors.
On Purgatory creek, they killed Thomas Perry, Joseph
Dennis, and a child; taking the wife of Dennis prisoner.
Thence they proceeded to the house of Robert Renick, making
prisoner of Mrs. Renick and her five children. Mr. Renick
being absent at the time, escaped, but only to fall at another
place. Proceeding to a near neighbor, where Mr. Renick happened
to be, they there killed him, and a man named Thomas
Smith, making captives of Smith's wife and a girl named Sally
Jew. At the time these murderous proceedings were going on,
three men (George Matthews, afterwards so distinguished in
the battles of Point Pleasant and Germantown, with two brothers
by the name of Maxwell,) rode up to the house, and discovering
the dead bodies of Smith and Renick lying in the
yard, made quick their retreat, but not before the Indians had
noticed their movements, and fired after them. One of the
Maxwells was slightly wounded in the arm. Mrs. Renick, on
her return to her friends, after a captivity of five years, said
the Indians saw the three men approach, and as they checked
up their horses at the fence, four of the Indians detailed for
that purpose, took aim, but the whites suddenly wheeling
their horses, saved their lives.

A party of the savages, twenty in number, were despatched
with their prisoners for the Ohio, whilst the remainder penetrated
further into the country to renew their depredations.
The alarm, however, had been sounded, and such of the
inhabitants as lived convenient, collected at Paull's fort.
Leaving five men to take care of the fort, a party of twenty-two,
headed by Matthews, went in pursuit. They were soon

overhauled, and after a severe fight, compelled to give
way. In consequence of the intense darkness of the night,
it was found impossible to pursue the enemy further, and
the Indians rejoining their companions, made good their
escape with prisoners and booty. Nine Indians and three
whites were killed in the engagement, all of whom were decently
buried.

Of the prisoners, Mrs. Renick and two of her sons were
ransomed in 1766; one died in captivity; another intermarried
with the Indians and became a chief; and a third settled
on the Scioto, near Chillicothe, from whom has sprung an
extensive and highly respectable family. Hannah Dennis
made her escape after two years' captivity.

It was during this year (1763) that two of the Greenbriar
settlements, (Muddy creek, and Big Levels,) were entirely
cut off. A party of some fifty or sixty Shawanese, supposed
to have been headed by Cornstalk, penetrated the country
under the garb of friendship, and as no recent hostilities had
taken place in that region, the inhabitants fondly believed
there was no danger. With this fatal security, they received
the savages warmly and extended them every reasonable
hospitality. Suddenly, they fell upon the men, butchering
every one of them, and then made captives of the women and
children. They next visited the Levels, where Archibald
Clendenin had erected a rude block house, and where were
gathered quite a number of families. Here the Indians were
again entertained with hospitality. Mr. Clendenin had just
brought in three fine elk, upon which the savages feasted
sumptuously. One of the inmates was a decrepid old woman,
with an ulcerated limb; she undressed the member, and
asked an Indian if he could cure it. "Yes," he replied, and
immediately sunk his tomahawk into her head. This was the
signal, and instantly every man in the house was put to
death.

The cries of the women and children alarmed a man in the
yard, who escaped and reported the circumstances to the
settlement at Jackson's river. The people were loth to believe
him, as the character of the Indians had been so peaceable.
Soon, however, they were convinced, for the savages appeared
and many of the fleeing families were massacred without
mercy. The prisoners were then marched off in direction
of the Ohio. Mrs. Clendenin proved herself in that trying
moment a woman fit to be one of the mothers of the west.
Indignant at the treachery and cowardly conduct of the
wretches, she did not fail to abuse them from the chief down,
in the most unmeasured manner. The savages, to intimidate
her, would flap the bloody scalp of her dead husband against
her face, and significantly twirl their tomahawks above her
head, but still the courageous woman talked to them like one
who felt her injuries, and feeling, resolved to express them.
On the day after her captivity, she saw an opportunity to
escape, and giving her infant to a woman, slipped unobserved
into a thicket. The child soon beginning to cry, one of the
Indians inquired concerning the mother, but getting no satisfactory
reply, swore he would "bring the cow to the calf,"
and taking the infant by the heels dashed out its brains
against a tree. Mrs. C. returned to her desolate home, and
secured the remains of her husband from the rapacious jaws
of the wild animals with which the woods abounded.

It is stated that a black woman in escaping from Mr.
Clendenin's house, killed her own child to prevent its cries
attracting the attention of the savages.

Such were some of the horrid realities felt and endured by
the first settlers of Western Virginia.

In October of this year, (1764,) a party of forty or fifty
Mingo and Delaware Indians crossed the Ohio, and ascending
Great Sandy came over on New river, where they
separated, and forming two parties, directed their steps

toward different settlements—one party going towards Roanoke
and Catawba, the other in the direction of Jackson's
river. They had not long passed, when their trail was discovered
by three men, (Swope, Pack and Pitman,) who were
trapping on New river. These men followed the trail till they
came to where the Indian party divided; and judging from
the routes taken, that their object was to visit the Roanoke
and Jackson's river settlements, they determined to apprize
the inhabitants of their danger. Swope and Pack started for
Roanoke and Pitman for Jackson's river. But before they
could accomplish their object, the Indians had reached the
settlements on the latter river, and on Catawba.

The party which came to Jackson's river, travelled down
Dunlap's creek and crossed James river, above Fort Young,
in the night and unnoticed; and going down this river to
William Carpenter's, where was a stockade fort under the
care of a Mr. Brown, they met Carpenter just above his
house and killed him. They immediately proceeded to the
house, and made prisoners of a son of Mr. Carpenter, two
sons of Mr. Brown, (all small) and one woman—the others
belonging to the house were in the field at work. The
Indians then despoiled the house and taking off some
horses, commenced a precipitate retreat—fearing discovery
and pursuit.

When Carpenter was shot, the report of the gun was heard
by those at work in the field; and Brown carried the alarm
to Fort Young and Fort Dinwiddie. Captain Paul, commanding
the latter, immediately started with twenty men in
pursuit. On Indian creek they met Pitman almost exhausted.
The pursuit was kept up, but the savages escaped.

As Captain Paul and his men were returning, they accidentally
met with the other party of Indians, who had been
to Catawba, and committed some depredations and murders
there. They were discovered about midnight, encamped on
the north bank of New river, opposite an island at the mouth
of Indian creek. Excepting some few who were watching

three prisoners, (whom they had taken on Catawba, and who
were sitting in the midst of them,) they were lying around a
small fire, wrapped in skins and blankets. Paul's men not
knowing that there were captives among them, fired in the
midst, killed three Indians, and wounded several others, one
of whom drowned himself to preserve his scalp—the rest of
the party fled hastily down the river and escaped.

Several captives were released, and considerable plunder
recovered. To show the deadening effect of these terrible
scenes upon the human mind, we will copy the reply of a
prisoner rescued at this time. She was a Mrs. Gunn, an
English woman, and had known Captain Paul years before.
Recognizing his voice, she called him by name, just as one of
his men, who supposed her to be a squaw, was in the act of
tomahawking her. She made no resistance, and when asked the
reason replied, "I had as soon be killed as not—my husband
is murdered—my children are slain—my parents are dead. I
have not a relation in America—everything dear to me here
is gone—I have no wishes—no hopes—no fears—I would not
have risen to my feet to save my life."

Such were some of the horrors experienced on the frontier
in the early settlement of the country. The above facts we
derive chiefly from Withers.