University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.

From the first inroads of the whites upon what the Indians considered
their lawful possessions, although by them unoccupied—namely, the territory
known as Kan-tuck-kee—up to the year which opens our story, there
had been scarcely any cessation of hostilities, between the two races so antagonistical
in their habits and principles. Whenever an opportunity presented
itself favorable to their purpose, the savages would steal down from
their settlements—generally situated on the Bottom Lands of the principal
rivers in the present State of Ohio—cross over La Belle Reviere into Kentucky,
and, having committed as many murders and other horrible acts as
were thought prudent for their safety, would return in triumph, if successful,
to their homes, taking along with them scalps of both sexes and all ages
from the infant to the gray-beard, and not unfrequently a few prisoners, for
the amusement of burning at the stake.

These flying visits of the savages were generally repaid by similar acts of
kindness on the part of the whites, who, on several occasions, marched with
large armies into their very midst, destroyed their crops and stores, and
burnt their towns. An expedition of this nature, was prosecuted by General
Clark, in August of the year preceding the events we have detailed,
of which mention has been previously made. He had under his command
one thousand men, mostly from Kentucky, and marched direct upon old
Chillicothe, which the Indians deserted and burnt on his approach. He next
moved upon the Piqua towns, on Mad river, where a desperate engagement
ensued between the whites and Indians, in which the former proved victorious.
Having secured what plunder they could, together with the horses,
the Kentuckians destroyed the town, and cut down some two hundred acres
of standing corn. They then returned to Chillicothe on their homeward
route, where they destroyed other large fields of produce, supposed in all to
amount to something like five hundred acres.

We have mentioned this expedition, for the purpose of showing why the
year which opens our story, 1781, was less disastrous to the frontier settlers,
than the preceding ones—the Indians being too busily occupied in repairing
the damage done them, and in hunting to support their families, to
have much thought for the war-path, or time to follow it; consequently the

year in question, as regards Kentucky, may be said to have passed away in
a comparatively quiet manner, with no events more worthy of note than
those we have laid before the reader.

But if the vengeance of the savage slumbered for the time being, it was
only like some pent up fire, burning in secret, until opportunity should present
for it to burst forth in a manner most appalling, carrying destruction
and terror throughout its course; and in consequence of this, the year 1782,
was destined to be one most signally marked by bloody deeds in the annals
of Kentucky. The winter of '81 and '82 passed quietly away; but early
in the ensuing spring, hostilities were again renewed, with a zeal which
showed that neither faction had forgotten old grudges, by the intervening
quictude. Girty did all that lay in his power, to stir up the vindictive feelings
of the Indians, and was aided in his laudable endeavors by one or two
others,[1] who wore the uniform of British officers. It was the design of the
renegade, to raise a grand army from the union of the Six Nations, lead
them quietly into the heart of Kentucky, and, by a bold move, seize some
prominent station, murder the garrison, and thus effect at once a strong
hold, from which to sally forth, spread death and desolation in every quarter,
and, if possible, depopulate the entire country. Long and ardently did
he labor, in stirring up the Indians by inflammatory speeches, till at last he
succeeded in uniting a grand body for his hellish purpose, which, on the very
extreme point of success, as one may say, was at last frustrated, by what
seemed a direct Providence, of which more anon and in its proper place.

Previously, however, to the event just referred to, parties of Indians, numbering
from five to fifty, prowled about the frontiers, committing at every
opportunity, all manner of horrid deeds, and thus rousing the whites to defence
and retaliation. One of these skirmishes has been more particularly
dwelt on, by the historians of Kentucky, than any of the others; on account
probably, of the desperate and sanguinary struggle for mastery, between the
two contending parties, and the cruel desertion, at a time of need, of a portion
of the whites; by which means the Indians had advantage of numbers
that otherwise would have been equally opposed. We allude to what is
generally known as Estill's Defeat.

It is not our province in the present work, to detail anything not directly
connected with our story; and therefore we shall pass on, after a cursor
glance at the main facts in question. Sometime in March, a party of Wyandots
made a descent upon Estill's station, which stood near the present site of
Richmond; and having killed and scalped a young lady, and captured a Negro
slave, were induced, by the exaggerated account which the latter gave of
the force within, to an immediate retreat; whereby, probably, the lives of the
women and children, almost the only occupants, were saved—Captain Estill
himself, with his garrison, and several new recruits, being at the time away,
on a scarch for these very savages, who were known, by some unmistakable
signes, to be in the vicinity. Word being despatched to Estill, of what had transpired
in his absence, he immediately sought out the trail of the retreating
foes, which he followed with his men, and toward night of the second day,
overtook them at Hinston's Fork of Licking, where a desperate engagement
immediately ensued. At the onset, there were twenty five Indians, and exactly
the same number of whites; but the immediate desertion, in a cowardly
manner, of a certain Lieutenant Miller, with six men under his command,
left the odds greatly in favor of the Wyandots, who were all picked warriors.
Notwithstanding the cowardice of their companions, our little Spartan
band fought most heroically, for an hour and three-quarters, when the few

survivors, on both sides, being almost worn out, ceased hostilities as by
mutual consent. In this ever memorable action, Captain Estill, a brave and
popular man, together with nine of his gallant companions, fell to rise no
more. Four others were badly wounded, leaving only the same number of
unharmed survivors. The Indians, it was afterwards ascertained, had seventeen
warriors killed on the field, among whom was one of their bravest
chiefs, and two others severely wounded; and there has been a tradition
since, among the Wyandots, that only one survivor ever returned to tell the
tale.

The news of the foregoing disastrous skirmish, flew like wild fire, to use
a common phrase, throughout the borders, and together with others of less
note, served to arouse the fire of vengeance in the bosoms of the settlers, and
excite a deeper hostility than ever against the savage foe. Nor was the
subsequent conduct of the Indians themselves, calculated to sooth this bitter
feeling against them; for to use the words of a modern writer, “The
woods again teemed with savages, and no one was safe from attack beyond
the walls of a station. The influence of the British, and the constant pressure
of the Long Knives, upon the red-men, had produced a union of the
various tribes of the northwest, who seemed to be gathering again to strike
a fatal blow at the frontier settlements; and had they been led by a Phillip,
a Pontiae, or a Tecumthe, it is impossible to estimate the injury they might
have inflicted.

Whether the foregoing remarks may be deemed, by the reader, a digression
or-otherwise, we have certainly felt ourself justified in making them;
from the fact, that our story is designed to be historical in all its bearings;
and because many months being supposed to elapse, ere our characters are
again brought upon the stage of action, it seemed expedient to give a general
view of what was taking place in the interval. Having done so, we will
now forthwith resume our narrative.

About five miles from Lexington, a little to the left of the present road
leading thence to Maysville, and on a gentle rise of the southern bank of the
Elkhorn, at the time of which we write, stood Bryan's Station, to which we
must now call the reader's attention. This station was founded in the year
1779, by William Bryan, (a brother-in-law of Daniel Boone.) who had,
prior to the events we are now about to describe, been surprised and killed
by the Indians, in the vicinity of a stream called Cane Run.

This fort, at the period in question, was one of great importance to the
early settlers—standing, as it did, on what was considered at the time of its
erection, the extreme frontier, and, by this means, extending their area of
security. The station consisted of forty cabins, placed in parallel lines,
connected by strong pallisades, forming a parallelogram of thirty rods
by twenty, and enclosing something like four acres of ground. Outside of
the cabins and pallisades, to render the fort still more secure, were planted
heavy pickets, a foot in diameter, and some twelve feet in height above
the ground; so that it was impossible for an enemy to scale them, or affect
them in the least, with any thing short of fire and cannon ball. To guard
against the former, and prevent the besiegers making a lodgement under the
walls, at each of the the four corners or angles, was erected what was
called a block-house—a building which projected beyond the pickets, a few
feet above the ground, and enabled the besieged to pour a raking fire across
the advanced party of the assailants. Large folding gates, on huge wooden
hinges, in front and rear, opened into the enclosure, through which men,
wagons, horses, and domestic cattle, had admittance and exit. In the center,
as the reader has doubtless already divined, was a large, hollow space,

into which the doors of the cabins opened, and which served the purpose of
a regular common, where teams and cattle were oftentimes secured, and
where wrestling and other athletic sports were practiced. The cabins were
all well constructed, with puncheon floors, the roofs of which sloped inward,
to avoid as much as possible their being set on fire by burning arrows, shot
by the Indians for the purpose—a practice by no means uncommon during
a siege. This fort, at the period, referred to, was garrisoned by from forty to
fifty men; and though somewhat out of repair, in respect to few of its pallisades,
was still in a condition to resist an overwhelming force, unless taken
wholly by surprise. There was one great error, however, connected with
its design—and one that seems to have been common to most of the stations
of that period—which was, that the spring, supplying the inmates with water,
had not been enclosed within the pickets. The reader can at once imagine
the misery that must ensue from this cause, in case they were suddenly assaulted
by a superior enemy, and the seige protracted to any considerable
length of time.

Within this fort, on their return from captivity, Mrs. Younker, Isaac and
Ella had taken up their abode, to remain until another cabin should be erected,
or it should be thought safe for them to live again in a more exposed
manner. Isaac had straightway repaired to his father-in-law's, to behold
again the idol of his heart, and pour into her ear his grief for the loss of his
father and friend, and receive her sympathy for his affliction in return. The
disastrous affair, which had called him and his companions so suddenly from
a scene of festivity to one of mourning—the loss of so many valuable neighbors,
and the result of the expedition in pursuit of the enemy—created at the
time no little excitement throughout the frontiers, and caused some of the
more timid to resort to the nearest stations for security. But as time wore
on, and as nothing serious happened during the fall and winter, confidence
and courage gradually became restored, and the affair was almost forgotten,
save by the friends and relatives of the deceased, and those particularly concerned
in it.

Spring, however, revived the alarm of the settlers, by the re-appearance of
the enemy in all quarters, and the outrages they committed, as before mentioned,
so that but very few persons ventured to remain without the walls of
a fort, and these, such of them as were fortunate enough to escape death or
captivity, were fain to seek refuge therein before the close of summer.

Immediately on the receipt of the alarming intelligence of Estill's defeat,
Isaac, his wife, and the family of his father-in-law, Wilson, repaired to
Bryan's Station, and joined Mrs. Younker and Ella, who had meantime remained
there in security.