 | Attacked by Indians. Wild scenes on the frontiers, or, Heroes of the West |  |
14. Attacked by Indians.
General Lee, in his Memoir of the Southern Campaigns,
makes frequent and honorable mention of one
Captain Joseph Kirkwood, of the Delaware line, whose
regiment, at the battle of Camden, was reduced to a single
company, of which the latter remained the commanding
officer. Owing to the fact that Delaware could not raise
another regiment, Captain Kirkwood, though truly deserving,
could not by military rule receive promotion, and
therefore remained in command of a single company
throughout the revolutionary struggle—taking a gallant
and distinguished part, not only in the bloody encounter
at Camden, but also in the battles of Hobkirk's, Eutaw,
and Ninety-Six.
After the declaration of peace, there being no other
military service for this gallant officer, he removed with
his family within the limits of the present State of Ohio,
for the purpose of a permanent settlement. He chose a
locality nearly opposite the present city of Wheeling, on
the right bank of the Ohio, and erected his cabin on a
remained unmolested for a couple of years. It was his
intention to have built a block-house for further security,
and he actually commenced one; but, from one cause or
another, it was still unfinished in 1791, when the events
occurred which we are about to relate.
One evening, in the spring of the year just mentioned,
a small party of soldiers, under the command of one Captain
Biggs, on their way into the country, stopped at the
humble residence of Kirkwood, and asked permission to
remain through the night, which was cheerfully granted.
The evening was spent in a sociable manner, in talking
over the various events of the times—Captain Kirkwood
depicting some of the more striking of the military scenes
which had occurred in his experience, and also speaking,
with a soldier's sensitiveness, of his chagrin at seeing
officers younger, and of inferior rank, promoted over him,
simply because his little State could not furnish a sufficient
quota of men to give him the rank to which he was honorably
entitled.
When the hour came for retiring, most of the men were
assigned the loft beneath the roof, where, with the aid of
straw and blankets, they disposed themselves very comfortably
upon the rude flooring—Captain Kirkwood, with his
family and the officer mentioned, remaining below.
All gradually fell asleep, and the house continued quiet
enemy was even then stealing through the surrounding
woods in the darkness, bent upon the destruction of the
building, and the death of all it contained.
Sometime late in the night, Captain Biggs, being restless,
concluded to get up and take a walk in the open air.
Passing leisurely once or twice around the dwelling, he
advanced to the block-house; and, after examining it a
few minutes, and wondering why the captain did not complete
it, he turned his steps to the bank of the river. Here
he stood a few minutes longer, in quiet meditation, looking
down upon the dark, gliding stream—the rippling of
whose waters, the slight rustling of the leaves, the plaintive
hoot of the owl, and now and then the far-off cry of
some wild beast, being the only sounds that broke the
otherwise solemn stillness.
Once he fancied he heard a movement, as of some heavy
body in the bushes near him; and knowing he was in a
region of country not safe from Indian molestation, he
started and turned quickly in the direction of the sound,
looking steadily for some moments, and prepared for
sudden flight, should he discover any further grounds for
his partially aroused fears. But he neither saw nor heard
anything to justify alarm; and turning away, he quietly
repaired to the dwelling, re-fastened the door, laid himself
down, and fell asleep.
Soon after this the whole house was startled by a loud
cry of fire, which proceeded from one of the men who
lodged in the loft. Captains Kirkwood and Biggs instantly
sprung from their beds, and, rushing up the ladder, made
the startling discovery that the roof was all in flames. A
scene of the wildest confusion now prevailed—the men,
thus suddenly aroused, and half choked with smoke, not
fairly comprehending their situation, and the wife and
children all shrieking with terror.
As soon as he could make his voice heard, Captain
Kirkwood ordered the men to push off the burning slabs;
and while in the act of doing this, a volley of balls rattled
in among them, followed by those terrific yells which ever
proved so appalling to those awakened by them in the still
hours of night. Two of the men were wounded by the
first discharge of the Indians—whose position, on the top
of the block-house, situated still higher on the knoll, commanded
the roof of the dwelling—and being greatly
terrified, they all drew back in dismay, and some declared
that their only safety was in immediate flight.
“Your only safety is in throwing off the roof before the
whole house takes fire!” returned Captain Kirkwood, as
he pushed in among them, and put his own hands actively
to the work.
“We'll risk all that,” said one, as he hurried to the
shot at.”
“By heavens! you shall remain here till I give you
leave to go down!” cried the enraged captain, as he sprung
forward, seized the fellow, and threw him back violently.
“Let us pass!” cried two or three of the others, advancing
toward the captain—the shots of the Indians meanwhile
rattling like hail against the walls and burning roof,
and their wild yells now and then resounding afar through
the gloomy wilderness around.
“What! mutiny!” exclaimed Captain Kirkwood. “For
shame, men! for shame! Turn back this moment, and do
your duty! Is it not enough that we have a common
enemy without, but we must have a civil strife within!”
“Who dares rebel against Captain Kirkwood's orders?”
shouted Captain Biggs from below, whither he had gone
for his rifle. “Shoot down the first rascal that attempts
to escape, Captain, or refuses to obey you!”
“Quick, then, pass me up my rifle!” shouted Kirkwood,
who kept his position at the head of the ladder.
“Ay, here it is,” returned Captain Biggs.
Just as he was in the act of reaching it up, a ball passed
through a small window, and, striking his arm, so disabled
it that he let the weapon fall. Ripping out an oath, he
picked it up with his other hand, and passed it to Kirkwood.
the mutinous men, and exclaimed:
“Now let me see who will refuse to do his duty! Back,
there, and finish your work of throwing off the burning
roof! The first man that attempts to leave this house, I
swear to send this ball through his brain!”
The more mutinous of the number, finding the captain
determined, and that there was no chance for them to
escape, at once began to take an active part with those who
were already doing their duty; and in a very short time
the burning portions of the roof were dislodged and thrown
to the ground—the Indians all the while keeping up a
steady fire, and slightly wounding one or two more.
Thus far our besieged party had no opportunity to return
the fire of the enemy; but now the latter, finding that their
first attempt to burn the house was likely to prove unsuccessful,
rushed forward in a body, with still wilder and
more terrific yells, and at once began a vigorous assault
upon the door and windows, the former of which they
nearly forced open at the first onset.
The danger now being chiefly below, Captain Kirkwood
hurried down, and ordered the greater portion of the men
to follow, leaving a few above to defend the open roof, in
case the savages should attempt to climb the walls and
make an entrance there.
At once tearing up several puncheons from the floor, a
effective manner, the others keeping watch near the two
small windows, and firing whenever they could get a
glimpse of an Indian.
In this manner the attack and defence was continued
some little time longer—another of the party inside being
slightly wounded—when suddenly the sound of a heavy
gun came booming through the air.
“Courage, men!” cried Captain Kirkwood, in an animated
tone; “they already hear us at Wheeling, and
doubtless assistance will soon be here.”
“Let us give three cheers!” said Captain Biggs; “just
to show the attacking scoundrels that we are not the least
intimidated.”
Three cheers were accordingly given; and were answered
by the Indians, by the loudest, wildest, and fiercest
yells of furious rage.
“Ay, yell away! you mean, cowardly, thieving vagabonds!”
shouted one of the men, tauntingly, as he recklessly
advanced close to one of the small windows, which
had not been so boarded up inside as to render his position
safe from the balls of the enemy.
“Have a care there, Walker!” exclaimed his commander,
in alarm.
Scarcely were the words spoken, when the man, clapping
to the floor, groaning out:
“Oh, God! the fiends have killed me!”
Some two or three of his companions immediately lifted
the poor fellow, and placed him upon a bed, while the two
officers hurried up to examine his wound, which with deep
regret they discovered to be mortal. As they turned sorrowfully
away, the firing and yelling of the Indians, which
up to this time had been almost continuous, suddenly
ceased.
“Ah! they are about to depart,” said Captain Kirkwood,
joyfully; “probably they fear a reinforcement.”
“More likely they have stopped to plot some new deviltry,”
said Captain Biggs, who was more familiar with the
Indian mode of warfare.
All kept silent for a few minutes—waiting, hoping and
fearing—so that the suspense itself was not a little painful.
Suddenly one of the men uttered an exclamation of alarm;
and on being questioned as to the cause, replied:
“Listen! Don't you hear the devils piling brush around
the house? They're going to burn us out!”
“In that case we may be compelled to make a sortie,”
returned Captain Biggs.
“It must be at the last moment, then,” said Captain
Kirkwood; “for once beyond these walls, my wife and
children would stand little chance of escape. If they set
considerable water in the house, thank Heaven! and before
they can burn through these thick logs, I trust assistance
will arrive from the Fort.
Almost as he said this, a bright sheet of flame shot up
round the cabin, shedding a lurid and fearful light upon
those within. This was accompanied by a series of terrific
and triumphant yells, and a general discharge of fire-arms
on the part of the savages.
There was not sufficient water in the house to justify the
inmates in throwing it over the roof; and all they could
do, therefore, was to wait, in the most gloomy suspense,
till some presence of the fire could be seen between the
crevices of the logs, and then attempt to check its headway
within.
Some half-an-hour was passed in this manner—the Indians
continually fetching and piling on more brush, until
the lapping and writhing fire had ascended to the very
roof—keeping up the while their yells of triumph, and
occasional shots of musketry; which, combined with the
lurid and ghastly light in which each saw the other, the
loud and awful roaring of the flames, and the groans of
the wounded, made a most terrible scene for the imprisoned
inmates—a scene that cannot be fully described, and the
horrors of which can only partially be comprehended by
the most vivid imagination.
At length the fire began to dislodge the heated clay—
which had been used to stop the chinks and crannies
between the logs—and the furious flames to send in their
devouring tongues in search of new material for destruetion;
and then all who were able set eagerly to work,
dashing on water, and so checking in some degree the
progress of the consuming element.
This was continued until the water became entirely
exhausted; and then recourse was had to what milk there
chanced to be in the house; and, after this, to some fresh
earth, which they dug up from beneath the floor—the
Indians still keeping up their yells, and firing through
every crevice, (by which some more of the inmates were
wounded, though none mortally,) and Captains Kirkwood
and Biggs moving about from point to point, and animating
all parties with their own heroism and the hope
of speedy deliverance.
The attack began about three o'clock in the morning,
and lasted till dawn; when the Indians, finding they could
not succeed in their fell purpose without carrying the
siege far into the day, and probably fearing they might
suddenly be surprised by a large party from the Fort,
uttered another series of wild, discordant whoops, poured
in upon the building one regular volley, and then suddenly
retreated—the men inside calling after them in the
wounded being heard among the loudest.
About an hour before sunrise the whole party, having
succeeded in subduing the flames, ventured forth cautiously,
and immediately crossed the river to Fort Henry—Walker,
the only one who lost his life, expiring on the way. Here
all the living were properly cared for, and the gallant soldier
was buried with military honors.
A few days after, Captain Kirkwood set out with his
family for his native State; but meeting on the way some
Delaware troops, who were marching to the Indian country,
and who offered him the command of their body, he
took leave of his family and turned back. In the November
following, he took part in the bloody action known as
St. Clair's Defeat; “where he fell,” says his chronicler,
“in a brave attempt to repel the enemy with the bayonet,
and thus closed a career as honorable as it was unrewarded.”
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