University of Virginia Library

[213] CHAPTER XIII.

Early in June 1780, every necessary preparation having
been previously made, the Indian and Canadian forces
destined to invade Kentucky, moved from their place of
rendezvous, to fulfil the objects of the expedition. In
their general plan of the campaign, Louisville was the
point against which operations were first to be directed.
The hero of Kaskaskias and St. Vincent had been for
some time stationed there, with a small body of troops, to
intercept the passage of war parties into the interior, and
the force thus placed under his command, having been
considerably augmented by the arrival of one hundred and
fifty Virginia soldiers under Colonel Slaughter, that place
had assumed the appearence of a regular fortification, capable
of withstanding a severe shock;[1] while detachments
from it gave promise of security to the settlements remote
from the river, as well by detecting and checking every
attempt at invasion, as by acting offensively against the
main Indian towns, from which hostile parties would sally,
spreading desolation along their path. The reduction of
this establishment, would at once give wider scope to savage
hostilities and gratify the wounded pride of the Canadians.
Stung by the boldness and success of Colonel
Clarke's adventure, and fearing the effect which it might
have on their Indian allies, they seemed determined to
achieve a victory over him, and strike a retributive blow
against the position which he then held.

[214] It is highly probable however, that the reputation

which, the gallant exploits of Colonel Clarke had acquired
for him, induced some doubts, in the minds of the
commanding officers, of the ultimate success of a movement
against that post.[2] They changed their destination;
and when their army arrived in their boats at the Ohio,
instead of floating with its rapid current to the point proposed,
they chose to stem the stream; and availing themselves
of an uncommon swell of the waters, ascended the
river Licking to its forks, where they landed their men
and munitions of war.[3]

Not far from the place of debarkation, there was a
station,[4] reared under the superintendence of Captain Ruddle,
and occupied by several families and many adventurers.
Thither Colonel Byrd, with his combined army
of Canadians and Indians then amounting to one thousand
men, directed his march; and arriving before it on
the 22d of June, gave the first notice, which the inhabitants
had of the presence of an enemy, by a discharge of
his cannon. He then sent in a flag, demanding the immediate
surrender of the place. Knowing that it was impossible
to defend the station against artillery, Captain
Ruddle consented to surrender it, provided the inhabitants
should be considered prisoners to the British, and not to
the Indians. To this proposition Colonel Byrd assented,
and the gates were thrown open. The savages instantly
rushed in, each laying his hands on the first person with
whom he changed to meet. Parents and children, husbands
and wives, were thus torn from each other; and the

air was rent with sighs of wailing, and shrieks of agony.
In vain did Captain Ruddle exclaim, against the enormities
which were perpetrated in contravention to the terms
of capitulation. To his remonstrances, Colonel Byrd replied
that he was unable to control them, and affirmed,
that he too was in their power.

That Colonel Byrd was really unable to check the
enormities of the savages, will be readily admitted, when
the great disparity of the Canadian and Indian troops,
and the lawless and uncontrolable temper of the latter, are
taken into consideration. That he had the inclination to
stop them, cannot be [215] doubted—his subsequent conduct
furnished the most convincing evidence, that the
power to effect it, was alone wanting in him.[5]

After Ruddle's station had been completely sacked,
and the prisoners disposed of, the Indians clamoured to be
led against Martin's station, then only five miles distant.
Affected with the barbarities which he had just witnessed,
Colonel Byrd peremptorily refused, unless the chiefs would
guaranty that the prisoners, which might be there taken,
should be entirely at his disposal. For awhile the Indians
refused to accede to these terms, but finding Colonel Byrd,
inflexible in his determination, they at length consented,
that the prisoners should be his, provided the plunder were
allowed to them.—Upon this agreement, they marched forward.
Martin's station, like Ruddle's, was incapable of
offering any available opposition. It was surrendered on
the first summons, and the prisoners and plunder divided,
in conformity with the compact between Colonel Byrd and
the savages.

The facility, with which these conquests were made,
excited the thirst of the Indians for more. Not satisfied
with the plundering of Ruddle's and Martin's stations,
their rapacity prompted them to insist on going against
Bryant's and Lexington. Prudence forbade it. The waters

were rapidly subsiding, and the fall of the Licking river,
would have rendered it impracticable to convey their artillery
to the Ohio. Their success too, was somewhat doubtful;
and it was even then difficult to procure provisions,
for the subsistence of the prisoners already taken.[6] Under
the influence of these considerations, Colonel Byrd
determined to return to the boats, and embarking on these
his artillery and the Canadian troops, descended the river;
while the Indians, with their plunder, and the prisoners
taken at Ruddle's, moved across the country.

Among those who were taken captive at Ruddle's
station, was a man of the name of Hinkstone, remarkable
for activity and daring, and for uncommon tact and skill
as a woodsman. On the second night of their march, the
Indians encamped on the bank of the river, and in consequence
of a sudden shower of rain, postponed kindling
their fires until dark, when part of the savages engaged in
this business, while the remainder guarded the prisoners.
Hinkstone thought the darkness favorable to escape, and
inviting its attempt. He resolved on trying it, and springing
suddenly from them, ran a small [216] distance and
concealed himself behind a large log, under the shade of a
wide spreading tree. The alarm was quickly given, and
the Indians, pursuing, searched for him in every direction.
It was fruitless and unavailing. Hid in thick obscurity,
no eye could distinguish his prostrate body. Perceiving
at length, by the subsiding of the noise without the camp,
that the Indians had abandoned the search, he resumed
his flight, with the stillness of death. The heavens afforded
him no sign, by which he could direct his steps.
Not a star twinkled through the dark clouds which enveloped
the earth, to point out his course. Still he moved
on, as he supposed, in the direction of Lexington. He had

mistaken the way, and a short space of time, served to
convince him that he was in error. After wandering
about for two hours, he came in sight of the Indian fires
again. Perplexed by his devious ramble, he was more at
fault than ever. The sky was still all darkness, and he
had recourse to the trees in vain, to learn the points of
the compass by the feeling of the moss. He remembered
that at nightfall, the wind blew a gentle breeze from the
west; but it had now, become so stilled, that it no longer
made any impression on him. The hunter's expedient, to
ascertain the direction of the air, occurred to him.—He
dipped his finger in water, and, knowing that evaporation
and coolness would be first felt on the side from which
the wind came, he raised it high in the air. It was
enough.—Guided by this unerring indication, and acting
on the supposition that the current of air still flowed from
the point from which it had proceeded at night, he again
resumed his flight. After groping in the wilderness for
some time, faint and enfeebled, he sat down to rest his
wearied limbs, and sought their invigoration in refreshing
sleep. When he awoke, fresh dangers encircled him, but
he was better prepared to elude, or encounter them.

At the first dawn of day, his ears were assailed by the
tremulous bleating of the fawn, the hoarse gobbling of
the turkey, and the peculiar sounds of other wild animals.
Familiar with the deceptive artifices, practised to allure
game to the hunter, he was quickly alive to the fact, that
they were the imitative cries of savages in quest of provisions.
Sensible of his situation, he became vigilant to
discover the approach of danger, and active in avoiding it.
Several times however, with all his wariness, he found himself
within a few paces of [217] some one of the Indians;
but fortunately escaping their observation, made good his
escape, and reached Lexington in safety, gave there the
harrowing intelligence of what had befallen the inhabitants
of Ruddle's and Martin's stations.

The Indians after the escape of Hinkstone, crossed
the Ohio river at the mouth of Licking, and, separating
into small parties, proceeded to their several villages. The
Canadian troops descended Licking to the Ohio, and this

river to the mouth of the Great Miami, up which they ascended
as far as it was navigable for their boats, and made
their way thence by land to Detroit.

The Indian army destined to operate against North
Western Virginia, was to enter the country in two divisions
of one hundred and fifty warriors each; the one
crossing the Ohio near below Wheeling, the other, at the
mouth of Racoon creek, about sixty miles farther up.
Both were, avoiding the stronger forts, to proceed directly
to Washington, then known as Catfishtown, between
which place and the Ohio, the whole country was to be
laid waste.

The division crossing below Wheeling, was soon discovered
by scouts, who giving the alarm, caused most of the
inhabitants of the more proximate settlements, to fly immediately
to that place, supposing that an attack was
meditated on it. The Indians however, proceeded on the
way to Washington making prisoners of many, who,
although apprized that an enemy was in the country, yet
feeling secure in their distance from what was expected to
be the theatre of operations, neglected to use the precaution
necessary to guard them against becoming captives
to the savages. From all the prisoners, they learned the
same thing,—that the inhabitants had gone to Wheeling
with a view of concentrating the force of the settlements
to effect their repulsion. This intelligence alarmed them.
The chiefs held a council, in which it was determined, instead
of proceeding to Washington, to retrace their steps
across the Ohio, lest their retreat, if delayed 'till the whites
had an opportunity of organizing themselves for battle,
should be entirely cut off. Infuriate at the blasting of
their hopes of blood and spoil, they resolved to murder
all their male prisoners—exhausting on their devoted
heads, the fury of disappointed expectation. Preparations
to carry this resolution into effect, were immediately begun
to be made.

The unfortunate victims to their savage wrath, were
led [218] forth from among their friends and their families,—their
hands were pinioned behind them,—a rope
was fastened about the neck of each and that bound around

a tree, so as to prevent any motion of the head. The tomahawk
and scalping knife were next drawn from their
belts, and the horrid purpose of these preparations, fully
consummated.

"Imagination's utmost stretch" can hardly fancy a
more heart-rending scene than was there exhibited. Parents,
in the bloom of life and glow of health, mercilessly
mangled to death, in the presence of children, whose sobbing
cries served but to heighten the torments of the
dying.—Husbands, cruelly lacerated, and by piece-meal
deprived of life, in view of the tender partners of their
bosoms, whose agonizing shrieks, increasing the anguish
of torture, sharpened the sting of death. It is indeed

but that wives and children should be forced to behold the
last ebb of life, and to witness the struggle of the departing
spirit of husbands and fathers, under such horrific
circumstances, is shocking to humanity, and appalling,
even in contemplation.

Barbarities such as these, had considerable influence
on the temper and disposition of the inhabitants of the
country. They gave birth to a vindictive feeling in many,
which led to the perpetration of similar enormities and
sunk civilized man, to the degraded level of the barbarian.
They served too, to arouse them to greater exertion, to
subdue the savage foe in justifiable warfare, and thus prevent
their unpleasant recurrence.

So soon as the Indian forces effected a precipitate retreat
across the Ohio, preparations were begun to be made
for acting offensively against them. An expedition was
concerted, to be carried on against the towns at the forks
of the Muskingum; and through the instrumentality of
Col's Zane and Shepard, Col. Broadhead, commander of
the forces at Fort Pitt, was prevailed upon to co-operate
in it.[7] Before however, it could be carried into effect, it

was deemed advisable to proceed against the Munsie towns,
up the north branch of the Alleghany river; the inhabitants
of which, had been long engaged in active [219] hostilities,
and committed frequent depredations on the frontiers
of Pennsylvania. In the campaign against them, as
many of those, who resided in the settlements around
Wheeling, as could be spared from the immediate defence
of their own neighborhoods, were consociated with the
Pennsylvania troops, and the regulars under Col. Broadhead.
It eventuated in the entire destruction of all their
corn, (upwards of 200 acres,) and in the cutting off a party
of forty warriors, on their way to the settlements in Westmoreland
county.

Very soon after the return of the army, from the
Alleghany, the troops, with which it was intended to operate
against the Indian villages up the Muskingum and
amounting to eight hundred, rendezvoused at Wheeling.
From thence, they proceeded directly for the place of destination,
under the command of Col. Broadhead.[8]

When the army arrived near to Salem (a Moravian
town,)[9] many of the militia expressed a determination to
go forward and destroy it, but as the Indians residing
there, had ever been in amity with the whites, and were
not known to have ever participated in the murderous
deeds of their more savage red brethren, the officers exerted
themselves effectually, to repress that determination.
Col. Broadhead sent forward an express to the Rev'd Mr.
Heckewelder (the missionary of that place,)[10] acquainting

him with the object of the expedition, & requesting a small
supply of provisions, and that he would accompany the
messenger to camp. When Mr. Heckewelder came, the
commander enquired of him, if any christian Indians were
engaged in hunting or other business, in the direction of
their march,—stating, that if they were, they might be
exposed to danger, as it would be impracticable to distinguish
between them and other Indians, and that he
should greatly regret the happening to them, of any unpleasant
occurrence, through ignorance or mistake. On
hearing there were not, the army was ordered to resume
its march, and proceeded towards the forks of the river.

At White Eyes plain, near to the place of destination,
an Indian was discovered and made prisoner. Two others
were seen near there, and fired at; and notwithstanding
one of them was wounded, yet both succeeded in
effecting their escape. Apprehensive that they would
hasten to the Indian towns, and communicate the fact
that an army of whites was near at hand, Col. Broadhead
moved rapidly forward with the [220] troops,
notwithstanding a heavy fall of rain, to reach Coshocton,
(the nearest village,)[11] and take it by surprise.
His expectations were not disappointed. Approaching
the town, the right wing of the army was directed to occupy
a position above it, on the river; the left to assume
a stand below, while the centre marched directly upon it.
The Indian villages, ignorant of the fact that an enemy
was in their country, were all made prisoners without the
firing of a single gun. So rapid, and yet so secret, had
been the advance of the army, that every part of the town
was occupied by the troops, before the Indians knew of its
approach.

Successful as they thus far were, yet the expedition
accomplished but a portion of what had been contemplated.
The other towns were situated on the opposite side
of the river, and this was so swollen by the excessive rains

which had fallen and continued yet to deluge the earth,
that it was impracticable to cross over to them; and Col.
Broadhead, seeing the impossibility of achieving any
thing farther, commenced laying waste the crops about
Coshocton. This measure was not dictated by a spirit of
revenge, naturally enkindled by the exterminating warfare,
waged against the whites by the savages, but was a
politic expedient, to prevent the accomplishment of their
horrid purposes and to lessen the frequency of their incursions.
When they fail to derive sustenance from their
crops of corn and other edible vegetables, the Indians are
forced to have recourse to hunting, to obtain provisions,
and consequently, to suspend their hostile operations for a
season. To produce this desirable result, was the object
sought to be obtained by the destruction which was made
of every article of subsistence, found here and at the Munsie
towns, and subsequently at other places.

It remained then to dispose of the prisoners. Sixteen
warriors, particularly obnoxious for their diabolical deeds,
were pointed out by Pekillon (a friendly Delaware chief
who accompanied the army of Col. Broadhead) as fit subjects
of retributive justice; and taken into close custody.
A council of war was then held, to determine on their
fate, and which doomed them to death. They were taken
some distance from town, despatched with tomahawks and
spears, and then scalped. The other captives were committed
to the care of the militia, to be conducted to Fort
Pitt.

On the morning after the taking of Coshocton, an Indian,
[221] making his appearance on the opposite bank
of the river, called out for the "Big Captain." Col.
Broadhead demanded what he wished. I want peace replied
the savage. Then send over some of your chiefs,
said the Colonel. May be you kill, responded the Indian.
No, said Broadhead, they shall not be killed. One of their
chiefs, a fine looking fellow, then come over; and while
he and Col. Broadhead were engaged in conversation, a
militiaman came up, and with a tomahawk which he had
concealed in the bosom of his hunting shirt, struck him a

severe blow on the hinder part of his head. The poor Indian
fell, and immediately expired.

This savage like deed was the precursor of other, and
perhaps equally attrocious enormities. The army on its
return, had not proceeded more than half a mile from
Coshocton, when the militia guarding the prisoners, commenced
murdering them. In a short space of time, a few
women and children alone remained alive. These were
taken to Fort Pitt, and after a while exchanged for an
equal number of white captives.

The putting to death the sixteen prisoners designated
by Pekillon, can be considered in no other light, than as a
punishment inflicted for their great offences; and was
certainly right and proper. Not so with the deliberate
murder of the chief, engaged in negotiation with Col.
Broadhead. He had come over under the implied assurance
of the security, due to a messenger for peace, and
after a positive promise of protection had been given him
by the commander of the army.—His death can, consequently,
only be considered as an unwarrantable murder;
provoked indeed, by the barbarous and bloody conduct of
the savages. These, though they do not justify, should
certainly extenuate the offence.

The fact, that the enemy, with whom they were contending,
did not observe the rules of war, and was occasionally,
guilty of the crime, of putting their prisoners to
death, would certainly authorize the practice of greater
rigor, than should be exercised towards those who do not
commit such excesses. This extraordinary severity, of itself,
tends to beget a greater regard for what is allowable
among civilized men, and to produce conformity with those
usages of war, which were suggested by humanity, and
are sanctioned by all. But the attainment of this object,
if it were the motive which prompted to the deed, can not
justify the murder of the prisoners, placed [222] under
the safe keeping of the militia. It evinced a total disregard
of the authority of their superior officer. He had
assured them they should only be detained as prisoners,
and remain free from farther molestation; and nothing,
but the commission of some fresh offence, could sanction

the enormity. But, however sober reflection may condemn
those acts as outrages of propriety, yet so many and
so great, were the barbarous excesses committed by the
savages upon the whites in their power, that the minds of
those who were actors in those scenes, were deprived of
the faculty of discriminating between what was right or
wrong to be practised towards them. And if acts, savouring
of sheer revenge, were done by them, they should be
regarded as but the ebullitions of men, under the excitement
of great and damning wrongs, and which, in their
dispassionate moments, they would condemn, even in
themselves.

When, upon the arrival of Hinkston at Lexington,
the people became acquainted with the mischief which had
been wrought by the Canadian and Indian army,[12] every
bosom burned with a desire to avenge those outrages, and
to retort them on their authors. Runners were despatched
in every direction, with the intelligence, and the cry for
retribution, arose in all the settlements. In this state of
feeling, every eye was involuntarily turned towards Gen.
Clarke as the one who should lead them forth to battle;
and every ear was opened, to receive his counsel. He advised
a levy of four-fifths of the male inhabitants, capable
of bearing arms, and that they should speedily assemble
at the mouth of Licking, and proceed from thence to Chilicothe.
He ordered the building of a number of transport
boats, and directed such other preparations to be
made, as would facilitate the expedition, and ensure success
to its object. When all was ready, the boats with the
provisions and stores on board, were ordered up the Ohio,
under the command of Col. Slaughter.

In ascending the river, such was the rapidity of the
current, that the boats were compelled to keep near to the
banks, and were worked up, in two divisions—one near
each shore. While thus forcing their way slowly up the

stream, one of the boats, being some distance in advance
of the others and close under the north western bank, was
fired into by a party of Indians. The fire was promptly
returned; but before the other boats could draw nigh to
her aid, a number of those on [223] board of her, was
killed and wounded. As soon however, as they approached
and opened a fire upon the assailants, the savages withdrew,
and the boats proceeded to the place of rendezvous,
without farther interruption.

On the second of August, General Clarke took up the
line of march from the place where Cincinnati now stands,
at the head of nine hundred and seventy men. They proceeded
without any delay, to the point of destination,
where they arrived on the sixth of the month. The town
was abandoned, and many of the houses were yet burning,
having been fired on the preceding day. There were however,
several hundred acres of luxuriant corn growing
about it, every stalk of which was cut down and destroyed.

The army then moved in the direction of the Piqua
Towns, twelve miles farther, and with a view to lay waste
every thing around it, and with the hope of meeting there
an enemy, with whom to engage in battle; but before they
had got far, a heavy shower of rain, accompanied with
loud thunder and high winds, forced them to encamp.
Every care which could be taken to keep the guns dry,
was found to be of no avail, and General Clarke, with
prudent precaution, had them all fired and re-loaded—
continuing to pursue this plan, to preserve them fit for
use, whenever occasion required, and keeping the troops
on the alert and prepared to repel any attack which might
be made on them—during the night.

In the afternoon of the next day, they arrived in sight
of Piqua, and as they advanced upon the town, were attacked
by the Indians concealed in the high weeds which
grew around. Colonel Logan, with four hundred men,
was ordered to file off,—march up the river to the east,
and occupy a position from which to intercept the savages,
should they attempt to fly in that direction. Another
division of the army was in like manner posted on the

opposite side of the river, while General Clarke with the
troops under Colonel Slaughter and those attached to
the artillery, was to advance directly upon the town. The
Indians seemed to comprehend every motion of the army,
and evinced the skill of tacticians in endeavoring to thwart
its purpose. To prevent being surrounded by the advance
of the detachment from the west, they made a powerful
effort to turn the left wing. Colonel Floyd extended his
line some distance west of the town, and the engagement
became general. Both armies fought with determined
[224] resolution, and the contest was warm and animated
for some time. The Indians, finding that their enemy was
gaining on them retired unperceived, through the prairie,
a few only remaining in the town. The piece of cannon
was then bro't to bear upon the houses, into which some
of the savages had retired to annoy the army as it marched
upon the village.—They were soon dislodged and fled.

On reaching the houses, a Frenchman was discovered
concealed in one of them. From him it was learned, that
the Indians had been apprized of the intention of Gen.
Clarke to march against Chilicothe and other towns in
its vicinity, by one of Col. Logan's men, who had deserted
from the army while at the mouth of Licking, and was
supposed to have fled to Carolina, as he took with him the
horse furnished him for the expedition. Instead of this
however, he went over to the enemy, and his treason,

Thus forwarned of the danger which threatened them,
they were enabled in a considerable degree to avoid it, and
watching all the movements of the army, were on the eve
of attacking it silently, with tomahawks and knives, on
the night of its encamping between Chilicothe and Piqua.
The shooting of the guns, convincing them that they had
not been rendered useless by the rain, alone deterred them
from executing this determination.

Notwithstanding that the victory obtained by Gen.
Clarke, was complete and decided, yet the army under his

command sustained a loss in killed and wounded, as
great as was occasioned to the enemy. This circumstance
was attributable to the sudden and unexpected attack
made on it, by the Indians, while entirely concealed,
and partially sheltered. No men could have evinced more
dauntless intrepidity and determined fortitude than was
displayed by them, when fired upon by a hidden foe, and
their comrades were falling around them. When the
"combat thickened," such was their noble daring, that
Girty, (who had been made chief among the Mingoes,) remarking
the desperation with which they exposed themselves
to the hottest of the fire, drew off his three hundred
warriors; observing, that it was useless to fight with
fools and madmen. The loss in killed under the peculiar
[225] circumstances, attending the commencement of the
action, was less than would perhaps be expected to befall
an army similarly situated;—amounting in all to only
twenty men.

Here, as at Chilicothe, the crops of corn and every
article of subsistence on which the troops could lay their
hands, were entirely laid waste. At the two places, it was
estimated that not less than five hundred acres of that indispensable
article, were entirely destroyed.[13]

An unfortunate circumstance, occurring towards the
close of the engagement, damped considerably the joy
which would otherwise have pervaded the army. A
nephew of Gen. Clarke, who had been taken, and for
some time detained, a prisoner by the savages, was at
Piqua during the action. While the battle continued, he
was too closely guarded to escape to the whites; but upon
the dispersion of the savages which ensued upon the cannonading
of the houses into which some of them had retreated,
he was left more at liberty. Availing himself of
this change of situation, he sought to join his friends. He
was quickly discovered by some of them, and mistaken for

an Indian. The mistake was fatal. He received a shot
discharged at him, and died in a few hours.

Notwithstanding the success of the expeditions commanded
by Col. Broadhead and Gen. Clarke, and the destruction
which took place on the Alleghany, at Coshocton,
Chilicothe and Piqua, yet the savages continued to commit
depredations on the frontiers of Virginia. The winter, as
usual, checked them for awhile, but the return of spring,
brought with it, the horrors which mark the progress of
an Indian enemy. In Kentucky and in North Western
Virginia, it is true that the inhabitants did not suffer much
by their hostilities in 1781, as in the preceding years; yet
were they not exempt from aggression.

Early in March a party of Indians invaded the settlements
on the upper branches of Monongahela river; and
on the night of the 5th of that month, came to the house
of Capt. John Thomas, near Booth's creek. Unapprehensive
of danger, with his wife and seven children around
him, and with thoughts devotedly turned upon the realities
of another world, this gentleman was engaging in his
accustomed devotions when the savages approached his
door; and as he was repeating the first lines of the hymn,
"Go worship at Emanuel's feet," a gun was fired at him,
and he fell. The Indians [226] immediately forced open
the door, and, entering the house, commenced the dreadful
work of death. Mrs. Thomas raised her hands and
implored their mercy for herself and her dear children. It
was in vain. The tomahawk was uplifted, and stoke followed
stroke in quick succession, till the mother and six
children lay weltering in blood, by the side of her husband
and their father—a soul-chilling spectacle to any but heartless
savages. When all were down, they proceeded to
scalp the fallen, and plundering the house of what they
could readily remove, threw the other things into the fire
and departed—taking with them one little boy a prisoner.

Elizabeth Juggins, (the daughter of John Juggins who
had been murdered in that neighborhood, the preceding
year) was at the house of Capt. Thomas, when the Indians
came to it; but as soon as she heard the report of the gun
and saw Capt. Thomas fall, she threw herself under the

bed, and escaped the observation of the savages. After
they had completed the work of blood and left the house,
fearing that they might be lingering near, she remained in
that situation until she observed the house to be in flames.
When she crawled forth from her asylum, Mrs. Thomas
was still alive, though unable to move; and casting a pitying
glance towards her murdered infant, asked that it
might be handed to her. Upon seeing Miss Juggins
about to leave the house, she exclaimed, "Oh Betsy! do
not leave us." Still anxious for her own safety, the girl
rushed out, and taking refuge for the night between two
logs, in the morning early spread the alarm.

When the scene of those enormities was visited, Mrs.
Thomas was found in the yard, much mangled by the
tomahawk and considerably torn by hogs—she had, perhaps
in the struggle of death, thrown herself out at the
door. The house, together with Capt. Thomas and the
children, was a heap of ashes.[14]

In April, Matthias, Simon and Michael Schoolcraft
left Buchannon fort, and went to the head of Stone coal
creek for the purpose of catching pigeons. On their return,
they were fired upon by Indians, and Matthias killed
—the other two were taken captive. These were the last
of the Schoolcraft family,—fifteen of them were killed or
taken prisoners in the space of a few years. Of those who
were carried into captivity, none ever returned. They
were believed to have consociated with the savages, and
from the report of others [227] who were prisoners to the
Indians, three of them used to accompany war parties, in
their incursions into the settlements.

In the same month, as some men were returning to
Cheat river from Clarksburg, (where they had been to obtain

certificates of settlement-rights to their lands, from
the commissioners appointed to adjust land claims in the
counties of Ohio, Youghiogany and Monongalia) they,
after having crossed the Valley river, were encountered by
a large party of Indians, and John Manear, Daniel Cameron
and a Mr. Cooper were killed,—the others effected
their escape with difficulty.

The savages then moved on towards Cheat, but meeting
with James Brown and Stephen Radcliff, and not being
able to kill or take them, they changed their course, and
passing over Leading creek, (in Tygarts Valley) nearly
destroyed the whole settlement. They there killed Alexander
Roney, Mrs. Dougherty, Mrs. Hornbeck and her
children, Mrs. Buffington and her children, and many
others; and made prisoners, Mrs. Roney and her son, and
Daniel Dougherty. Jonathan Buffington and Benjamin
Hornbeck succeeded in making their escape and carried
the doleful tidings to Friend's and Wilson's forts. Col.
Wilson immediately raised a company of men and proceeding
to Leading creek, found the settlement without
inhabitants, and the houses nearly all burned. He then
pursued after the savages, but not coming up with them as
soon as was expected, the men became fearful of the consequences
which might result to their own families, by
reason of this abstraction of their defence, provided other
Indians were to attack them, and insisted on their returning.
On the second day of the pursuit, it was agreed that
a majority of the company should decide whether they
were to proceeded farther or not. Joseph Friend, Richard
Kettle, Alexander West and Col. Wilson, were the only
persons in favor of going on, and they consequently had
to return.

But though the pursuit was thus abandoned, yet did
not the savages get off with their wonted impunity. When
the land claimants, who had been the first to encounter
this party of Indians escaped from them, they fled back
to Clarksburg, and gave the alarm. This was quickly
communicated to the other settlements, and spies were
sent out, to watch for the enemy. By some of these, the
savages were discovered on the West Fork, near the mouth

of Isaac's creek, and intelligence of it immediately carried
to the forts. Col. Lowther [228] collected a company of
men, and going in pursuit, came in view of their encampment,
awhile before night, on a branch of Hughes'
river, ever since known as Indian creek. Jesse and Elias
Hughs—active, intrepid and vigilant men—were left to
watch the movements of the savages, while the remainder
retired a small distance to refresh themselves, and prepare
to attack them in the morning.

Before day Col. Lowther arranged his men in order
of attack, and when it became light, on the preconcerted
signal being given, a general fire was poured in upon them.
Five of the savages fell dead and the others fled leaving
at their fires, all their shot bags and plunder, and all their
guns, except one. Upon going to their camp, it was found
that one of the prisoners (a son of Alexander Rony who
had been killed in the Leading creek massacre) was among
the slain. Every care had been taken to guard against
such an occurrence, and he was the only one of the captives
who sustained any injury from the fire of the whites.[15]

In consequence of information received from the
prisoners who were retaken (that a larger party of Indians
was expected hourly to come up,) Col. Lowther

deemed it prudent not to go in pursuit of those who had
fled, and collecting the plunder which the savages had left,
catching the horses which [229] they had stolen, and having
buried young Rony, the party set out on its return
and marched home—highly gratified at the success which
had crowned their exertions to punish their untiring foe.

Some short time after this, John Jackson and his son
George, returning to Buchannon fort, were fired at by
some Indians, but fortunately missed. George Jackson
having his gun in his hand, discharged it at a savage peeping
from behind a tree, without effect; and they then rode
off with the utmost speed.

At the usual period of leaving the forts and returning
to their farms, the inhabitants withdrew from Buchannon
and went to their respective homes. Soon after, a party
of savages came to the house of Charles Furrenash, and
made prisoners of Mrs. Furrenash and her four children,
and despoiled their dwelling. Mrs. Furrenash, being a
delicate and weakly woman, and unable to endure the
fatigue of travelling far on foot, was murdered on
Hughes' river. Three of the children were afterwards
redeemed and came back,—the fourth was never more
heard of. In a few days after, the husband and father
returned from Winchester (where he had been for salt)
and instead of the welcome greeting of an affectionate
wife, and the pleasing prattle of his innocent children, was
saluted with the melancholy intelligence of their fate. It
was enough to make him curse the authors of the outrage,
and swear eternal enmity to the savage race.

The early period in spring at which irruptions were
frequently made by the savages upon the frontier, had induced
a belief, that if the Moravian Indians did not participate
in the bloody deeds of their red brethern, yet that
they afforded to them shelter and protection from the inclemency
of winter, and thus enabled them, by their
greater proximity to the white settlements, to commence
depredations earlier than they otherwise could. The consequence
of this belief was, the engendering in the minds
of many, a spirit of hostility towards those Indians; occasionally
threatening a serious result to them. Reports

too, were in circulation, proceeding from restored captives,
at war with the general pacific profession of the Moravians,
and which, whether true or false, served to heighten
the acrimony of feeling towards them, until the militia of
a portion of the frontier came to the determination of
breaking up the villages on the Muskingum.[16] To [230]
carry this determination into effect, a body of troops, commanded
by Col. David Williamson, set out for those towns,
in the latter part of the year 1781. Not deeming it necessary
to use the fire and sword, to accomplish the desired
object, Col. Williamson resolved on endeavoring to prevail
on them to move farther off; and if he failed in this, to
make prisoners of them all, and take them to Fort Pitt.
Upon his arrival at their towns, they were found to be
nearly deserted, a few Indians only, remaining in them.
These were made prisoners and taken to Fort Pitt; but
were soon liberated.

It is a remarkable fact, that at the time the whites
were planning the destruction of the Moravian villages,
because of their supposed co-operation with the hostile
savages, the inhabitants of those villages were suffering
severely from the ill treatment of those very savages, because
of their supposed attachment to the whites. By the
one party, they were charged with affording to Indian war
parties, a resting place and shelter, and furnishing them
with provisions. By the other, they were accused of apprizing
the whites of meditated incursions into the country,
and thus defeating their purpose, or lessening the
chance of success; and of being instrumental in preventing
the Delawares from entering in the war which they
were waging. Both charges were probably, well founded,
and the Moravian Indians yet culpable in neither.[17]

Their villages were situated nearly midway between
the frontier establishments of the whites, and the towns
of the belligerent Indians, and were consequently, convenient
resting places for warriors proceeding to and from
the settlements. That they should have permitted war
parties after ravages to refresh themselves there, or even
have supplied them with provisions, does not argue a disposition
to aid or encourage their hostile operations. It
was at any time in the power of those warring savages, to

exact by force whatever was required of the Moravian Indians,
and the inclination was not wanting, to do this or
other acts of still greater enormity. That the warriors
were the better enabled to make incursions into the settlements,
and effect their dreadful objects by reason of
those accommodations, can not be questioned; the fault
however, lay not in any inimical feeling of the christian
Indians towards the whites, but in their physical inability
to withhold whatever might be demanded of them:

And although they exerted themselves to prevail on
other [231] tribes to forbear from hostilities against the
whites, and apprised the latter of enterprizes projected
against them, yet did not these things proceed from an
unfriendly disposition towards their red brethren. They
were considerate and reflecting, and saw that the savages
must ultimately suffer, by engaging in a war against the
settlements; while their pacific and christian principles,
influenced them to forewarn the whites of impending
danger, that it might be avoided, and the effusion of blood
be prevented. But pure and commendable as were, no
doubt, the motives which governed them, in their intercourse
with either party, yet they were so unfortunate as
to excite the enmity and incur the resentment of both,
and eventually were made to suffer, though in different
degrees, by both.

In the fall of 1781, the settlements of the Moravians
were almost entirely broken up by upwards of three hundred
warriors, and the missionaries, residing among them,
after having been robbed of almost every thing, were taken
prisoners and carried to Detroit. Here they were detained
until the governor became satisfied that they were guiltless
of any offence meriting a longer confinement; when
they were released & permitted to return to their beloved
people. The Indians were left to shift for themselves in
the Sandusky plains where most of their horses and cattle
perished from famine.[18]