USA > Massachusetts > Our western border : its life, combats, adventures, forays, massacres, captivities, scouts, red chiefs, pioneer women, one hundred years ago, containing the cream of all the rare old border chronicles > Part 35
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Girty listened with obvious impatience to the young warriors, who had so ably urged against a reprieve-and starting to his feet, as soon as the others had concluded, he urged his former request with great earnestness. He briefly, but strongly, recapitulated his own services, and the many and weighty instances of attachment which he had given. He asked if he could be suspected of partiality to the whites? When had he ever before interceded for any of that hated race ? Had he not brought seven scalps home with him from the last expedition ? and had he not submitted seven white prisoners that very evening to their discre- tion ? Had he expressed a wish that a single one of the captives should be saved. This was his first and should be his last request : for if they refused to him what was never refused to the intercession of one of their natural chiefs, he would look upon himself as disgraced in their eyes, and considered as unworthy of confidence. Which of their own natural warriors had been more zealous than himself? From what ex- pedition had he ever shrunk? What white man had ever seen his back? Whose tomahawk had been bloodier than his ? He would say no more. He asked it as a first and last favor ; as an evidence that they approved of his zeal and fidelity, that the life of his bosom friend might be spared. Fresh speakers arose upon each side, and the debate was carried on for an hour and a half with great heat and energy.
During the whole of this time Kenton's feelings may readily be imagined. He could not understand a syllable of what was said. He saw that Girty spoke with deep earnestness, and that the eyes of the assembly were often turned upon himself with various expressions. He felt satisfied that his friend was pleading for his life, and that he was violently opposed by a large part of the council. At length, the war club was produced and the final vote taken. Kenton watched its pro-
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SIMON GIRTY SAVES HIS FRIEND.
gress with thrilling emotion, which yielded to the most rapturous delight, as he perceived that those who struck the floor of the council house were decidedly inferior in number to those who passed it in silence. Having thus succeeded in his benevolent purpose, Girty lost ' no time in attending to the comfort of his friend. He led him to his own wigwam, and from his own store gave him a pair of moccasins and leggins, a breech-cloth, a hat, a coat, a handkerchief for his neck and another for his head.
The whole of this remarkable scene is in the highest degree honorable to Girty, and is in striking contrast to most of his conduct after his union with the Indians. No man can be completely hardened, and no character is at all times the same. Girty had been deeply offended with the whites; and knowing that his desertion to the Indians had been uni- versally and severely reprobated, and that he himself was regarded with detestation by his former countrymen, he seems to have raged against them from these causes, with a fury which resembled rather the paroxysm of a maniac than the deliberate cruelty of a naturally ferocious temper. Fierce censure never reclaims, but rather drives to still greater extremi- ties ; and this is the reason that renegades are so much fiercer than natural foes, and that when females fall, they fall irretrievably.
For the space of three weeks Kenton lived in perfect tranquility. Girty's kindness was uniform and indefatigable. He introduced Ken- ton to his own family, and accompanied him to the wigwams of the princi- pal chiefs, who seemed all at once to have turned from the extremity of rage to the utmost kindness and cordiality. Fortune, however, seemed to have selected him for her football, and to have snatched him from the frying pan only to throw him into the fire. About twenty days after his most providential deliverance from the stake, he was walking in company with Girty and an Indian named Redpole, when another In- dian came from the village towards them, uttering repeatedly a whoop of a peculiar intonation. Girty instantly told Kenton that it was the " distress halloo," and that they must all go instantly to the council house. Kenton's heart involuntarily fluttered at the intelligence, for he dreaded all whoops, and hated all council houses-firmly believing that neither boded him any good. Nothing, however, could be done to avoid whatever fate awaited, and he sadly accompanied Girty and Red- pole back to the village.
Upon approaching the Indian who had hallooed, Girty and Redpole shook hands with him. Kenton likewise offered his hand, but the In- dian refused to take it-at the same time scowling upon him ominously. This took place within a few paces of the door of the council house. Upon entering, they saw that the house was unusually full. Many chiefs
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OUR WESTERN BORDER.
and warriors from the distant towns were present; and their counte- nances were grave, severe and forbidding. Girty, Redpole and Ken- ton walked around, offering their hands successively to each warrior. The hands of the first two were cordially received-but when poor Ken- ton anxiously offered his hand to the first warrior, it was rejected with the same scowling eye as before. He passed on to the second, but was still rejected-he persevered, however, until his hand had been refused by the first six-when, sinking into despondence, he turned off and stood apart from the rest.
The debate quickly commenced. Kenton looked eagerly towards Girty, as his last and only hope. His friend looked anxious and dis- tressed. The chiefs from a distance arose one after another, and spoke in a firm and indignant tone, often looking at Kenton with an eye of death. Girty did not desert him-but his eloquence appeared wasted upon the distant chiefs. After a warm debate, he turned to Kenton and said, " Well, my friend ! you must die!" One of the stranger chiefs instantly seized him by the collar, and the others surrounding him, he was strongly pinioned, committed to a guard, and instantly marched off. His guards were on horseback, while the prisoner was driven before them on foot with a long rope around his neck, the other end of which was held by one of the guard. In this manner they had marched about two and a half miles, when Girty passed them on horseback, informing Kenton that he had friends at the next village, with whose aid he hoped to be able to do something for him. Girty passed on to the town, but finding that nothing could be done, he would not see his friend again, but returned to Wappatomica by a different route.
A SAVAGE AXE BLOW-KENTON MEETS CHIEF LOGAN.
They passed through the village without halting, and at a distance of two and a half miles beyond it, Kenton had again an opportunity of witnessing the fierce hate with which these children of nature regarded an enemy. At the distance of a few paces from the road, a squaw was busily engaged in chopping wood, while her lord and master was sitting on a log smoking his pipe and directing her labors, with the indolent in- difference common to the natives, when not under the influence of some exciting passion. The sight of Kenton, however, seemed to rouse him to fury. He hastily sprang up, with a sudden yell, snatched the axe from the squaw, and rushing upon the prisoner so rapidly as to give him no opportunity of escape, dealt him a blow with the axe which cut , through his shoulder, breaking the bone and almost severing the arm
313
KENTON MEETS CHIEF LOGAN.
from the body. He would instantly have repeated the blow, had not Kenton's conductors interfered and protected him, severely reprimand- ing the Indian for attempting to rob them of the amusement of tortur- ing the prisoner.
They soon reached a large village upon the head waters of the Scioto, where Kenton, for the first time, beheld the celebrated Mingo Chief, Logan, so honorably mentioned in Jefferson's Notes on Virginia. Lo- gan walked gravely up to the place where Kenton stood, and the follow- ing short conversation ensued : "Well, young man, these young men seem very mad at you?" "Yes, sir, they certainly are." "Well, don't be disheartened ; I am a great chief ; you are to go to Sandusky- they speak of burning you there-but I will send two runners to-morrow to speak good for you." Logan's form was striking and manly-his countenance calm and noble, and he spoke the English language with fluency and correctness. Kenton's spirits instantly rose at the address of the benevolent chief, and he once more looked upon himself as prov- identially rescued from the stake.
On the following morning two runners were dispatched to Sandusky, as the chief had promised, and until their return Kenton was kindly treated, being permitted to spend much of his time with Logan, who conversed with him freely and in the most friendly manner. In the evening the two runners returned, and were closeted with Logan. Kenton felt the most burning anxiety to know what was the result of their mission, but Logan did not visit him again until the next morning. He then walked up to him, accompanied by Kenton's guards, and, giv- ing him a piece of bread, told him that he was instantly to be carried to Sandusky ; and without uttering another word, turned upon his heel and left him.
Again Kenton's spirits sunk. From Logan's manner, he supposea that his intercession had been unavailing, and that Sandusky was destined to be the scene of his final suffering. This appears to have been the truth. But fortune, who, to use Lord Lovat's expression, had been playing at cat and mouse with him for the last month, had selected Sandusky for the display of her strange and capricious power. He was driven into the town, as usual, and was to have been burnt on the fol- lowing morning, when an Indian Agent, named Drewyer, interposed, and once more rescued him from the stake. He was anxious to obtain intelligence for the British commandant at Detroit, and so earnestly insisted upon Kenton's being delivered up to him, that the Indians at length consented, upon the express condition that after the required in- formation had been obtained, he should again be placed at their discre- " tion. To this Drewyer consented, and without further difficulty, Ken-
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OUR WESTERN BORDER.
ton was transferred to his hands. Drewyer lost no time in removing him to Detroit.
On the road he informed Kenton of the condition upon which he had obtained possession of his person, assuring him, however, that no consideration should induce him to abandon a prisoner to the mercy of such wretches. Having dwelt at some length upon the generosity of his own disposition, and having sufficiently magnified the service which he had just rendered him, he began, at length, to cross-question Ken- ton as to the force and condition of Kentucky, and particularly as to the number of men at Fort McIntosh. Kenton very candidly declared his inability to answer either question, observing that he was merely a private, and by no means acquainted with matters of an enlarged and general import; that his great business had heretofore been to en- deavor to take care of himself-which he had found a work of no small difficulty. Drewyer replied that he believed him, and from that time Kenton was troubled with no more questions.
His condition at Detroit was not unpleasant. He was compelled to report himself every morning to an English officer, and was restricted to certain boundaries through the day; but in other respects he scarcely felt that he was a prisoner. His battered body and broken arm were quickly repaired, and his emaciated limbs were again clothed with a proper proportion of flesh. He remained in this state of easy restraint from October, 1777, until June, 1778, when he meditated an escape. There was no difficulty in leaving Detroit-but he would be compelled to traverse a wilderness of more than two hundred miles, abounding with hostile Indians, and affording no means of sustenance beyond the wild game, which could not be killed without a gun. In addition to this, he would certainly be pursued, and, if retaken by the Indians, he might expect a repetition of all that he had undergone before, without the prospect of a second interposition on the part of the English. These considerations deterred him for some time from the attempt, but at length his patience became uncontrollable, and he determined to escape or perish in the attempt.
He took his measures with equal secrecy and foresight. He cautiously sounded two young Kentuckians then at Detroit, who had been taken with Boone at the Blue Licks and had been purchased by the British. He found them as impatient as himself of captivity and resolute to ac- company him. Charging them not to breathe a syllable of their design to any other prisoners, he busied himself for several days in making the . į necessary preparations. It was absolutely necessary that they should be provided with arms, both for the sake of repelling attacks and for pro- curing the means of subsistence; and at the same time it was very diffi-
315
BUTLER CHANGES HIS NAME TO KENTON.
cult to obtain them without the knowledge of the British com- mandant. By patiently waiting their opportunity, however, all these preliminary difficulties were overcome. Kenton formed a close friend- ship with two Indian hunters, deluged them with rum, and bought their guns for a mere trifle. After carefully hiding them in the woods, he returned to Detroit, and managed to procure another rifle, with powder and balls, from a Mr. and Mrs. Edger, citizens of the town. They then appointed a night for the attempt, and agreed upon a place of ren- dezvous.
All things turned out prosperously. They met at the time and place appointed without discovery, and, taking a circuitous route, avoided pursuit, and traveling only during the night, they at length arrived safely at Louisville, after a march of thirty days.
Thus terminated one of the most remarkable series of adventures in the whole range of western history. Kenton was eight times exposed to the gauntlet-three times tied to the stake-and as often thought himself on the eve of a terrible death. All the sentences passed upon him, whether of mercy or condemnation, seemed to have been only pronounced in one council in order to be reversed in another. Every friend that Providence raised up in his favor was immediately followed by some enemy, who unexpectedly interposed, and turned his short glimpse of sunshine into deeper darkness than ever. For three weeks he was see-sawing between life and death, and during the whole time he was perfectly passive. No wisdom, or foresight, or exertion, could have saved him. Fortune fought his battle from first to last, and seemed determined to permit nothing else to interfere. Scarcely had he reached Kentucky when he was embarked in a new enterprise.
BUTLER CHANGES HIS NAME TO KENTON-HIS LAST YEARS.
This was in July, '79, and, in a few days, the restless borderer sought out new hazards and adventures, and, down to '82, was constantly en- gaged, by turn, as scout, guide, hunter and officer. Having acquired some valuable tracts of land, he concluded to make a settlement on Salt river. Hearing now, for the first time, from his old Virginia home, and that not only his father, but the rival whom he supposed he had killed, were still living, a great load was lifted from his heart. He now dropped the name of Butler and assumed his own proper name of Ken- ton, and concluded to pay Virginia a visit.
- His meeting with his venerable father was something like that between the old Patriarch Jacob and his son Joseph, whom he had given up for lost. Joseph, however, only sent for his father's family, but Simon
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OUR WESTERN BORDER.
went for his, for after visiting all his old friends, his former rival in- cluded, he gave such glowing accounts of Kentucky that the whole fam- ily concluded to return with him. While, however, engaged in con- structing a Kan-tuck boat at Redstone, on the Monongahela, his father sickened and died. The rest made their way down the Ohio to Lime- stone, (now Maysville,) which was the great point for entering Kentucky.
At his old camp near Maysville, Kenton soon commenced a flourish- ing colony, but being located so near the hostile Indian country, just across the Ohio, he had ever a constant, unintermittent warfare with the savages. Their scalping and horse-stealing incursions were frequent, and twice Kenton guided large retaliating parties into the very heart of their country. He had learned from his old commander, General Clarke, the efficacy of "carrying the war into Africa," and no blow was delivered by the Indians but what there was a prompt and most effective rejoinder. In '93, after many small but sanguinary hand-to-hand strug- gles, Kenton ambushed at the river-crossing the last swarthy invaders from the Ohio country, succeeding in killing six.
And so, after a bitter and most obstinate struggle of over twenty years, Kentucky was forever lost to the redman. In their best blood, the dogged pioneers had written their title to the soil, and now held it with an iron and an unyielding grip. Kenton, with a valiant band of Ken- tuckians, served as Major in "Mad Anthony Wayne's" '94 campaign, but was not present at its crowning triumph-the Battle of the Fallen Timbers. There the power and spirit of the Northwestern Confederacy were forever broken, and the borders at length enjoyed peace.
But, as with Boone, so now with Kenton; vexatious troubles fell upon him on account of land titles. They who had borne the " heat and burthen of the day" were vexed and harassed by "eleventh-hour men" coming in to enjoy the fruits secured to them by the toil, blood and perils of those who had preceded them. Kenton now, when his skill and services as a bold and watchful Indian fighter were no longer needed, was cast aside like an old shoe. He had braved the stake, the gauntlet and the tomahawk in vain. His very body, even, was taken for debt, and he was actually imprisoned for twelve months upon the very spot upon which he had built the first cabin, planted the first corn, and about which he had fought the savages in a hundred fierce encounters. The first pio- neer was stripped by crafty, greedy speculators of nearly all the broad, fat acres he had so bloodily earned. Beggared by losses and law suits, he moved over to the Ohio wilderness some say in '97 and some say in 1802. A few years after he was elected Brigadier General of the Ohio militia, and, in 1810, he united himself with the Methodist Epis- copal Church, and ever after lived a consistent Christian life.
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317
KENTON'S LAST YEARS.
In 1813 the staunch old patriot joined the Kentucky troops under Governor Shelby, and was present at the Battle of the Thames. But this was his last battle, except the hard " battle of life," which he sternly fought to the very last. He returned to his obscure cabin in the woods, and remained at and near Urbana till 1820, when he moved to Mad River, in sight of the old Shawnee town of Wappatomica, where he had once been tied to the Indian stake. Even here he was pursued by judg- ments and executions from Kentucky, and, to prevent being driven from his own cabin by whites, as he formerly was by reds, he was compelled to have some land entered in the name of his wife and children.
Kenton still had some large tracts of mountain lands in Kentucky, but they had become forfeit to the State for taxes. He first tried bor- ing on some of them to make salt, but this failing, his only alternative was to appeal to the Kentucky Legislature to release the forfeiture. So, in 1824, when about seventy years old, he mounted his sorry old horse, and, in his tattered garments, commenced his weary pilgrimage. The second night he stopped at the house of James Galloway, of Xenia, Ohio, an old friend and pioneer. Looking at his shabby appearance and his wretched saddle and bridle, Galloway gave vent to his honest indig- nation.
" Kenton," he said, " you have served your country faithfully, even to old age. What expedition against the British and savages was ever raised in the west, but what you were among the most prominent in it ? Even down to the last war, you were with Harrison at the taking of Proctor's army in Canada ; an old gray-headed warrior, you could not stay at home while your country needed your services, and look how they have neglected you ! How can you stand such treatment ?" But the patriot Kenton could and would hear no word against his country. Rising from his seat, he cast a fiery look at his old friend, clinched his fist and with an angry stamp of his foot, he exclaimed with warmth : " Don't say that again, Galloway ! If you do, I will leave your house forever and never again call you my friend."
Kenton at last reached Frankfort, now become a thrifty and flourish- ing city. Here he was utterly unknown. All his old friends_had departed. His dilapidated appearance and the sorry condition of his horse and its wretched equipments only provoked mirth. The grizzled old pioneer, was like Rip Van Winkle appearing after his long sleep. He wandered up and down the streets, " the observed of all observers." The very boys followed him. At length the scarred old warrior was recognized by General Fletcher, an old companion-in-arms. He grasped him by the hand, led him to a tailor's shop, bought him a suit of clothes and hat, and after he was dressed took him to the State Capitol.
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OUR WESTERN BORDER.
Here he was placed in the Speaker's chair and introduced to a crowded assembly of judges, citizens and legislators, as the second pioneer of Kentucky. The simple-minded veteran used to say afterwards that " it was the very proudest day of his life," and ten years subsequently, his friend Hinde asserted, he was wearing the self-same hat and clothes. His lands were at once released and shortly after, by the warm exertion of some of his friends, a pension from Congress of two hundred and fifty dollars was obtained, securing his old age from absolute want.
Without any further marked notice, Kenton lived in his humble cabin until 1836, when, at the venerable old age of eighty-one, he breathed his last. surrounded by his family and neighbors and supported by the consolations of the Gospel. He died in sight of the very spot where the savages, nearly sixty years previous, proposed to torture him to death.
General Kenton was of fair complexion, six feet one inch in height. He stood and walked very erect, and, in the prime of life, weighed about a hundred and ninety pounds. He never was inclined to be cor- pulent, although of sufficient fullness to form a graceful person. He had a soft, tremulous voice, very pleasing to the hearer ; auburn hair and laughing gray eyes, which appeared to fascinate the beholder. He was a pleasant, good-humored and obliging companion. When excited or provoked to anger, which was seldom the case, the fiery glance of his eye would almost curdle the blood of those with whom he came in con- tact. His wrath, when aroused, was a tornado. In his dealing he was perfectly honest. His confidence in man and his credulity were such, that the same man might cheat him twenty times-and, if he professed friendship, might still continue to cheat him. Kentucky owes it to jus- tice and gratitude, to gather up General Kenton's remains and place them alongside of those of Boone, in the sacred soil he was among the first and the boldest to defend.
Ah, can this be the spot where sleeps The bravest of the brave ? Is this rude slab the only mark Of Simon Kenton's grave? These fallen palings, are they all His ingrate country gave, To one who periled life so oft Her homes and hearths to save?
319
THE WETZEL FAMILY.
THE WETZEL FAMILY_FATHER AND FIVE SONS. LEWIS, THE RIGHT ARM OF THE WHEELING BORDER.
He needs no guide in the forest, More than the hunter bees ;
His guides are the cool, green mosses To the northward of the trees. Nor fears he the foe whose footsteps Go light as the Summer air.
. His tomahawk hangs in his shirt belt, And the scalp-knife glitters there.
The stealthy Wyandots tremble, And speak his name with fear ; For his aim is sharp and deadly, And his rifle's ring is clear .- Florus B Plympton.
In the year 1772, there came with the four Zane brothers, who set- tled at the mouth of Wheeling Creek, in the West Virginian Pan- handle, a rough but brave and honest old German by the name of John Wetzel-not Whetzell or Whitzell, as the old Border books have it. He was the father of five sons-Martin, George, John, Jacob and Lewis, and two daughters-Susan and Christina.
. At that time there were only three other adventurers in that whole wilderness region-the two Tomlinsons, located on the Flats of Grave Creek, and a mysterious man by the name of Tygert, at the mouth of Middle Island Creek. Who this latter was, or what became of him, no one has ever learned. Andrew Zane, shortly after his own arrival, went a short distance down the Ohio on a hunting excursion, and was sur- prised to find this lone hunter's cabin where he supposed the foot of white man had never yet trodden.
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