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 49
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Adam, now alarmed for his brother, who was scarcely able to swim, jumped into the river to assist him to shore, but Andrew, thinking more of the honor of securing the big Indian's scalp as a trophy than of his own safety, called loudly upon his brother to leave him alone and scalp Bigfoot. Adam, however, refused to obey, and insisted upon saving the living before attending to the dead. Bigfoot, in the meantime, had succeeded in reaching the deep water before he expired, and his body
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POE'S FIGHT WITH A YOUNG BULL.
was borne off by the waves without being stripped of the ornament and pride of an Indian warrior.
An unfortunate occurrence took place during this conflict. Just as Adam arrived at the top of the bank for the relief of his brother, the balance of his party, hearing the hallooing of Andrew, came running up the bank, and seeing him in the river, mistook him for a wounded In- dian, and three of them fired at him, one of them wounding him dan- gerously. The ball entered his right shoulder near the junction with the neck, behind the collar bone and close to it; passing through his body, the ball came out at his left side, between the first rib and the hench bone.
During the contest between Andrew Poe and the two Indians, the rest of the party followed the Indian trail to the river, where the other five Indians were with the prisoner, Jackson. They had a large raft, and were preparing to cross the river. Jackson seeing the men coming as soon as the Indians did, ran to them. One of the Indians having a tomahawk ran after him and struck him on the back, making but a slight wound. The men fired on the Indians, who returned the fire and plunged into the river. They did not capture any of the Indians, but being badly wounded only one of them got across the river, and he was shot through the hand.
The Indians firing at our men, wounded but one of them. He was shot slightly through the side, but the ball cut his lungs, and he died in about an hour. His name was Cherry. The party took the dead man, Cherry, and Andrew Poe up the river hill to the horses, and then took them on horseback home. The locality on the Ohio river where this struggle occurred is in Virginia, nearly opposite the mouth of Little Yellow Creek. Andrew Poe recovered of his wounds and lived many years after his memorable conflict, but he never forgot the tremendous " hug " he sustained in the arms of Bigfoot. The smaller of the two Indians was a giant compared even with him.
POE'S FIGHT WITH A YOUNG BULL-A REVENGE THWARTED.
Thus far Poe's grandson. The old chroniclers state that Bigfoot had five brothers, all distinguished for their size and power. Andy Poe was a man of remarkable power and activity, and lived a long life of daring adventure. When advanced in years, and at the request of his friends, he used to fight over again his famous battle with Bigfoot, and those who saw him thus engaged, describe the scene as the most thrilling they ever beheld. The old man would enter thoroughly into the spirit of
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the combat, and, with dilated pupil; tense, rigid muscle, and almost choked with frothing rage, would go over each throe and struggle of that desperate conflict. These pantomime exhibitions were so painfully violent and furious that the old hunter would be as much exhausted by them as if they were actually real. Mr. F. Wadsworth states that Andy Poe was a very old man when he knew him, but would even then be- come very much excited when going over his hunting stories. "One evening, after telling a good many, he put his hand on my shoulder and said : 'Mr. Wadsworth, no man ever took more satisfaction in hunt- ing deer, bear, wolves and buffalo than I have, but the greatest enjoy- ment I ever took was in hunting Indians.' "
As serving well to illustrate the power and obstinate determination of the man, we may relate a well-authenticated incident of Andrew's old age. Among his cattle was a fierce and vicious young bull, who endan- gered all who approached him. Poe was in the habit of visiting his stock yard regularly, until he supposed the bull knew him well. On one occasion he was suddenly attacked by the refractory brute, receiving a severe gash from one of its horns. So exasperated did this singularly bold man become, that he went at once to the cabin, armed himself with his trusty old tomahawk-his most familiar companion in times long past-and, despite the entreaties of his family, returned to the yard, and, driving all the cattle out but the bull, he faced it with his menacing scowl, like a Spanish matador, and laid hold of his right horn. The infuriated beast reared and plunged and gored, filling the air with its awful lows and bellows. No use. Poe held on like grim Death, at every moment bringing down with his right arm the pipe end of the toma- hawk on the brute's skull. In this manner, and with hammer-headed obstinacy, he repeated his blows, until finally the vanquished animal sank dead at his feet.
Rev. Finley, M. E. missionary among the Wyandots, states that so deeply was the loss of Bigfoot felt by the Wyandots that, determined on revenge, they some time afterwards sent Rohn-yen-ness, a noted chief, to Poe's cabin to kill him. Andrew, not suspecting the design, received and entertained the chief with such kindness that he was completely disarmed. Knowing, however, that his tribe had selected him as aven- ger, he, after many conflicts with himself, rose from his bed, knife in hand, to execute the bloody deed. But the more he tried the worse he felt, and finally slunk back to his blanket, and next morning stole away. He said afterwards to Finley that the more he thought the less he could do, and was convinced it was the work of the Great Spirit. This noble chief afterwards became an humble and sincere Christian.
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COL. CRAWFORD'S EXPEDITION AGAINST SANDUSKY.
COL. CRAWFORD'S EXPEDITION AGAINST SANDUSKY. DISASTROUS DEFEAT AND RETREAT-CRAWFORD'S AWFUL TORTURES.
Though of the past, from no carved shrines, Canvas or deathless lyres, we learn ; Yet arbored trees and shadowy pines Are hung with legends wild and stern. In deep, dark glen-on mountain side, Are graves whence stately pines have sprung ; Naught telling how the victim died, Save faint tradition's faltering tongue .- Street.
We have alluded to the greatly demoralized state of the Virginia and Pennsylvania frontiers after the Moravian Massacre of March, 1782. The reds were earlier abroad that year than usual, and their numerous ruthless murders and scalpings so exasperated the borders that a savage and rancorous feeling sprang up, one horrible result of which had been the bloody butchery of a whole innocent community.
This, of course, failed to mend matters such godless and barbarous measures never do. On the contrary, they grew much worse. The frightful tidings of the brutal slaughter were swiftly conveyed by fleet . runners into every wigwam in Ohio, and the hate and rage of the sav- ages became intensely bitter and vengeful. Their fierce and pitiless scalping parties filled the woods and crowded the trails towards those who had even given them a lesson in savagery. The entire border now became so alarmed, that numbers abandoned their homes and fled from the exposed frontier. The only salvation, all urged, was the immediate destruction of Sandusky, which-dominated from Detroit-was the swarming hive of all the vagabondizing gangs of marauding scalpers.
The clamor for a hostile expedition grew so hot and general, that the National Government, although not able then to spare any troops for one, agreed to give its official sanction. The County Lieutenants, there- fore, conferred with General Irvine, of Fort Pitt; equipments and am- munition were furnished, and the orders went out for a secret assemblage of mounted volunteers at Mingo Bottom, on the Ohio, three miles below the present town of Steubenville, on or about the 20th of May.
All was now bustle and busy preparation. It was General Irvine's opinion that it would be rash in the highest degree to penetrate so far into hostile territory with less than three hundred men, but every glade and valley from Old Redstone to Fort Henry was now aroused, and as the time approached, it was seen that that number would be exceeded. 29
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How many tender partings went with that motley assemblage! The en- terprise was full of risk and peril. Many of the volunteers had made their wills. The usual style of leaving home, was to take down the loaded rifle from the buck's antlers above the mantel, examine the flint, see that the pouches were filled with patches and bullets, walk out of the rude log-cabin door, mount horse, discharge rifle, and immediately ride off without once looking behind or saying a word. The times were "terribly out of joint," and there was no time for these young Hot- spurs to "play with mammets or to tilt with lips."
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Every cluster of cabins, every sequestered valley had contributed its quota, and all these little streams of excited humanity now trended their various and devious ways towards Mingo Bottom. On that broad and fertile plateau, surrounded by the dense and solemn woods, into whose profound depths and solitudes they were about to plunge, they exchanged greetings, and fired off noisy feus de joie. They comprised the very pick and flower of the yeomanry from the rugged hills and wild glens of Western Pennsylvania-all volunteers, and most of them young and of the free, sturdy and obstinate Scotch-Irish stock. Not alone three hundred, which was Irvine's minimum, but no less than four hundred and eighty, mounted on the very best and fleetest horses of the border. Of this eager and noisy muster, about two-thirds were from Washington and the rest from Westmoreland county.
What a picturesque assemblage of stalwart, sinewy, loose-jointed men · it was, to be sure, with their horns and pouches strapped to their brawny breasts; all accoutred in leggins, moccasins and fringed hunting shirts, belted at the waist. On the right side hung the keen tomahawk; on the left, the scalping knife. The long, heavy rifle, void of all show, but gotten up for use and range, was the faithful familiar of all. Scarce one there that could not bark a squirrel or decapitate a turkey from the loftiest tree. Strapped to each rustic saddle was the tow-cloth, or cow- hide knapsack, crammed with indispensables for the journey. From the pommel hung the canteen and the supply of flour and bacon. The sad- dle blanket was to serve for bed at night.
A canvass for officers was the first business after all had gathered. If any there felt any apprehensions of the future, none did he exhibit. The whiskey flowed freely. The hoppled horses quietly munched the lush herbage under the huge sycamores, which there grew to an enor- mous size. Here one group played at cards ; another engaged at rifle shooting ; while another still was busy discussing the chances of the en- terprise and who ought to be chosen to lead them. At the election that followed, Colonel William Crawford was elected over Colonel David Williamson-the leader of the late Gnadenhutten massacre expedition-
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WHO COLONEL CRAWFORD WAS.
by a vote of two hundred and thirty-five against two hundred and thirty.
It is part of the secret history of the expedition, that General Irvine, and the whole Fort Pitt influence, was thrown in favor of the successful candidate. However much the Moravian massacre may have been ap- proved, or at least excused, on the border, it had been universally con- demned east of the mountains. Its bloody details had created among all classes a feeling of horror and indignation, and it was thought wise to restrain this officially-authorized expedition from any like damnable atrocity. There was still a remnant of the Christian Indians in the Sandusky country, whither they were going, that was to be saved from any further outrage and savagery.
The border histories of the day, following the wake of Withers, Doddridge and Heckewelder, do not hesitate to affirm that the destruc- tion of the Moravian Indians, who had escaped the late massacre, was the sole end and aim of this expedition, but without going into details to prove our conviction, we can safely and most positively affirm that all reliable evidence points directly contrary. However much some of the rude and tempestuous borderers who made part of that muster, might desire another pillaging and slaughtering raid, nothing of that kind could be attempted, the popular Colonel Crawford being leader. His election was cheerfully submitted to by all present; his defeated competi- tor taking the second position. Major John Rose, a gallant gentle- man and protege of General Irvine, was sent to act as aide to Crawford, while Dr. John Knight was detailed as surgeon.
Thus the whole enterprise was put under government auspices. While the noisy throng are loosing their rude bridles of skin and getting ready for the woods, let us say a few words of Colonel William Crawford, the able and gentlemanly leader of the troop.
WHO COLONEL CRAWFORD WAS-A FIGHT WITH MORGAN.
Colonel William Crawford was one of the most notable men of the Pennsylvania border. Like his early and intimate friend, Washington, he commenced life as a surveyor, and it was while on a professional ex- cursion in the Shenandoah Valley that Washington first made his ac- quaintance. Crawford's mother was a woman of unusual energy and physical strength, and by her second marriage with Richard Stephen- son, had a troop of boys remarkable for their size and strength. There are many stories told of the athletic sports and trials of strength be- tween Washington and the Stephenson and Crawford boys. In running
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and jumping with them, Washington was generally the victor, but in wrestling it was often his fate to be worsted.
In '55 he served as ensign at the disastrous battle of Braddocks Fields, and, for his gallantry, was soon after promoted to a lieutenancy, serving for some time on the harassed frontier, and acquiring great skill as an Indian fighter. In General Forbes' expedition against Fort Duquesne, he recruited and commanded a company under Washington. In con- nection with the marching of this company, we may relate one of the stories of the time. When all ready to move his command to join Washington, there was an urgent need of transportation, and a wagoner having stopped at the encampment to feed his team, Crawford told him he would have to impress him and his wagon into the public service. The teamster-a sturdy, stalwart, double-fisted yeoman-was muclı averse to this violent procedure, and after sullenly surveying Crawford's men, as if concluding on the uselessness of resistance, he observed to Crawford that it was a hard thing to have himself and property forced into service ; that every man ought to have a fair chance, and offering, is he was but one against a number, to decide the matter by a contest with him or any one of the company-if beaten, he was to join them, but if victorious, he was to be allowed to go his way.
This proposition exactly accorded with the rude customs of the border, and the challenge of the teamster was at once gladly accepted, Crawford himself-noted, as stated, for his strength and agility-claim- ing the honor of handling him. Both now began to strip for the con- test, the men quickly forming a ring about, when a strapping, power- ful young stranger, who had lately joined the company, drew Crawford aside and most earnestly urged him to trust the struggle to him. "Cap- tain," said he, coolly, " you must let me fight that fellow ; he'll be sure to whip you, and it will never do to have the whole company whipped." The men around were so impressed with the confident and determined manner of their companion, as well as by the promising strength of his lithe and sinewy frame, that they persuaded their Captain to retire in his favor, and the contest began.
The huge wagoner, peeled to the buff and evidently an adept in pugilistic struggles, rushed briskly to the encounter, but the youthful stranger met him promptly half way; sprang upon him with the agility and fierceness of a catamount, and poured upon his luckless antagonist such a rain of fast and furious blows that the combat was as short as it was decisive. The teamster was very speedily vanquished, and eagerly proclaimed his willingness to go along with the company. The victor over the powerful wagoner was Daniel Morgan, afterwards General of the Riflemen of the Revolution.
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WHO COLONEL CRAWFORD WAS.
After the evacuation of Fort Duquesne, Crawford remained in the Virginia service and chiefly engaged in frontier duty for several years. In 1767 he started on a horseback exploring expedition across the mountains, and was so pleased with the Youghiogheny Valley, that he resolved to locate on a spot on the river known in Braddock's expedi- tion as "Stewart's Crossings," but now as Connellsville, Fayette coun- ty, Pa. He immediately set to work erecting his lonely cabin, clearing the howling wilderness around and trading with the Indians. In a year or two afterwards, his half-brother Hugh joined him, and both spent some years in clearing extensive tracts of land.
The intimate relations between Crawford and Washington were never disturbed. They corresponded constantly, took an occasional excursion together, and the former selected and located some fine tracts of land for Washington. At the breaking out of the disputes between Virginia and Pennsylvania as to the boundary lines of the respective States, Crawford took quite a prominent part, as he did also afterwards in the Revolutionary war. He was sent out, in 1778, by Washington, to take command on the frontier and for many years did most excellent service, becoming noted as a very able and efficient Indian fighter-cool, brave and a perfect woodsman.
After the capture of Cornwallis, deeming the war to be virtually over, he only thought of spending the rest of his days in the bosom of his large family. His children were all married and lived about him. His daughter Sallie, wife of William Harrison, was a beautiful woman, being considered the belle of the West. When, in '82, the expedition was being raised against Sandusky, he was often consulted and gradually all eyes turned towards him as its most fitting leader, but, although he warmly favored the enterprise, he positively refused to command it. But his beloved son John, his nephew William, and his son-in-law Har- rison, having all volunteered, he was induced to say, that if elected to the command he would serve. He made his will, put his house in order, took a tender leave of his beloved family, mounted his horse and, hav- ing had a long interview with General Irvine at Fort Pitt, he left for Mingo Bottom, being, as stated, elected, on May 24th, to command the expedition, with Colonel Williamson as his second, Major Rose as his aide-de-camp, and Jonathan Zane and John Slover as guides. He was then about fifty years of age, of a very fine and attractive person, in the full vigor of life, and esteemed and respected by all.
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OUR WESTERN BORDER.
CAVALCADE SETS OUT_STRUGGLE ABOUT "BATTLE ISLAND."
The formidable cavalcade, numbering no less than four hundred and eighty men-the very flower of the border, and mounted on the best and fleetest horses-moved early the next morning over the river bluff, and were immediately enshrouded in the vast wilderness. The fourth evening they encamped amid the deserted ruins of New Schonbrun, the upper village of the Moravians, feeding their horses from the un- gathered crops of the previous year.
Here they routed up and pursued two savages, who, however, escaped. All hope of secrecy was now abandoned, and nothing remained but to press on with all possible vigor. Five days later they reached the San- dusky near the present town of Crestline. Not an Indian seen since leaving the Muskingum ! Was this a propitious or an ominous sign ? Soon after, according to the statements of Zane and Slover, the two guides, they were approaching the Wyandot town, but strange that no signs of Indian occupation could be seen. Further on an opening in the woods is discovered. It is the town they seek. The horses are spurred into a rapid trot.
To the utter amazement and consternation of all, every hut was found deserted-nothing but a dreary solitude all around. The guides looked at the leaders with blank dismay in their faces. They had not the slightest suspicion that the year before, the Half King Pomoacon had moved his town some eight miles lower down the Sandusky. A halt was called at once, and a council of officers anxiously deliberated over the perplexing situation. It was the opinion of both Zane and Craw- ford that a return to the Ohio should be immediately made, as the ab- sence of Indians and other suspicious signs made it highly probable that the savages were withdrawing before them and concentrating their forces. It was finally concluded that the troops should move forward that day but no longer.
The company of light horse rushed rapidly forward and soon reached a beautiful woody island in the midst of a prairie, which seemed to in- vite them out of the fierce heats of the June sun. They pause and rest, but finally strike out again into the open. All at once they suddenly come in view of the enemy running directly towards them. Aha ! Shaken up at last ! Listen to those yells and whoops ! The skulking copperheads ! A fleet horseman flies to the rear to apprise Crawford, and all at once is bustle and animation.
We may explain here what not a single soul of that expedition then knew. Instead of their movement being kept secret, it was closely
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STRUGGLE ABOUT BATTLE ISLAND.
watched by a sleepless foe from the very first moment of its inception. Ever since the Gnadenhutten massacre, watchful Indian spies had been kept all along the border. The news of the present movement had been carried by fleet runners to the various allied tribes; and their towns were working like hives of angry bees. Not, however, until the Muskingum was passed, could the savages determine where the dread blow was to fall. Runners were then at once dispatched to Detroit for immediate aid. The tocsin of alarm was sounded in all the towns of the Shawnees on Mad river, the Delawares on the Tymochtee, and the Hurons on the Sandusky. The squaws and children were quickly hur- ried to a safe place of retreat, and all the braves commenced to paint and plume for the war path.
It was, then, the combined Delaware force of Pipe and Wingenund, amounting to two hundred, that Crawford's videttes had encountered. These were just waiting for four hundred Wyandots, under their great war chief, Shaus-sho-toh. Together they already outnumbered Craw- ford's troops, but this was by no means the whole. The news of the discovery of redskins was received by the grumbling Americans with the most lively satisfaction. They leaped to their horses, hurriedly looked to their weapons, rapidly fell into line and spurred briskly for- ward.
Now the superior genius of Major John Rose first began to exhibit itself. As the opposing forces drew near to the dread conflict, his keen, dark eyes flashed with excitement ; his demeanor was calm, cool and confident. As he scoured along on his blooded mare from point to point, carrying the orders of the commander, his intrepidity and fine martial appearance attracted all eyes and won all hearts. The foe was now seen directly in front, taking possession of the grove on the prairie so lately abandoned by the light horse. A quick, forward movement, attended with hot, rapid firing, soon drove the enemy out again into the open. The savages then attempted to occupy a skirt of woods on the right flank, but were at once prevented by Major Leet's command.
The renegade, Captain Elliott, who now made his appearance as commander-in-chief, ordered The Pipe and his Delawares to flank to the right, and attack Crawford in the rear. This manœuvre was exe- cuted boldly and skillfully, nearly proving fatal to the Americans. The action now became general, and the firing was hot, close and con- tinued, but the Americans maintained their position. The enemy skulked much behind the tall grass, and could only be picked off by sharpshooting. Big Captain Johnny, a huge Indian chief, near seven foot high and of frightful ugliness, was very conspicuous in this strug- gle ; so, also, was Simon Girty, who, seated on a white horse of power-
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ful stride, could both be seen and heard in different parts of the field, cheering his Indians to the encounter.
At dark the enemy's fire slackened, and Crawford's force was much encouraged. They did not, until long afterwards, know that their safety lay in forcing the fight, Elliott's and Girty's in delay. At length the foe drew off for the night, leaving Crawford in possession of the grove about which the battle had raged, and known in history as "Battle Island." The day had been sultry, and the volunteers suffered dreadfully from thirst. No prisoners were taken on either side, but quite a number of the Americans had been killed or wounded.
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