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 51
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58 | Part 59 | Part 60 | Part 61 | Part 62 | Part 63 | Part 64 | Part 65 | Part 66 | Part 67 | Part 68 | Part 69 | Part 70 | Part 71 | Part 72 | Part 73 | Part 74 | Part 75 | Part 76 | Part 77 | Part 78 | Part 79 | Part 80
The end was near at last. The immortal spirit was about taking flight. The savages must hasten if they would inflict the last horrible anguish. One rushed in, and with his keen blade drew around the hor- rid circle, and pulled off the bleeding scalp of gray hairs. In vain ! He had escaped them !
No, not even yet ! A hideous old hag-with tigerish heart-had just then an infernal inspiration. She hastily screeched herself up to the in- sensate victim and threw a bark of burning embers on the raw, throb- bing, palpitating brain.
A pitiful groan announced the success of the monstrous device. The fleeting soul was thus cruelly summoned back. The blind and stagger. ing victim once more raised himself on his feet-once more began his weary round.
30
466
OUR WESTERN BORDER.
Burning sticks were again applied, but in vain, for the flesh had now utterly lost all feeling.
Dr. Knight was not to have the consolation of witnessing his chief's final triumph through death over his merciless foes, but was led away from the dreadful scene. As he was driven along the next morning he passed the cursed spot. He saw the charred remains of his beloved commander lying among the embers, almost burned to ashes.
It was long a tradition among the Indians that Crawford breathed his last just at sunset, and that, after his death, his body was heaped upon the fagots and so consumed, amid the delighted whoops and leapings of his tormentors. It was a veritable " dance of death."
The touching. harrowing details of this awful death, as published by Dr. Knight, was a terrible shock to the whole country. On the border there was universal gloom, and a low, sullen muttering of revengeful wrath. Crawford was such a prominent, popular leader, that the "deep damnation of his taking off" was almost a national calamity. No one felt it more keenly than Washington himself, who wrote as follows: "It is with the greatest sorrow and concern that I have learned the melan- choly tidings of Colonel Crawford's death. He was known to me as an officer of much care and prudence, brave, active and experienced. The manner of his death was shocking ; and I have this day communi- nicated to Congress such papers as I have regarding it."
But the dolor and anguish of the sad and desolate widow, Hannah Crawford, as she sat watching and waiting in her lonely cabin on the Youghiogheny, who can describe ! She had parted from her husband with a heavy, heavy heart. As one after another of the expedition straggled back, how tearfully did she question ! how anxiously did she yearn for some tidings ! Missed at the commencement of the retreat, with her only and idolized son, her nephew and her son-in-law, was all she could learn. Gone, all gone at one fell swoop ! After three weeks of dread and intolerable suspense, she heard of her husband's death. Still later drifted to her the sickening details. It were better for her fu- ture peace had his loss forever remained an unfathomable mystery.
"I well recollect," says Uriah Springer, " when I was a little boy, my grandmother Crawford took me behind her on horseback, rode across the Youghiogheny, and turned into the woods, when we both alighted by an old moss-covered white-oak log. 'Here,' she said, as she sat down upon the log, and cried as though her heart would break -' here I parted with your grandfather ! '"
That tradition, current in Western Pennsylvania, that Simon Girty aspired to the hand of one of Crawford's daughters, but was denied, is one of the many unauthentic and untraceable rumors afloat concerning
CRAWFORD'S LAST MOMENTS. 467
the mysterious Girty. Sallie Crawford, who married the lamented Ma- jor Harrison, an officer of capacity and prominence, also lost in this ex- pedition, was, as stated, a far-famed belle, and considered the most beautiful young lady in all that district.
1
468
OUR WESTERN BORDER.
DR. KNIGHT'S ESCAPE-SLOVER'S CAPTURE AND ADVENTURES.
The miraculous escapes of Dr. Knight and John Slover from the In- dians are replete with adventure and interest. We wish we had room for fuller sketches. The former, after Crawford's torture and death, spent the night at Pipe's house and started early next morning for the Shawnee towns on Mad river, some forty miles distant. His only guard was on horseback, who, after having once more painted his prisoner black, drove the Doctor before him. He was a large, rough-looking, but very friendly savage, and Knight soon began to ingratiate himself.
That night the gallant Doctor attempted many times to untie himself, but the Indian was wary and scarce closed his eyes. At daybreak he untied his captive and arose to mend the fire, and the wood-gnats being very annoying, Knight asked him if he would make a big smoke behind him. The savage said "yes." The little Doctor soon picked up a short dog-wood fork, the only stick he could find near, and slipping up behind his guide he smote him on the head with all his force. The amazed redskin was so stunned that he fell head foremost into the fire, but soon sprang up and ran off, howling in a most frightful manner.
Knight seized the fellow's gun and ran after him some distance to shoot, but he had pulled back the lock so violently as to break it, and soon gave up the chase. He then took the Indian's effects and struck straight through the pathless woods for home. He changed his route several times to avoid all Indian trails and parties. His gun could not be mended and he had finally to throw it away. He was nearly starved, and had neither food nor gun to shoot any. He came across plenty of wild unripe gooseberries, but having his jaw nearly broken by a toma- hawk blow, could not chew. He managed, however, to sustain life on the juice of a weed which he knew to be nourishing. Not being able to kindle a fire, the gnats and mosquitoes nearly devoured him. He soon, too, got bewildered in a vast swampy district, but still kept strag- gling east. Game was very plenty, including elk, deer and bear, but none for him. Save young nettles, the juice of herbs, a few wild ber- nes, and two young blackbirds and a terrapin, which he devoured raw, he had no food. When all this strange food disagreed with his stomach he would chew wild ginger.
On the twentieth evening of his long and solitary wanderings, he struck Fort McIntosh, at the mouth of Big Beaver, and on the next day
469
SLOVER'S CAPTURE AND ADVENTURES.
reached Fort Pitt, greatly to the astonishment of all and to the huge delight of General Irvine, with whom he was a great favorite. He re- mained at Fort Pitt till the close of the war and afterwards moved to Kentucky
The adventures of Slover, the guide, were much more varied and 4
- exciting. He had lived among the Miami and Shawnees from his early boyhood, and could talk their languages. When the retreat'commenced he, James Paull, Young and five others, became mired in the cranberry swamp. After floundering about for a long time they finally emerged, only to plunge into another morass, where they had to wait daylight. They now struck an east trail and had nearly reached the Muskingum, when they were ambushe'd by a Shawnee party, who had tracked them all the way from the plains. Two were killed by the first fire. James Paull, notwithstanding a very bad burnt foot, bounded off and made good his escape. Slover and the other two were made prisoners.
Singular to relate, one of the Shawnees, who had aided in Slover's capture when a boy, now recognized him, calling him by his Indian name of Mannucothe, and reproached him severely for leading a party against them. The other prisoners were now mounted on horses and started off for Mad river, which they reached in three days. Up to this point they had been treated kindly, but now all they met glowered upon them in the most savage manner. The people of the first Shaw- nee village assaulted them with clubs and tomahawks. One of the cap- tives was here painted black, but the savages forbade Slover from telling him what it meant
A runner having been sent to Wappatomica, the whole popula- tion swarmed out to give them a hot reception with guns, clubs and hatchets. All three were ordered to run the gauntlet. If they could reach the council house, three hundred yards distant, they would be safe. The poor fellow who was painted black was made the chief tar- get. Men, women and children beat and fired loads of powder at him as he ran naked, amid shoutings and beating of drums. He managed, however, to reach the council house door, though in a pitiable plight. He was slashed with tomahawks, his body singed all over, and holes burnt into his flesh with the wadding.
He now thought himself safe. Fatal mistake! He was dragged back to another terrible beating and to a most cruel death. Slover saw his body lying by the council house, horribly mutilated and disfigured. He also saw and recognized three other dead bodies, all black, bloody and powder-burnt. They were all that remained of Major Harrison, Crawford's son-in-law ; William Crawford, his nephew, and Major John - McClelland, who had been fourth officer in command. The next day
470
OUR WESTERN BORDER.
the limbs and heads were stuck on poles, and the corpses given to the dogs. Slover's surviving companion was sent off to another town to be executed, while he himself was, that evening, brought into the log council house and carefully interrogated as to the state of the country, the progress of the war, and the movements on the border. He spoke three Indian tongues, and had the satisfaction of informing them of Cornwallis' capture,
The next day Captain Matthew Elliott and James Girty, Simon's brother, were present. The former assured the Indians that Slover had lied about Cornwallis. James Girty, a bad, drunken, violent bully, now had the audacity to publicly assert that, when he had asked Slover how he would like to live again among the Shawnees, he had answered that he would soon take a scalp and run off. It began to look black for poor Slover. This grand council lasted fifteen days. The third day Alexander McKee commenced to attend. He was grandly arrayed in a gold-laced uniform, but did not speak to the captive. Slover was not tied, and could have escaped, but had no moccasins. Each night he was invited to the war dance, which lasted almost till morning, but would take no part in the revels.
Dr. Knight's guard now arrived, with a wound four inches long on his head, and a truly marvelous story of a long and desperate struggle he had with the Doctor, whom he represented as a large, powerful man, but whose fingers he had cut off, and to whom he had given two terrible knife thrusts, which he was sure would prove fatal. Slover told the In- dians that the Doctor was a small, weak man, at which they were greatly amused. The next day arrived the long-expected message and belt of wampum from De Peyster, of Detroit, the conclusion well expressing the general tenor: "Take no more prisoners, my children, of any sort -man, woman or child."
At a grand council held shortly after, at which eight tribes were fully represented, it was decided that no more prisoners should be taken, and that in case any tribe so did, the other tribes should seize said captives and put them to death; also, that war expeditions should be made against Fort Henry, the Ohio Falls, (Louisville,) and the Kentucky set- tlements. At another council his death by fire was resolved upon, and at the same time twelve prisoners, just arrived from Kentucky, were put to death.
Next day George Girty, an adopted Delaware and another brother of Simon, surrounded Slover's cabin with about forty followers, bound him, put a rope about his neck, stripped him naked, painted him black, and took him about five miles off. Here he was beaten and shamefully abused, dragged to Mack-a-chack and bound to the stake, which was
471
SLOVER ESCAPES AND, NAKED, RIDES MADLY FOR LIFE.
in a part of the council house not yet roofed. Three piles of wood about this torture stake were fired, and the torments were about com- mencing, when a sudden storm arose, the rain descended in a flood and drowned out the fire. The superstitious savages stood silent and aghast.
.
A brief respite at least was secured ! The captive was untied alk' seated on the ground, while wild leapings and frantic dances, punctuated with blows, kicks and tomahawk cuts, were continued until eleven at night. A chief by the name of Half Moon then asked Slover if he was sleepy. Yes, he was. The savages wishing a whole day's frolic with him on the morrow, he was graciously allowed to retire to a block-house under charge of three ferocious, forbidding-looking warriors.
Poor Slover was bound with extraordinary precautions. His arms were tied so tight, at wrists and elbows, that the thongs were buried in the flesh. The strip about his neck, just long enough for him to lie down, was fastened to a beam of the house. The three warriors now began to taunt and harass him. Now, if ever, an escape was to be at- tempted. Death, no matter how quick or by what means, was far bet- ter than a whole day's tortures. The sick and sore, but still undaunted captive feigned sleep. Would his cruel persecutors never close their eyes ! Two now stretched themselves for rest, but the third lit his pipe and recommenced his mocking taunts. Slover obstinately kept his mouth closed.
SLOVER ESCAPES AND, NAKED, RIDES MADLY FOR LIFE.
At last-most joyful spectacle !- the third laid down and soon began to snore. No music sweeter to poor Slover, whose heart was beating like a muffled drum. Not an instant to lose, and well he knew it! The heavy beads of sweat which gathered on his clammy brow were wit- nesses not only of the intensity of his feelings, but of the violent and extraordinary exertions to free his arms. They were so benumbed as to be without feeling. He laid himself over on his right side, and with his fingers, which were still manageable, and after a violent and pro- longed effort, he succeeded in slipping the cord from his left arm over elbow and wrist.
One of the guards now got up to stir the fire. Slover lay dead as a stone, sure it was all over with him; but the sleepy savage soon lay down again, and work was renewed. The arms free, the next attempt was made on the thong about his neck. It was thick as his thumb, and tough as iron, being made of buffalo hide. The wretched man tugged and tugged. It remained firm. He contrived to get it between his
472
OUR WESTERN BORDER.
teeth, and gnawed it in a perfect frenzy of despair. It budged not a finger's breadth. It was a hard and cruel fate, but he had to give it up. 'The first gray lights of dawn were beginning to penetrate the gloomy apartment. He sank back in an agony of hopeless despair.
No! He would make yet one more effort. He inserted his hands between the thong and his neck, and pulled and pushed with almost superhuman strength. Oh, joy supreme! it yields ! it yields ! and he is free at last. It was a noose, with several knots tied over it. The sudden reaction almost makes him faint. One quick look at the sleepers about him, one cautious lift over their bodies, a few cat-like steps, and he stands under the still, shining stars, free as the fresh air which fanned and caressed his throbbing brow.
He now glided hurriedly through the town and reached a cornfield. He nearly stumbled over a squaw and her children, lying asleep under a tree. Making a circle about them, he reached the edge of the woods. Here he stopped to untie his arm, which was swollen and discolored from the tight ligature. He felt better at once, and having observed a num- ber of horses feeding in a glade as he passed, he ventured to catch one. He was as naked as the day he was born. Picking up an old quilt for a saddle, and using his own hide bonds for a bridle, he managed to mount the horse he caught, and was off and away.
That was truly a ride for life. Slover's jaws were set, his teeth were clenched, his eyes were fixed steadily to the east, and digging his naked heels into the flanks of his horse-which, happily for him, proved very fleet and staunch-he scurried along through open wood and past grassy level.
-" Over bank, bush and scaur ;
' They'll have fleet steeds that follow,' quoth young Lochinvar."
The sun was but little over quarter high ere he reached the Scioto, fully fifty miles off. Smoking hot, and bathed in sweat, the gallant steed breasted that forest stream, and cluttered up the thither bank. On ! on they go ! No pause ! no rest ! His exasperated pursuers, mounted on their fleetest horses, were pressing hard in the rear. It was a killing pace, but a saving race.
By noon his gallant steed began to flag; now it breathes hard and fast ; now its eyes look staring and glassy ; and now at three o'clock it sinks to rise no more. No time to waste, even on a gallant horse like that-faithful to the death. The naked rider at once springs to his feet and runs as fast as hope and fear can drive him. Neither did he cease his efforts with the dark, but pressed on, ever on, until ten o'clock, when, becoming extremely sick and faint, he sank down for a little rest.
By midnight he was up and away again, thridding his weary way by
473
SLOVER ESCAPES AND, NAKED, RIDES MADLY FOR LIFE.
moonlight. At the first streak of coming day he forsook a trail he had found and followed all night, and plunged boldly into the trackless wil- derness. As he walked he endeavored, with his old Indian habits, to conceal his trail, pushing back the weeds or bushes his tread may have disturbed. He left no more trace than a bird. All that day he forged steadily and uninterruptedly ahead, and the second night had the hap- piness of resting by the waters of the Muskingum. A marvelous jour- ney, and accomplished with wonderful pluck and endurance !
Think, reader, what a fearful undertaking it must have been to run naked through a wild, pathless, tangled forest, with vine, bush, briar and thorn tree, stretching after to detain him! Nothing but his ragged saddle cloth to protect him! The nettles stung his feet ; the briars and thorns pierced his bleeding limbs ; the vines and low trees scraped his back, and the gnats and mosquitoes so tormented him that he found no peace by day or rest by night. So intolerable was the nuisance that he was obliged to carry a bundle of leafy branches to keep them off.
The first food he took was a few berries on the third day ; but he felt more weak than hungry. He now reached and swam the Muskingum, and for the first time began to breathe securely. The next day he fol- lowed the Stillwater valley, and the night after lay but a few miles from Fort Henry. In his published statement, Slover asserts he did not sleep one wink the whole time, so annoying and blood-thirsty were the swarms of gnats and mosquitoes.
He had now earned a rest. He reached the Ohio by Indian Wheel- ing Creek, opposite the island, and descrying a man on it, he hailed him, but so strange and savage was his appearance that he had great difficulty in making him come to his relief. The surprise his appear- ance caused at Fort Henry, and the hospitable welcome he received there, can more readily be imagined than described.
474
OUR WESTERN BORDER.
THE MYSTERIOUS MAJOR JOHN ROSE_WHO WAS HE?
There can be little question but that the officer calling himself Major John Rose, was the life and soul of the Crawford expedition, and -Crawford, its leader, being lost-the fact that the retreat was not far more disastrous than it was, was mainly due to the Major's coolness and masterful skill. There was ever a mystery about Rose which has only lately been solved and made public. It makes a very pretty little episode of American history.
As stated, Major Rose was ever an inscrutable enigma. Every one who came in contact with him knew from the character of his face and his broken accent, that he must be a foreigner and that John Rose was but an assumed name. Everything about him betrayed the well- bred foreign gentleman, and it was thought that he must be a man of good family-probably a nobleman in disguise, but the Major so well kept his secret that even his patron, General Irvine, knew nothing definite about him until he re-embarked for Europe. Here he was, on a distant outpost, contentedly filling his daily routine of duties, and doing it, too, well and thoroughly.
Neat in his attire, courteous in his manner, quick to conceive and prompt to execute, and withal, a thorough and exact business man, he was everybody's favorite, but an especial protege of General Irvine.
All that even General.Irvine then knew of him was that early in our Revolutionary struggle, a young foreigner, speaking the French and German languages, and giving his name as John Rose, sought a com- mission in the Continental army. Of himself and previous history he maintained an obstinate silence. Failing in his wishes, he then took a brief course of surgery, first serving as surgeon's mate, but, on his showing quickness and ability, he finally received a surgeon's appoint- ment in the Seventh Pennsylvania Regiment, but soon attracting the attention of General Irvine, he succeeded in gaining both the esteem and affection of that able officer.
In 1780, on account of a feeling of jealousy excited among some of the American officers towards the young foreigner, he left that regiment, volunteered as a surgeon in the navy, was taken prisoner to New York and exchanged the same year ; returned to Irvine's command as ensign, and was finally appointed his aide, with the rank of lieutenant, and taken into the General's family, where he immediately became a great favorite. On General Irvine's coming West, Rose accompanied him,
475
HE WRITES IRVINE THAT HE IS A RUSSIAN BARON.
and it is but faint praise to say that in every position in which he was placed, he did his full duty, with credit to himself and satisfaction to all with whom he was connected.
When the Crawford expedition was set on foot, General Irvine de- tailed his favorite officer to accompany it, and we have seen how well he did his whole duty. From Mingo Bottom he returned to Fort Pitt, remaining there until the Revolutionary war was fully over. He then went East, and served for a time as Secretary of the Council of Cen- sors, and was afterwards engaged in adjusting General Irvine's accounts with the government at Philadelphia. This done to the General's com- plete satisfaction, the Major wrote him that he expected to leave for Europe the next week, but would write again before he sailed.
HE WRITES IRVINE THAT HE IS A RUSSIAN BARON.
This good-bye letter came in due time, and in it the Major returned heartfelt thanks for the kind and generous treatment he had ever re- ceived from General Irvine and family, and expressed regret that he had so long kept an important secret from his benefactor. He then disclosed the interesting fact that his name was not John Rose, but Gustavus H. De Rosenthal, a Baron of the Empire of Russia. He had left Russia because of having killed, within the precincts of the Em- peror's palace, a nobleman, in a duel brought on by a blow which his antagonist had given to an aged uncle in his presence. He had then fled to England, and thence to the United States, taking service in the Continental army, and finding his way to Fort Pitt in the manner already detailed. Through the mediation of his family, the Emperor Alexander had at last pardoned him, and graciously permitted his re- turn, and now he was about embarking for Amsterdam.
By the kindness of Dr. William A. Irvine, of Warren county, Penn- sylvania, and grandson of General Irvine, of Fort Pitt, we have had the pleasure of inspecting a series of highly interesting letters received by the Irvine family from Baron de Rosenthal, then advanced to the dignity of Grand Marshal of Livonia. These letters are mainly dated at Revel, Russia, and abound in expressions of the warmest affection and gratitude to General Irvine for his kind and generous treatment of him. He seemed to be anxious for the "Eagle and Order of Cincin- nati," to which he was entitled, and adds, " the first man himself " (meaning the Emperor) "has been asking about it, and desires I should wear it."
In one, of date March Ist, 1823, he writes about the value of a tract of land in Venango county, Pennsylvania, granted by the State of
476
OUR WESTERN BORDER.
Pennsylvania, in consideration of his valuable services, and has not yet given up hope of making a trip to America.
Very lately we have, by the merest accident, learned that a power of - attorney had been received in Venango county, so late as 1859, from the heirs of Sir Gustav Heinrich de Rosenthal, Captain of the Knighthood of the Province of Esthonia in Russia, with authority to sell and con- vey these lands, which of late years have become quite valuable.
Baron de Rosenthal, in his first letter, dated August 4th, 1806, an- nounces that out of five children but three then lived, and of these the oldest daughter was married, the youngest daughter was at boarding- school at St. Petersburg, and his son was studying law at Moskwa.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.