USA > New York > Erie County > Buffalo > An authentic and comprehensive history of Buffalo : with some account of its early inhabitants, both savage and civilized ; comprising historic notices of the Six Nations or Iroquois Indians, including a sketch of the life of Sir William Johnson, and of other prominent white men, long resident among the Senecas ; arranged in chronologial order > Part 23
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This attack was concerted by Walter Butler and the Indian Brant. The former had been taken prisoner the preceeding year, and condemned as a spy. By the intercession of his former friends he had been spared, and even released from the rigors of close confinement. Having, how- ever, treacherously effected his escape, he returned to the Indian country. breathing the direst vengeance against the American settlements. When
* Mr. Elnathan Perry.
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he had incited the Seneca braves to deadly hatred, and sufficiently urged on their enkindled passions, he hurried forward with them and his father's Rangers to wreak his burning revenge on the Mohawk settlers. More fiendlike than even his savage allies, the most ferocious of the Indian tribes, he spared neither age, sex nor condition. Brant had reluctantly joined him, and even attempted to save the family of Mr. Wells. But no : his more savage friend, though boasting of a refined and christian education, would listen to no suggestions of mercy. His father, Col. John Butler, on hearing their unhappy fate, is said to have exclaimed, " I would have gone miles on my hands and knees to have saved that family ; and why my son did not do it, God only knows." But the hand of divine justice was not long withheld. Newberry, the murderer of the infant girl on that fearful morning, next year suffered by the hal- ter for his inhuman rage ; and Butler was spared only till his many crimes should call down severe but well merrited punishment.
Throughout the many painful scenes exhibited during this and the preceding year, along the frontiers of Pennsylvania, in the valleys of the Mohawk and of the Susquehanna, the tories who composed the corps of Rangers and hovered over the unprotected settlements, were guilty of barbarities far more inhuman than those of their Indian associates. At the massacre near Scoharie, all of one family, a mother and her many children, had been cruelly butchered-one alone, an infant having es- caped the general slaughter. An Indian warrior, noted for his cruelty, discovered the babe as it slept in its cradle. As, with uplifted toma -. hawk, he was about to do the work of death, the little innocent, awak- ing, looked up in his face and smiled. The better feelings of his nature triumphed over his savage ferocity, and throwing aside his blood-stained hatchet, he took the smiling infant in his arms, and gently caressed it. But a royalist, who had witnessed the humanity of his darker but less savage comrade, thrust his bayonet through the infant, and, as he held it up, struggling in the agonoies of death, exclaimed, "This, too, is a rebel."
At the destruction of Wyoming, immortal in the numbers of the gifted bard, a few having thrown down their muskets, swam to an Island in the river, and endeavored to conceal themseves in the brush-wood. A party of tories, discovering their retreat, swam the river with their rifles ; and, having wiped their firelocks and re-loaded, went in search of the fugi- tives. One of the pursuers found his own brother lying uuarmed and defenceless in a neighboring covert ; and regardless of his entreaties and prayers, the Cain-like monster replied : " All this is mighty fine, but
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you are a d-d rebel," and delibeately shot him dead on the spot. So, after the battle of Oriskany, where the gallant Herkimer fell, when Major Frey was brought a priosner into Butler's camp, his elder brother, one of the tory rangers, was restrained only by force from the most infa- mous fratricide.
The annals of the world do not furnish more atrocious acts of villainy, than those oft performed by the refugees along our frontiers, during the rev- olutionary contest. Scarcely a hamlet was spared the loss of some of its best and most honored citizens. Scarcely a family that mourned not the death or captivity of some loved member. Danger was in every path. Death seemed lurking for his prey, behind every covert. Defenceless women and children, the aged grandsire and the sturdy youth, oft fell in one promiscuous slaughter. No one dared venture into the open field without his loaded musket ; and the farms along the whole frontier were left tenantless and uncultivated. Their occupants had fled for safety to the neighboring villages. The Indians "hung like the scythe of death, upon the rear of our settlements ; and their deeds are inscribed by the tomahawk and scalping knife, in characters of blood, on the banks of the Mokawk and the valleys of the Susquehanna."
Congress at length determined to execute the project previously formed of carrying the war into the Indian country. Gen. Sullivan was ordered to ascend the Susquehanna to Tioga Point ; and Gen. Clinton to pass through the Mohawk valley to meet Gen. Sullivan at the place of ren- dezvous. After various delays caused by the character of the country through which the march was directed, the combined forces amounting to nearly five thousand men were ready on the 22d of August, 1779, to commence the campaign. Sullivan's orders were to destroy the Indian vil- lages, cut down their crops, and inflict upon thein every other mischief which time and circumstances would permit, and not return until the cruelties of Wyoming, Cherry Valley and the border-setttlements had been fully avenged.
After the battle of Monmouth, in 1778, Morgan's riflemen were sent to protect the settlements near Scoharie. Among those whose term of ser- vice had expired before the autumn of'79, was the bold Virginian, Timothy Murphy. Instead of returning home, he enlisted in the militia and con- tinued to wage desultory war against the savages, then hovering over the Mohawk settlements. By his fearless intrepidity, his swiftness of foot, his promptness for every hazardous enterprise, he was though a mere pri. vate, entrusted with the management of every scouting party sent out. He always carried a favorite double barrelled rifle, an object of the greatest terror to the Indians, who for a long time were awe struck at its
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two successive discharges. In the hands of such a skillful marksman, the greatest execution always followed its unerring aim. He had been sev- eral times surprised by small Indian parties, but with remarkable good fortune had as often escaped. When the savages had learned the mys- tery of his double rifle, knowing that he must reload after the second dis- charge, they were careful not to expose themselves until he had fired twiee. Once when separated from his troop, he was suddenly surrounded by a large party of Indians. Instantly he struck down the nearest foe and fled at his utmost speed. Being hard pushed by one runner, who alone he had not outstripped in his flight, he suddenly turned and shot him on the spot. Stopping to strip his fallen pursuer, he saw another close upon him. He seized the rifle of the dead Indian and again brought down his vietim. The savages supposing all danger now passed rushed heedlessly on with yells of frantic rage. When nearly exhausted, he again turned, and with the undischarged barrel, fired and a third pur- suer fell. With savage wonder the other Indians were riveted to the spot ; and exclaiming that, " he could fire all day without re-loading," gave over the pursuit. From that hour Murphy was regarded by the savages as possessing a charmed life. When Gen. Clinton passed along the valley of the Mohawk, on his way to Tioga Point, Murphy again joined his rifle corps to share the dangers of the march into the wilder- ness.
A few Oneida warrors joined the expedition and aeted as guides. Cor- nelius and Honyerry had distinguished themselves in the battle of Oris- kany ; and from the destructive fire of their rifles, had been marked by their foes as objects of special hatred. Murphy was placed in the com- pany commanned by Capt. Simpsom and Lieut. Thomas Boyd. This was also the company in which the late Mr. Salmon, * * served dur- ring the expedition.
Lieut. Boyd was born in Northumberland, Penn., in the county of the same name, in the year 1757. His father and only sister died before the commencement of the Revolutionary struggle. When that contest began the noble hearted widow proved herself a more than Spartan mother. She too had learned the great lesson of liberty, and was prepared to make any and every sacrifice in her country's cause. In the language of our vener- able President," " When fire and sword had ravaged our frontier, when the repose of the defenceless settlements was disturbed by the savage war-whoop, and the bloody tomahawk and sealping knife were doing
* Major Van Campen.
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their work of death, then this noble matron gave her three sons to God and her country, with the parting injunction never to dishonor their swords by any act of cowardice, or disgrace them by a moment's fear or reluctance, when called to the defence of home and freedom." Lieut. William her second son had fulfilled the mother's noble request and laid down his life at Brandywine, a willing sacrifice at his country's call. The mouldering bones of the youngest, Thomas Boyd, now lie beneath that sable pall.
All the necessary preparations being completed, Sullivan's army left Tioga on the morning of the 26th of August, 1779. The Indians when first informed of the contemplated expedition, laughed at what they sup- posed the folly of a regular army attempting to traverse the wilderness, to drive them from their fastnesses. When, however, they had learned that the campaign was determined upon, they resolved to make an early stand in defence of their erops and their wigwams. Accordingly a large force, variously estimated from one thousand to fifteen hundred Indians and Rangers collected near Newtown, to risk a general engagement. History has fully recorded the particulars of this hard-fought action. The com- bined forces of British and Savages at last fled precipitately across the river, leaving behind a large number of packs, tomahawks and scalping knives. The disasters of this terrible battle spread the utmost consterna- tion through all the Indian villages. Many a brave warrior had fallen, and the death song was heard in every town. Their warriors seemed struck with a panic that nothing could avert. They left their defiles and the dangerous marshes open to the advance of their enemies, and fled at their approach.
Sullivan hastened forward without interruption, destroying everything on his route. At Honeoye he left a small force to guard the sick and provisions, and advanced with the utmost caution to the head of Cone- sus lake. The principal villages of the Senecas were situated along the valley of the Genesee. A few miles from this spot, at the fording place of the Canasaraga, was a small town and couneil house, called Williams- burgh. Little Beardstown (so named from the chief) was just bene ath the hill, and stretched for nearly a mile from the bridge, over the creek, almost to the cluster of houses on the main road to the valley. In the centre of the little village just at the base of this hill, stood the council. house of this fierce warrior and his ferocious clan. Along these hillocks and for a short distance up the valley, were their largest corn-fields and vegetable gardens. From these their favorite haunts their warriors had oft, in times of yore, wandered to the far south and brought back the
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.scalps of the Catawbas, and ravaged the towns of their foes in the dis- tant prairies of the Mississippi and Alabama. The ruin they had often carried into the wigwams of the red-men and the huts of the white set- tlers, was now for the first time to fall upon their own loved homes. They resolved, however, once more to strike in defence of their firesides, and, if possible, avert the impending blow. In pursuance of the resolution of their council, they lay concealed in ambush at the head of Conesus lake, near an Indian town, on what is at present called " Henderson's Flats." At the approach of the army they rose suddenly upon the advance guard, which, after a brisk skirmish, fell back upon the main body. Fearing a repeti- tion of the destructive havoc which they had already suffered at Newtown, they waited not the attack of the whole army, but, having seized the two friendly Oneidas, fled with their prisoners into the adjacent forest. One of these captives had been Sullivan's principal guide, and had ren- dered many important services to the Americans. He was therefore re- garded by his captors as a prisoner of no little consequence.
There is an incident connected with his fate worthy of note, as pre- senting a striking contrast to the inhumanity of the tory brothers at Oriskany and Wyoming. This faithful Indian had an elder brother en- gaged with the enemy, who, at the beginning of the war, had exerted all his power to persuade his younger brother into the British service, but without success. At the close of this skirmish, the brothers met, for the first time since their separation, when they had respectively chosen to travel different war-paths-the younger a prisoner to the elder. The latter had no sooner recognized his brother, after the melee, than his eyes kindled with the fierce and peculiar lustre which lights up the eyes of a savage when meditating revenge. Approaching him haughtily, he spoke thus:
... " Brother, you have merited death! The hatchet or the war-club shall finish your career. When I begged you to follow me in the fortunes of war, you were deaf to my entreaties.
" Brother, you have merited death, and shall have your deserts! When the rebels raised their hatchets to fight their good master, you sharpened your knife, you brightened your rifle, and led on our foes to the fields of our fathers!
" Brother, you have merited death, and shall die by our hands! When those rebels had driven us from the fields of our fathers to seek "out new houses, it was you who could dare to step forth as their pilot -and conduct them even to the doors of our wigwams, to butcher our
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children and put us to death! No crime can be greater; but, though you have merited death, and shall die on this spot, my hands shall not be stained with the blood of a brother. Who will strike?"
A pause of a moment ensued. The bright hatchet of Little-Beard flashed in the air like lightning-and the young Oneida chief lay dead at his feet. Thus did the red warrior of the wildeness prove himself nobler than his civilized associates.
After the skirmish just alluded to, Sullivan encamped for the night at the Indian village, and was detained the next day to build a bridge over the inlet and marsh for his artillery. Early on the evening of the en- campment, Lient. Boyd requested leave to advance with a small detach- ment and reconnoiter the next town. The Indian guide, Honyerry, en- deavored in vain to dissuade him from the attempt. The army was near the redmen's stronghold, and their warriors lurked behind every covert. But the gallant Boyd, fearless of all danger when he could be of service to his country, persisted in his request until the consent of his commander was obtained. He set out upon his perilous enterprise about sunset, with a small band, the brave Honyerry acting as his guide. Murphy, ever ready on a scout, joined the troop to share in the dangers of the attempt and enjoy the excitement of fighting the savages in their own way.
Near the summit of a hill, about one mile and a half from the camp, the path divided-one branch leading in the direction of Williamsburgh, the other of Little-Beard's-town. Boyd advanced cautiously, and took the former path to the Canasaraga. Aware of the dangers with which he was surrounded, he proceeded slowly, prepared for instant action. So great were the difficulties he encountered that the night was far spent before he reached the first village. Here all was silent and deserted. The Indians had fled but a short time before, as their fires were still burning. His little troop was too much exhausted and the night too far advanced for his immediate return. Hc determined to encamp near the village, and at early dawn to dispatch two messengers to the camp with information that the enemy had not yet been discovered, and then con- " tinue his search until he learned the position of the enemy.
Surely, a more hazardous enterprise was never undertaken :- about thirty men, seven miles from their camp, a dense forest between them and the army, before them a trackless morass, the Indians lurking, per- haps, behind every tree, ready to fall upon their prey. But Boyd had offered his services for this perilous task, and he would not shrink from its performance. Whilst his comrades are yet buried in sleep, taking
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with him the dauntless Murphy, he creeps cautiously from the place of concealment until he gains a view of the village. About its out-skirts they perceive two savages stealing along the woods; and in a moment their unerring rifles have laid their foes prostrate in death, and Murphy shakes in triumph the reeking scalp of his victim. Fearing that this occurrence would alarm the Indians hovering near, Boyd thought it now prudent to retire.
During that night the red warriors had not been idle. Little Beard had summoned his braves for the work of vengeance, and the messengers of Boyd never reached the camp. Brant, with five hundred warriors, and Butler, with an equal number of rangers, at early dawn set forth from Beard's-town to intercept Boyd and his party. They selected the spot where the two paths united, near the summit of the hill, for their ambuscade. Concealed in a deep ravine near the adjacent path, they were hidden by the dense forest from the view of the army, and by the brush-wood from the path. Whether Boyd returned along the trail from Williamsburgh or Beard's-town, they knew he must pass the spot where they lay concealed. They had wisely conjectured that, if he were at- tacked farther from the army, he would be prepared for a bloody re- sistance; and that the first fire would hasten a large detachment to his relief. Whatever was done, must be accomplished in a moment; and their success would be certain, if, as they supposed, he should relax his vigilance when so near the camp.
As soon as Boyd had decided to return, he arranged his little troop to avoid being thrown into confusion on a sudden attack. With Honyerry in front and Murphy in the rear, their eagle-eyes fixed upon each moving leaf and waving bough, they marched forward slowly, and with the ut- most caution. Five weary miles had they thus traversed the dangerous route, and were beginning to descend the hill at whose base the army lay encamped. With rapid march they hurry on, regarding all danger as now past. But just as they emerge from the thick wood into the main path, more than five hundred warriors, with brandished toma- hawks, rise up before them. With horrid yells they close in upon their victims on every side. Boyd is not wanting in this fearful crisis. Quick as thought, he perceives that against the fearful odds-the foe twenty times his own number-one chance of escape, and but one, re- mains; and that the always doubtful step of striking at a given point and cutting the way through the surrounding foc: At the word, his gal- lant band fire and rush to the onset. The charge tells fearfully upon the dusky warriors, and a ray of hope gleams upon their clouded fortunes.
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With nnbroken ranks-not one of his own comrades yet fallen-he re- news the attack; and still the third time. With only eight now left, he braves the fierce encounter once again. The fearless Murphy in- deed bears a charmed life. He tumbles in the dust the huge warrior in his path ; and, while the rude savages are shouting with laughter, he and two fortunate companions escape. True to his own dauntless nature, he turns to the foe, and, with clenched fist, hurls at them bold defiance. Poor Honyerry, noted for the wonders he had wrought at Oriskany, and for his unwavering attachment to the American cause, falls, literally hacked to pieces! But the unhappy Boyd-he, the gallant and noble- hearted, who never had known fear or shrunk from the most imminent peril-he and the equally wretched Parker are prisoners in the hands of the merciless enemy. At this frightful moment what are the emotions of these hapless captives? Does not the stout heart of Boyd now beat slowly? Is not his cheek yet blanched with fear? No !- not such his spirit! His courage fails him not, even now! "Red men," he ex- claims, "where is your chief ? Bring me before the brave warrior! Aye, brandish your hatchets, ye coward squaws, against the helpless !- ye dare not strike! Your chief, I say!" At this request, the upraised tomahawk is turned aside, and the Indian chief Brant stands before him. At the mystic signal known only to those initiated into the secrets of the craft, the stern brow of the warrior is relaxed, and Boyd and Par- ker are safe.
The approach of Hand's brigade causes the immediate flight of the Indian foe; and, in mad haste, they hurry away with their prisoners, leaving behind their blankets and the rifles of their victims. But this friendly succor comes too late! The fearful strife is over, and the red men are gone.
Brant leaves the unfortunate Boyd and Parker in the charge of Butler, and withdraws to provide for the coming danger. With painful march* the captives pursue their cheerless route, amid the fierce exultation of the savage tribe, to the Indian village at our feet.
Walter Butler-than whom not a more ruthless fiend ever cursed the human form !- summons before him the two prisoners, to learn, if pos- sible, the number, situation and intentions of Sullivan's army. Ilis questions remain unanswered. Boyd will not, even by a word, betray his country's cause. Perhaps, relying on the plighted faith and gene- rous nature of the Indian chief, he has no fears for the result. Around
*The sinews of their feet had been cut by the Indians.
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him gather the painted forms of the grim savages; and, with tomahawks cutting the air, and reeking knives thrust toward his unprotected breast, amid the most hidcous yells and frantic gestures, demand the life-blood of their prey. Still the dauntless Boyd trembles not. He disregards the threats of his base interrogator, and refuses to reply. Denunciations avail not-danger does not intimidate. He has been nurtured in a no- bler school than to basely yield when he should be most firm. His coun- try calls-his mother's parting charge is still fresh in his memory-he cannot falter. She had engraven on his heart of hearts, dceper, far deeper than all other sentiments, love of country ; and love of life can- not usurp supremacy in this direful hour. But surely it cannot be that a man educated in all the refinements of civilized life-early nurtured in the merciful tenets of the christian faith, against whom the noble priso- ners have been guilty of no more heinous offence than fighting for liberty, will-nay, he cannot execute his bloody threat. Do you doubt, ye hap- less pair, that such a monster lives ? Ah ! remember the bloody deeds of Cherry Valley, and know that such a monster now threatens " to give you over to the tender mercies of the savages," clamoring for your blood. Again the question is asked, and again Boyd shrinks not. The fate of the army and the success of the expedition hang upon his firmness. He prefers to die, if it were possible, a thousand deaths, rather than betray the lives of his country's soldiers and her holy cause. He well knows that their secret must remain unrevealed by his lips-that on his decision now rests the safety of the whole army ; and he nobly chooses, by his own fall, to preserve the dangerous secret locked in his own speech- less and mangled breast. The bloody command is at last given. Little Beard and his clan have seized their helpless victims. Stripped and bound to that sapling, Boyd hears the death-knell ringing in the air, and sees the demoniac ravings of his ruthless tormentors, as madly they dance around him. The chief takes the deadly aim ; his glittering hatchet speeds through the air. But no-this were too kind a fate. It quivers in frightful proximity, just above his uncovered head. Another and yet another follows-still they glance within but a hair's breadth of his throbbing temples. Their fury becomes too great for so bloodless sport. Now they tear out his nails, his eyes, his tongue, and-but the horrors of that awful hour are too agonizing for description. The ear is pained at the direful tale. The mind revolts at the cruel reality.
Poor Parker, thine is a milder death. With one blow, your frightful suspense, as you lay a witness of your heroic leader's anguish, and ex- pect a similar fate, is ended.
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Noble men ! Could we but conjure up the agonies of your last hour- could mortal tongue disclose the secret emotions of your soul, the fierce pain of your mangled limbs-every heart in this assembly would cease to pulsate, every cheek grow pale with horror. Gallant Boyd ! Thy wid- owed mother's sacred injunction has been-oli, how sacredly-obeyed. Here, in the depths of the wilderness, you ceased not to cherish the spirit of her own noble soul ; and at the immense price of the most lingering death, to show that your love of liberty was stronger than all the ties of life and kindred. Far away in your native village, perhaps at that very hour, your mother's fervent prayer, for her youngest and her darling son, was winging its conrse to the Mercy-seat. Little did she imagine with what pious devotion you were fulfilling your high duties to God and your country. Oh, what will be the fearful agony of her widowed soul, when she learns your cruel fate! Already has she mourned your elder brother's fall ; and now in the bloom of carly manhood, twenty-two summers scarcely passed over your devoted head, and your mangled corpse lies un- buried in the remote wilderness.
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