USA > Ohio > Hamilton County > Cincinnati > Centennial history of Cincinnati and representative citizens, Vol. I, Pt. 1 > Part 49
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THE DEATH OF HUNT.
Kingsbury told them that he had sent a mes- senger to Judge Symines, at North Bend, who would soon be up to their relief with his entire
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settlement. They promptly informed him that they knew he was lying, and that Judge Symmes was then in New Jersey, and in case an imme- diate surrender was not made they would all be massacred and the station burned. The par- ley lasted for about two hours, during which time the members of the garrison had been or- dered to' have their weapons aimed for the pur- pose of picking off any Indian who left his shel- ter. As a result of this many Indians were struck, and Girty complained of this method of holding a treaty. Kingsbury is said to have re- plied with a big oath, and in a loud voice swore that he would punish the first man that fired a gun, but immediately added in a tall whisper, "Kill the rascals if you can!" At the conclusion he told Girty that if they were five hundred dev- ils, he would never surrender to them, and jumped down from his position. As he leaped down a tremendous volley of musketry from the Indians was fired, and one of the balls cut off the white plume in Kings- bury's hat. The station was then completely invested, and the attacking was most violent and continuous. The Indians seemed cer- tain of victory, and fired from behind stumps and trees and logs. A quantity of brushwood lay in front of the station, as a result of the in- terrupted efforts of the Indians to prepare for the assault. This was fired by the besiegers, who had rushed in with burning brands, in an at- tempt to set fire to the pickets and cabins. The excellent marksmanship of the besieged pre- vented this, however. One Indian was killed just as he reached the building. Late in the afternoon Hunt was sent forward again to in- form them that they were about to draw off for refreshments, but at the time the moon went down they would return and put the entire garrison to death by the tomahawk. The soldiers, who were but 18 in number, and the settlers, of whom eight or ten were able to bear arms, as well as the women and children, re- mained at their posts, watchful and anxious. The only food that was served out during the whole siege was some parched corn, which the. young girls carried around from time to time. There was not a drop of water in the fort, and access to the river was too hazardous an under- taking. The moon went down shortly after sun- set, and thereupon the Indians returned to make their word good. The rain which had fallen during the day had frozen into sleet, which to some extent protected the, buildings from the firebrands. Hundreds of blazing arrows were
shot into the stockades and upon the roofs of the buildings, but the desperation of the garri- son, conscious that their lives would pay the penalty of any oversight, prevented a conflagra- tion. The Indians continued this attacking until about midnight, when they drew off to carry out their threats with regard to the prisoner, Hunt, in revenge for his failure to persuade his asso- ciates to surrender. He was brought to a place in full view of the station, where he was stripped entirely naked, and fastened to a log with his hands and feet outstretched, and pinioned to the ground. A pile of dead limbs was placed upon his body and set on fire, while a horrid dance, accompanied with whooping and yelling, was kept up for hours. The screams of Hunt were plainly heard by the garrison in the midst of the yelling of the Indians, and continued for a long time, growing fainter and fainter toward daylight, when they ceased, as life had probably expired. At daybreak the attacking was re- newed. The garrison was given a little relief at this time by a change of stations. Those who had been in the open air were placed within the blockhouse at the port-holes, and those that were within were placed outside. In the blockhouse were gathered the women and children to the number of twenty-five or thirty. As Wiseman tells the story, Kingsbury, upon entering the blockhouse, was assailed by the women and children with questions regarding their chances of safety. His response was: "Ladies, we must all suffer and die together. I know of no means of relief !" He explained that he had endeav- ored to procure a volunteer from among the soldiers who should go to Fort Washington and give. the alarm and bring relief, but all in vain. Wiseman immediately offered to take the adven- ture upon condition that the garrison should be paraded in front of the blockhouse to see him cross the river in safety, or be killed or wounded in attempting it. This was agreed to, and the men were drawn up for Wiseman's de- parture.
WISEMAN'S ADVENTURES.
Wiseman's account continues: "This was probably between seven and ten o'clock in the morning. The canoe was drawn up on the beach, so as to require some little assistance readily to get it off. I do not recollect who rendered me this assistance, which was to be done by being somewhat exposed to the fire of the besiegers, but Mr. Halin assures me now that it was himself, then a boy of 14 years, and
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his father, who gave me their aid for this pur- pose. ' But at length I was in the boat, alone, using my utmost exertions in setting myself, by means of a pole, across the stream. I had need to be in a hurry, for I was in the presence of five hundred hostile Indians, who were honoring me with their attention in the shape of a leaden shower of bullets, some of which whistled by me and spent their force in the water, and some struck and shattered, in a small measure, my frail 'dug out,' though, happily, none touched or injured my person. I reached the opposite shore, where I waited long enough to draw the canoe partly on the beach, when I seized my musket and put myself, as soon as possible, under the shelter of the underwood, and took my course down stream. I had been told that about two miles below the station there was a ripple, where I could easily recross, but if I missed that-since I could not swim-I should be obliged to make my way to Symmes' Station, at the mouth of the river, where I would be as far away from Fort Washington as at Colerain.
"When I had gone, as I supposed, about two miles, I sat down and took a wary and cautious reconnoissance, in every direction, to see, if I might, some of the scouts that Girty told us were occupying the country between us and Fort Washington. After satisfying myself that there were none near me, I stripped myself and at- tempted to wade the river. I found the water at neck deep, and growing deeper still, when I was obliged to desist. I made a like attempt at two other places, but with similar success, in the cold water, filled as the river was with mush- ice, when I concluded that I had no alternative but to go to Symmes's. But, luckily, about two hundred yards from the place where I made my last abortive attempt to wade, I discovered the ripple, and was enabled to cross where the water was not more than knee deep. Without further obstruction, or being intercepted by Indians, I reached Fort Washington about four o'clock in the afternoon, where my Captain, Truman, ac- companied me to General Harmar's quarters, and I delivered my letters. Captain Trimman re- sponded to the General's questions, who I .was, and to what company I belonged, with pride, as his, and that I was the youngest soldier in the army. An exorbitant dram of brandy, which Captain T. forced me to take, and a hearty meal, for which I had an appetite whetted by a long fast, as well as great exertion, having re- freshed me, the General again sent for me, and inquired if I would return with the party to be
sent to the relief of the station? I assented, on condition of being permitted to go mounted. This appeared reasonable, and was promised me. But since reinforcements were wanted, of a few militia from Columbia, I was permitted to take' a night's rest.
"Early in the morning, on a good horse, I ac- companied the body, under the command of Colonel Strong, which reached Colerain between one and two o'clock in the afternoon. We found that Girty and the Indians were in full retreat, having raised the siege some hour or two before. Colonel Strong pursued them two or three miles up the river, and came up with them, just as the last raft of the Indians was crossing the stream. As it was impossible to continue the further pur- suit, they escaped.
"The remains of the unfortunate Hunt, shock- ingly mangled and charred, had been, mean- while, buried by the garrison." ( Narrative of William Wiseman; Cist, Cincinnati in 1859, P. 97.)
Wiseman's narrative is corroborated by Sam- uel Hahn, who at that time was a boy of 13 or 14 years of age. His entire family, consisting of father, mother, four brothers and three sis- ters, were in the fort. According to another narrative, Wallace accompanied Wiseman on this trip, and the two met Capt. John S. Gano at the head of the company of Columbia militia about six miles from Cincinnati. This party is said to have returned to the station when they found that the Indians had retired. ( Address of J. Scott Harrison, Sept. 8, 1866.)
Many stories are told of this siege, which, in some respects, was the most thrilling episode in the early days of the settlements. The garri- son behaved with the utmost bravery, coupled, as is usual, with the greatest rashness. "
During the fire they exposed their persons above the tops of the pickets, mocking and dar- ing the savages to come on. The women were no less fearless than the men, and used every expedient to provoke and irritate the Enemy. They hoisted the caps of the soldiers above the pickets and invited the shots of the assailants. When the ammunition threatened to give out, they molded the bullets from their pewter plates and spoons, in order to keep up the supply. After the Indians had retired, the garrison, fear- ing an amibuscade, waited for some time before reconnoitering, and finally John Young, one of the settlers, went out and found that their cne- mies had disappeared.
Shortly before this attack on Dunlap's Station,
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two of the settlers, David Gibson and John Crum, had been taken prisoners, and Thomas Lawison and William Crum driven into the stockade. John Crum was a boy of about 13 years of age, and was in the woods with his sister, looking for grapes. He gave some of the grapes to his sister, and she returned home. He was still in the top of a tree picking grapes from a vine which had grown over it when a party of five Indians passing by observed his hat lying at the foot of the tree. Naturally, they looked into the tree, and seeing him, required him to get down.
David Gibson was out hunting in the woods about a mile below the fort at the bend of the river. He shot a deer, which he hung up across a limb of a tree in full view of the station, and returned to get his horse for the purpose of tak- his booty home. He had been observed by some Indians who were concealed behind a large tree at a little distance. When the horse returned he smelled the Indians, and, although tied to a sapling, he broke away and started for home. This was attributed by Gibson to the presence of a deer. While he had gone to capture his horse, the Indians, realizing where he would fasten the animal upon his return, hid them- selves in the immediate neighborhood. As Gib- son tied his horse to the sapling, the redskins, eight or ten in number, crept up and surrounded him, leaving him no alternative but to surrender. While in captivity, Gibson married a white woman, who was also a prisoner among the In- dians. He and his wife, as well as Crum and other captives, were released at the time of the Wayne treaty.
These attacks kept. the inhabitants at Colerain in a constant state of alarm, and after the de- feat of St. Clair, in the following November, the settlers abandoned the station, and were persuaded with . difficulty to return. This sta- tion was regarded by Judge Symmes and others as the best barrier to all the settlements, and he states that when that place became repeopled the inhabitants of other stations became more recon- ciled to stay.
THE HAIINS.
Sergeant Hahn, who rendered such good service at the time of the attack upon Dunlap's Station, lost his life on June 1, 1791. Accompanied by a corporal and a young man who lived in Colerain, he started to drive a cow, to whose neck was attached a bell, from Fort Washington to . Dun- lap's Station. On the way out they called upon
Col. John Riddle, an old pioneer, then a black- smith, and they paid to him three dollars on account of a bill that Hahn had owed for some time. Riddle laughingly suggested that Hahn had better pay more to him, as the Indians would get the rest. Hahn carelessly told him not to fear, but in the course of two hours afterward a bullet was put through his head, and his scalp and head taken by the Indians, who were at- tracted by the sound of the bell.
Michael Hahn, the father of the two Hahns already referred to, was out with Martin Burk- hardt and Michael Lutz, on April 25, 1792, view- ing some lots at what was known as the "Blue Bank," not far from the station. They were all heavy Pennsylvania Dutchmen, and afforded casy marks to the savages, by whom they were soon fired upon. Lutz was killed and scalped on the spot, and his body was mutilated. Hahn was shot through the body, but attempted to escape to the garrison. He was followed until he came in sight of the garrison, when, the 'In- dians finding they could not get his scalp, fired at him a second time, and killed him. Burk- hardt was shot through the right shoulder, but sprang into the river, hoping to save himself by swimming. Rendered helpless by his wound, however, he was drowned, and was found at North Bend six weeks afterward.
COVALT'S STATION.
Shortly after the settlement of Columbia, a strong settlement was established in the valley of the Little Miami, about ten miles above Co- lumbia, by Capt. Abraham Covalt, who was a native of New Jersey and a Revolutionary vet- eran. Captain Covalt left Pennsylvania, at that time his place of residence, on January 1, 1789, with an outfit of two flat-boats filled with agri- cultural implements and some of the finest cat- tle that had yet been brought to the Miamis. The party, numbering forty-five, landed at Co- libia on January 19th. A tent was raised on the bank of the Miami to shelter the women and children against the weather, and the men went up the valley to make a clearing and con- struct a fort. They selected a spot, at that time one of the loneliest in the county, but of many natural advantages, in the neighborhood of the present village of Terrace Park. Here they erected a strong stockade fort with blockhouses at the corners, between which ranged the cabins of the residents with roofs sloping inwardly. There were seventeen cabins within the walls of Co- valt's Station. A mill, the first in the neigh-
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borhood, was built near the station. The In- dians made no attack upon them during the first days of the settlement, but stole a number of their horses and some of their hogs. At the time of the attack on Dunlap's Station an attack was also made at Covalt's, but was unsuccess- ful.
In the summer after St. Clair's defeat, three prisoners were taken by the Indians in the neigh- borhood of Covalt's Station. Their names were Beagle, Murphy and Coleman. In company with a soldier, they were about a quarter of a mile from the fort when they heard the In- dians, and ran for the station. Beagle was ahead, but tripped on a grape-vine and was caught and bound. The soldier was killed. The three prisoners were taken to Detroit, where Beagle and Murphy were sold to the British. The Indians would not part with Coleman, but took him away with them. At the parting he is said to have wept like a child, for he realized the fate in store for him-burning at the stake. He was never heard of again.
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In March of the next year Captain Covalt, himself, fell a victim to the savages. "Captain Covalt, wishing to live a more retired life, had got the timber ready for his house, but the framing was not completed. He, with two of his sons, and Joseph Hinkle, was making shingles, when they were attacked by the In- dians. Hinkle was not shot, but his head was half cut off with the tomahawk, and then scalped. Captain Covalt was wounded in two places ; one ball passed through his breast, the other through his arm. He told his sons to make their way to the fort, that he was wounded. He ran, with axe in hand, about a hundred yards and fell across a log with his arm under his head; the scalping knife soon robbed it of the auburn locks that clustered around his noble brow, but his spirit had ascended to the God who gave it." ( Narrative of his daughter in Dr. Jones' Early Days of Cincinnati. )
Captain Covalt's wife survived him until the year 1838, when she died at the_ advanced age of 100 years.
In June, 1789, a hunting expedition set out from Covalt's Station, consisting of Abraham Co- valt, Jr., R. Fletcher, Levi Buckingham, Jacob Beagle and Mr. Clemens. When a short dis- tance from the station, Covalt discovered signs of Indians, and so notified his companions. They concluded to return to the fort to warn the in- mates of their danger, and started back before actually seeing any savages. Beagle and Clem-
ens became a little separated from the others, and when they came to Shawnee Run they saw two Indians sitting on the bank taking off their moccasins to walk across. Beagle wanted to shoot at them, but Clemens objected that he was old and clumsy, and felt that he should surely fall a prey to them. The Indians had proceeded up the river but a short distance when they met the other three and fired upon them before the whites saw them. Covalt was hit, but ran along with Fletcher for about 100 yards, when he told Fletcher to make his escape, as he was shot through the breast, and must fall. He fought the Indians until his strength gave out, but soon a blow from a tomahawk finished him. He was scalped and his rifle and powder-horn taken. His tomahawk was thrown away, and was found twenty years afterwards by Levi Buckingham, who had been of the party. The other four reached the fort in safety, and returned with increased numbers too late to do anything other than recover Covalt's body. Thus ended, says his sister, who at that time but 15 years of age was in the fort, "the life of one of as brave sons of Pennsylvania as ever inhaled the morning air."
A month later a friend of young Covalt, a young hunter named Abel Cook, one in the first landing party, and the man who cut the hickory tree behind which the Indians hid in the attack on the Seward boys, while he was returning home from a visit at Columbia to Covalt's Sta- tion, was assassinated in the woods at a place called Round Bottom. Some of his friends found his body and carried it up to the station, where it was buried in the grave next to the grave of young Covalt, by the side of his hunt- ing companion, with whom in life he roamed the dreary forest.
In September a resident of Columbia named James Newell started to take some corn to mill at Covalt's Station. When about half way be- tween the settlements he met two of his fellow townsmen, Aaron Mercer and Ignatius Ross, re- turning from the mill homeward. They had seen Indian signs up the river, and advised New- ell to put off his trip and go back with them to Columbia. He refused to take their advice, how- ever, and continued on his way. Almost in- mediately after he had left them, they heard a rifle-shot in the direction he had gone. Wait. ing for a bit to see if any other noise should give them any information as to what had oc- curred, they finally ran after Newell. He was found at the point of death at the side of the
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path, having been shot by an Indian who had been concealed in a tree near the trail, and who had escaped. Newell's body was carried back to Columbia. The point where he was found is still known as Newell's Hollow, and is in a little ravine crossing the Wooster pike, half way between Plainville and Red Bank.
On August 14, 1792, John Dunlap records that John McNamara, Isaac Gibson, Samuel Carswell and James Barrack were bringing up a hand millstone in a canoe, and at the ripple below the station they were fired at by the In- dians. McNamara was killed, Gibson wounded in the knee and Carswell in the shoulder; Bar- rack being the only one escaping without injury.
THE ATTACK ON WHITE'S . STATION
Occurred in the fall of 1793. This little station was about a half mile southeast of the present village of Carthage, and was named after Capt. Jacob White, the most active member of the set- tlement. The station contained about a half (lozen cabins, three of which were on each side of Mill creek and near the banks of the creek. The cabin occupied by Captain White himself was on the southeast side of the creek, and was built blockhouse fashion, and surrounded by a log fence, more for the purpose of protecting the in- habitants against the cattle and hogs than In- dians. The other two cabins on that side of the creek belonged, one to Andrew Goebel, or Goble, and the other to an old man, David Flinn; this family included two grown sons, Stephen and Benjamin. On the other side of the creek lived Andrew Pryor, John S. Wallace and a man named Lewis Winans.
Wallace and his family were absent in Cin- cinnati on the day of the attack. Mrs. Moses Pryor and her three children, the family of the man who had been killed by the Indians a year before, lived with Andrew Pryor at this time. Therefore, the whole male force of the station consisted of six men and a boy of 12, a son of Captain White.
On the morning of October 19, 1793, a mes- senger from General Wayne passed by the sta- tion on his way to Cincinnati with the news that Lieutenant Lowery and his command had been defeated near Fort St. Clair, the government post, about thirty miles beyond Hamilton. The settlers were naturally much alarmed at this news, and prepared for a surprise. Late in the afternoon a number of dogs belonging. to the station were noticed barking incessantly on a hill some three or four hundred yards out in
the woods. Andrew Goebel suggested that the dogs had treed a raccoon, and insisted on some of the men joining him to go out and see if such was the fact. Captain White, suspecting that it might be Indians instead of a raccoon, forbade any one leaving the station. Goebel, more foolhardy than prudent, said he would have the coon, Indians or no Indians, and started out about sundown. He had gone but a short dis- tnace from the station when a heavy discharge of firearms was heard, accompanied by a war whoop. Goebel was cut down by a dozen balls, and probably died instantly. The Indians, who had been lying in concealment, now burst forth from under the banks of the creek, and fired at two of Mrs. Pryor's children, who were play- ing on the north side of the creek. One was shot dead, and the other ran as fast as possible to its home. The mother, who had seen the awful tragedy, ran out at the first alarm, seized the dead body of her child, and ran back as quickly as possible. Just as she caught up with the other child it was struck by a rifle ball and fell wounded to death. She escaped into ler cabin, carrying the dead bodies of both her children. The Indians at this time were re- ceiving the fire from the cabins all about them, and for that reason withdrew to the hillside for a conference. They finally returned and made a desperate assault on the blockhouse. At their head was a very large Indian, who ran far in advance of his comrades, leaping through the air with wild yells. He got inside the log fence, when he was shot dead by Captain White. This frightened his followers, who retreated, although they kept up a fire upon the station for several hours. The settlers saw a number of the In- dians fall at the first volley, but the only body that was found afterwards was that of the lead- er, which had fallen within the enclosure; the others had been carried off after dark by the Indians as soon as all was quiet.
Andrew Pryor and Winans took their fami- lies over the creek to the blockhouse, and Pryor went off on horseback to ask for assistance at Fort Washington. He soon returned with ten dragoons, each carrying an infantryman behind him. John S. Wallace came back with him, much disgusted at his absence from the 'scene of con- fict. Nothing more was heard of the Indians at that time, however. The tracks made by them indicated a number of about forty, a sufficiently large number to overwhelm the station.
According to another version, Mrs. Pryor and her three children were the only ones on her
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side of the creek at the time of the attack. In the cabin was a little boy of two or three years old, who was ill, while a very young babe was lying in the cradle. After recovering the body of her little girl, who was playing alone in front of the cabin at the time she was shot, Mrs. Pryor, hoping that the Indians might spare a baby, caught up the boy and ran to the station, pur- sued by' an Indian. She sprang into the creek up to her waist, and crossed the stream to the station. When the relief party was able to go to Mrs. Pryor's cabin, it was found that the In- dians had taken the baby from the cradle and dashed its brains out against a stump near the cabin door. They opened the feather beds, threw out the feathers, and filled the ticks with clothing, blankets and household goods of all sorts, which they carried away. Mrs. Pryor was subsequently married to Samuel Dunn and returned to the farm of her former husband, where she raised a family of six children, living - until 1843.
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