USA > Ohio > Franklin County > Columbus > History of the city of Columbus, capital of Ohio, Volume I > Part 20
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 | Part 81 | Part 82 | Part 83 | Part 84 | Part 85 | Part 86 | Part 87 | Part 88 | Part 89 | Part 90 | Part 91 | Part 92 | Part 93 | Part 94 | Part 95 | Part 96 | Part 97 | Part 98 | Part 99 | Part 100 | Part 101 | Part 102 | Part 103 | Part 104 | Part 105 | Part 106 | Part 107 | Part 108 | Part 109 | Part 110 | Part 111 | Part 112 | Part 113 | Part 114 | Part 115 | Part 116 | Part 117 | Part 118 | Part 119
On one of our annual visits to the Rapids to receive our presents from the British, I saw Jane Dick. Her husband had been sold, I understood, for forty dollars, and lived at Montreal. He was sold because he was rather worthless and disagreeable to the Indians. When I saw her she lived at large with the Indians. She became suddenly missing, and a great search was made for her ; but the Indians could not find her. After my release from captivity, I saw her and her husband at Chillicothe, where they lived.
She told me how she was liberated. Her husband had concerted a plan with the cap- tain of the vessel who brought the presents, to steal her from the Indians. The captain con- certed a plan with a black man, who cooked for McKee and Elliot, to steal Mrs. Dick. The black man arranged it with Mrs. Dick to meet him at midnight, in a copse of underwood, which she did, and he took her on board in a small canoe, and headed her up in an empty hogshead, where she remained until a day after the vessel sailed, about thirtysix hours. I remember well that every camp, and the woods were searched for her, and that the vessel was searched ; for the Indians immediately suspected she was on board. But not thinking of un- heading hogsheads, they could not find her. I saw the black man at Fort Hamilton as I re- turned from captivity, who told me how he stole Mrs. Dick off, which was in every particular confirmed by Mrs. Dick's own statement afterward. He also told me that there was a plan concerted between him and the Captain, to steal me off at the same time. "But," said he, " they watched you so close I could not venture it." This I'knew nothing of, until I was told by the black man, except that I observed the vigilance with which they watched me.
In the month of June, 1794, three Indians, two men and a boy, and myself, started on a candle-light hunting expedition to Blanchard's Fork of the Auglaize. We had been out about two months. We returned to the towns in August, and found them entirely evacuated, but gave ourselves little uneasiness about it, as we supposed the Indians had gone to the foot of the Maumee Rapids to receive their presents, as they were annually in the habit of doing. We encamped on the lower island in the middle of a cornfield. Next morning an Indian runner came down the river and gave the alarm whoop, which is a kind of a yell they use for no other purpose. The Indians answered and one went over to the runner, and immediately returning told us the white men were upon us, and we must run for our lives. We scattered like a flock of partridges, leaving our breakfast cooking on the fire. The Kentucky Riflemen saw our smoke and came to it, and just missed me as I passed them in my flight through the corn. They took the whole of our two months work, breakfast, jerked skins and all. One of the Kentuckians told me afterwards that they got a fine chance of meat that was left.
Wayne was then only about four miles from os, and the vanguard was right among us. The boy that was with us in the hunting expedition, and I, kept together on the trail of the Indians till we overtook them, but the two Indians did not get with us until we got to the Rapids.
Two or three days after we arrived at the Rapids, Wayne's spies came right into camp among us. I afterwards saw the survivors. Their names were Miller, McClelland, May, Wells, Mahaffy, and one other whose name I forget. They came into the camp boldly and fired on the Indians. Miller got wounded in the shoulder. May was chased by the Indians to the smooth rock in the bed of the river, where his horse fell. He was taken prisoner and the rest escaped. They then took May to camp. They knew him; he had formerly been a
144
HISTORY OF THE CITY OF COLUMBUS.
prisoner among them, and ran away from them. They told him : "We know you ; you speak Indian language; you not content to live with us. Tomorrow we take you to that tree; ( pointing to a very large bur oak at the edge of the clearing, which was near the British Fort,) we will tie you up and make a mark on your breast, and we will try what Indian can shoot nearest it."
It so turned ont. The next day, the very day before the battle, they tied him up, made a mark on his breast, and riddled his body with bullets, shooting at least fifty into him. Thus ended poor May.
On the next day, being myself about six miles below with the squaws, I went out hunt- ing. The day being windy, I heard nothing of the firing of the battle, but saw some Indians on the retreat. One Indian, whom I knew, told me I had better go to camp, for the Indians were beaten, and they are preparing at camp to make their escape. The runners, towards dusk, came in, and said the army had halted and encamped. We then rested that night, but in great fear. Next morning, the runners told us the army had started up the river towards the mouth of the Auglaize. We were then satisfied. Many of the Delawares were killed and wounded. The Indian who took May was killed, and he was much missed; for he was the only gunsmith among the Delawares.
Our crops and every means of support being cut off, we had to winter at the mouth of Swan Creek, perhaps where Toledo now stands. We were entirely dependent on the British, and they did not half supply us.
The starving condition of the Indians, together with the prospect of losing all their cows and dogs, made the Indians very impatient, and they became exasperated at the British. They said they had been deceived by them, for they had not fulfilled one promise. It was concluded among them to send a flag to Fort Defiance in order to make a treaty with the Americans. This was successful. Our men found the Americans ready to make a treaty, and they agreed on an exchange of prisoners. I had the pleasure to see nine white prisoners ex- changed for nine Indians, and the mortification of finding myself left; there being no Indian to give for me. Patton, Johnston, Sloan and Mrs. Baker, of Kentucky, were four of the nine; the names of the others I do not recollect. Patton, Johnston and Mrs. Baker, had all lived with me in the same house, among the Indians, and we were as intimate as brothers and sisters.
On the breaking up of spring, we all went up to Fort Defiance, and on arriving on the shore opposite, we saluted the fort with a round of rifles, and they shot a cannon thirteen times. We then encamped on the spot. On the same day, Whingwy Pooshies told me I must go over to the fort. The children hung round me crying, and asked me if I was going to leave them. I told them I did not know. When we got over to the fort and were seated with the officers, Whingwy Pooshies told me to stand up, which I did ; he then rose and addressed me in about these words : "My son, these are men the same color as yourself ; there may be some of your kin here, or your kin may be a great way off from you ; you have lived a long time with us; I call on you to say if I have not been a father to you? If I have not used you as a father would a son ?" I said: "You have used me as well as a father could use a son." He said : "I am glad you say so. You have lived long with me; you have hunted for me; but our treaty says you must be free. If you choose to go with the people of your color, I have no right to say a word ; but if you choose to stay with me, your people have no right to speak. Now, reflect on it, and take your choice ; and tell us as soon as you make up your mind."
I was silent a few moments, in which time it seemed as if I thought of almost everything. I thought of the children I had just left crying ; I thought of the Indians I was attached to ; and I thought of my people, whom I remembered ; and this latter thought predominated, and I said : " I will go with my kin." The old man then said : "I have raised you ; I have learned you to hunt; you are a good hunter; you have been better to me than my own sons ; I am now getting old and cannot hunt ; I thought you would be a support to my age ; I leaned on you as a staff. Now it is broken-you are going to leave me, and I have no right to say a word - but I am ruined." He then sank back in tears in his seat. I heartily joined him in his tears - parted with him, and have never seen nor heard of him since.
1.45
FRANKLINTON. 1.
I learned the Delaware langnage well, and can speak it now about as well as English. 1 will give the Delaware names of a few streams. Sepung, is properly what we call a stream, there being no distinction between runs, creeks and rivers, as with us. They called the Ohio Whingwy Sepung, or Big Stream. Paint Creek, in Ross County, I never heard called Yocton- gee ; but we called it Olomon Sepung, or Paint Creek. Seckle Sepung, or Saltlick Creek, is what is now called Alum Creek. Whingwy Mahoni Sepung, or Big Lick Creek, is what we called Big Walnut Creek. The Scioto was so called, but it is not a Delaware name, and I do not know its meaning.
It was about the first of June, 1795, that I parted with Whingwy Pooshies. The next day I started for Fort Greenville. [ rode on a horse furnished by the Americans. I was under the charge and protection of Lientenant Blue, who treated me with every kindness; and at Fort Greenville had a good suit of clothes made for me by a tailor. We had been there about a week, when a company of men arrived from Cincinnati, among whom was a brother of my brother's wife, with whom I had lived and from whom I was taken. He told me of a sister I had, who was married, and lived about nine miles from Cincinnati, np the Licking, on the Kentucky side. I then left Mr. Bine at Fort Greenville, and went to my sister's. She and all the neighbors seemed to be overjoyed, and a great crowd collected to see me, and hear about my living among the Indians. I then went to Grant's Salt Works, up Licking, to hunt for them. I made money there by killing deer at one dollar apiece, and turkeys at twelve and a half cents. I bought me a house, and had money left to take me to Pennsylvania. I went with a man named Andrew Lewis. There was great joy again, at my brother's on my return to his house, from whence I was taken. My sister-in-law, in particular, seemed much gratified with my return, as did the great crowd which here again collected to see me, and hear the narrative of my captivity.
In 1797, I came to this place, that is, now Columbus, Ohio, and have resided here since ; generally enjoying good health, it never having cost me a dollar in my life for medical aid ; and without ever wearing any thing like a stocking inside of my moccasin, shoes or boots, from the time I went among the Indians to this day ; and I can say what perhaps few can at this day, that my feet are never cold.
At another time, the Lord granting the opportunity, I will give more of the incidents of my life, as connected with the settlement and improvement of the country.
Columbus, Ohio, Jan. 29. 1842.
JOHN BRICKELL.
Mr. Brickell always wore a suit of buckskin to his latest day, and was mis- takenły supposed by many persons to be, in part, of Indian parentage. The habits which he had acquired while associated with the Indians during the plastic period of his life, clung to him, but did not prevent his being a useful and much- esteemed citizen. He died July 20, 1844, aged sixtythree.
Jeremiah Armstrong arrived in Franklinton while yet a youth. Hle and his brother Robert were among the earliest pioneers of that settlement. After the founding of Columbus, he bought of the proprietors a lot on High Street, on which he kept, for many years, one of the principal hotels of the town. His first sign was " The Indian Chief," afterwards " The Red Lion." His son Harrison Armstrong took his name from General William II. Harrison, who was frequently his guest. Of his captivity among the Indians, Mr. Armstrong wrote the following deeply interesting account, which is taken from Martin's History of Franklin County :
I was born in Washington County, Maryland, March, 1785. I had a sister (Elizabeth and three brothers, William, Robert and John older than myself. We moved to the Mingo Bottom, and from there to Virginia, opposite the upper end of Blennerhasset's Island. The Indians made frequent incursions into our neighborhood, and my mother was in constant dread of being killed by them ; she seemed to have a presentiment that she would have the fate of her parents, who were both killed by them in Mifflin County, Pennsylvania. Some- time in April, 1794, (I perfectly remember all the circumstances of that eventful night,) my
10
146
HISTORY OF THE CITY OF COLUMBUS.
brothers William and Robert had gone to a floating mill which my father owned on the Ohio, near the house; the younger children were in bed. Father went down to the river to examine a trotline; my mother stood in the door, holding a candle for him. I shall never forget her appearance; it was the last time I ever beheld her ; she stood trembling like a leaf, so that the candle shook in her hand. I suppose that she was afraid of the Indians, for I then thought there was nothing else to fear. Father returned safe; barred both of the doors, as was his custom, and then retired. Elizabeth, John and I, slept in the loft of our log house.
About three o'clock, we were awakened by the barking of our dog. Father sprang up, and without waiting to put on any clothing, unbarred one of the doors and ran out and hissed the dog; but in a moment he saw several Indians start from behind the trees, hallooed Indians, and ran into the house, barred the door, and caught up a gun. By this time the house was surrounded by twenty Wyandots. The poor, faithful dog had kept them off till he was disabled ; they had cut him so bad in the mouth that his under jaw hung loose. As the savages approached the house, father fired the gun; then caught a bullet pouch, and sprang to the loft, put his bullet and powder into his hand, but in attempting to put it into the gun found, too late, that he had taken the wrong pouch, and the bullet was too large; so he threw down the gun, tore open the roof, and sprang to the ground, fully expecting to be tomahawked the instant he reached it; but fortunately he was not discovered, for the most of the Indians were already in the house. They commenced their bloody work by killing the three little ones. Mother attempted to escape through the chimney, but it is supposed that her clothes caught for she fell, and, as the Indians afterward told me, in attempting to raise her they found she could not stand ; her hip was broken. Had she been able to travel they would not have killed her ; but as she could not, they must have her scalp as a trophy. They also scalped the two oldest of the children, but from my mother took two.
They dry these scalps on little hoops, about the size of a dollar, paint them and fix them on poles, to raise as trophies of victory when entering their villages. When seeing these so raised, I inquired why they took two from mother? They said because the bahe's hair was not long enough to scalp, they took one from its mother for it. After killing my sisters and brother below, they came up to us, and took us down. Oh! who can describe our feelings on entering that room of blood ! I was led over the slippery, bloody floor, and placed between the knees of one of the savages, whose hands were still reeking with the blood of my dearest relatives.
Mr. Misner, who lived about a hundred yards above us, hearing the noise, took a canoe and started for Belpre, to raise an alarm. When half way across the river, I suppose, he saw the Indians and my sister ; she was standing in the door and the house was lighted. Mr. M. called, "What is the matter ?" One of the Indians told her to say nothing, which she did, being afraid to disobey. After plundering the house, they, with their three prisoners, started southwest ; they went rapidly for a mile or two then halted, forming a ring around us, and lighted their pipes, and made several speeches, apparently in great haste. We watched their gestures, and listened anxiously. I was afterward told that I was the subject of their debate. They expected to be pursued by the people of Belpre, and they thought me too
young to travel as fast as necessary for their safety ; so they proposed killing me ; but a young Indian who had led me, and observed my activity in jumping the logs, said he thought I would make a pretty good Indian, and they might go as fast as they pleased, and if I could not keep up he would carry me. So my life was spared, and we continued our journey at a rapid rate ; he sometimes carrying me, and I sometimes begging my sister to carry me. She, poor girl, could scarcely carry herself. I was quite small of my age.
When we arrived opposite the mouth of Little Hocking, they found their canoes, which they had secreted in the bushes, got into them and hastened across the river. When they gained the opposite bank, they gave a never-to be-forgotten whoop, for they felt themselves safe. The next day they dined on a bear, which they had killed the day before. The oil of the bear was hung up in a deer skin ; they gave us some of it to drink ; we could not drink it. So they gave us of the bread and sugar which they had taken from my father's house -- bread which my mother had so lately made. And where was she ? Oh! my heart ached at the
147
FRANKLINTON. I.
thought. They treated ns kindly, and while our bread and sugar lasted we fared very well.
But to return to my father. When he jumped to the ground from the roof, he ran to the river, took a canoe and crossed over to the island, went to Mr. James's, then to the mill for my brothers, wakened them, and with them returned to the house. What a horrible scene presented itself! There lay my mother and the babe on the ground. In the house the other two children were lying in their gore. The boy was still alive, and he asked my father why he pulled bis hair.
I saw Mr. John James, a resident of Jackson County, in Columbus some years ago. He said that he was one of the twenty that followed the Indians down the river, saw their canoes, and where they landed, and also discovered by the tracks that we were still alive. They were afraid, if pursned farther, the Indians would kill ns to expedite their flight. They were not far behind - the water was still muddy -so they returned.
After eating onr dinner, we started again, and our next halt was where Lancaster now stands. There we saw young Cox, a man they had taken from our neighborhood a few days previous. We spent the night there. In the morning two of the most savage of onr party took John and myself, and started for Upper Sandusky. I missed not only my sister, but the young Indian that carried me. I had already begun to consider him my friend, although I did not then know that he had saved my life
Our two conductors seemed to delight in tormenting us. They made us wade streams where the water came up to my chin. Brother Jolin being two years older than myself, and taller, would lead me. They would langh at our fears. We had nothing but roots and herbs to eat. When we came near their village in Upper Sandusky, they stripped us of our clothes, and tied a small part around our bodies in Indian style. When I cried at the loss of my clothes, one of them whipped me severely with his pipe stem. The Indian squaws and children came running from all directions to see, and we were no sooner in the house than the door was completely blocked up with them, which frightened me very much.
A few days after our arrival, the party we had left behind came np, and I, when I saw them coming, ran to meet my friend, and was as glad to see him as if he had been my brother. My fondness for him no doubt increased his for me.
The next morning we started for Lower Sandusky. In passing through the Seneca nation, the pole of scalps was hoisted. A little Seneca . Indian ran to us, took the pole from the bearer, and carried it to an old squaw, who was sitting in the door of her hnt. She examined it, handed it back to the boy, and he returned it to the Indian, then knocked both John and myself down. It was a privilege they had, as they belonged to another nation. After leaving the Senecas, we came to some of our own nation, that is, Wyandots. There they formed a ring before we ate, and the prisoner who spoke both languages, gave me a gourd with shot in it, telling me I must say grace. So he put some Indian words in my moutlı, and bid me go around the ring, knocking the gourd with my hand, and repeating the words, which I did as well as I could. But my awkwardness made them laugh; so I got angry and threw down the gourd. I thought to myself it was very different from the way my father said grace.
On arriving at Lower Sandusky, before entering the town, they halted and formed a pro cession for Cox, my sister, my brother and myself to run the gauntlet. They pointed to the honse of their chief, Old Crane, about a hundred yards distant, signifying that we should run into it. We did so, and were received very kindly by the old chief ; he was a very mild man, beloved by all.
I was then adopted into his family, the Deer tribe, my brother John into another, the Turtle tribe, and my sister into another ; so we were separated. I was printed all over, and a broad belt of wampom put around my body. I was quite an important personage ; and if my dear sister and brother had remained with me, I should have been happy ; yes, happy, for I thought, now the Indians were my friends, I had nothing on earth to fear. My brother and sister were gone, and I wasalone. I cried very much. An okl prisoner tried to comfort me. He said I must not eat with the paint on me ; if I did, it would kill me. It was the paint of my adoption, and I suppose that while it was on me, I was considered neither white nor red, and, according to their superstition if I remained in that state, I should die. The prisoner took me to the river and washed it off, then led me back to the house.
148
HISTORY OF THE CITY OF COLUMBUS.
John was taken to Brownstown, and Elizabeth to Maumee. I did not see either of them again for about four years, when my brother and myself regained our liberty. My sister re- mained with them but a few months. She was stolen from them by a gentleman in search of his sister, and taken to Detroit. As she had no means of returning to her friends, she went with a family by the name of Dolson to Canada, and married one of the sons. When I saw her next she had a family of her own.
After our adoption, the family to which I belonged came back to Columbus and camped near where the Penitentiary now stands. There we raised corn in what is now called Sullivant's Prairie. My home while with them was back and forth from there to Lower Sandusky. The first night I spent in Franklin[ton] the Indians all got drunk. The squaws put me on a scaffold to keep them from killing me. The squaws had sense enough to not taste the rum till the Indians were too drunk to harm them ; then they too got drunk. And, oh, what a time for me for a few days, while the rum lasted ; but when it was gone they were very kind to me.
After parting from my brother and sister, I heard so little of my own language, that I forgot it entirely, and became attached to them and their ways. In fact, I became a very good Indian. They called me Hooscoa-tah-jah, (Little Head). A short time afterward, they changed my name to Duh-guah. They often change their names.
In the month of August, 1794, when I had been a prisoner about four months, General Wayne conquered the Indians in that decisive battle on the Maumee. Before the hattle, the squaws and children were sent to Lower Sandusky. Runners were sent from the scene of action to inform us of their defeat, and to order us to Sandusky Bay. They supposed that Wayne would come with his forces and massacre the whole of us. Great was the consterna- tion and confusion ; and I, strange infatuation, thinking their enemies mine, ran and got into a canoe, fearing they would go and leave me at the mercy of the pale faces. We all arrived safe at the Bay ; and there the Indians conveyed their wounded, Old Crane among the num- ber. He was wounded in the arm; and my friend, the one that saved my life, was killed. Wayne, instead of molesting us, withdrew his forces to Greenville; and we returned to Franklin[ton] (that now is,) and encamped below the dam, where there is a deep hole, called Billy's Hole, from Billy Wyandot.
The only war dance I witnessed, was near where the Penitentiary now stands, when a party of them were preparing to leave for Kentucky in quest of prisoners and scalps. They returned with three prisoners and five scalps. Billy Wyandot and others were then prepar- ing to leave for Greenville to form a treaty, (August, 1795). By that treaty a great part of the present limits of the State of Ohio was ceded to the whites; and the Indians were to give up all the prisoners in their possession, which was done where found and recognized.
My brother and myself were still held in bondage, our friends supposing us to be dead. When the lands acquired by the treaty were being surveyed by Generals Massie and McArthur, Mr. Thomas, a former neighbor of my father's, being with them, saw me and knew me. He sent word to my brother William, who was then residing in Kentucky. As soon as he heard that I was alive, he left Kentucky in search of me, with only six dollars in his pocket. He expected to find me in Franklin. Not finding me there, he went on to Upper Sandusky. The Indians were on a hunting tour, and I was with them. The corn was then in the silk ; he was told that we would not be back until roasting-ear time. So he went back as far as Chillicothe, where he remained until the time appointed. Then he started again and came to Lower Sandusky, where he found me quite happy, and so much of an Indian that I would rather have seen him tomahawked than to go with him. Old Crane would not consent to give me up. He said according to the treaty they were not obliged to release any that were willing to stay. They agreed to go to Brownstown and examine the treaty.
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.