The author of this Journal wrote it for his own satisfaction. When he returned home, he was induced to show it to a number of his acquaintances for their information. Several, on whose judgment he could rely, requested him to publish it to the world. He begs leave simply to remark that he was an eye and ear witness to many things he has narrated. He has represented things as he understood and remembered them. Other facts he obtained from testimony in which he could fully confide. It is worthy of remark that witnesses of probity, in giving their testimony in courts respecting the same things, often differ from one another as to many circumstances, owing to their different capacities, positions, and the like. It may be expected, therefore, that some who were in the[4] army, may not exactly agree with the author in all things stated in this Journal. Let that be as it may, he is conscious that he sought the most correct information, and that he endeavored to communicate it in a plain, perspicuous style. If he has made any important mistakes, should those interested convince him of them, in a friendly way, he will use the best means in his power to correct them.

As to the narratives subjoined to this Journal, they are short, and he thinks, interesting. He is acquainted with Mr. Davenport, and believes him to be a man of veracity. He had no acquaintance with Mr. Mallary before he applied to him for his narrative. His acquaintances will best know what credit ought to be given to him.

The gentlemen who gave the narratives, it is obvious, are the only persons responsible for the truth of them.

The whole is, with diffidence, submitted to the candor of a generous public, by

ELIAS DARNELL.

For a few years past differences existed between the United States of America and the Kingdom of Great Britain. Every possible means had been used on the part of the executive and legislative departments of the general government of the United States, to adjust those differences upon honorable and equitable terms. But Great Britain treated every reasonable proposition with haughtiness and contempt, and still persisted in violating the just rights of the Americans, by committing depredations on the high seas, and by impressing the citizens of the United States into the service of his Majesty, and employing the savages to murder the defenceless inhabitants of the frontiers. The United States having long borne these outrages with great patience, at length wearied with insults,[6] resorted to the last and most painful alternative of declaring war (which was done on the 18th of June, 1812); and the government having called for volunteers, more than the quota of this State rallied round their country’s standard, ready to assist in a vigorous prosecution of the war, in order to hasten a speedy and honorable peace.

General Hull having been appointed by the general government to take possession of part of Upper Canada, his forces, amounting to about 3,000, not being considered sufficient to execute that design, three regiments of volunteer infantry and one regiment of United States infantry, amounting in all to about 2,300, were called and destined to his assistance.

Agreeably to a general order, the following regiments rendezvoused at Georgetown, August 15, 1812, to wit:—

The first regiment was commanded by Colonel John M. Scott, the fifth regiment was commanded by Colonel William Lewis, the first rifle regiment by Colonel John Allen, the 17th United States regiment by Colonel Samuel Wells; the whole under the command of Brigadier-General Payne.

16th. The troops paraded early in the morning, and were received by Governor Scott. We paraded again at 10 o’clock, and marched to a convenient place in close order,[7] where the Rev. Mr. Blythe preached a short sermon, and the Honorable Henry Clay delivered an appropriate discourse.

17th. The troops were inspected by Major Garrard.

18th. We drew two months’ pay in advance. There being a general complaint amongst the volunteers respecting sixteen dollars, which were expected to be drawn in lieu of clothing, Major Graves paraded his battalion, and gave them their choice to go on without the sixteen dollars, or return home. Six chose to return; these, to fix an odium upon them, were drummed out of camp and through town.

19th. We commenced our march in high spirits to join General Hull at Detroit, or in Canada. Each regiment, for convenience and speed, marched separately to Newport. We arrived at Newport the 24th; it is 80 miles from Georgetown. It rained most of the time, which made it disagreeable travelling and encamping. These hardships tended a little to quench the excessive patriotic flame that had blazed so conspicuously at the different musters and barbecues.

Here we received information of General Hull having surrendered Detroit and Michigan Territory to General Brock, on the 15th of this instant, while in possession of the necessary means to have held that post against[8] the forces of Upper Canada.[A] This we could not believe until confirmed by handbills and good authority; when thus confirmed, it appeared to make serious impressions on the minds of officers and privates. Those high expectations of participating with General Hull in the laurels to be acquired by the conquest of Malden and Upper Canada, were entirely abandoned.

We drew our arms and accoutrements, and crossed the Ohio on the 27th. Our destiny was thought to be Fort Wayne.

The following general order will show some of the evolutions which were performed by this army while on its march.

[9]

31st. General Harrison overtook the army between Lebanon and Dayton. He was received joyfully by all the troops as commander-in-chief, with three cheers.

September 1. The army arrived at Dayton, fifty miles from Cincinnati, and was saluted by the firing of cannon. One of the men who were firing the cannon got one of his hands shot off, and the other badly wounded. We arrived at Piqua, September 3, thirty miles from Dayton, on the Big Miami.

4th. Received information of the critical situation of Fort Wayne. Colonel Allen’s[B] regiment and two companies from Colonel Lewis’s, drew twenty-four rounds of ammunition, and started with all possible speed to the relief of that fort.

5th. General Harrison having paraded the[11] remaining part of the army in a circle in close order, delivered a speech to them, stating that he had just received intelligence from Fort Wayne; that it was in great danger of being taken by the Indians and British; he said that we were under the necessity of making a forced march to their relief. He read some of the articles of war, and stated the absolute necessity of such regulations and restrictions in an army, and if there were any who could not feel willing to submit to those articles and go on with him they might then return home. One man belonging to Colonel Scott’s regiment made a choice of returning home, rather than submit to those terms. Some of his acquaintances got a permit to escort him part of the way home. Two of them got him upon a rail and carried him to the river; a crowd followed after; they ducked him several times in the water, and washed away all his patriotism.

6th. We marched at 12 o’clock—we left all our sick and part of our clothing and baggage at Piqua, in order to make as much speed as possible. On the morning of the 8th, three miles from St. Mary’s, one of Captain M‘Gowen’s company was accidentally shot through the body by one of the sentinels; the surgeon thought it mortal.[C] We[12] marched four miles and encamped near the River St. Mary’s, one mile from the fort. General Harrison called the army together and stated, through emergency, we must be on half rations of flour for a few days, but should draw a ration and a half of beef, as he wished to go as light and as quick as possible. He said, “any who do not feel willing to go on these terms may remain at the fort and have plenty.� I know of none that stayed. St. Mary’s block-house is thirty miles from Piqua, on the River St. Mary’s.

9th. We marched through some first-rate woodland, and through a large prairie of the best quality. It is badly watered; the water in the wagon-ruts was the only drink we could get to cool our scorching thirst, and but very little of that. We encamped near the River St. Mary’s, eighteen miles from the fort. At 11 o’clock and at 3 we were alarmed by the sentinels firing several guns; we formed in order of battle, and stood so fifteen minutes.

The following extract of a general order is designed to show the order of battle for night and day attack.

10th. The order of march for the infantry was as follows: the first and fifth regiments formed one line in single file on the left, two hundred yards from the road, the 17th United States and the rifle regiments on the right in the same manner. The baggage in the road. The order of march for the horse troops: One of Colonel Adams’s battalions of Ohio volunteers was placed at the distance of half a mile in front of the columns of infantry, and marched in columns of companies in files, and in such open order as to cover the whole front of the army. The other battalion of Ohio volunteers formed the right flank guard of the army, at the distance of three hundred yards from the column of infantry, and parallel to it. The Kentucky mounted riflemen on the left, the same distance from the left column of infantry for the left flank guard; Captain Garrard’s troop formed the rear guard. We marched twelve miles.

[15]11th. The spies wounded an Indian and got his gun and blanket; our day’s march was eleven miles; we stopped earlier than usual in order to make breastworks, and because it was a convenient place for water. We fortified this place very strongly with timber. At 11 o’clock the camp was alarmed by the firing of many guns by the sentinels. The whole army was formed in quick time, the horse troops being in the centre ready to assist any line or to obey any order which might be given. One half of the men were dismissed and retired to their tents for one hour, then they relieved the first half. At 3 o’clock another alarm took place from the sentinels, a general parade was again made. We stood in order of battle for some time. The watchword was “fight on,� after which this place was called “Fort Fight On.�

12th. We continued our march towards Fort Wayne with as much caution as the nature of our hurrying would admit; we expected to meet with the enemy before we reached the fort. In a certain well-known swamp, through which we had to pass, we thought probably the enemy would harbor. We passed the swamp unmolested for a mile, we were then alarmed. The rear battalions formed in order of battle, but saw no enemy to fight; we immediately resumed our march. This alarm and the one the night preceding[16] seemed to shake the boasted valor of some of our bravest heroes.

This day’s march was twenty miles to Fort Wayne, through a great deal of first-rate land, rich, level, and well timbered, but badly watered near the road; we suffered extremely for water these three days. Our arrival at this fort gave great joy to the inhabitants, who were one company of regular troops and a few families. The Indians had closely invested the fort for several days, and burned the United States factory and all the other valuable houses which were not inside of the stockading. Three of our men who were caught out of the fort were killed by the Indians. The Indians encamped about the fort two weeks before they made the attack on it, and were admitted in by Captain Ray, the commanding officer of the garrison, who would have surrendered to the savages, had it not been for his lieutenant, who defended the fort with great bravery. Three Indians were killed and a few wounded. Captain Ray was arrested and would have been broken had he not resigned. The fort was well provided for a siege, having in it one hundred men, plenty of provisions, ammunition, four small pieces of cannon, and a good well of water.

Fort Wayne is one of the most elegant situations I ever saw, and must be an important[17] place to the United States. Three weeks ago the neighborhood around the fort would have exhibited a pleasing prospect to those who had seen nothing for several days but a dreary wilderness of one hundred miles. A number of well-cultivated farms, with neat houses, in view of the fort, would have excited emotions of pleasure. I suppose there were four hundred acres of land in cultivation. All the houses were reduced to ashes, together with a large quantity of small grain and hay, by the savages; they were principally Pottowatomies; they also destroyed all the stock of every kind about these farms, which was very considerable. Fort Wayne is situated on the south side of the River Maumee, opposite the junction of the River St. Mary’s and St. Joseph, which are considerable navigable streams in lat. 41° 4′, N. long. 11° 5′ west from the meridian of Philadelphia.

We were alarmed by the report of some guns which were fired by the sentinels; we formed in order of battle for half an hour, during which time it rained very hard, and rendered many of our guns unfit to do execution, except the bayonets. The alarm must have proceeded from the timidity of the sentinels.

14th. The whole force was divided and placed under the command of General Payne[18] and Colonel Wells. General Payne’s command was composed of Colonel Lewis’s regiment, Colonel Allen’s and Captain Garrard’s troop. Colonel Wells’s command was composed of Colonel Scott’s regiment, the regulars and the mounted riflemen. General Payne was instructed to destroy the Miami towns at the forks of the Wabash. Colonel Wells was directed against the Pottowatomies’s village at Elkheart. General Harrison thought proper to go with General Payne; so we proceeded on to the waters of the Wabash; five miles from Fort Wayne we encamped. Next morning we came to an Indian hut and a small cornfield, two miles from our encampment; here all the wagons and baggage were left, and Captain Langhorne’s company as a guard; from this place we marched twenty-three miles to an Indian town at the forks of the Wabash; we found the town evacuated; we pulled down some of their houses and built up fires and encamped; we had plenty of roasting ears of the best kind. It is a small kind of corn, shallow grain, and very suitable for roasting ears, which answered us a very good purpose, as we had only a little provision with us.

16th. We marched through their towns, four in number, in the bounds of three or four miles, in which there were fresh signs of Indians. We cut up their corn and put[19] it in piles, sixty or eighty acres, so that it might rot. A variety of beans were found growing with their corn; potatoes, pumpkins, water-melons, and cucumbers were also cultivated by them. Their houses were all burnt by the orders of General Harrison; some of them were built of bark and some of logs. The tomb of a chief was discovered; it was built on the ground with timber and clay, so that no rain or air could enter; the chief was laid on his blanket, his head towards sunrise, his rifle by his side, his tin pan on his breast, with a spoon in it; he was ornamented in their style, with ear-rings, brooches, &c. This is one of the most beautiful places in the western country; the land is level, well timbered, well watered, and the soil equal to any part of Kentucky. Near the town, where the timber has been cut, it is covered with an elegant coat of blue grass.

17th. We got back to the baggage, and found all was well. Capt. Langhorne had fortified against the enemy with rails, so that he would have been able to have held his place against a considerable force. We took some refreshments and pursued our journey, and encamped near our former encampment.

18th. We arrived at Fort Wayne, and met with a reinforcement of five hundred mounted riflemen and cavalry, from Kentucky. A man was accidentally shot through the head by[20] one of the mounted riflemen. Colonel Wells’s division returned this evening from their route, which was fifty miles from Fort Wayne, on the waters of St. Joseph’s River, very much fatigued. They found nothing but deserted houses and corn to destroy, which was about the same amount as was found at the Wabash. Capt. Morris’s 1st sergeant (David Irwin) died on the road. One of the light-horsemen wounded a man as he was feeding his horse, believing him to be an Indian.

19th. We encamped in the forks of the river half a mile from the fort. Gen. Harrison not being legally authorized by the general government, as commander of this army, the command, of course, devolved on Winchester. This resignation of Gen. Harrison’s was done with much reluctance, as he had placed great confidence in the Kentuckians, and found he was their choice, in preference to Gen. Winchester. The conduct of Gen. Harrison at Tippecanoe, and his familiarity with the troops while on their march to this place, had gained to him a peculiar attachment. Gen. Winchester being a stranger, and having the appearance of a supercilious officer, he was generally disliked. His assuming the command almost occasioned a mutiny in camp; this was prevented by the solicitations of some of the officers to go on.

[21]20th. The Kentucky mounted riflemen started to St. Mary’s under the command of Gen. Harrison, in order to pursue the Indians in some other quarter; their number was about fifteen hundred.

21st. We received marching orders to march to-morrow morning at 7 o’clock.

The following general order, will show Gen. Winchester’s order of march.

[23]26th. Two white men, and Capt. John (an Indian who was with us), lost their horses. They continued about the camping ground in search of them; they saw two or three Indians exploring our encampment. They took this method, no doubt, to calculate our number. The spies returned to camp this evening, who had discovered many Indian signs in front. Five of the spies who had yesterday started with the view to go to Fort Defiance, were found on the road shot, scalped, and tomahawked by the Indians or British.

27th. The spies and Capt. Garrard’s troop started this morning to bury the dead. They were attacked by a party of Indians who were watching the dead. One of the spies got shot in the ankle by an Indian. They fired on the Indians, and with the assistance of Capt. Garrard, they made them run, but not without the loss of some of their savage blood. It was supposed some of them were badly wounded.

Capts. Hickman and Ruddell returned, who had started this morning to reconnoitre Fort Defiance. They reported, that they saw many fresh signs of Indians. As they returned to camp they spied an encampment of Indians; the Indians were talking and laughing merrily. A detachment was sent after dark in order to surprise them. Ruddell,[24] their pilot, got lost before he got far, so that they could not execute their design.

28th. The army was alarmed about a mile from camp; we quickly paraded in order of battle, and were anxious to meet the enemy. The alarm proceeded from the spies, who fired at some Indians in front. The spies returned to camp this evening; they saw where a large number of Indians and British had encamped the night before.

29th. We continued on the same encampment, five miles from Defiance, and forty-five from Fort Wayne. The spies and horse troop were sent out in order to make discoveries. A party took the back track; they saw where the enemy had wheeled to the right about, and retreated; and fortunately for them they did so. Our industry in fortifying the camp with breastworks, and caution and vigilance with which it was guarded, would have rendered us able to have maintained our ground against a superior force. Wagon tracks were plainly to be seen—it was thought they were going to Fort Wayne with cannon, to take that place.

30th. We marched within one mile of Fort Defiance, and searched for a suitable place to encamp on: after every examination it was thought best to continue here, as it was a convenient place for timber. We pitched our tents and built very strong breastworks round[25] the camp, which we had done for five or six nights past; we also slept with our guns in our arms, and paraded an hour before day, and stood under arms till nearly sunrise. From Fort Wayne to Defiance, we travelled on the north-west side of the Maumee River. The country is extremely level and well timbered, but badly watered.

Oct. 1. Col. Lewis, with a detachment of three hundred and eighty men, started early this morning to pursue the Indians and British; they crossed the Auglaze River, and proceeded down the Maumee seven or eight miles, but could see nothing more than the appearance of the enemy retreating.

2d. Gen. Harrison arrived here with about one hundred mounted troops, and two days’ rations of flour. We have been without bread four days. We were informed Gen. Harrison was appointed commander-in-chief of the North-Western Army; this was pleasing news to their troops, as he was the choice in preference to any other.

3d. The troops that were with Gen. Harrison, consisting of mounted riflemen and cavalry, three regiments, came to camp this morning from St. Mary’s, which is 63 miles from Defiance. They came with speed, to assist the troops commanded by Gen. Winchester. Gen. Harrison had received information that all the British and Indian forces[26] of Upper Canada were on their way to meet Gen. Winchester at Defiance.

4th. There has been great murmuring in camp, on account of the scarcity of provisions, which threatened a dissolution of this army. Gen. Harrison having paraded the army, addressed them and said, there were twenty-five thousand rations provided for this army at St. Mary’s; this should be conveyed here as soon as possible, part of which would be here to-day; he stated the consequence of such mutinous complaints, and if this army would disperse, where could he get men who would stand? He said every exertion for the supply of this army with provisions and clothing, should be used. He informed us there would be a number of troops from Pennsylvania and Virginia to join us, amounting in all to ten thousand.

5th. A fatigue party of two hundred and forty men were employed to rebuild Fort Defiance. There were a few men on the other side of the river opposite to the fort. They discovered a party of Indians, twenty or thirty in number; they took them to be those friendly Indians who were with us; being not on their guard, they got close to them. Four or five of the Indians fired at the same time; they killed and scalped one of the men, and made their escape. The murder was committed not more than three hundred yards[27] from the encampment of the mounted riflemen and cavalry, with Gen. Tupper at the head of them. Those murderers were pursued immediately by two hundred horsemen; they pursued them in scattered order. A small party overtook them five or six miles from camp, and finding the enemy’s force superior they had to retreat.

7th. The principal part of the clothing which was left at Piqua, came to camp; it has been greatly needed. A majority of the mounted men who were ordered to the rapids, and drew ten days’ provisions for that expedition, refused to march under Gen. Tupper; of course the contemplated expedition failed, and they returned home, as their thirty days were nearly expired.

9th. A few days ago, Frederick Jacoby, belonging to the 17th regiment of United States infantry, was tried by a court-martial for sleeping on his post—he was condemned to be shot. The troops paraded and formed in a hollow square in close order, where the Rev. Mr. Shannon delivered a short discourse on the occasion. The square was then displayed, so that the army might witness the awful example of execution. The criminal was marched from the provost guard with solemn music, under a guard of a subaltern, sergeant, corporal, and twenty privates, to the place of execution; there he was blindfolded;[28] the guard stood a few steps from him waiting the hour of execution! This was a solemn scene; a profound silence was kept by all the troops. But fortunately for the criminal, a reprieve arrived for him, just before the time of execution! The General judged him not a man of sound mind.

The spies reported they had killed an Indian, but could not get his scalp on account of other Indians; they stated there must be a large body of Indians near, by their trails.

10th. In consequence of the above report of the spies, Colonel Wells started with five hundred men in pursuit of the Indians; he pursued their trails twelve or thirteen miles, but could not see an Indian.

11th. The General ordered we should move and encamp near where the fort was building; this was, however, prevented by the inclemency of the weather; it rained and the wind blew all day, which made our situation very unpleasant. A man died in camp last night; he was buried with the honors of war; he was escorted to the grave in solemn order, and, after a short discourse by the Rev. Mr. Mitchell, six men fired three rounds over the grave; this was the first scene of the kind witnessed in our camp.

14th. We moved to the fort, and received a supply of provisions (salt, flour, and whiskey);[29] we had been without salt ever since the 7th, and without flour two days.

16th. A detachment of one hundred men was sent this morning six miles below the fort, to a suitable place of timber to build pirogues.

18th. (Sunday.) The troops marched to the centre, agreeably to a general order, to hear the Rev. Mr. Shannon preach a sermon suited to the times. While he was zealously engaged there were six or seven guns fired down the river in quick succession; this alarmed the whole congregation—every one flew to his arms and left the speaker alone. The alarm originated from a pirogue party, who had just arrived with a pirogue for a supply of provisions.

19th. The fort was finished and christened “Fort Winchester.� It is composed of four block-houses, a hospital and storehouse, and picketed between each block-house, containing about a quarter of an acre.

20th. The General issued an order for the troops to be assembled every morning at 9 o’clock, at such places near the encampment, as the commanding officers might deem convenient, and cause the rolls to be called, and mark all delinquents; and there, until 12 o’clock, practice the manual exercise, and manœuvre according to Smith’s instructions for infantry.

[30]27th. In consequence of Gen. Winchester’s receiving information, he issued an order respecting clothing, which will show a flattering prospect of being supplied, an extract of which is as follows:—

29th. A fatigue party, consisting of three captains, three subalterns, three sergeants,[31] three corporals, and one hundred and fifty privates was detached this morning, superintended by Gen. Payne, to clear the way on the opposite side of the river, so as to make the view more extensive from the fort. The spies caught a prisoner fifteen or twenty miles below this place; he said he was just from Detroit; he was suspected as a spy, but he denied it; he said he deserted from the British, who had had him in confinement some time in consequence of his not taking the oath to be true to them.

Fort Winchester is situated near the point between the Maumee and Auglaze rivers, and is a handsome place; it is predicted by some to become in a few years a populous city. The greater part of the land in the adjacent country is rich, and when improved will be equal, if not superior, to any in the western country. The Auglaze River empties into Great Miami, which runs a north course to Fort Winchester, and is navigable a considerable distance.

November 2. We moved across the River Maumee, opposite the point; it is a high piece of ground and very level, but in some degree wet and marshy: this movement was in order to get convenient to firewood.

3d. This late place of encampment is found not to answer a good purpose; therefore the General thought it expedient to move from[32] this to a piece of ground one-half mile lower down the river. As there were only a few wagons, one regiment moved at a time—from 12 o’clock till after sunset before the last arrived at the place of destination. This last place appears to be very marshy, but not so much so as the former. It is very difficult to get a good place for an encampment at this time, as we have had several rainy days.

4th. The troops have been engaged in fortifying this late place of encampment with breastworks, so that we may be prepared for our enemies, should they think proper to pay us a visit; the weather is very rainy, which makes our situation extremely unpleasant, though not more so than we could expect from the climate and season. Four of this army have gone to the silent tomb to-day, never more to visit their friends in Kentucky; the fever is very prevalent in camp; nearly every day there is one or more buried.

7th. We received information from Kentucky by passengers, of a quantity of clothing coming out for the volunteers. By every account from that quarter, the roads are almost impassable. Major Garrard, and six of the spies, started to the Rapids this morning. This river abounds greatly with fish; large quantities have been caught with traps, and also with hooks and lines.

9th. Major Garrard, and those men with[33] him, returned from the Rapids. They made discoveries of a large quantity of corn, and some hogs, and cattle, and a few Indians.

10th. The army moved six miles down the river, in order to be better accommodated with suitable ground for camping, and to build more pirogues. This encampment is the dryest we have been at for some time; the land and timber are not inferior to any. I trust this country was designed for a more noble purpose than to be a harbor for those rapacious savages, whose manners and deportment are not more elevated than the ravenous beasts of the forest. I view the time not far distant, when this country will be interspersed with elegant farms and flourishing towns, and be inhabited by a free and independent people, under an auspicious republic.

15th. A detachment of six captains, six subalterns, six sergeants, six corporals, and three hundred and eighty-six privates, started with six days’ provision, this morning, at reveille beating, to the Rapids, under the command of Col. Lewis.

17th. Col. Lewis, with his detachment, returned about twelve o’clock, after a laborious march of sixty miles. About eighteen miles below this place, he was overtaken by an express from Gen. Winchester, who had received intelligence of Gen. Tupper, with five[34] hundred men, being at the Rapids, who had discovered a body of Indians, six or seven hundred in number, drinking and dancing. Gen. Tupper, thinking this a good opportunity to attack them, attempted to cross the river, two miles above; he and two hundred of his men effected this, through great difficulty; in wading across some fell in the water and lost their guns, which discouraged the rest, so that Gen. Tupper could not execute his design. This intelligence animated the troops commanded by Col. Lewis, so that they wanted to continue on that night, without stopping, and attack the enemy before day. Col. Lewis thought proper to halt, and send an express to Gen. Tupper, for both parties to meet at Roche de Baut,[D] six miles above the Indian encampment, and unite their forces, and surprise the enemy.

The express returned at three o’clock in the morning, and reported, he had been at Gen. Tupper’s encampment; at the entrance of which, he saw a man, dead, scalped, and stripped. He concluded that Gen. Tupper was defeated. This news changed the course of Col. Lewis, not knowing their force. The General has thought proper to have this place strongly fortified with breastworks, four and a half feet high.

[35]18th. One of the sentinels of the bullock guard discharged the contents of his gun at an Indian, as he thought, a few miles below camp, where the bullocks were grazing; the guard deserted the bullocks, and retreated to camp. A party was immediately sent in pursuit of the Indians, and behold! they found Michael Paul cutting a bee-tree.

20th. Ruddell returned, who was sent on the 17th to reconnoitre the Rapids, and Tupper’s encampment. He discovered a large body of Indians at the Rapids. He was through Tupper’s encampment, where it was supposed he was defeated He saw the man that was scalped and stripped, and he thought Tupper had retreated, instead of being defeated.

22d. Smith and his party of spies had a little skirmish near Wolftown. Early in the morning they were eating their breakfasts; one of them started to get a drink of water; he had only got a few steps when an Indian fired and wounded him, but not mortally. After snapping twice, he fired and wounded an Indian. Several guns were fired by the Indians afterwards, but no injury was sustained. In returning to camp the wounded man was sent on some distance before, while part of them remained in the rear as a guard.

Capt. Logan, Capt. John, and another Indian, started to the Rapids with the determination[36] to establish their characters (for they were suspected by some to be traitors). Between this and the Rapids, as they were rising a bank, they met seven Indians and a British officer, who took them prisoners, but let them carry their own guns. After taking them some considerable distance, they were determined to liberate themselves or fall a sacrifice. They succeeded in killing at the same time, the British officer[E] and two of the Indians; they stated Logan killed the second, but he got badly wounded through the body; one of the other Indians that were with him got wounded, but not mortally. The two wounded got on two horses that belonged to the dead and rode to camp, leaving Capt. John to take scalps.

23d. Capt. John came in camp this morning with a scalp; he said it was the scalp of a Pottowatomie chief (Wynemack); he broke his knife in scalping him, which prevented him from scalping the others.

24th. Logan died, and was much lamented by the men generally, believing him to be true to the United States, and a brave soldier.

December 1. The troops are engaged in building huts, which are far preferable to tents.

[37]2d. The General has issued an order for the camp to be picketed, which is three-quarters of a mile round. It is on the north side of the river, and is composed of three lines. Col. Wells’s regiment on the right, Col. Scott’s, Lewis’s, and part of Allen’s in front, the remaining part of Allen’s on the left, the river in the rear. The pickets were nearly completed in one day, two feet in the ground and eight feet above.

10th. The General has given orders to the commanding officers of regiments to cause each of their companies to be provided with a good pirogue sufficient to carry its own baggage, and cause all those who are without shoes to make themselves moccasons out of green hides.

There are many who have not shoes and clothes sufficient to keep them from freezing, should we move from here while they are in this condition; the clothes that the General flattered us with the expectation, and the clothes subscribed by the Kentuckians being not yet received, except a small part of the latter.

13th. Smith and his party returned from the Rapids, who started two days ago in a canoe; they did not go far before they left the canoe, on account of the ice, and travelled by land; some of them were dangerously frostbitten.

[38]14th. An express arrived in camp, certifying that the boats which started from St. Mary’s on the 4th, laden with flour and clothing, were frozen up in St. Mary’s River, and the escort was building a house to store the loading in.

15th. Capt. Hickman started this morning to forward flour and clothing immediately on packhorses.

16th. We have drawn no flour since the 10th, in consequence of which there was a letter handed to the General last night secretly, which stated that the volunteers in two days, except flour came before that time, would start and go to it; and they would carry their camp equipage to the fort if the General required it. This news was soon circulated through camp. The officers used every argument to suppress the appearance of a mutiny. A court-martial was held at Capt. Williams’s marquee to try John Hoggard, a private in Capt. Price’s company, for some misdemeanor. He was condemned to be drummed out of camp. Col. Lewis paraded his regiment, and had him escorted with the fife and drum from one end of his line to the other. So he was legally discharged from the army. The most common punishment in camp for criminals is that of riding the wooden horse, or being put under guard on half rations. All the beef and pork was issued[39] to the troops this evening; our dependence for the next ration is on a drove of hogs that has been expected several days!

17th. Three hundred head of hogs arrived to our relief.

20th. The weather is excessively cold; the ice has stopped the navigation of the river, so that the plan of going to the Rapids by water is entirely frustrated; we had prepared about sixty pirogues for the voyage, which will be left here for our successors.

21st. The General has ordered the commandants of regiments to cause each company to be provided with a sufficient number of sleds to convey their baggage to the Rapids. It is said these sleds are to be pulled by the men, as we have not a horse in camp able to pull an empty sled.

22d. A little flour came to camp once more; quarter-rations of that article were issued, which was welcomed by rejoicing throughout camp:

24th. Capt. Hickman returned with joyful news—that we should in a short time be supplied with flour. The deficiency of this article had produced serious consequences in the army. We have here been exposed to numberless difficulties, as well as deprived of the common necessaries of life; and what made these things operate more severely was, all hopes of obtaining any conquest was entirely[40] abandoned. Obstacles had emerged in the path to victory, which must have appeared insurmountable to every person endowed with common sense. The distance to Canada, the unpreparedness of the army, the scarcity of provisions, and the badness of the weather, show that Malden cannot be taken in the remaining part of our time. And would it not have been better if this army had been disbanded? Our sufferings at this place have been greater than if we had been in a severe battle. More than one hundred lives have been lost, owing to our bad accommodations! The sufferings of about three hundred sick at a time, who are exposed to the cold ground and deprived of every nourishment, are sufficient proofs of our wretched condition! The camp has become a loathsome place. The hope of being one day relieved from these unnecessary sufferings affords some relief. We received this evening a supply of flour, and have been delivered from a state of starvation. It being Christmas eve, just after dark, a number of guns were fired in quick succession; the whole army was ordered to parade in order of battle; strict orders were given to suppress the firing. About an hour before day the firing commenced again; the army was again paraded and strict orders given, threatening to punish the offenders.

[41]27th. Part of the clothing arrived from Kentucky.

29th. We are now about commencing one of the most serious marches ever performed by the Americans. Destitute, in a measure, of clothes, shoes, and provisions, the most essential articles necessary for the existence and preservation of the human species in this world, and more particularly in this cold climate. Three sleds are prepared for each company, each to be pulled by a packhorse, which has been without food for two weeks, except brush, and will not be better fed while in our service; probably the most of these horses never had harness on, but the presumption is they will be too tame; we have prepared harness out of green hides.

30th. After nearly three months’ preparation for this expedition, we commenced our march in great splendor; our elegant equipage cast a brilliant lustre on the surrounding objects as it passed! our clothes and blankets looked as if they had never been acquainted with water, but intimately with dirt, smoke, and soot; in fact, we have become acquainted with one much despised in Kentucky, under whose government we are obliged to live, whose name is “Poverty.� We marched six miles and encamped near Col. Wells’s regiment, which marched yesterday;[42] the sick were left at No. Third, with a company from each regiment as a guard.

January 10. We arrived at Hull’s road at the Rapids, fifty miles from Fort Defiance, and encamped on a very high and suitable piece of ground. The second day after we left No. Third, the snow melted and the ground thawed, which operated much against our march. We marched two miles, which tried the strength and activity of our noble steeds. The General, who remained behind at No. Third, more properly styled Fort Starvation, thinking probably to take the advantage of the weather (this moderate thaw had opened the river in a ripple opposite to No. Third), had several pirogues loaded with his baggage, and manned immediately. After travelling three or four hundred yards they found that they were blockaded with ice; they landed and guarded the plunder, until arrangements could be made for its transportation by land. The weather took a change the second of January. It commenced snowing, and continued two days and nights: after it ceased, it was from twenty to twenty-four inches deep. During this time we remained stationary. On the third the army resumed its march, wading through a deep snow. We had to stop early in the afternoon to prepare our encampment; to rake the snow away, make fires, and pitch[43] our tents, was no trifling task; and after this we had to get bark or bushes to lie on; the linn, in this case, was of great service to us. Many of the horses gave out, and sleds broke down; consequently, the plunder had to be pulled or carried by the men. I have seen six Kentuckians substituted instead of a horse, pulling their plunder, drudging along through the snow, and keeping pace with the foremost. In marching to this place we came through some good land, particularly the river bottoms, which are very rich. Wolftown, which is about half way between Fort Defiance and the Rapids, is a handsome situation. This has formerly been an Indian town. We reached Roche De Baut the 9th, four miles above Hull’s road, a place where some French had formerly lived. Early next morning (as cold a morning as the Kentuckians ever experienced) a detached party of six hundred and seventy-six men marched in front of the baggage, and went on four miles below the foot of the Rapids, in order to examine if it were true, as said by some passengers from the right wing of the army, that there were six hundred Indians encamped and picketed in, six miles below the Rapids. The detachment marched within two miles of the place, and sent spies, but they discovered no signs of Indians. The party remained all night, and partook of an[44] elegant supper of parched corn, and returned to camp in the morning.

11th. Some fresh signs of Indians were seen near this encampment. A detachment of twenty-four men was sent immediately, under the command of Capt. Williams. They had not got far before they discovered the Indians; the firing commenced on both sides nearly at the same time. The Indians stood but a little time before they ran, but not until they lost some of their savage blood. Capt. Williams pursued them some miles, but could not overtake them. By the signs of blood, some of them must have been badly wounded. They left behind them two of their horses, a brass kettle, and some other plunder. One of Capt. Williams’s men received a wound in the arm, and another got shot through his hat. Capt. Edmiston, who was one of the party, got his gun shot through the breech.

13th. Two Frenchmen came in camp last night from the river Raisin, who received information of the army being here by those Indians that Capt. Williams pursued, who got there the night after the skirmish, and stopped only a few minutes, and then went on to Malden. Those Frenchmen solicited protection and assistance, stating the abuse they had received from the Indians, and the[45] danger they were in of losing their lives and property.

25th. Arrived in camp this morning, clothing from Kentucky. The ladies who sent this clothing deserve the highest encomiums. If it had not been for their unexampled exertions, we must have suffered beyond conception. May they long live under the auspicious protection of a free government, and may kind heaven reward their unparalleled benevolence!

Another Frenchman came to camp, confirming what was stated by the others. We now began to recruit after our laborious march, and after being deprived of a sufficiency of provisions. Although we have been without flour ever since we came here, yet we have been better supplied with provisions than we have been since we embarked in the service. We have here in possession many large fields of corn, probably three hundred acres. We have erected a great many pounding machines, to prepare it for our use. This place has a solemn appearance. The inhabitants have fled, and the Indians or British have burned their houses, leaving some of the chimneys standing. By every appearance, this has been a respectable settlement. Four miles below our encampment, are the remains of the old British garrison.

[46]17th. A Frenchman came yesterday from the river Raisin; he said two companies of British had just arrived from Canada, and the Indians were collecting, and intended to burn Frenchtown in a few days. By the repeated solicitations of the French, and being counselled by some of the field-officers, the General has been induced to order out a detachment of five hundred and seventy men, destined to the river Raisin; it was said, contrary to the instructions of Gen. Harrison. The detachment started[F] early with three days’ provisions, and proceeded on twenty miles near to Presqu’ Isle, a French village on the south side of the Maumee River. The sight of this village filled each heart with emotions of cheerfulness and joy; for we had been nearly five months in the wilderness, exposed to every inconvenience, and excluded from everything that had the appearance of a civilized country. When the inhabitants of the village discovered us, they met us with a white flag, and expressed particular friendship for us. They informed us the British and Indians had left Frenchtown a few days ago, and had gone to Brownstown. About three hours after dark, a reinforcement of one hundred and ten men overtook[47] us, commanded by Col. Allen. Some time in the latter part of the night an express came from the river Raisin, informing Col. Lewis there were four hundred Indians and two companies of British there, and that Colonel Elliott was to start the next morning from Malden with a reinforcement.

18th. We started early, in order to get there before Col. Elliott; after travelling fifteen miles, mostly on the ice, we received information of the enemy being there waiting for us; we were then within three miles of Frenchtown; we proceeded on with no other view than to conquer or die. When we advanced in sight of the town, and were about a quarter of a mile from it, the British saluted us by the firing of a piece of cannon; they fired it three times, but no injury was sustained. During this time we formed the line of battle, and, raising a shout,[G] advanced on them briskly; they soon commenced the[48] firing of their small arms, but this did not deter us from a charge; we advanced close and let loose on them; they gave way, and we soon had possession of the village without the loss of a man! Three were slightly wounded. Twelve of their warriors were slain and scalped, and one prisoner taken before they got to the woods. In retreating, they kept up some firing. We pursued them half a mile to the woods, which were very brushy and suited to their mode of fighting. As we advanced, they were fixing themselves behind logs, trees, &c. to the best advantage; our troops rushed on them resolutely, and gave them Indian play, took the advantage of trees, &c. and kept them retreating a mile and a half in the woods. During this time a heavy fire was kept up on both sides; at length, after a battle of three hours and five minutes, we were obliged to stop the pursuit on account of the approach of night, and retire to the village; we collected our wounded and carried them to the village, leaving our dead on the ground. In this action the Kentuckians displayed great bravery, after being much fatigued with marching on the ice; cowardice was entirely discountenanced; each was anxious to excel his fellow-soldiers in avenging his injured country; those only fell in the rear who were most fatigued. Our loss in this action was eleven killed and fifty[49] wounded.[H] Although the enemy had the advantage of the village in the first attack, and of the woods in the second, their loss, by the best information, far exceeded ours. A Frenchman stated they had fifty-four killed and a hundred and forty wounded, part of whom were carried to his house, on Sand Creek, a few miles from the village. An express and the Indian prisoner were sent immediately to the Rapids. Some dispute arose between the Indians and some of the French on Sand Creek; the Indians killed an old man and his wife; in consequence of this the French were enraged, and resolved to get revenge. They applied to us for assistance, but it was thought improper to leave the village, though some of them had assisted us and fought in the front of the battle.

19th. A party was sent out to the battle-ground to bring in the dead, which were found scalped and stripped except one. In going over the battle-ground, great signs were seen (by the blood and where they had been dragged through the snow) of a considerable loss on the part of the enemy. Two of the wounded died. The British left a considerable quantity of provisions and some store[50] goods, which answered us a valuable purpose. The wounded could have been as well accommodated here with every necessary as in any part of Kentucky. Apples, cider, sugar, butter, and whiskey appeared to be plenty. The river Raisin runs an east course through a level country, interspersed with well-improved farms, and is seventy or eighty yards wide; the banks are low. Frenchtown is situated on the north side of this river, not more than three miles from the place it empties into Lake Erie. There is a row of dwelling-houses, about twenty in number, principally frame, near the bank, surrounded with a fence made in the form of picketing, with split timber, from four to five feet high; this was not designed as a fortification, but to secure their yards and gardens.

21st. A reinforcement of two hundred and thirty men arrived in the afternoon; also Gen. Winchester, Col. Wells, Major M‘Clanahan, Capt. Hart, surgeons Irvin and Montgomery, and some other gentlemen, who came to eat apples and drink cider, having been deprived of every kind of spirits nearly two months. The officers having viewed and laid off a piece of ground for a camp and breastworks, resolved that it was too late to remove and erect fortifications that evening; farther, as they resolved to remove early next day, it was not thought worth while,[51] though materials were at hand, to fortify the right wing, which therefore encamped in the open field,[I] and Col. Wells, their commander, set out for the Rapids late in the evening. A Frenchman arrived here late in the evening from Malden, and stated that a large number of Indians and British were coming on the ice with artillery to attack us; he judged their number to be three thousand; this was not believed by some of our leading men, who were regaling themselves with whiskey and loaf sugar; but the generality of the troops put great confidence in the Frenchman’s report, and expected some fatal disaster to befall us; principally because Gen. Winchester had taken up his head-quarters nearly half a mile from any part of the encampment, and because the right wing was exposed. Ensign Harrow was sent with a party of men, some time after night, by the orders of Col. Lewis, to bring in all the men, either officers or privates, that he might find out of their quarters. After finding some and giving them their orders, he went to a brick house, about a mile up the river, and entered a room; finding it not occupied, he immediately went above stairs and saw two men, whom he took to be British officers, talking[52] with the landlord. The landlord asked him to walk down into a stove room, and handing his bottle, asked him to drink, and informed him “there was no danger, for the British had not a force sufficient to whip us.� So Harrow returned about 1 o’clock and reported to Col. Lewis what he had seen. Col. Lewis treated the report with coolness, thinking the persons seen were only some gentlemen from town; just at daybreak the reveille began to beat, as usual; this gave joy to the troops, who had passed the night under the apprehensions of being attacked before day. The reveille had not been beating more than two minutes before the sentinels fired three guns in quick succession; this alarmed our troops, who quickly formed and were ready for the enemy before they were near enough to do execution. The British immediately discharged their artillery, loaded with balls, bombs, and grape-shot, which did little injury; they then attempted to make a charge on those in the pickets, but were repulsed with great loss. Those on the right being less secure for the want of fortification, were overpowered by a superior force, and were ordered to retreat to a more advantageous piece of ground. They got in disorder and could not be formed.[J] The Indians pursued[53] them from all quarters, and surrounded, killed, and took the most of them. The enemy again charged on the left with redoubled vigor, but were again forced to retire. Our men lay close behind the picketing, through which they had portholes, and every one having a rest took sight, that his ammunition might not be spent in vain. After a long and bloody contest, the enemy finding they could not, either by stratagem or force, drive us from our fortification, retired to the woods, leaving their dead on the ground, except a party that kept two pieces of cannon in play on our right. A sleigh was seen three or four hundred yards from our lines going towards the right, supposed to be laden with ammunition to supply the cannon. Four or five men rose up and fired at once, and killed the man and wounded the horse. Some Indians who were hid behind houses continued to annoy us with scattering balls. At this time bread from the commissary’s house was handed round among our troops, who sat composedly eating and watching the enemy at the same time. Being thus refreshed, we discovered a white flag advancing toward us; it was generally supposed to be for a cessation[54] of arms that our enemies might carry off their dead, which were numerous, although they had been bearing away both dead and wounded during the action; but how were we surprised and mortified when we heard that Gen. Winchester, with Col. Lewis, had been taken prisoners by the Indians in attempting to rally the right wing, and that Gen. Winchester had surrendered us prisoners of war to Col. Proctor! Major Madison, then the highest in command, did not agree to this until Col. Proctor had promised[K] that the prisoners should be protected from the Indians, the wounded taken care of, the dead[55] collected and buried, and private property respected. It was then with extreme reluctance our troops accepted this proposition; there was scarcely a person that could refrain from shedding tears! Some plead with the officers not to surrender, saying they would rather die on the field! We had only five killed, and twenty-five or thirty wounded, inside of the pickets. The British asked, when they came in, what we had done with our dead, as they saw but few on the ground. A barn being set on fire to drive the Indians from behind it, they concluded that, to conceal our dead, we had thrown them into these flames.

One of the houses that the wounded were in, was much shattered by the cannon balls, though only a few struck as low as a man’s head. The bombs flew over. Some bursted fifty feet above the ice, some fell on the ice, and some fell over the river. Notwithstanding all their exertions, their six cannon (which were all said to be six-pounders) did but little damage.

In this battle, officers and privates exhibited the utmost firmness and bravery. Whilst the men were at their posts firing on the enemy, the officers were passing along the lines supplying them with cartridges. Major Graves, in passing around the line, was wounded in the knee. He sat down in[56] a tent, bound up his wound, and cried: “Boys, I am wounded; never mind me, but fight on!�

The British collected their troops, and marched in front of the village. We marched out and grounded our arms, in heat and bitterness of spirit. The British and Indians took possession of them. But all the swords, dirks, tomahawks, and knives were given up with promise that they should be restored again. [This promise was broken.]

All the prisoners, except those that were badly wounded, Dr. Todd, Dr. Bowers, and a few attendants, were marched towards Malden. The British said, as they had a great many of their wounded to take to Malden that evening, it would be out of their power to take ours before morning, but they would leave a sufficient guard, so that they should not be interrupted by the Indians. You will presently see with what aggravating circumstances the breach of this promise was attended.

Brother Allen Darnall having been badly wounded in the right shoulder on the 18th, and I being appointed to attend on the wounded, I continued with them.

Before the British and prisoners marched, the Indians ransacked the camp, and got all the plunder that was remaining—namely, tents, kettles, buckets, pans, &c.; then coming[57] amongst the wounded, greatly insulted them, and took some of their plunder. After they went out I bolted the door. They came again and broke it open with their tomahawks. I immediately applied to a British officer, and told him the Indians were interrupting the wounded. He turned round, and called to another officer to send the guard. The Indians at that time had plundered the commissary’s house (which was near the house in which the wounded were) of everything they wanted, and piled rails against it and set them on fire: I, with the assistance of two British officers, put it out. One of the British officers (Maj. Rundels) inquired where the ammunition was. I told him, if there was any, it was above stairs. We went up, but could find none. There was a large quantity of wheat on the loft; he said it was a pity it was there, for the Indians would burn the house. I apprehended by that, the town was to be burned, and began to lament our wretched condition. After we went down stairs, Rundels asked me how many we had killed and wounded on the 18th. I told him, but he very haughtily disputed it. I had the return in my pocket. He read it, but made no reply.

Those that remained of us being hungry, I applied to one of the British in the evening for some flour, as there were a good many[58] barrels in the commissary’s house, which I considered to belong to them. He told me to take as much as I wanted. I asked him if there was a guard left? He said there was no necessity for any, for the Indians were going to their camp, and there were interpreters left who would walk from house to house and see that we should not be interrupted. He kept walking about and looking towards the road. He told me I had better keep in the house, for the Indians would as soon shoot me as not, although he had just told me we should not be interrupted! I suspected he was looking for Gen. Harrison. Oh! if we had seen General Harrison coming with his troops, the wounded would have leaped for joy! but I did not expect him.

As they did not leave the promised guard, I lost all confidence in them, and expected we would be all massacred before morning. I being the only person in this house not wounded, with the assistance of some of the wounded, I prepared something for about thirty to eat. The Indians kept searching about town till after dark. One came in the house who could talk English, and said he commanded a company after the retreating party, and that most of that party were slain. He said the men gave up their guns, plead for quarters, and offered them money if they would not kill them; but his boys, as he[59] called them, would tomahawk them without distinction. He said the plan that was fixed on by the Indians and British, before the battle commenced, was that the British were to attack in front to induce us to charge on them; 500 Indians were placed on the right hand and 500 on the left, to flank round and take possession of the town; but he said we were too cunning for them; we would not move out of the pickets.

We passed this night under the most serious apprehensions of being massacred by the tomahawk or consumed in the flames. I frequently went out during the night to see if the house was set on fire. At length the long wished-for morn arrived, and filled each heart with a cheerful hope of being delivered from the cruelty of those merciless savages. We were making every preparation to be ready for the promised sleighs; but, alas! instead of the sleighs, about an hour by sun a great number of savages, painted with various colors, came yelling in the most hideous manner! These bloodthirsty, terrific savages (sent here by their more cruel and perfidious allies, the British) rushed into the houses where the desponding wounded lay, and insolently stripped them of their blankets and all their best clothes, and ordered them out of the houses! I ran out of the house to[60] inform the interpreters[L] what the Indians were doing. At the door, an Indian took my hat and put it on his own head. I then discovered the Indians had been at the other house first, and had used the wounded in like manner. As I turned to go back into the house, an Indian, taking hold of me, made signs for me to stand by the corner of the house. I made signs to him I wanted to go in and get my hat; for I desired to see what they had done with the wounded. The Indians sent in a boy who brought out a hat and threw it down to me, and I could not get in the house. Three Indians came up to me and pulled off my coat. My feeble powers cannot describe the dismal scenes here exhibited. I saw my fellow-soldiers, naked and wounded, crawling out of the houses to avoid being consumed in the flames. Some that had not been able to turn themselves on their beds for four days, through fear of being burned to death, arose and walked out and about through the yard. Some cried for help, but there were none to help them. “Ah!� exclaimed numbers, in the anguish of their spirit, “what shall we do?� A number, unable to get out, miserably perished in[61] the unrelenting flames of the houses, kindled by the more unrelenting savages. Now the scenes of cruelty and murder we had been anticipating with dread, during last night, fully commenced. The savages rushed on the wounded, and, in their barbarous manner, shot, and tomahawked, and scalped them; and cruelly mangled their naked bodies while they lay agonizing and weltering in their blood. A number were taken towards Malden, but being unable to march with speed, were inhumanly massacred. The road was, for miles, strewed with the mangled bodies, and all of them were left like those slain in battle, on the 22d, for birds and beasts to tear in pieces and devour. The Indians plundered the town of everything valuable, and set the best houses on fire. The Indian who claimed me, gave me a coat, and when he had got as much plunder as he could carry, he ordered me, by signs, to march, which I did, with extreme reluctance, in company with three of the wounded and six or seven Indians. In travelling about a quarter of a mile, two of the wounded lagged behind about twenty yards. The Indians, turning round, shot one and scalped him. They shot at the other and missed him; he, running up to them, begged that they would not shoot him. He said he would keep up, and give them money. But these murderers were not moved with his[62] doleful cries. They shot him down; and, rushing on him in a crowd, scalped him. In like manner my brother Allen perished. He marched with difficulty after the wounded, about two or three hundred yards, and was there barbarously murdered. My feelings at the sight and recollection of these inhuman butcheries cannot be described. In addition to these deep sorrows for the mournful fate of my companions, and the cruel death of a dear brother, I expected every moment, for a considerable time, that the same kind of cruelty and death would be my portion. The Indians that guarded me and one of the wounded, observing our consternation, one that could talk English said, “We will not shoot you.� This a little revived our hopes, that were almost gone;[M] and he, having cut[63] a piece, hide and all, of a dead cow, started. It is their common practice to kill a cow or hog, and take a piece, and leave the rest. In travelling two miles, we came to a house where there were two British officers; the Indian made a halt, and I asked one of the officers what the Indian was going to do with me; he said he was going to take me to Amherstburg (or Malden). I judged these villains had instructed the Indians to do what they had done. A few miles farther, we came to the Indian encampment, where there were a great many hallooing and yelling in a hideous manner. I thought this my place of destiny. The Indian took off my pack, broiled a piece of meat and gave me part; this I ate merely in obedience to him. Then we started and arrived at Amherstburg, eighteen miles from Frenchtown. The other prisoners had just arrived. The British were firing their salute. The Indian took me into a house not far from the fort; it was probably their council house; it would have held 500. It was inhabited by a large number of squaws, children, and dogs. They welcomed me by giving me some bread, meat and hominy to eat. After this an Indian asked me if I had a squaw; I told him not; he immediately turned round and talked to the squaws in Indian, while I sat in a pensive mood observing their motions. I discovered the squaws were pleased, by their[64] tittering and grinning; one, I observed, had a great desire to express her joy by showing her teeth; but the length of time she had lived in this world had put it out of her power. I suspected, from their manœuvres, I would have to undergo a disagreeable adoption (as other prisoners had done)—and, what was a task still more unpleasant, to be united in the conjugal band to one of these swarthy, disgustful animals. The Indian asked me a few questions—where we had come from—how far it was—when we started—and if there were any more coming. In reply to these questions, I gave him but little satisfaction. After this they spread blankets down, and made signs for me to go to bed. I did, and soon fell asleep, as I was much fatigued and had not slept much for four nights past. Early next morning, the Indian collected his family and all his property, and started: I knew not where he was going; he gave me a knapsack and gun to carry. Now I despaired of getting with the other prisoners, unless I could desert from the Indians! I expected I would be taken to an Indian town, there to undergo a disagreeable adoption, or to be burned to death with firebrands. As he took me near Fort Malden, I took as good a view of it as I could while I passed it. It stands about thirty yards from the river bank. I judged it to be seventy or eighty[65] yards square; the wall appeared to be built of timber and clay. The side, from the river, was not walled, but had double pickets, and entrenched round, about four feet deep; and in the entrenchment was the second row of pickets. As we went on through the edge of town (Amherstburg) I asked an Englishman where the other prisoners were? He said they were in town, in a wood-yard; the Indian hurried me along and would not let me talk to the Englishman. The Indian had a little horse, packed with his plunder, which I resolved to take, if possible, and ride into town that night.

He took me to his place of residence, about three miles from Malden. I was anxious for the approach of night, so that I might make my escape. While I was consoling myself with the anticipation of seeing my fellow sufferers at Malden, night made its approach. Some time after dark the Indian spread blankets down, and made signs for me to lie down, and put my coat, shoes, and socks, under his own head. I wanted him to leave my socks on, for my feet would get cold; he made signs to warm them by the fire. Thus I was sadly disappointed.

Next day he examined all his plunder. He had a very good suit of clothes, besides several other coats, socks, shoes, &c.; among these were Wesley’s Sermons and a great[66] many papers, which he gave me to read. I found several old letters, but nothing of value. He discovered I wanted to shave, and got his razor, shaving-box, and a piece of glass, and made signs for me to shave. After this, I lay down on some blankets and fell asleep. He came and awoke me, and gave me a twist of tobacco, which I received as a token of friendship. In a short time after, he started to Malden, and made signs for me to stay there till he would come back. He returned in the evening with a blanket, tied full of loaves of bread, just out of the oven, besides some meat. The Indians always gave me a plenty to eat; and served me before any of the family, with more politeness than I expected to find amongst them. He had drawn some money. I asked him to let me look at it. I found it to be pieces of cards with the number of livres written on them.

The third night at length arrived; and he made my bed as usual; and took my coat and shoes, but accidentally left my socks on. I lay down with the determination to leave him before morning. I slept very well for awhile. When I awoke, the house was dark. I thought this as good an opportunity of deserting as I could get, but with considerable timidity I made the attempt. I crawled to the door very easily, and raised the blanket that hung up at the door; just as I was going[67] out he coughed, and I stopped until I thought he was asleep, and then started, without shoes or coat, to Amherstburg. When I got there, I examined several yards and gardens to see if there was any fire. After going through many streets, I turned my course towards the river, and accidentally came to the house where the prisoners were. The sentinel, who was standing at the door, let me in without much ceremony. Providence smiled on this attempt to extricate myself from the Indians. Thus, through mercy, I escaped from the savages, and was delivered from the doleful apprehensions of being sacrificed in some barbarous and cruel manner, to gratify their bloodthirsty souls. I got in between two of my comrades who were lying next to the door. My feet were almost frozen before morning.

During my captivity with the Indians, the other prisoners were treated very inhumanly. The first night, they were put in a wood-yard; the rain commenced early in the night, and put out all their fires. In this manner they passed a tedious night, wet, and benumbed with cold. From this place they were taken to a cold warehouse, still deprived of fire, with their clothes and blankets frozen, and nothing to eat but a little bread. In this wretched condition they continued two days and three nights!

[68]26th. The Indians came early in the morning to search for me, but they were not admitted into the house. The guard said it would be well for me to keep as much concealed as possible, for if the Indian I had left could get me he would kill me. He came to the door, and made motions to show how he would scalp me. I disguised myself by changing my clothes and tying up my head, so that he did not know me.

The prisoners being destined to Fort George, were divided in two divisions, the first to keep a day’s march before the second, in order, probably, to be better supplied with provisions on the way.

I being attached to the first division, the Indians examined the lines very closely for me, but not possessing discernment sufficient to know me, I fortunately escaped.

Malden, or Amherstburg, is situated on the east side of Detroit River, near its junction with Lake Erie, and contains about one hundred houses, mostly frame; in lat. 42° 22′ N., long. 8° 3′ W. from Philadelphia.

We set out from this town, and marched seventeen miles to Sandwich, a small town on the east side of Detroit River, and one mile below Detroit; it contains perhaps about three hundred inhabitants. We were divided in small companies, and put into different[69] houses, where we had the happiness once more to see fire.

27th. We drew a ration of bread and fresh beef, but no salt, and had no way of cooking the beef. We commenced our march at 1 o’clock, and marched ten miles, part of the way on Lake St. Clair. In the evening we were conducted to cold barns, and there shut up till morning, deprived of fire.

28th. We recommenced our march early, as cold a morning as ever I experienced, and continued twenty-four miles on Lake St. Clair; at night we were conducted to a cold barn on the beach; we lay without fire, except a few who could not get in, who had the happiness of encamping in the woods.

29th. We again resumed our march, and continued on the lake fifteen miles to the mouth of La Tranche River, called by some the River Thames; during this time we had to run to keep ourselves from freezing; we continued up the river five miles, and stopped while the guard went in to warm and to get their dinner. Having drawn no provisions since we left Sandwich, some of the prisoners were driven to the necessity of picking up frozen potatoes and apple peelings that had been thrown out in the yard. One of the prisoners, being unable to keep pace with the rest, was left on the lake, but was accidentally overtaken by a sleigh and brought on. After[70] being in a stove room some time, he was led out to march, trembling with cold. One of the guard observed, “he was a man of no spirit to freeze such a day as this.� So barbarous were their dispositions and treatment, that I concluded we should die of cold and hunger. We marched ten miles farther to Captain Dolson’s, where we were conducted into a large still-house. A number lodged below among the still-tubs by the fire; the rest on the loft, where they were annoyed with the smoke. Some time in the night they brought us a little bread and meat.

30th. We drew two days’ provisions, and cooked it.

31st. It snowed all day; notwithstanding, we marched twenty-four miles and were shut up in a barn wet and cold. Going to a barn to lodge so cold an evening was like approaching a formidable enemy, for we expected to perish with cold in the dreary dwelling. Many got their feet frostbitten. We tried in vain to keep our shoes from freezing by putting them under our heads.

February 1. We continued our march twenty-two miles in a thinly settled country, and passed through the Moravian nation of Indians; in the evening we encamped in the woods.

2d. We marched twenty-two miles, suffering greatly both with hunger and cold. In[71] the evening we arrived at Delaware township, a small settlement on the River La Tranche. We were divided into small companies, and were permitted to lodge in houses by fires.

3d. We had been two days without provisions. Here we drew rations for three days. Capt. Dolson left us to-day; the prisoners must forever detest his baseness and cruelty. We resumed our march in the evening and continued five miles, notwithstanding the snow was two feet deep, and it was then snowing. We were better treated by our new guard.

4th. We marched twenty-six miles to the head waters of the River Thames, to Oxford township, a settlement of ten or twelve miles in length.

5th. We marched two miles, and were detained for a supply of provisions.[N] After being supplied we continued our march in the evening three miles farther, and where we[72] lodged were treated very civilly by the inhabitants.

[73]6th. After marching twenty-four miles, principally through a wilderness, we arrived at Burford township.[P]

[74]7th. In marching thirty miles to a little village near the head of Lake Ontario, we passed through the Mohawk Nation of Indians on Grand River, who are much whiter than any we have seen; their mode of dress is not different from other Indian nations, and they have the same savage appearance; we were informed that there are six nations on this river who hold a large body of the best land.

8th. We drew our rations and proceeded on sixteen miles. In going down towards Lake Ontario, we descended a precipice upwards of two hundred feet into a level country; this precipice extends across Niagara River, and occasions those remarkable falls.

9th. We marched eighteen miles through a well-settled country.

[75]10th. We marched sixteen miles to Newark, lately called Niagara West; it contains about five hundred inhabitants; many of the buildings are handsome, composed of brick and stone; it has several churches, an academy, six taverns, and about twenty stores; it is situated on the west side of Niagara River, in lat. 43° 15′ N., long. 4° west; Fort George stands at the upper end of the town.

We continued here no longer than was necessary to make arrangements to cross the river. A British officer took down our names, and the regiment and company we belonged to, and said “we must not take up arms against Great Britain and her allies until legally exchanged.� Thus we were parolled; they hoisted a flag and took us across Niagara River,[Q] which is about one-quarter of a mile[76] wide to Fort Niagara, which is situated at the junction of Niagara River and Lake Ontario, in New York State; it is strongly fortified, and well supplied with artillery.

From Malden to Sandwich, and a considerable distance up St. Clair, resembles a level plain thickly interspersed with farms and houses; many places look like little villages. The houses are principally frame, and have an ancient appearance. Besides being well supplied with grain from their farms, they receive considerable benefit from their orchards.

The River La Tranche is a considerable navigable stream, and runs a westerly course into Lake St. Clair; the land near it is rich and fertile; the timber is oak, ash, hickory, walnut, sugar-tree, &c. It is thickly settled as far as Moraviantown; but, from the river[77] on the north side, is an extensive wilderness of poor swampy land. From Moraviantown to Grand River is a wilderness of poor piney land, except Delaware, Oxford, and Burford townships, which are tolerable settlements. From Grand River to Fort George, is a rich, well-settled country, particularly along Lake Ontario. The inhabitants are composed of English, French, Dutch, and a great many emigrants from the United States. The whole has been estimated at eighty thousand; besides these, there are unknown numbers of Indians. The Canadians are generally a well-looking people, remarkably fair, but not well informed. They do not set a great value on education, and it is not encouraged by the government. Although their laws appear to be moderate, yet neither the freedom of speech nor the freedom of the press is encouraged. The officers are haughty and tyrannical in the execution of their orders. I learned that a majority[R] of the inhabitants were in favor of the United States government, and many[78] had concealed themselves to avoid taking up arms.

The British forces consist of regulars, flankers, militia, Negroes, and Indians. Agreeably to an act of their assembly in 1812, their flankers are riflemen, volunteered or drafted for the term of six months, and longer if not then relieved. The militia cannot be called into service for more than twenty days, unless their country is invaded. I heard of two companies of Negroes, runaways from Kentucky, and other States, who are commanded by white men. A great many of the Indians are stationed near the lines, who can be called to arms at a minute’s warning.

11th. After regaling ourselves on the plenty of food and drink afforded us in the land of liberty, we set our faces homewards. One mile from Niagara Fort, we came to Salt Battery; it was composed of barrels of salt and dirt. From this they could play upon Fort George. We proceeded up the river eight miles to Lewistown, which is on the east bank of Niagara River, opposite Queenstown, and contains only a few houses; eight miles farther, we came to Grand Niagara, a small village on the east bank of Niagara River just above the falls, and nearly opposite Chippeway. Above the falls, in the middle of the river, is an island about three hundred yards[79] long, the lower end of which is just at the perpendicular edge of the fall. On both sides of this island, all the waters of the rivers and lakes to the north-west, fall down a precipice of one hundred and thirty-seven feet perpendicular, and fall near as much more in a rapid of nine miles below. Before the water comes to the fall, as it passes the island, it seems in swiftness to outfly an arrow.

12th. We arrived at Black Rock, nineteen miles above the falls. Here is a considerable village, a navy yard, and three batteries well furnished with cannon. It took its name from its rocky situation. From this we continued on two miles and a half to Buffalo, the capital of Buffalo county, New York State. It is situated at the foot of Lake Erie, opposite to Fort Erie.

We continued at Buffalo one day, on account of the badness of the weather, and then continued our march thirty-two miles on the lake, and then marched through a well-settled country to Erie, the county town of Erie county, in Pennsylvania. It is ninety miles from Buffalo, and is situated on the south-east shore of Lake Erie. We proceeded on by the way of Waterford and Meadville, one hundred and twenty miles, to Pittsburgh, and from Pittsburgh to Kentucky, by water.

Language fails to express the emotions I[80] felt on arriving safely at home, to enjoy the caresses and society of dear friends, after having endured so much fatigue, and having been so often exposed to imminent danger; and having so frequently expected death, attended with all the horrors of Indian cruelty.

During the battle on the 22d January, 1813, at Frenchtown, on the River Raisin, between the combined forces of British, Canadians, and Indians, and the American forces, I received a wound from a piece of plank, which had been split off by a cannon ball. It struck me on the side, and unfortunately broke three of my ribs. The battle having terminated in favor of the combined forces, and I not being able to travel with those American prisoners who were to march immediately for Malden, I remained on the ground until the next morning, with the rest of my wounded countrymen, who had received a solemn promise from the British commander, that they should be taken to Malden in sleighs.

This sacred promise was not regarded! It was sacrificed on the altar of savage barbarity! to the god of murder and cruelty![82] Instead of sleighs, Indians were sent prepared to murder these unfortunate victims! who, after they had executed in part their purpose on the ground where we lay, ordered several other prisoners and myself to march for Malden. We had not proceeded far before they tomahawked four of this number, amongst whom was Captain Hart, of Lexington. He had hired an Indian to take him to Malden. I saw part of this hire paid to the Indian.

After having taken him some distance, another Indian demanded him, saying that he was his prisoner; the hireling would not give him up; the claimant, finding that he could not get him alive, shot him in the left side with a pistol. Capt. Hart still remained on his horse; the claimant then ran up, struck him with a tomahawk, pulled him off his horse, scalped him, and left him lying there.

We proceeded on until we came within three miles of Brownstown, where we encamped for the night. The next day we proceeded on to their encampment, seven or eight miles from Detroit, on the River Rouge, which appeared to be head-quarters. They were furnished at this place with bark wig-wams; here was a large number of squaws and children, I suppose two thousand.

They here stripped off my clothes, and dressed me after the Indian manner. They shaved off my hair, except a small quantity[83] on the top of my head, which they left for the purpose of rendering the task of scalping more easy. They bored my ears, which they supplied plentifully with ear-rings, frequently by hanging one in another, like the links of a chain. They wanted to bore my nose, but I objected, and they did not insist. They frequently painted my face one-half black and the other red, and frequently with red and black streaks.

Shortly after our arrival at these encampments, I was adopted into a Pottowatomie family that had lost a son in the battle at the River Raisin.

I was presented to this family by an Indian whose name was Ke-wi-ex-kim. He introduced me to my father and mother, brothers and sisters, and instructed me to call them by these respective appellations. My father’s name was Asa Chipsaw, after whom they call me; they asked me if I had a squaw; I answered in the negative, at which they appeared well pleased, and brought me a squaw, urging me to marry her. I refused, and told them when I got well I would accede to the proposals; this they took as a great offence. After having made themselves acquainted with the situation of my wound, they made a tea of sassafras and cherry-tree barks, which was the only drink I was permitted to take for fifteen days.

[84]They frequently took me to Detroit, for the purpose of helping them to pack provisions from thence to their encampment. But they would not suffer me to talk to the inhabitants of that place. Fifteen loaves of bread, weighing three pounds each, ten pounds of pork or beef, and a peck of corn, was what they drew for six days. This would not last more than half that time; the remaining part they lived upon fragments of dog or horse meat. They appeared indifferent whether they had killed the animal that day themselves, or whether it had died by some accidental cause seven or eight days prior to their eating it.

They appointed me cook. I then had to undergo much fatigue in getting wood, &c., for they lent no assistance. Their customary way of cooking is to boil the meat and make soup, which they immediately devour without salt.

They have drunken frolics, whenever they can get any kind of spirits to drink. When these frolics take place the squaws hid me, to prevent them from murdering me. Once I was hid in some brush and deprived of food for four days, during which time there was a continual uproar in the camp, as though they had been killing each other.

The squaws, who frequently visited me, and to whom I as often applied for something[85] to eat, informed me that there could be nothing had until the men got sober, who would then either kill provisions, or draw from Detroit. On the fourth day, when I had given up to perish, they brought me a piece of a dog cooked without salt, and although you may feel squeamish when I mention it, yet it was to me the sweetest morsel that I ever recollect to have eaten.

During my stay with them I saw them take a number of scalps to Malden, for which they said they received from four to six dollars each, either in whiskey or store goods. They said they got thirty-seven scalps at the battle of the 18th, and upwards of four hundred at that of the 22d January. I replied, that there were only ten scalped on the 18th. They said “Yankee d—d lie;� and they further stated, that they had only two killed on the 18th. I replied, Indian d—d lie, for I saw myself twelve dead on the field. I asked them how many British and Indians were at the River Raisin, on the 22d January; they replied, that there were two thousand five hundred Indians, and one thousand British.

They would frequently make motions imitating the Americans when they were scalping them, by turning, twisting, mourning, &c.; this was done to aggravate me.

They once gave me a jug of whiskey, requesting me to drink. I drank what satisfied[86] me, and offered them the jug again—they insisted on me to drink more; I put the jug to my head, but did not drink; they discovered the cheat, and cried out “Yankee no good man, d—d lie;� they then made me drink until they could hear it gurgle in my throat.

About three weeks before the battle at the Rapids, the squaws and boys were employed in dressing deer-skins, which were to equip the warriors for their march thither. During this time, the warriors were collecting and dancing the war-dance. They informed me that they were going to Quo-by-ghaw, which I learned from the French, was the Rapids. I further learned that the British had promised them the possession of Fort Meigs, as well as the disposal of Gen. Harrison. They then calculated on Fort Meigs as their chief place of deposit, from which they could make incursions into the State of Ohio, kill a vast number of the inhabitants, and satisfy themselves with plunder. They calculated on having a three days’ frolic in the burning of Gen. Harrison.

Two weeks before their march for Fort Meigs, Tecumseh was with them. He was busily employed rallying those who were indifferent about going to the battle, and encouraging those who had volunteered; amongst other persuasive arguments to volunteer, he[87] made use of these, viz.: that Fort Meigs was badly constructed and illy defended; asserting that they could take it without the loss of a man. But, if this could not be effected, he would then lead them on to Fort Wayne, which would certainly fall an easy prey to them. He then left them, and went to the Wabash to brings his warriors, who were stationed at that place.

Previous to the march of the Indians, they took bark of swamp willow, and tobacco, mixed them together, and pulverized them. They then formed a circle round a fire which had been prepared for that purpose, and one rose and delivered a speech, I understood, relative to the war. At the conclusion of the speech, they passed this powder around the circle, each individual taking a pinch as it passed; each then snuffed a part of this portion, and threw the remaining part in the fire. After this had been performed with the greatest solemnity, one took the snuff which yet remained in the vessel, and threw it in the fire. They then took up their packs, raised the scalp halloo, waved their tomahawks over their heads, and marched for battle.

There were three thousand who drew four days’ rations at Detroit. When they left us, they told us to be good boys, and stay there till they came back, and they would bring some more Yankees, who should cook, and[88] do all the hard work, and we might go with them hunting.

They left us in care of the squaws and a few old men.

We had no other way by which to get free from this unpleasant situation, but deserting them; for they had been offered one hundred dollars each, for four of us, by the citizens of Detroit, but refused it. These four were Major Graves, Samuel Ganoe, John Davenport, and myself.

Thinking this as favorable an opportunity as we could get, I requested Samuel Ganoe to set off with me; he readily consented, and we set off just at dark, and ran to Detroit, which was eight miles, and got to the house of Mr. H., who concealed us in his cellar. He had a hole dug in the bottom of his cellar six or eight feet deep, for the purpose of keeping potatoes; and in this we were put, and he laid planks over it, and threw dirt on the planks, which caused it to bear so nice a semblance to the other part of the cellar, that the Indians could not distinguish it from the common bottom. This dismal dungeon was our abode for half a day, during which time the Indians came, and searched carefully for us, but in vain. After they were gone, Mr. H. asked a British officer if he would take the care of us. He replied in the affirmative, and then sent us immediately to the fort at[89] Detroit, where we were kept two days, the Indians still searching for us. On the second night about midnight, we were sent to Sandwich, and kept there two days with but little to eat, and then sent to Malden. We found the force at Malden to consist of sixty Canadian French, besides eighty who had received wounds at the River Raisin, and who would no doubt remain invalids for life. We also found stationed at Malden, James Girty, who, I was informed, was brother to the infamous Simon Girty; his business was to receive scalps from the Indians; his pay for this service was three dollars per week. I saw here about half a bushel of scalps in a kettle! the number I cannot guess at.

After every exertion to take Fort Meigs had failed, the British returned to Malden, cursing Harrison for a rabbit, which they swore had burrowed, and which they could not take in that situation.

From Malden we were taken across to Cleveland, on the 16th day of May, 1813.

The following prisoners were with the Indians at the time I was a prisoner, viz.: Major Graves, Jarret Dougherty, Thomas Jones, Joseph Foddre, and John Fightmaster; the latter of whom had deserted from us, was brought back, and made to ride the wooden horse. He then deserted to the Indians,[90] swearing—he had rather stay with them than ride Winchester’s English mare again.

I heard of three other prisoners, but do not remember their names; two of whom were about twenty miles from Detroit, and the other near Malden.

From Cleveland nothing worth relating occurred until I arrived at home, in Bourbon county, Kentucky; where I found my friends all in good health, my father excepted, who had gone to face the same enemy from whom I had just made my escape.

During the battle which was fought on the 18th of January, 1813, between the American forces, under the command of Colonel Lewis, and the combined British and Indians, I received a wound in my right leg by a ball which fractured the bone, but did not entirely break it. After the battle was over I, with many others who were also wounded, was carried off the field and put in a house, where we remained until after the battle of the 22d, when we were surrendered prisoners of war to the British. I remained here during the night of the 22d, with the expectation of being carried to Malden the next day, but in this I was disappointed. On the morning of the 23d I witnessed the most horrid scenes of cruelty imaginable; for the British, instead of sending sleighs, as was most solemnly promised, to convey the wounded prisoners to Maiden, sent the Indians, who, after selecting[92] a few from amongst the wounded, tomahawked and scalped the rest in the most savage and cruel manner that malice could invent, or devils incarnate execute, and set fire to the houses in which they had been and burned them to ashes! Then, instead of going to Malden, they took me to Brownstown, where I had nothing to eat except a little parched corn. While I was at Brownstown an Indian asked me whether I had a squaw, to which I answered in the negative. He then replied, “We make an Indian of you, and by’n by you have a squaw, by’n by you have a gun and horse and go a hunting.� The next day we proceeded on our march until we came near the River Rouge, where the Indians procured some provisions, consisting of fresh meat, but no salt. From here we set off again and travelled slowly (I rather think to favor the wounded) until we arrived at their encampment, three or four miles from Detroit, at which place there were a number of squaws and children who had taken up winter quarters.

As soon as we had arrived at this place I was presented to an old squaw, whom the Indians instructed me to call by the appellation of mother. This old witch, as I took her to be, had lost two sons at the River Raisin; I had therefore to supply the place of one of them, and thus had to become the[93] adopted son of the most hideous of all animals that ever roamed over the forests of North America. After this they dressed my wound for the first time, which now appeared to be getting well fast; in the next place they trimmed my hair off, except a small quantity on the top of my head, and painted me; then adorned me with ear-rings, bracelets, &c. and put a band of silver round my head. By this time I began to look very stylish, or rather made as uncouth and grotesque a figure as any of my copper-colored brethren.

While we remained at this place Mr. Gabriel Godfrey, a citizen of Detroit, offered the Indians $100 for my ransom, which they refused. I now began to conclude that there were no other means of extricating myself from bondage, unless it were by flight, and therefore determined to embrace the first opportunity that presented. In a few days after, the Indians presented a squaw to me, who appeared to have little more of humanity than the form, but equally as detestable as my mother, although she was younger. This ugly looking creature the Indians told me I should marry! I confess I never was so shocked at the thoughts of matrimony in my life! I told them “no good squaw.� They then brought several more of those inhuman looking creatures, whom I understood were also candidates for conjugal felicity. I told[94] them “by’n by I have a squaw.� This appeared to satisfy them at the present time; in this manner I frequently had to put them off.

They frequently solicited me to wear a breech-clout, which I always refused. One time my mother discovered me mending my pantaloons; thinking this a good opportunity to get me to wear one, she immediately brought one, which I took hold of and said “no good,� then threw it down and stamped it. At the sight of this she was very much enraged, and scolded desperately to herself in her own Indian dialect. I have often wondered since that they did not kill me for disobeying their orders, for I was extremely obstinate, and scarcely ever complied with their injunctions.

Notwithstanding my disobedience, the Indians treated me as well as was in their power, especially my mother, who was very kind to me. Some considerable time I had to eat my victuals without salt. I knew they had none, yet I would always ask for some. My old mother, after some time, procured some for me, which she kept hid to prevent the others from making use of it, and never failed to give me a small portion when I was eating.

Intoxication is practised by the squaws as well as the men; they frequently have drunken[95] frolics, at which times it is dangerous for prisoners to be amongst them. During these frantic revels the prisoners are kept hid by the squaws (a part of whom keep sober) to keep them from being murdered. One night, after the rest had gone to bed, my mother, who had stayed out later than usual, came in, sat down, and began to sing; she did not appear to be in her senses; I soon discovered that this old priestess of Bacchus had got very drunk. In this mood she seized hold of the fire and threw it on those who were sleeping round the fire, which soon caused them to rise; she then jumped into the fire and danced until she had burned the soles of her moccasons off.

They continued here about a month, and then removed about eight miles on the River Rouge, in order to prepare for making sugar. While we were employed at this business a Frenchman persuaded me to marry a squaw, if they insisted, for I would then be treated with more respect, and consequently would have greater liberties. After mature consideration, I thought probably this would be the best plan I could adopt, in order to make my escape, and therefore resolved to marry the next one that was presented to me. It was not long before they brought me a squaw (the most decent looking one I had seen), whom I resolved to marry without hesitation.[96] I however, when just on the point of forming a connubial alliance with her, was prevented by an Indian, who claimed her as his squaw.

Several weeks before the battle of Fort Meigs, the Indians began to collect and dance the war-dance.

Just before the Indians marched they prepared a number of hoops, both ends of which they stuck in the ground and spread their blankets over them. In this place they put hot stones, threw water on them, and then went in themselves and remained until they were wet with sweat. This I conjectured was done in the way of devotion, or in imploring the assistance of the Great Spirit in their intended expedition.

When the Indians marched I was committed to the care of the squaws and a few old invalids. Thinking this the most favorable opportunity I could get, I was determined to put my plan in execution. At night I lay down with the intention of starting when the moon arose, but overslept my time and did not awake till daylight. I arose and started, notwithstanding I was apprehensive of being discovered, and ran directly to Detroit, a distance of about nine miles, probably in as short a time as any Indian in the nation could have performed the same journey.

[97]As soon as I had arrived at Detroit I went to Mr. T. S’s, who had persuaded me to run away, and he and his friends would conceal me, which they did accordingly. It was but a short time before a Frenchman, of the name of Shover, and some squaws, came in search of me, but could not find me.

From here I was sent to Sandwich, and concealed there two days, and suffered extremely for provisions. From Sandwich I was sent to Malden, where I found six of my fellow-prisoners, who, together with myself, were kept under close confinement in the fort for three weeks. While we remained here we frequently heard from the Rapids, but the news was always favorable on the British side. One morning an old man, who looked as if he had just emerged from the lower regions, came into the fort and exclaimed, “good news, gentlemen! good news! we have killed fifteen hundred Yankees, and have taken Harrison and all the rest that were at the fort prisoners!!� I was informed afterwards that this old man was the notorious Simon Girty, so much renowned for cruelty and slaughter, and who has delighted in the shrieks of dying women and expiring infants!

From the most correct information I could obtain, their forces at the siege of Fort Meigs,[98] consisting of British regulars, Canadian militia, and Indians, amounted to 5,000!

From Malden I was taken across to Cleveland, and from there I pursued my journey towards the delightful regions of Kentucky, where I arrived in Montgomery county, in June, 1813.