That Dark and Bloody River

by Allan Eckert

  Besides, she confided, her smile widening, there was now another reason for him to make extra effort to come to her: a new little life was stirring within her and she was sure their second child would be born during the next Planting Moon.

  [October 14, 1773—Thursday]

  Five miles below the mouth of the Muskingum, on the high bank of the Ohio River at Briscoe’s Settlement, Dr. John Briscoe stood and looked downstream.172 No boats were in sight, but he was sure more would be passing before winter closed in. For the past six months, since early May, when he had led a party of 15 men in five canoes to this location, he had been developing this little settlement almost 90 miles below Zane’s Wheeling settlement. He felt a certain pride in having established the most remote settlement down the Ohio, yet there was also a prevailing sense of apprehension. Five cabins stood here now, built by men he had hired for that purpose, and next year, God willing, they would build more—perhaps even a blockhouse for everyone’s protection.

  Over these months a multitude of boat parties had passed on their way downstream, some of them traders laden with goods en route to the tribes, traveling with or without Indian escorts, but by far the greater majority were parties of men who had never seen the Ohio before: men bent on surveying and claiming lands. All had stopped off here to rest and visit, some for an hour or so, some for several days, but most for an overnight stay where they could enjoy the relative security of an established settlement.

  Briscoe’s present apprehension stemmed from the recent alarming increase in the number of stories told of attacks by Indians. The large surveying party led by Capt. Thomas Bullitt, for example, had disappeared. Several of his men had been found dead on the shore, but the remainder were simply gone, and everyone feared the worst. A similarly large surveying party under Hancock Taylor and the McAfee brothers had simply vanished.173 Then word had been brought by the Joel Reese party that the hunting camp established up the Kanawha by the big young frontiersman named Simon Kenton had been hit by Indians and that one of his two companions, John Yeager, had been killed. Kenton and George Strader had narrowly escaped death themselves and had been saved only by accidentally stumbling into Reese’s camp on the Ohio shore. Another party brought word that two men named Richards had been killed farther up the Kanawha. There were rumors of other attacks as well and an aura of growing tension in everyone. It was the consensus that these attacks were only a bare taste of what lay in store for whatever land-seeking parties descended the river next spring.

  That was when Briscoe came up with the idea almost everyone was commending: Instead of all these various parties descending the river next year as individuals or small groups, there should be a general rendezvous held at his settlement. From here, for mutual safety, they would all descend the river together in a force so strong, the Indians would not dare attack.

  For the past two months, everyone who came by, going upstream or down, was informed of the planned rendezvous and urged to pass the word along to everyone else encountered on the river who might not have heard about it. Since most of those intent on surveying and claiming lands were planning to be afloat on the Ohio as soon as the river was relatively clear of ice, the date set for the rendezvous was March fifteenth. They would gather at Briscoe’s for a period of two weeks and then, on the first of April, begin the great odyssey, with individuals or groups gradually splitting off up tributaries or at other areas that appealed to them as they were reached.

  Briscoe had already passed word of the rendezvous to a score of boat parties working their way back upstream toward Fort Pitt, and now, even though no more were immediately in sight, he knew others would be coming. He would remain here for a final two weeks and then, leaving behind a few men to guard the claims and cabins, would return to Pittsburgh himself. Optimist that he was, he truly believed that the spring rendezvous here would have only good results.

  [January 20, 1774—Thursday]

  At Fort Pitt—which he was still vainly trying to get everyone to call Fort Dunmore—Maj. John Connolly issued a statement calling up the militia and ordering the men to appear with their rifles at the fort in five days. Pittsburgh and nearby settlements dutifully brought up their required numbers and dispatched them to the fort, though all were perplexed over why such a call had been issued, as no further Indian disturbances had been reported since the beginning of winter.

  At just about the same time, in Williamsburg, Lord Dunmore, having already dissolved the right of assembly in the colony, now went one step further. As much as anywhere else and quite likely even more, revolutionary sentiments were regularly being voiced in the august halls of the Virginia Assembly itself. Legislators such as the fiery Patrick Henry, Richard Henry Lee and Thomas Jefferson were continually making speeches maligning King George and introducing resolutions to oppose his restrictive royal decrees. It was Patrick Henry, in fact, who had evoked applause, cheers and foot-stamping when he stood before the Assembly and thundered: “Caesar has his Brutus; Charles the First, his Cromwell; and George the Third—may profit by their example!” Now they had even had the effrontery to initiate what was being called the Intercolonial Committee of Correspondence in an effort to rile up citizens elsewhere as they had been riling their fellow Virginians. So unexpectedly and to the intense anger of practically everyone, Lord Dunmore now issued by proclamation a peremptory executive order dissolving the Virginia Assembly.

  [January 25, 1774—Tuesday]

  The Shawnees camped near the mouth of Saw Mill Run were pleased that they had been summoned to Pittsburgh by George Croghan because at last he might have good news for them in reply to their complaints about whites flooding into their lands. They were a bit apprehensive, however, when they saw a large number of white men assemble at the fort, listen to one who spoke for a long while and then form themselves into ranks and practice marching. The drilling men were not wearing uniforms, but they all carried guns and it was evident they were soldiers. Why should so many soldiers be gathered here at a time when the Shawnees had been summoned to speak of peace? It was all very strange.

  They continued to watch the exercises, until at last the man who had been speaking to them earlier halted them, said something else, the formation broke up and the men started away. The largest cluster moved toward the watching Shawnees, came within 100 yards or less, raised their weapons and abruptly fired in ragged chorus. Suddenly bullets were making little spurts in the creek water nearby, clipping twigs off low-hanging branches and ricocheting off nearby rocks with menacing whines.

  The Indians dived for cover behind trees and rocks or even in the tall grasses along the stream. They peered out fearfully, only to see the soldiers in frontier clothes running off, laughing and yelling.

  The Shawnees were not pleased.

  [January 28, 1774—Friday]

  When George Croghan’s deputy Indian agent, Alexander McKee, had confronted Maj. Connolly inside Fort Pitt yesterday, it was only with the greatest of difficulty that both had held their temper.

  “No,” Connolly had replied to the question McKee posed, “my militia did not fire on those damned Indians on my orders. They were just having fun. No one was hurt. So why are you coming to me?”

  “The Shawnee delegation came here in peace, Major,” McKee said, eyes glinting angrily. “Whether or not anyone was hurt makes no difference. They have a right not to expect to be treated in such a manner. They’re human beings, you know.”

  “They’re animals! They’re a mob of thieving beggars who are always asking for favors and presents. They deserve nothing from us. Nothing!”

  “So you’re not going to do anything about what happened?”

  “Yes, I’ll do something. I will, by God, give my militia orders to improve their marksmanship. Get out!”

  That was yesterday. Now McKee was addressing the group of Shawnees before him, speaking slowly and seriously in the Shawnee tongue. “You have told me,” he said, “of your reasons for coming here; that more than ever white men are coming in
to your lands and you wish them stopped and turned back. You have told me that you came here in peace, to talk peace, and that three days ago you were fired upon by soldiers who were not wearing soldier clothes. I am happy that none of you were hurt, but saddened that this thing should have happened. I have talked with Major Connolly in the fort, and he says he knows nothing of this affair. I do not know if he tells the truth or not. But for myself and your friend Croghan, who could not be here, I apologize that this bad thing happened. As to the first”—he raised his arms in a helpless gesture and then let them fall to his sides—“I deeply sympathize with you, as I, too, have seen the white men entering your lands. We have asked Lord Dunmore to stop them from doing this, but he does not know if he can. He has said he will ask our King, but that will take time, and I can only ask you to have patience. I am sorry I cannot do more.”

  Pucksinwah nodded. “I, too, am sorry. The Shawnees have already shown much patience. It has solved nothing. What has been happening continues to happen, and now there is little patience left to give. If the whites do not stop coming into our lands, who is to say what will happen next?” He paused for a long while and then added, “We were sent by Hokolesqua to council with Croghan. Yet he is not here. He has always helped us before. We will wait nearby for his return. We will harm no one, but let no one attempt again to harm us.”

  [February 16, 1774—Wednesday]

  Throughout this past fall and winter word had spread of the great rendezvous that was to take place far down the Ohio at Briscoe’s Settlement on March 15. Now, in the valleys of the Cheat, Youghiogheny and Monongahela, settlers, land-jobbers, surveyors, hired claimers and others had begun a general movement back toward the Ohio Valley. They moved confidently, with little fear. Since early fall almost no Indian attacks had been reported, the first time in years that it had been so quiet. There were hardly even any reports of Indian movement, and that, too, was highly unusual. Was it possible that the large numbers of whites flooding the Ohio River Valley last year had made them realize the futility of trying to resist? In the past, hadn’t the Indians given up and moved away to other areas as the whites moved in? Certainly it wasn’t so far-fetched to believe they might have done so again. Everyone knew from the talk of the traders that one of the recurrent themes of their councils was consideration of moving west of the Mississippi to get far out of harm’s way. Perhaps at last they had done so.

  The optimism drained away, however, when they reached Pittsburgh. There they found stories rampant of attacks, murders, scalpings, barbarities. Here were reports of robberies and of two deaths having been perpetrated by Indians in the area of Wheeling. Here was the report of a large party of land-jobbers that had gone downriver only a few weeks ago and been robbed by Indians near Grave Creek, their canoes and all their goods stolen, their own lives hanging in the balance as they overcame terrible hardships to get back to safety. Here was the story of the party of emissaries sent by Virginia to council for peace with the Shawnees, who were fired upon and barely managed to escape with their lives. Here was the story of the isolated cabin “somewhere downriver a ways” that was attacked and burned with a man, his wife and three children roasted to death inside.

  No one seemed to question the fact that the stories were always about a “party” or a “family” or “some surveyors” or “messengers” or “traders” or “emissaries” or “hunters.” Yet unfailingly no names were provided; no verification of any kind. They were simply accepted as having truly occurred, and in each telling and retelling, the stories became more frightening, the peril waiting down the Ohio more deadly.

  The stories were rumors, of course. More than that, they were outright lies. In a deliberate campaign to create fear and unrest and, most desirably, to provoke actual attacks by the prospective settlers on whatever Indians they might encounter, Maj. John Connolly had been making up these tales out of whole cloth or, wherever possible, lending an aspect of authenticity by embellishing ordinary events with bloody, horrible trimmings.

  So as the land-jobbers and surveyors and prospective settlers headed downriver from Pittsburgh for the rendezvous, it was with their guns close at hand and constant glances over their shoulders for whatever hazard might be approaching.

  Despite the word-of-mouth broadcasting of the rendezvous over the fall and winter, some had not heard of it, while others had enough men that they felt themselves sufficiently protected. Among these were two especially large parties, each with more than 50 men and both with the particular interest and sanction of Lord Dunmore. Oddly enough, though several hundred miles apart, these two parties set out on the same day for the Kentucky country. The party being led by John Floyd and Hancock Taylor had been poised for weeks to head for the Ohio River Valley from southwestern Virginia by way of the New and Kanawha rivers. Now they set out in a whole flotilla of canoes and small bateaux. They knew nothing of the planned rendezvous.174 The other party was led by James Harrod, who had surveyed in Kentucky last year and who now had assembled his men at Redstone Old Fort. The party included the young Hite brothers, Abraham, 16, and Isaac, a year younger. They, in turn, invited a neighbor lad, John Cuppy, to accompany them, saying by way of inducement that they would pay for his land warrants and even survey for him 1,000 acres of the best canelands in Kentucky. Cuppy was eager to go, but his father said no; not only was it a distant and dangerous trip, he wasn’t all that convinced the Kentucky lands were worth the effort and risk. Besides, John Cuppy, though big for his age, was only 12 years old.

  The Harrod party set off in a small fleet of canoes from the mouth of Redstone Creek, pausing only briefly at Pittsburgh. Though the rumors of Indian attacks reached them, they simply sloughed them off and went on their way, convinced they were strong enough to ward off any trouble. They decided not to wait for the rendezvous because they wanted to get the long journey to Kentucky behind them, and they didn’t really believe the Indians were going to be that much of a problem. Harrod had made plenty of claims there last year, and this time he meant to return up the Kentucky River to the area he liked best and there establish a strong, permanent settlement.

  [February 27, 1774—Sunday]

  Michael Cresap was surprised to see the small group of Indians standing on the shore at the mouth of Yellow Creek. Fifty miles below Pittsburgh, he had camped at this very place last fall on his way back to the settlements, and there hadn’t been a trace of these Indians in the area. Now there were a temporary dwelling and two campfires at the creek mouth, and he caught a glimpse of a couple of canoes just disappearing around a bend upstream on the creek.

  Not wishing to push his luck, he had been tempted to merely skim past without stopping and put to shore at Baker’s Bottom on the Virginia side a few hundred yards below, where Joshua Baker had claimed last summer and built a little cabin.175 But then he saw that one of the Indians at the mouth of the creek was waving, and he recognized him at once. It was Chief Logan, whom he had met on several occasions before, both at Pittsburgh and at his village near the mouth of Beaver River, the chief who was noted for his hospitality to travelers and whose daughter John Gibson had married. It would be impolite not to stop, so he swung his canoe toward shore.

  Cresap had been an officer on Col. Bouquet’s expedition to Goschachgunk in October of ’64.176 Shortly after that, he had entered the Indian trade but failed at it because of his inherent dislike of Indians, which, while not manifest, became evident in his actions and speech. He had then made some fairly extensive claims over the past five years on the Monongahela in the Redstone Creek area. He was one of the individual settlers there who did not put much credence in the rumors floating about of increased Indian attacks down the Ohio. It was possible, he knew, but he had long ago learned to be suspicious of the “I heered tell of …” stories that didn’t give names and places. They rarely had much foundation in truth.

  In recent months he had grown disenchanted with the Redstone Creek area; it had become rowdy and congested, filled with transients tramping a
ll over one’s property. So when a pair of brothers named Brown showed up one day and offered to buy all his claims fronting on the Monongahela just south of Redstone Creek, he sold out to them. The Brown brothers immediately began laying out a town on the land and called it Brownsville, while Cresap used the money he got to equip himself well for the claiming he meant to do down the Ohio this spring.177 In addition he had formed a loose association with George Rogers Clark and William Crawford, who were actively employed by the Ohio Land Company and looking to the establishment of a new colony beginning at the mouth of the Kanawha. Even more exciting—and dangerous—was the fact that George Washington, one of the founding members of the company, was not only intent on claiming some 200,000 acres along the Ohio but had hired John Floyd to locate lands right in the midst of the Shawnee territory in Ohio. His orders to Floyd were to claim for him some 10,000 acres of prime bottomlands in the valley of the Scioto River.178

  Now, painfully aware that his canoe was packed with camping gear, axes and shovels and all the other accoutrements requisite for such claiming, Michael Cresap nosed his little craft onto the shore and stepped out, immediately shaking hands with Chief Logan, who had stepped forward to greet him.