That Dark and Bloody River

by Allan Eckert

  “How,” Talgayeeta said, smiling. “You are Captain Cresap. I remember you. Welcome.”179

  “How. Wondered where you folks’d gone when I saw you weren’t up at Beaver anymore,” Cresap replied. He nodded at the few warriors standing together a short distance away. They gravely returned the nod but made no move to approach.

  “Too many people,” Talgayeeta replied. “Here there are not so many. None where we make the new village, there a little way.” He pointed upstream on Yellow Creek, where the canoes had passed from sight. Then he indicated the temporary shelter nearby. “Come. Smoke with me. We will talk.”

  Cresap followed him inside the half-face stick structure, and they squatted by the fire. They shared a pipe, talking casually, touching on such matters as the easy winter now ending, the health of their respective families, the recent incident at Pittsburgh when the rowdy militia soldiers had fired on the camped Shawnees, the increased white settlement on the Virginia side of the Ohio River, the growing irritation of the tribes about it and the rumors currently circulating about recent Indian attacks.

  Talgayeeta shook his head sadly. “The stories,” he said, “must be tales carried by bad birds, for I have heard nothing of them, and I would know if such things had happened. What the soldiers did near Fort Pitt was a foolish thing to do, even though no harm came of it, as it causes bad feelings. It would be well if both my friends, the Indians and the whites, could learn to live together in peace.”

  They talked a little more, finished their smoking, left the shelter and walked back to Cresap’s beached canoe. Talgayeeta looked at Cresap and smiled. He tilted his head toward Yellow Creek. “You are welcome to come see our new village. Come, eat with us, stay with us tonight.”

  The settler hesitated, then shook his head regretfully. “I appreciate your hospitality, Chief Logan, but there is still a good bit of the day remaining, and,” he added untruthfully, “I have urgent messages I must deliver at Wheeling.”

  Talgayeeta did not take offense. He simply shrugged and shook hands with Cresap again, inviting him to stop back when he had more time. He watched the white man paddle downstream for a time, then turned toward the new village where the Shawnee delegation had gone, the one that had arrived by canoe just before Cresap. These were some of the same Shawnees that had been fired upon a month ago in Pittsburgh.

  Within minutes Talgayeeta reached the village site where already half a dozen cabins had been built, as well as a small longhouse for councils.180 He moved directly to that latter structure and, now accompanied by his older brother, Taylaynee, joined the delegation waiting inside. The visitors had just finished eating bowls of savory venison stew brought to them by Koonay, and now, as she gathered up the empty bowls and carried them away, the Cayuga brothers took their place on a mat by the fire beside the deputation’s chief and spokesman, Pucksinwah. They smoked their pipes quietly, and then Pucksinwah spoke respectfully.

  “We have come to ask your help, Talgayeeta, as chief of the Mingoes.”

  “You give me more strength than is mine, Pucksinwah,” Talgayeeta replied. “I am but one man. Among the Mingoes there are no chiefs and there are no warriors, yet we are all warriors and we are all chiefs.”

  Pucksinwah nodded. “I understand that,” he said, “yet I also know that you are highly respected. The Mingoes go where you go, follow your lead in what you do. You know well of the great many whites who are coming into our lands. The Shawnees can fight their own battles against the Shemanese, but your word, Talgayeeta, is needed to encourage other tribes and the Mingoes to stand fast and to stop—by battle, if necessary!—any whites crossing into the Ohio country. We Shawnees cannot and should not be expected to stand alone and guard the entire frontier against the flood of whites, when it is for the benefit of all the tribes that this be done. All tribes must help stem the Shemanese. The word of Logan would sway many who would otherwise hold themselves apart from it.”

  Talgayeeta was moved by the Shawnee leader’s words, but he shook his head regretfully. “Pucksinwah, you do me great honor coming here. The Shawnees are now and always have been my friends.” He paused and shook his head again. “But never has Logan raised his hand against the whites; not even when some members of my own family fell in battles against them. There is no future in warring with a nation that has unlimited resources and more men by far than all the tribes together.”

  He smiled to take the sting out of what he was going to say and continued gently. “Are not you Shawnees yourselves guilty of stealing horses and equipment from the whites on the border? Have you not, when occasion has prompted it, slain the whites? Consider your defiance of the whites: Will it make their armies wither and die? Or will it instead cause immediate violent retribution against which no tribe can stand? You Shawnees are very proud and equally brave, and your complaints against the whites are certainly justified. But can you not see how much better it would be to be guided by clear thought rather than blind emotion? Somehow, Pucksinwah, there must be a way in which white men and red men can live in harmony and peace. But such a goal can never be achieved without thoughtful restraint on both sides. No, Pucksinwah, return to your fellow chiefs and tell them that Logan will not raise either his hand or voice against the whites, but that I will send emissaries to them and ask of them the same restraint that I ask of the Indians.”

  Pucksinwah sighed and motioned to his men, who came to their feet as he did, preparing to leave. Before stepping away, however, the Shawnee war chief looked down at Talgayeeta, and there was bitterness and frustration in his voice as he spoke again:

  “We must return to Fort Pitt for a final talk with our friend Croghan, but I would say one final thing to you.” He paused, choosing his words carefully as he continued. “You are a wise man, Talgayeeta, but beware lest the Bad Spirit, Matchemenetoo, blind you to the inevitable and you one day find yourself in grave danger from the very white man you like so much. You, who call yourself Logan, heed this: There is not now, nor can there ever be, a true and equitable peace between Indian and white.”

  [March 15, 1774—Tuesday]

  Joseph and Samuel Tomlinson, who had spent the winter making tomahawk improvements up the Kanawha and New rivers and their tributaries, as far as the Greenbrier Valley, were very eager to claim down the Ohio in the Kentucky country. They had expected that because of trouble they had experienced with floodwaters on the Kanawha, they would be late for the rendezvous, but their concerted efforts had paid off, and close to noon today they came to shore at Briscoe’s Settlement.

  Half a hundred men or more were already on hand, some of whom they knew, and there were dozens of individual campfires burning with men crouched about them. On the whole they were a rather unkempt lot, all well armed and clad in motley garb of furs, heavy leathers, greatcoats and boots or knee-high heavily greased moccasins. They clustered about the new arrivals asking where they had come from and what news they had heard, at the same time telling them of the alarming reports so prevalent of attacks occurring on trading parties and land-claimers.

  The Tomlinsons had little to contribute. There had been some talk among settlers up the Kanawha of Indians prowling about but, except for a few horses having been stolen, no real problems. On their way up the Kanawha last fall, they had stopped off for a day at the new little Kelly’s Creek Settlement some 20 miles above the mouth of Elk River, and again on their way down, just days ago, but everything seemed all right there. Twice over the winter Indian parties had passed, but they had been left undisturbed.

  The brothers were pleased that Dr. Briscoe and his party had not yet arrived, nor had the big party expected under Dr. John Wood, of West Chester, and his partners, Hancock Lee and Angus McDonald. Those two groups would swell their numbers considerably and add greatly to their sense of security during the trip to Kentucky.

  [March 24, 1774—Thursday]

  William Butler, long a trader with the Shawnees, had arrived at Pittsburgh several weeks ago to find the Shawnee delegation still e
ncamped at Saw Mill Run under Pucksinwah. He had gone to them at once and told them he had just’ come from their Scioto villages where he had conferred with the principal Shawnee chief. Hokolesqua had given him a message instructing Pucksinwah to return to the villages with his party as soon as possible following the talks with George Croghan and Alexander McKee. The young warriors in the village were working their way up to a pitch of war fever and talking of striking the whites streaming down the Ohio. The steadying influence of their war chief, Pucksinwah, was necessary to hold them in check. Hokolesqua also hoped that the talks with Croghan that had been going on since late fall were having some good results and also that Pucksinwah had managed to get a promise of support from Talgayeeta—Chief Logan—should matters with the whites further degenerate.

  Soon after delivering his messages to the Shawnees, Butler had gone to the Baynton, Wharton and Morgan cabin, where he learned of John Connolly’s reports of increased Indian attacks, blamed primarily on the Shawnees. Butler said he had no idea where the Fort Pitt commander could be getting such reports, since he knew absolutely that the Shawnees had been sending out no raiding parties, and in fact when he left them, they had been preparing for a late winter hunt, which certainly would not have been the case if they considered war in the offing. Butler neither liked nor trusted Connolly and suggested, as the firm and numerous Pittsburgh residents had already concluded, that perhaps the Fort Pitt commander was just making up these stories to create unrest, though to what end was a mystery.

  Putting aside these speculations, Butler accepted a commission from the fur-trading firm to carry a load of goods downriver and back to the villages located up the Scioto. The days since then had been spent in preparation. Other traders were readying, too, and Baynton, Wharton and Morgan planned to be first this year to get their man into the field and to the tribes. Two Indians and another white were hired by the firm to accompany Butler as helpers, and today he was instructed to rest and be prepared to leave as soon as an expected shipment of goods arrived from Philadelphia.

  [April 2, 1774—Saturday]

  Dr. John Briscoe, himself somewhat late in arriving at his settlement for the rendezvous, was disappointed at the turnout. He had expected somewhere between 200 and 300 men to be on hand; instead there were only about 90.

  He had been delayed in starting downstream because a shipment of goods—primarily new axes, saws and other tools—on its way to him from Philadelphia had become mired in the muck of an early thaw. The supplies had finally reached Pittsburgh a fortnight late, and as soon as the goods were transferred into the boats, he had set off downstream.

  He was pleased to see the increased settlement along the Virginia shore as he traveled. Joshua Baker’s little trading store at Baker’s Bottom had obviously been strengthened, and Baker himself had smugly observed that he had been doing a good business with the Mingoes in their new town right across the river on Yellow Creek. In a matter of only a few weeks they had just about depleted his supply of rum that he had thought would last into midsummer.

  The Strain brothers—William and Samuel—were already claiming in the area of Cross Creek when he passed there, and they said they probably wouldn’t attend the rendezvous because they didn’t really plan on claiming any farther downriver for the time being. Maybe next year. Ten miles farther downstream he found the McCulloch family continuing to build and strengthen their settlement at Short Creek.

  Wheeling Settlement, nine miles farther downstream, was the biggest surprise. It had quickly become the regular stopping place for virtually all river travelers. Many who passed discovered that Ebenezer Zane, who was becoming quite an entrepreneur, was quite willing to sell lots and decided to join the little community. Now there were upward of 40 people in residence and a lot of building occurring. Silas Zane was living there, too, having sold his holdings at the Forks of Wheeling Creek to David Shepherd, who had only days before married his sweetheart, Rachel Teague, and they were already building their own cabin at the Forks. Silas and Jonathan Zane had then explored down the Ohio somewhat and had even penetrated the Ohio country for little distances on the Muskingum and Hockhocking. They had returned safely without encountering Indians. John Caldwell, newly arrived from Baltimore and another of those who had purchased a plot of ground from Ebenezer Zane, was busy putting the roof on his new little cabin when Briscoe stopped briefly at the settlement.

  Sam Meason was also here, just as loudmouthed and trouble-making as he had always been on the Monongahela, freeloading on whomever he could and talking about settling a few miles below Wheeling, on the bottom where a man named William McMechen had just begun the new McMechen’s Settlement.181 Generally disliked, Meason was a large, rough-and-tumble man without social graces and minimal human compassion. It was commonly known that he had come to this frontier to escape criminal prosecution in eastern Pennsylvania. Several years ago, upon stealing some horses from a Capt. William Hite, he had been pursued, overtaken and shot. The wound was not severe and, with the horses recovered, Meason had been thrown in jail to await trial. He escaped and simply disappeared for a long while before eventually turning up here and settling on Buffalo Creek. Although most grudgingly admitted he was a good frontiersman, few liked him and nobody trusted him.

  Ebenezer Zane himself had recently been busy claiming on Wheeling Island, clearing a tract of more than 300 acres, on which he planned to plant crops as soon as the danger of frost was past.182 Less than a year after Zane had brought his wife, Elizabeth, and year-old daughter Catherine to Wheeling, another daughter had been born, whom they named Ann. Now, only a month ago—on February 28—Elizabeth had presented Ebenezer with a third daughter, whom they had named Sarah.183 Seeing that she was comfortable and well cared for by the slaves under direction of their younger brother, Jonathan, Ebenezer and Silas Zane set off down the Ohio to do some claiming about 100 miles farther down.

  Dr. Briscoe had stayed overnight at Wheeling, leaving early the next morning, and, against his better judgment, giving Sam Meason a lift for the five miles down to McMechen’s Settlement, where there was a camp area and several tents but no cabins had yet been constructed. William McMechen greeted Briscoe warmly but did not seem particularly pleased to see Meason, and his disposition soured markedly when he learned the big frontiersman meant to stay there a while. The two were soon embroiled in an argument, and Briscoe had quietly shoved off, leaving them behind before he might become saddled with Meason even longer.

  Four miles farther downstream he reached the Tomlinson Settlement at the mouth of Grave Creek. Here there was a half-faced camp but no cabins, the camp itself occupied only by young James Tomlinson and his 21-year-old sister, Rebecca Martin. James told Briscoe that he expected by now his brothers, Joe and Sam, were probably waiting at the doctor’s own settlement; they had left here last fall with the idea of first clearing a piece of land they had given to Rebecca on the claim they had made opposite the mouth of the Muskingum. From there they had planned to continue down to the Kanawha and up that stream to New River and the Greenbrier to claim lands over the winter. Both brothers had, however, planned on being back in time for the rendezvous.

  Briscoe had set off again, but now there were no more settlements. With nothing more than hesitant waves of his hand, he passed two different small parties of Indians, one in canoes, the other on shore. They waved back but did not approach him, and he was glad enough to pass them by without difficulty.

  Some four miles below the mouth of Captina Creek, which entered from the Ohio country, he came to the large bottom along the Virginia shoreline where Michael Cresap was busy establishing himself on the claim he was making and already calling the place Cresap’s Bottom.184 With him were half a dozen men he had hired at Pittsburgh, who had followed a day or two after he left there; unimaginative men who had no interest in claiming lands themselves, enticed by the high wage he offered of £2.10s per month. For that amount they would have tackled almost any job, and the clearing they did in a few days was more
than Cresap could do in a month. They talked for a while, and Cresap said he had planned on attending the rendezvous but had got caught up in his work here and had evidently missed it.

  “As a matter of fact, Captain Cresap,” Briscoe assured him, “you have not missed the rendezvous. I am myself on my way there at this moment, and you are welcome to accompany me.”

  Cresap grunted a negative. “Can’t right now. I have to get these men started on a new area before I can leave. Tell you what, though—I’ll finish up soon as possible and then come on down.”

  Grateful for that, Briscoe had pushed on. Three miles below he came to the mouth of Fish Creek, and on the Fish Creek Flats he found a little settlement he hadn’t even heard about. There was a finished cabin and one being erected. He had stopped briefly and introduced himself to the two men who came out to greet him. The older man was named Yates Cornwell, an acquaintance of George Washington, for whom he had been claiming land. The second man, young, personable, and also a correspondent of Washington’s, had stopped by here and stayed, claiming land for himself and helping Cornwell finish building the cabin. His name was George Rogers Clark, and he had been sharing Cornwell’s cabin and teaching the Cornwell children their lessons even while he and Yates were in the process of building Clark’s cabin. They were calling their little settlement Cornwell’s.185 Clark had heard about the rendezvous and expressed an interest in going, so Briscoe invited him to travel the remainder of the way with him. From this point it was only about 65 miles to Briscoe’s settlement. If they started first thing in the morning, they should be able to get there by late afternoon.

  Clark had agreed, and shortly after dawn they were on their way. As Dr. Briscoe had predicted, they put to shore at Briscoe’s Settlement, six miles above the mouth of the Little Kanawha, just as the sun was setting behind the hills rimming the Ohio to the west. Dr. Briscoe was recognized as they approached, and a cheer erupted from the men on hand. But the cheers came from the throats of about 90 men rather than upward of 300 that Briscoe had expected. He quickly discovered that a number of parties that had stopped by here in the middle of March were disappointed at the meager turnout and, after waiting a day or two, had gone on downstream. Even worse, as the men gathered around, it became evident that those who had remained here were markedly apprehensive. Every new arrival, it seemed, brought new stories of Indian attacks occurring all around. Messages had been received from Maj. Connolly at Fort Pitt of reports of considerable unrest and a possible major Indian attack in the offing. Everyone was looking now to Dr. Briscoe to tell them what to do, but he wasn’t at all sure himself.