That Dark and Bloody River

by Allan Eckert

  “I still think there’ll be more parties showing up,” he said, “that have been detained for one reason or another. Let’s give them a chance to get here. We’ll wait a week or so more, and then we’ll head for Kentucky.”

  [April 4, 1774—Monday]

  The tall, self-possessed man who had stopped at Cornwell’s Settlement an hour ago, accompanied by the trader Barney Curran and the Seneca half-breed Andrew Montour, was already preparing to leave, and Yates Cornwell was disappointed, wishing they would stay longer.

  The small party had come to the Ohio Valley to inspect lands the tall man had claimed earlier, as well as other parcels that agents of his had been claiming for him over the past few years. When that inspection was completed, they were in close enough proximity that the tall man had decided to come this much farther downstream to see George Rogers Clark, whom he had never met but with whom he had been in correspondence for some time. He was very sorry to learn that Clark had left here two days earlier with Dr. John Briscoe, heading for the rendezvous some 65 miles below. There wasn’t much point in heading down there, if he were so inclined, Cornwell told his visitor, since chances were the party wasn’t even there any longer but was afloat and heading for Kentucky.

  The tall man stepped into the canoe and sat down in the center as Curran shoved them off, and then he and Montour began paddling upstream. Yates Cornwell, standing on the shoreline with his wife beside him, called after them, “If George comes back, I’ll tell him you were here to see him, Colonel.”

  The tall man raised his hand in farewell toward Yates and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Cornwell. Mrs. Cornwell.”

  The couple watched in silence for a little longer, and then Cornwell spoke wonderingly: “Who would ever have thought that we would be visited here by George Washington?”186

  [April 9, 1774—Saturday]

  Ebenezer Zane and his brother, Silas, had been claiming at the mouth of Sandy Creek, seven miles below the mouth of the Little Kanawha, when the rumors of Indian troubles first reached them.187 They had tended to ignore the first story, related to them two days ago by a land-jobber who passed, because he was obviously a very timid man whose fears had become magnified in his own mind. He had been able to give them no specifics, only that some of his fellow land-jobbers had been robbed, before he hastened on his way.

  The Zane brothers were more watchful after that but continued making their tomahawk improvements. Then today, before noon, another report came that was similar to the first, this one from a party of three men who didn’t even stop as they passed but merely called out to them to get away while they could.

  Ebenezer and Silas, still not convinced the rumors were true, were nevertheless prudent men. They had both already made good claims here, so common sense dictated departure; they could always come back a little later when, as they believed would occur, the stories proved to be nothing more than the product of fearful imaginations.

  They packed up their gear and soon were on their way upstream, hugging the Virginia shoreline. They saw no sign of Indian activity, and the mouth of the Little Kanawha was devoid of anyone, red or white, as they passed. Six miles above that point they came to Briscoe’s Settlement and found a large number of men camped, all of them extremely nervous. It was late in the day when they arrived at the rendezvous, and so, to take advantage of the safety in numbers, they decided to camp there for the night and continue paddling back toward Wheeling in the morning.

  Many of the men clustered about them, seeking any news they might have brought, but they could only shrug and say that, apart from some frightened passersby, they had seen nothing to indicate danger. The men drifted back to their own campfires but were unconvinced. Ebenezer and Silas Zane were known to be steady men, and the fact that they were heading for the relative safety of Wheeling was construed as being, at the very least, ominous.

  [April 14, 1774—Thursday]

  The undercurrent of fear prevailing among the men gathered at the Briscoe’s Settlement rendezvous increased sharply with the arrival of the Jacob Greathouse party. Those men had spent much of the winter at and near the mouth of the Big Sandy River, 140 miles downstream from here. Everyone crowded around, eager for whatever information Greathouse could impart, and he didn’t disappoint them.

  A huge man, brutish in appearance and speech, Jake Greathouse positively loathed Indians and, according to those who knew him, had murdered several in the past. He immediately recognized the unsettling mood among the men gathered here and delighted in adding fuel to the fire of their fears. Though he knew nothing of the alleged raiding parties of Shawnees stealing horses on the frontier, nor had he seen any such raiders, he gravely agreed that, yes, that was likely the case since he personally had seen war parties on the move. He told them that his men, fearful for their own lives, had left three of their number—Simon Kenton, Sam Cartwright and Jim Lock—at their cabins and had come upstream to warn those gathered for the rendezvous. None of his listeners thought to question why, if such was the case, they had left three of their men at the isolated cabins. Actually, their party had finished the winter’s hunting and trapping, and Greathouse and his men were merely on their way to Fort Pitt with their peltry to trade for goods and new equipment, leaving the three behind to claim more land during their absence.

  Still, they clung to every word he uttered as he told them that some time ago James Harrod’s party had passed, heading for Kentucky to claim lands, and had reported seeing small war parties on the move but had not themselves been molested because of their numbers. Then, just after that, a lone canoeist had come upstream and stopped by their camp. He told them his name was Davis and that he’d been trading at Horsehead Bottom, a short way up the Little Scioto.188 There, Davis had said, he saw Shawnees preparing for war. He added that those Indians had roughed him up and stolen his goods but that he had managed to escape in his canoe. Since Greathouse knew very well that the village at Horsehead Bottom was Mingo, not Shawnee, he believed nothing the man said, yet he now relayed the story as truth to these men gathered here under Dr. Briscoe. He went on to say that this trader named Davis, in his own canoe, had accompanied them upriver to the mouth of the Kanawha and then separated from them to ascend the Kanawha and New rivers to return to the Greenbrier area, where he lived.189

  When asked if he knew about the party of land-claimers who killed and plundered a party of Shawnee hunters—one of the stories going the rounds—Greathouse nodded gravely, but then added, “Dunno nothin’ ’bout it firsthand, though,” making his previous tales that much more believable.

  The men at the rendezvous were greatly agitated by all this news. They immediately began arguing among themselves about what they should do. Many were drinking heavily and becoming increasingly rowdy. They decided they should mount an expedition and head out to attack the Indian village at Horsehead Bottom.

  Several groups of the men, more alarmed than ever now, announced they wanted no part of what they considered suicide, and began loading up their canoes. Despite Briscoe’s efforts to make them stay, they shoved off to return to Wheeling or even to Pittsburgh. Briscoe, angry, disgusted and fearful, announced that the rendezvous was officially canceled, and he and his party soon left as well.

  Those who remained to look for Indians to fight began discussing who should be their leader. None of those on hand, including Greathouse, wanted the responsibility, and, after several hours of discussion, they finally decided to try to get the nearest man around who knew anything about leading a fighting force and who heartily disliked Indians to boot—Capt. Michael Cresap. Though by now it was late in the day, they dispatched two messengers to him in a canoe and were amazed when this pair returned some 20 minutes later with Cresap in his own canoe behind them. They had met him only a mile or so away and escorted him back here. He had left his own crew early in the morning to join the rendezvous and perhaps continue down to Kentucky with them. When he encountered deserting land-jobbers and even Briscoe’s party coming upstream, he learne
d from them what had occurred and decided to continue to Briscoe’s Settlement and see for himself what was going on.

  Cheers erupted as he stepped ashore, and then a great knot of men swelled about him, thumping his back and everyone talking at once. It took a considerable while to calm them down so they could discuss the matter fully. At last it was Cresap’s turn to speak, and they were sure he would begin by laying out a strategy for attacking the Indians at Horsehead Bottom.

  “Boys,” he said, “from all you’ve told me, there seems to be plenty of reason to believe the Indians are up to something, but who can say what? I think it would be a big mistake to move against them. Even with all we’ve heard, you’ve got to admit there’s none among us that’ve actually seen the Indians doing anything wrong. There’s not been any war declared that I’ve heard about, and if we attack those Indians, you can bet on it, there’ll be a war, and we’ll be blamed. You boys want to have that on your heads?”

  There was a disappointed uproar, and when he finally quieted them, he went on. “Now listen to me a minute! See if what I’m going to say doesn’t make sense. I suggest we go—all of us—on up to Wheeling. I saw Eb and Silas Zane heading up, and they’ve got lots of folks up there and shelter, too. From there it’ll be a simple enough matter in a few weeks to get intelligence of what’s going on. If there’s a war, then I will, by God, lead you against ’em. If there isn’t, then there’ll still be plenty of time to get down to the Kentucky country, and I’ll go with you. What do you say?”

  There were a few disagreeing voices, but a vote was taken and the overwhelming majority voted to adopt Cresap’s proposal. It was about that time that an express arrived with a circular letter from Fort Pitt, dated April 12 and signed by Dr. John Connolly, Major Commandant. It warned all settlers along the Ohio to be aware that some serious incidents with the Indians had been reported, that they would be wise to curtail plans for going farther downriver and, instead, to gather together and fort up for their own protection until it could be officially determined exactly what the problem was. He therefore required and commanded them to hold themselves in readiness to repel any insults that might be offered by the Indian.

  Even the dissenting voices at the rendezvous were stilled now, and another vote was unnecessary. Cresap said he was well pleased with it and vowed on the spot to put to death every Indian he met on the river. Within two hours the remaining body of men were paddling upstream toward Wheeling. Not all of them went there directly, however; Cresap announced that he wanted several parties to move slowly and check for fresh Indian sign at the mouth of every stream—from rivulet to large creek — on both sides of the river as they ascended. They were to meet again at Wheeling. The first to volunteer for this duty was a group of about two dozen men under George Rogers Clark and Jacob Greathouse.190

  [April 13, 1774—Wednesday]

  It was when the large, downriver-floating fleet of boats was 42 miles below Wheeling that they came to the stretch of the Ohio River called the Long Reach, a term derived from the fact that for a distance of about 17 miles, the course of the great waterway was uncommonly straight in a southwestwardly direction.191 By far the largest single group heading downstream this season, the boats belonged to the party of 150 surveyors and laborers being led by Hancock Lee, John Wood and Angus McDonald. Their fleet consisted of a dozen ten-man canoes, two large bateaux and eight piroques—the latter loaded with baggage and other gear and being towed. They were running late for the big rendezvous but hoped to arrive before everyone left for Kentucky.

  As they were in the midst of the Long Reach, they received disturbing news. Several canoes heading upstream were encountered and, as they passed, men called out that they had come from Briscoe’s Settlement, where news had come in of Indian attacks occurring downriver. They said land-jobbers had been attacked and robbed and some, perhaps, even killed.

  Dr. Wood and his companions at first put little credence in the rumors, although they admitted having seen two parties of Indians camped upstream about five miles apart, near the mouths of Pipe Creek and Captina Creek. Just to be safe, however, they put ashore on the Virginia side and decided they would do some claiming in this area while they waited for more definite news about what was really going on.

  The first boat to approach after that, several hours later, was heading downstream—three traders in a canoe. They hailed it and asked the men to come ashore, which they did. The traders turned out to be John Gibson, Matthew Elliott and Alexander Blaine. They said they had come from Pittsburgh and the same rumors were prevalent there—rumors that seemed to be stemming from none other than the Fort Pitt commander, Maj. John Connolly—and that they didn’t believe a word of them. Only two days ago, they went on, they had encountered trader John Anderson returning to Pittsburgh from a long stint in the Delaware and Mingo villages on the Muskingum, and he had assured them everything there was peaceful.

  All three of these traders knew the Shawnees well and were, in fact, on a trading mission to that tribe right now. They admitted that while the stories were almost certainly false, the Wood party had been wise not to continue downstream until getting more definite word.

  The most disturbing rumor at the moment, related to them now by Dr. Wood, was rather involved: A party of land-claimers—no one seemed to know exactly who they were—who had been improving near the mouth of the Kanawha had seen another party of whites who informed them that they and some others had fallen in with a party of Shawnees who had been hunting on the southwest side of the Ohio River; that they had argued with these Indians and, when a fight broke out, had killed all the Shawnees; that they had then taken all the Indian horses and goods, and then, anticipating an Indian war would result, the land-claimers had, with the exception of a few who went upriver by boat, fled overland eastward.

  “When was all this supposed to have happened?” Gibson queried.

  When Dr. Wood told him, Matthew Elliott burst into laughter. “That’s ridiculous,” he said. “I was with the Shawnees then, and that was long before I left them. There’s not the smallest chance that could have occurred. All hunting parties that were out had come in before I left them. But tell you what—there’s a Shawnee party making canoes up the Hockhocking right now. We’re headed that way anyway, so we can check with them and find out if they know anything.”

  That was when one of the hired laborers in the Wood party spoke up. “Wait a minute,” he said, pointing at Elliott, “I know him. And him, too.” His pointing finger swung to Gibson. “The both of’em got Injen wives. They’re squaw men. You fellers ain’t gonna believe squaw men, are you?”

  There was an ugly rumbling from the other men, and one in particular called out, “Damned traders are worse’n Injens. They oughta be killed!”

  The workers had quickly become a mob and now began moving forward. They jerked to a halt when Angus McDonald shot his rifle into the air over them. Dr. Wood nodded gratefully to his companion and turned back to the traders. “I expect,” he said softly, “it might be wise for you gentlemen to leave. We’ll keep them calmed down here. And we’ll wait here for a while. Thanks for your help.”

  The traders returned to their canoe and shoved off, quickly putting distance between themselves and the men on shore.

  [April 15, 1774—Friday]

  At his Pittsburgh headquarters, George Croghan pointed out to William Butler the bundles, boxes and kegs that made up the material promised to the Shawnees during the recent lengthy council with the delegation under Pucksinwah.

  “The goods arrived yesterday, Mr. Butler,” he said. “I checked out the entire shipment, and everything’s here. You can check them again and sign the lading bill. Now, how soon can you start down to the Scioto with them?”

  Butler shook his head. “As a matter of fact, I won’t be able to start at all—other business to see to—but one of my better traders just came in. John Anderson. He’s going to need two or three days to rest up in, then a day to get some help and get the boat packed. And
I’ve got an apprentice trader named Stevens who’ll go along to help with the paddling.”

  Croghan nodded. “All right. There are a couple of Delawares here who will go along as escorts. They’ll also be carrying messages to Hokolesqua. I want them on their way by the morning of the twentieth.”

  [April 16, 1774—Saturday]

  The three traders nosed their canoe into the mouth of the Hockhocking River, paddled about 400 yards upstream, and then put to shore in a sheltered indentation of the left bank and came ashore at the level bottom where they had often camped before.192 It was not yet midday, and they were weary from having paddled throughout the night. All three were deeply disturbed at the amount of activity occurring on the Ohio this spring. Even worse was the mood of the boat parties they had encountered, as it was only too apparent that most of the whites were convinced the rumors were true. But it was the incident with the big party under Dr. Wood at Long Reach that had been the most unsettling.