by Allan Eckert
It had been enough. By vote of the chiefs of all the septs, the Shawnees accepted the counsel of Pucksinwah and overruled that of Hokolesqua. Deputations carrying war belts had immediately been sent to neighboring tribes, this time not asking but demanding that they ally themselves to the Shawnees in the coming war and delivering the same message to each: “We Shawnees stand between you and the whites and we mean to oppose them, which is to your benefit as well as our own. But you must send warriors to aid us. We will not fight the Shemanese alone while you sit in the comfort of your lodges and watch our blood being spilled for your benefit. Your choice is this: Either send warriors to fight at our side, or we will simply not fight at all, but pack our goods and move well beyond the grandmother of rivers, leaving you then to face the white enemy on your own when he comes, which there is no doubt he will.”
The truth of this had become clear to the Wyandots, Miamis and Delawares as increased expeditions of whites moved down the Spaylaywitheepi to mark out territory in the Kan-tuck-kee lands; even more when the army of 400 whites had penetrated into the very heartland of the Ohio country, causing abandonment and destruction of Wapatomica; finally more than clear when the huge armies of whites began moving toward them, to invade their country and crush them. So they had sent warriors to help, but the Shawnees had been greatly disappointed in the small number those neighboring tribes committed to the effort—only 100 apiece, a paltry 300, plus somewhat fewer than 100 Mingoes under Talgayeeta. Added to the 600 supplied by the Shawnees themselves, they had fewer than 1,000 warriors—hardly the force desirable to fight an enemy that had much finer weapons and odds of better than two to one in their favor.
Now they had come to this point where they would launch their canoes and cross the great river to attack, and to the assembled Indians Hokolesqua had made a final appeal. “I ask you one last time to think not of the glory of battle but of the future of our race. Give me your answer and I will abide by your wish: Do we sue for peace or do we fight them?”
The cries of “Fight them!” were overwhelming.
[October 10, 1774—Monday]
The combined force of Indians under Hokolesqua moved into position for their attack with no more noise than the wisps of fog enshrouding the woodland in the first gray glimmer of dawn. They had come across the Spaylaywitheepi during the darkness just as silently as they moved now, crossing in relays that brought them to the mouth of the creek where long ago an old town had been, two and a half miles above the camp of Gen. Andrew Lewis.237 Armed with bows and spears, knives and tomahawks, rifles and pistols, they spread themselves only a few yards apart in a long line that formed the base of a triangle stretching from the Ohio on their right to the Kanawha on their left. A number swam across the Kanawha and took post on the other side lest an attempt be made to escape in that direction. The woodland ahead of their principal line gradually thinned and then dwindled away altogether to knee-deep weeds as the ground narrowed to the point where the rivers converged—the spot called Point Pleasant—where at this moment the blanket-enshrouded forms of some 800 men lay about a multitude of barely glowing campfires.
The early morning fog that gradually thickened was both friend and foe; it aided by muffling any sound they may have made and masking any sight of them, yet at the same time it hid their ultimate targets. It also ruined their initial plan, which had been to creep up close enough to pour a withering fire on the recumbent forms when Hokolesqua gave the signal. With the thinning of the trees and the fact that there were sentries patrolling the perimeter of the camp, their forward movement slowed considerably when they were still about 1,500 yards distant.
The actual Battle of Point Pleasant broke out prematurely through a fluke of circumstance. Two young privates, in disobedience of orders against leaving camp, arose early and set out in the hope of bagging a turkey, moving eastward roughly parallel with the Ohio River shore. As the pair reached a small rivulet, the fog in this area abruptly lifted and exposed to their stunned eyes a line of painted Indians extending from the river’s edge as far as they could see in the enfolding mists. Even before the hunters could react and rush back to camp with a warning, a warrior named Epinoosa flung up his rifle and shot. One of the hunters was instantly knocked flat as a grape-size lead ball smashed through the center of his chest.238
The second man fled, quickly disappearing in the again-gathering fog. To the Indians it seemed he screeched his warnings every foot of the way back, and within moments the whole camp was in motion. Taking advantage of the protective cover of the most forward of the trees, and with many warriors squirming through the dense grasses, the Indians continued to move as close as they could.
Gen. Lewis quickly deployed his men in three wings, placing his brother, Col. Charles Lewis, and his men to hold one-third of the ground from the Kanawha toward the Ohio, Col. William Fleming’s force holding one-third of the distance from the Ohio shore toward the Kanawha, and the commanding general with the remainder holding the center. Col. Lewis, when first aroused, had snatched up and donned his scarlet officer’s coat and even in the misty dim light of dawn made himself a prime target. He became one of the first casualties with a ball through his head. Col. John Field was killed in the same manner early in the action. On the other side of the line, Col. Fleming was almost as quickly put out of action when two balls passed through his arm and another slammed through his body just below the ribs.239
With these initial shots, the full battle broke out, and with the gunsmoke and fog mingling, visibility was reduced to mere inches. The fighting became largely hand-to-hand for an hour or more, the general uproar punctuated by the crashing of rifles and pistols, the meaty thuds of tomahawks and war clubs striking flesh, the screams of the wounded and dying, the shrill and frightening cries of warriors and soldiers alike.
The Shawnee war chief, Pucksinwah, took a ball in the chest and died in the arms of his 18-year-old son, Chiksika.240 His daughter’s husband, Chaquiweshe, was also killed only a short distance away.241 Throughout the duration of the battle the stentorian voice of Hokolesqua could be heard encouraging his warriors with the repeated shout “Oui-shi-cat-to-oui!”—Be strong!242
Hour after hour the seesaw battle raged until at last, late in the afternoon, word reached Hokolesqua that another large force of whites was rapidly approaching from upstream on the Kanawha—upward of 500 men less than three hours away; a force strong enough and fresh enough to turn the tide of battle in favor of the whites.243 Hokolesqua raised a new call that was relayed back and forth among the Indians, and slowly the warriors began to fall back to the mouth of the creek where they had initially landed. Gen. Lewis, considering this a ruse to lure them into ambush—which was exactly what Hokolesqua figured his reaction would be—pulled his men back closer to the camp and set them to work throwing up hasty fortifications.
The withdrawal of the Indians was no precipitate retreat; it was deliberate, methodical, well-defended, and very gradual, with the warriors picking up their dead and wounded as they went. Hokolesqua himself walked backward, continuing to face the enemy, and even when he was in the final boat heading for the Ohio shore, he stood facing toward the battleground so that it could never be said that he had turned his back in a contest against the Shemanese.
The Battle of Point Pleasant was over.244
[December 31, 1774—Saturday]
The eventful year of 1774 drew to a close with a tenuous peace once more prevailing in the Ohio River Valley. Dunmore’s War, so called, had been brief in the extreme—a single skirmish near Wapatomica in the McDonald Campaign, the fiercely fought Battle of Point Pleasant and then the agreement that had been reached between the whites and the Indians at Dunmore’s Camp Charlotte.245 Immediately following the battle and the return to the Scioto Valley, all of Hokolesqua’s allies had abandoned him, save some of the Mingoes. Talgayeeta and a small number of his men had stayed with the Shawnees, but the majority of the Mingoes had retreated to a tributary of the upper Scioto, the Olentangy River
. There was no doubt in Hokolesqua’s mind, nor anyone else’s, that the army they had just fought, its strength rejuvenated by the arrival of the large reinforcement, would soon be coming against them, and a strong fear rose in the warriors. That was when Hokolesqua called them all to council at Yellow Hawk’s Town—the former Chalahgawtha—at the place where Paint Creek empties into the Scioto River. When he spoke, he began gently, but his voice had quickly hardened, his expression stern and cold.
“You fought well, my children,” he had said, “and my heart sings the songs of praise for your strength in battle, just as it sings the song of mourning for our brave warriors and chiefs who fell. Now I must ask you, was this all in vain? Many among you have already said to me, ‘Let us now seek peace with the Shemanese, lest they come against us even more strongly.’ My heart is filled with shame that my ears have heard these words. If it was peace you wanted, why did you not say so when I begged you to do so five days ago?
“What do we do now?” The words were spoken angrily. “The Shemanese are coming upon us by two routes, far stronger than those we met alone, while we are weaker in the return of our brothers to their homes, where they will be safe.” His words had become scathing, filled with contempt, and he repeated: “What do we do now? Shall we turn out and fight them?” Dead silence followed his query, and after a moment he continued, eyes flashing. “Shall we now kill all our women and children and then fight the Shemanese ourselves until we are all dead?”
Still no one responded and, in the silence, the fire of anger and resolve in Hokolesqua drained away. He drew out his bloodstained tomahawk and held it high for all to see, then threw it to the ground with such strength that the head of the weapon was all but buried in the earth. He shouted loudly: “Since you are not inclined to fight, we will go and make peace!”
The trader Matthew Elliott, who was in the village with his Shawnee wife, was summoned, and a message was dictated to him to be carried to Lord Dunmore—a message asking for peace talks and a promise to accommodate any reasonable request from the whites. If, however, the offer was refused, the Shawnees and Mingoes would creep up under cover of night and hit Dunmore’s army hard, then fall back across the Scioto and go into ambush to strike them again if they followed. Finally, if still pressed, they would fall back again to Chalahgawtha on the Little Miami, where they would stand their ground and fight to the end.
The contingency plan had been unnecessary; Dunmore had accepted the request for peace with good grace and had reached the Pickaway Plains on October 17 and established his nonfortified camp, which he named Camp Charlotte in honor of his wife. A series of messages summoned all the chiefs to meet there at a specified time, and this was agreed to, but a potentially devastating problem still remained.
Gen. Lewis, his army reinforced by the arrival of Col. Christian’s force, had left the wounded at Point Pleasant under the care of Capt. Matthew Arbuckle, quickly crossed the Ohio with the remainder and spearheaded toward the Scioto Valley Shawnee villages, bent on retaliatory attack.246 Nonhelema’s Town, directly in his path, had already been abandoned and was on fire. Hokolesqua’s Town was next in line, and Dunmore immediately sent a message to Lewis, telling him to desist and return to Point Pleasant. Lewis ignored the order and continued his advance. A second message was no more successful. Finally, Dunmore himself mounted a horse and, escorted by a few of his trusted aides and some Indians, intercepted the Virginians, demanded Gen. Lewis turn his force back and even threatened to strike him down with his sword if he did not obey. It was an extremely fragile situation for a little while, but then Lewis finally backed down, much to the dismay of his men, and started his return to Point Pleasant, with orders from Dunmore to build a fortification there.
A minor difficulty had occurred when Talgayeeta refused to attend the peace council at Camp Charlotte. Hokolesqua said that without this influential chief’s participation, there would be no real peace. Although Talgayeeta’s vengeance had been fully assuaged over these months, he nevertheless now hated and distrusted the whites and wished nothing more to do with them. To resolve the dilemma, Dunmore sent three men—Simon Girty and Joseph Nicholson, who were both skilled interpreters, and Simon Kenton—to Talgayeeta’s camp beneath a huge elm tree on the banks of Congo Creek.247 Talgayeeta shook his head and said, “Logan is no councillor; Logan is a warrior,” and he still refused to enter into council with Dunmore and the other chiefs at Camp Charlotte. He did, however, agree to dictate a message to Dunmore. He handed Girty a wampum belt, which signified the message was official, and then spoke strongly and with deep emotion:
“I appeal to any white man to say if ever he entered Logan’s cabin hungry and I gave him not meat; if he ever came cold or naked and I gave him not clothing. During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his tent, an advocate for peace. Nay, such was my love for the whites that those of my own country pointed at me as I passed and said, ‘Logan is the friend of the white man.’ I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood and unprovoked, murdered all the relatives of Logan, not sparing even my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature.248 This called on me for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed many. I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace; but do not harbor the thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one.”
Talgayeeta then accompanied the messengers back to the vicinity of Camp Charlotte, where he left them to carry his message to Dunmore. He himself went to where his son-in-law, John Gibson, was sitting and talking with Hokolesqua and some other Shawnee chiefs. Talgayeeta asked Gibson to walk out into the nearby woods with him to talk, and it was not until then that Talgayeeta was finally informed by Gibson that while Cresap had been involved in the killing of the Shawnees at Pipe Creek and the Indians in the John Anderson trading party, as well as the Mingoes at the mouth of Captina Creek, he had not been personally involved in the murder of Talgayeeta’s family at Baker’s Bottom; that it was Greathouse who had planned and led that attack. By this time, however, the speech had been delivered to Dunmore and it was not changed.249
While Dunmore had now been assured of Talgayeeta ending his war, it was clear he spoke for himself alone, not for the other Mingoes. Word had come that a large number of these confederated warriors had gathered and were war dancing some 40 miles to the north at Seekonk—also known as the Salt Lick Town—on the upper Scioto tributary called the Olentangy River.250 Dunmore had immediately sent a force of 240 men under Maj. William Crawford to cut them off, but he masked the intent of the mission from the tribal peace delegates at Camp Charlotte by announcing that they were going back to the mouth of the Hockhocking for supplies.251
The talks at Camp Charlotte lasted for several days, and those who witnessed Hokolesqua speak agreed they had never seen nor heard anyone so majestic and powerful in delivery.252
The agreement was concluded and, by its terms, Hokolesqua, on behalf of the Shawnees, agreed that the Spaylaywitheepi—Ohio River—was hereafter to be the boundary between whites and Shawnees and that the Shawnees would desist in their attacks against white boats traveling on the Ohio, but that there should be no further settlement of whites in the Kan-tuck-kee hunting grounds of the Indians and that whites were strictly prohibited from setting foot north of the Ohio River to hunt, claim land, settle or for any other reason, except that some white traders would still be allowed to come among them.253 In addition, the Shawnees turned over the plunder they had taken on some of their raids, along with several white captives that were at their villages.254 Finally, the chiefs promised to appear for a major council at Pittsburgh the following spring to formally incorporate the items of this agreement into an official peace treaty. As a guarantee to this end, they gave Dunmore four Shawnee subchiefs to hold as hostages till the faithf
ul consummation of their promise.255 Then Dunmore withdrew his force by the route he came, escorted by Hokolesqua and Nonhelema as far as the upper Hockhocking River.
The Dunmore Army reached the mouth of the Hockhocking on November 5 and stopped at Fort Gower. There, in opposition to Lord Dunmore’s wishes, the colonial militia held council among themselves and on that day passed a “resolution of liberty,” which said:
Resolved, that we will bear the most faithful allegiance to His Majesty, King George the Third, whilst His Majesty delights to reign over a brave and free people; that we will, at the expense of life, and everything dear and valuable, exert ourselves in support of his crown, and the dignity of the British Empire. But as the love of liberty, and attachment to the real interests and just rights of America outweigh every consideration, we resolve that we will exert every power within us for the defense of American liberty, and for the support of her just rights and privileges; not in any precipitous, riotous or tumultuous manner, but when regularly called forth by the unanimous voice of our countrymen. Resolved, that we entertain the greatest respect for his excellency, the Right Honourable Lord Dunmore, who commanded an expedition against the Shawanese, and who, we are confident, underwent the great fatigue of this singular campaign from no other motive than the true interests of the country.
Signed by order and in behalf of the whole corps.
Benjamin Ashby, Clerk.
Despite the conciliatory final sentence, the resolution was a distinct slap in the face to Lord Dunmore, and he could barely restrain his wrath when he heard it read, but he was powerless to do anything about it. The army then recrossed the Ohio, returned to Wheeling and was disbanded. Far to the south, the Lewis army returned up the Kanawha to Camp Union, and there it, too, disbanded.