That Dark and Bloody River

by Allan Eckert

  All in all, it was a remarkable military achievement.

  [March 12, 1779—Friday]

  Brig. Gen. Lachlan McIntosh, seated behind his desk in headquarters at Fort Pitt, was heartily disgusted with this whole frontier situation. He thought of Gen. Hand, the officer he had relieved in this post, and remembered the well-masked contempt he had felt for him and his pathetic eagerness to be away from this assignment and back where war was fought in a gentlemanly manner. Now none of that contempt remained, and instead he felt a growing sympathy for what the man had gone through. The land-grabbing greediness of the border people, the methods used by the Indians to fight, the atrocities committed on both sides, the disregard of the settlers for their own safety, the difficulty of maintaining supply lines, even the lack of fundamental creature comforts—all these things combined to give any commander the desire to be almost anywhere else. McIntosh himself, at this point, was ever more often wishing he were not here and was seriously considering submitting a formal transfer request.

  The general squinted and rubbed his eyes, then turned the lamp flame a little higher and looked over what he had written thus far in his letter to Gen. Washington. He shook his head in annoyance; the letter was far from finished, and if he didn’t resume writing soon, he’d be sitting here half the night. With a sigh he dipped his quill pen in the ink pot and resumed writing:

  The emigration down the Ohio from this quarter I fear will depopulate it altogether, unless I have orders to put a timely stop to it immediately. It is thought that near one-half of what remain here will go down to Kentucky, the Falls, or the Illinois, as they say themselves, this Spring. Their design of securing land is so great, notwithstanding the danger of this country, they will go.… I am sorry to inform you, that contrary to my expectations, things have taken a turn here much for the worse, since I wrote you on the 13th of January. The 30th of that month I received an express from Colonel Gibson, informing me that one Simon Girty, a renegade among many others from this place, got a small party of Mingoes—a name by which the Six Nations, or rather Seneca tribe is known among the Western Indians—and waylaid Captain Clark, of the 8th Pennsylvania Regiment, with a Sergeant and 14 Privates, about three miles this side of Fort Laurens as they were returning after escorting a few supplies to that fort and made Clark retreat to the fort again after killing two, and taking one of his men with his saddle bags and all his letters.

  Upon hearing this unexpected intelligence, I immediately sent for Colonels Crawford and Brodhead to advise them upon the best method of supplying that garrison with provisions, of which it was very short, and who had barely horses enough fit for service to transport a sufficient quantity of flour over the mountains for our daily consumption, and source of forage for them, altho’ they were most worn down. It was therefore thought most eligible upon that and other accounts to send a supply by water up Muskingum River by Major Taylor, who was charged with that duty.…

  The 26th of February, a scalping party killed and carried off 18 persons, men, women and children, upon the branches of Turtle Creek, 20 miles east of this, upon the Pennsylvania Road, which was the first mischief done in the settlements since I marched for Tuscarawas, and made me apprehensive now that the savages were all inimically inclined and struck the inhabitants of Westmoreland with such a panick that a great part of them were moving away. While I was endeavoring to rouse the militia, and contriving by their assistance to retaliate and make an excursion to some Mingo towns upon the branches of Allegheny River who were supposed to have done the mischief, a messenger came to me on the 3rd of March instant, who slipt out of Fort Laurens in the night of Sunday the 28th February— by whom Colonel Gibson would not venture to write, and informed me, that on the morning of Tuesday, 23d February, a waggoner who was sent out of the fort for the horses to draw wood, and 18 men to guard him, were fired upon, and all killed and scalped in sight of the fort, which the messenger left invested and besieged by a number of Wyandottes, Chippewas, Delawares, &c., and in the last account I had from them, which made me very unhappy, as they were so short of provision, and out of my power to supply them with any quantity, or, if I had it, with men for an escort, since Major Taylor went, who I thought now was inevitably lost; and, if I had both, there were no horses to carry it, or forage to feed them, without which they cannot subsist at this season.

  In this extreme emergency and difficulty, I earnestly requested the Lieutenants of the several countys on this side of the mountains to collect all of the men, horses, provisions and forage they could at any price, and repair to Beaver Creek on Monday next, the 15th instant, in order to march on the next day to Tuscarawas; and if they would not be prevailed to turn out, I was determined with such of the Continental troops as are able to march, and all the provisions we have, at all events to go to the relief of Fort Laurens, upon the support of which I think the salvation of this part of the country depends.

  I have yet no intelligence from the country that I can depend on. Some say the people will turn out on this occasion with their horses; others, that mischievous persons influenced by our disgusted staff are discouraging them as much as possible. But I am now happily relieved by the arrival of Major Taylor here, who returned with 100 men and 200 kegs of flour. He was six days going 20 miles up Muskingum River, the waters were so high and stream so rapid; and as he had above 130 miles more to go, he judged it impossible to relieve Colonel Gibson in time, and therefore returned, having lost two of his men sent to flank him upon the shore, who were killed and scalpt by some warriors coming down Muskingum River, and I have my doubts of our only pretended friends, the Delawares of Cooshoching [Goschachgunk], as none other are settled upon that water.

  I have the honor to enclose you the last return from Colonel Brodhead at Beaver Creek [Fort McIntosh].…

  Lachn. McIntosh, BG

  Comg. Western Dept.

  His Excellency Gen. Washington

  [March 19, 1779—Friday]

  For the past several years the Moravian missionary John Heckewelder had been engaging in a very dangerous sideline: acting as a spy for the Americans by reporting on the movements of the Indians and British agents in the Ohio country. He was in an ideal position to do so, since he had headquartered himself for the past several years at the principal Delaware village, Goschachgunk, at the Forks of the Muskingum.

  His purpose in coming to this country had been to proselytize the heathen Indians to Christianity, and in this he had been rather successful. Between himself and another German missionary, David Zeisberger, they had established four Christian Indian villages, each with its own mission building, and they had already converted close to 350 Indians, most of them Delawares. One of these mission villages was called Lichtenau—Pasture of Light—and had been established three years ago by Zeisberger on the Muskingum only two and a half miles downstream from Goschachgunk. The other three were upstream, on the Tuscarawas tributary of the Muskingum: Salem, just 18 miles upstream from Goschachgunk, with Gnadenhütten five miles above that and Schoenbrun another eight miles above Gnadenhütten.347

  Unfortunately, Lichtenau had just broken up this past January in the face of dire threats by Indians who suspected Zeisberger of spying. The principal threats had come from the Mohawk war chief, Thayendanegea, to whom conversion to Christianity was anathema. Heckewelder had attended the final service at Lichtenau, held on January 8, and he thought Brother Zeisberger had been particularly eloquent on that occasion.

  Over 250 Indians had attended, the majority of whom were already converted, and Zeisberger had raised his hands in benediction over them and his eyes glistened with tears as he spoke.

  “My children,” he had said, “as most of you know by now, this is the final service here in the Pasture of Light, as we are no longer being permitted to stay. The presence of myself and the Reverend Heckewelder and other whites has been an abomination in the eyes of the Mohawk chief whom you know as Thayendanegea and we as Chief Joseph Brant. Now he has announced that we must leave, and
we have agreed to do so, not for our own protection, which is as nothing, but for you assembled here who have accepted the True Belief.

  “Chief Brant has said he will burn this House of God and slay all converts if we do not leave, and he shows his intention by bringing his warriors to assemble here at our very Pasture of Light and from here to sally forth and kill and plunder in the white settlements to the east. And so we go with heavy hearts, yet with our hearts singing in the knowledge that you here have come to know the true God and the true Son of God, and that you will continue to believe in Him and have faith.”

  Zeisberger paused to wipe his eyes and then smiled beatifically at his flock. “Now it is you who must become the missionaries among your own people, teaching them the Word of God as it has been taught to you and converting others to the doctrine of Christianity. Perhaps one day we will return. Perhaps not. But may God rest His blessings upon you now and forevermore. Amen.”

  After a number of voices in the congregation had repeated the “Amen,” an old Delaware chief once known as Netawatwees, but now called Abraham, stood and responded to Zeisberger.

  “We are grateful to you and the other missionary fathers for directing our paths. You have shown us the True Light, and we will carry it in our hearts wherever we go. We will continue here as before, working our fields and bearing no malice toward any man and continuing in the worship of our Lord Jesus Christ. Thayendanegea does not understand Christianity; will not permit himself to understand. He is more content in the field of war than in the field of peace. He is angry that we have not joined the confederacy of Wyandots and Mingoes and Delawares, but we will not. We will continue here at peace with all men for all time. Our hearts, too, are heavy at your leaving, but you will be in our prayers and, when our time here is finished, we will be reunited in great joy in Heaven.”

  The missionaries had not gone back east, of course, but by moving among their many Delaware friends in Goschachgunk—not the least of whom was Killbuck, long a friend of the Americans—they had at least spared their flock being further jeopardized by Chief Brant or other hostile Indians. Here Heckewelder had continued his spying operations, often hiding his messages under the saddle blankets of horses being ridden to the destination he wished, sometimes carried with the knowledge of the rider but frequently without. Two of the principals to whom Heckewelder sent his very secret letter reports were Col. Brodhead, now commanding at Fort McIntosh, and Col. Gibson at Fort Laurens, both of whom had sworn not to divulge the identity of their spy at Goschachgunk. He also wrote letters for them to forward to Gen. Washington, Col. Crawford and others.

  Obviously, it was extremely advantageous to the Americans to have such a spy, since he could observe and report so much of what was going on among the enemy. But it was a very dangerous game for John Heckewelder to play.

  [March 21, 1779—Sunday]

  Over the past three days two events had occurred, the ramifications of which were apt to aid the Americans in their continuing war—not only against the British King but against the Shawnees.

  On Friday, after literally years of discussing the matter of what to do in regard to the whites encroaching on their lands, part of the Shawnees reached a momentous decision in a full tribal council at Chalahgawtha. The eldest of the Shawnee leaders—and one of the most revered—was Kikusgowlowa, chief of the Thawegila sept. He rose and stated unequivocally that if once more the Shawnees voted, as a tribe, to go against the whites in war, he would leave the tribe and take his sept with him and all those from other septs who would follow him. He was seconded in his stand by Outhowwa Shokka—Yellow Hawk.

  Opposing Kikusgowlowa—called Black Stump by the traders—was Chiungalla, principal chief of the tribe as well as chief of the Chalahgawtha sept, and he was seconded by the tribe’s war chief, Shemeneto—Black Snake—who was also chief of the Kispokotha sept.

  The arguments went on for hours, and at last the vote was taken, and the Chalahgawthas and Maykujays were adamant for war; the Thawegilas, Peckuwes and Kispokothas, despite Shemeneto’s stand, for peace. And with this the Shawnee tribe today split irrevocably. The three latter septs, comprising upward of two-thirds of the warrior strength of the tribe, immediately packed up and headed west to settle in the area of Cape Girardeau in the Missouri region of the Louisiana Territory, west of the Mississippi. The Chalahgawthas and Maykujays, joined by a small number of the more bellicose chiefs and warriors of the other septs, stayed behind to direct their full strength against the Americans—but that strength was now greatly diminished.348

  The second event that would be of aid to the Americans was that today, far across the Atlantic Ocean, Spain declared war on the British—a matter that could not help but effectively divide the British King’s attention from the American Revolution.

  Chapter 4

  [March 23, 1779—Tuesday]

  There was only one principal reason why the garrison at Fort Laurens did not starve to death during this prolonged siege by the Indians: a reason named Samuel Brady.

  Time after time, armed with rifle, powderhorn and bullet pouch, with knife and tomahawk in belt, Capt. Brady would steal out of the fort well after nightfall and carefully, stealthily slip away. Normally he went upstream on the Tuscarawas, keeping well away from the Indian trails and never stopping to hunt until he was at least several miles distant from the fort, well beyond the sound of a gunshot reaching the Indians.

  Sometimes, when game was scarce, he would be gone for two or three days, even longer. Normally he was back sometime during the night. Returning, however, was even riskier than leaving. He could not simply hoist the deer or other game animal on his shoulders and return. The method he devised was ingenious but required tremendous stamina and self-control.

  Having downed his game, he would skin and butcher it, cutting it into manageable pieces and tying each piece tightly with long, narrow strips of hide to a dry dead branch. When all the pieces—hams, loins, shoulders, rump, neck, liver and heart—were well secured, he gathered other branches and constructed them into a sort of raft with a hole on the center. He would float it on the river close to shore, and the pieces of wood to which the meat was tied were distributed levelly on the surface. Close to the hole would go his rifle and powderhorn. Then he would cover the whole with a formless jumble of branches, vines and brambles, mounding it to leave a sort of spacious hollow over the center hole. With the raft ready, Brady would wait until nightfall, then enter the frigid water, duck beneath it and poke his head and shoulders and arms through the hole, well masked by the covering branches.

  In the darkness, even under full moonlight, the raft then had the appearance of nothing more than a mass of driftwood that had broken free from somewhere upstream. Alternately swimming in deep water and squirming through shallows, Brady would gradually move down the Tuscarawas, often passing Indians camped along the shores or passing in canoes. At length he would reach the fort and guide the raft to shore directly below it. There, soldiers of the garrison would bring everything up to the fort, even the branches, which would be used as firewood.

  It was a very risky business, repeated time and again during this time of famine in the fort, and because of it the Fort Laurens garrison had thus far survived … and Brady’s reputation as an incredibly skilled and heroic woodsman grew.

  [March 28, 1779—Sunday]

  Gen. Lachlan McIntosh’s relief of Fort Laurens had finally arrived and was warmly welcomed, but an unspoken accusation hovered over the garrison that had he arrived but a few hours earlier, two fine young men would not have died.

  This whole situation had come about as a result of the arrival of a party of Moravian Delawares at the mouth of Beaver River with intelligence from John Heckewelder to Col. Brodhead, to be relayed to Gen. McIntosh at Fort Pitt. Using the method he had so successfully used in the past, Heckewelder hid his letters in the folds of the saddle blanket beneath the saddle of one of the least significant members of the Delaware party. The Indians were known to be friendly
, and standing orders declared that they were not in any way to be molested. They were admitted into Fort McIntosh, held a council with Col. Brodhead and delivered both their verbal and written messages. Within a few minutes, Brodhead was writing to Gen. McIntosh:

  Recd. several letters from Killbuck and others at Cooshocking [Coshocton] that Mr. Heckewelder sent me in the pad of a Moravian Indian’s saddle. The Mingoes, Wyandottes, Muncies, Shawanese, and a few Delawares who live with the Wyandottes, have lately made two attempts on Fort Laurens. Unfortunately, in the first, on February 23rd, a sergeant and seventeen men were killed, except two, who are prisoners.…

  The Delaware chiefs informed me that four British officers and sixteen privates in an armed vessel arrived at Sandusky a few days ago, and brought with them a great quantity of liquor and goods to engage the Indians to go with them to Fort Laurens. They are to proceed to Kyahoga, then up that river to a carrying place about five miles from the head of Tuscarawas, and make a road that distance for some artillery, thence down the Tuscarawas to Fort Laurens and besiege it. The Indians say this is practicable, and have offered me two of their best young men to go and watch the enemy, and bring me intelligence of their approaches. The loss or evacuation of Fort Laurens would greatly encourage the enemy, at the same time it would discourage our inhabitants.… I am informed that the Mingoes living up the Allegheny, at a place called Conewango, are much reduced by the smallpox. Should the intelligence respecting the designs of the enemy against Fort Laurens prove groundless, I have thought of taking some circuitous route to attack a small town of the River LeBoeuf because the Indians there have been remarkably hostile.