That Dark and Bloody River

by Allan Eckert

  “Ain’t no way,” Sams said, “our boys could’ve passed ’long this here trail ’thout leavin’ a bigger swath than this. I’m fer goin’ on the way we been headin’.”

  Split in their opinions, the group split in their action, half following the small trail just encountered, while Sams and the other four continued moving just east of south.551

  The Sams group were not the only men to get separated from their comrades in the darkness. The unit under Maj. John Rose fell back from that under Col. Williamson and took a wrong trail in the dark, angling toward the west. They increased their speed to catch up to the others, and were wondering why they had not done so when the moon rose and they discovered their error. By the dim moonlight, they could see that no body of horsemen had ridden this trail just before them and that they were riding southwest.

  “Well,” remarked Pvt. Angus McCoy philosophically, “one thing you can say for takin’ a wrong trail—we ain’t been bothered by the Injens lately. ’Course, in the direction we’re headin’, we’ll wind up in the Shawnee towns, an’ I reckon they’ll have a warm welcome for us.”

  Without further ado, Maj. Rose turned the column to the left and, cutting straight through untrammeled prairie grass, rode rapidly for over two miles before finding the correct trail again, which, at that point was running nearly parallel to the less used trail they had mistakenly taken.

  Having intercepted the principal trail, Maj. Rose discovered they were at this point about three miles south of the old Half King’s Town that they had found abandoned on their approach here. He also found that the main force under Col. Williamson had not yet passed here, but in only a matter of minutes that portion of the army arrived, the big gray gelding with Pvt. Thomas Mills perched on its back clearly visible in the moonlight. The two units quickly merged, swelling the number of the whole to around 250 men.

  Williamson’s force had not had an easy time of it. Its delay in arriving at that point had been due to a couple of unfortunate circumstances. First, their mounts had initially been pushed too hard when the panic broke out and had played out to the point that a fair number had to be abandoned and their riders forced to accompany the remainder afoot; only a small number of the horses seemed capable of going on with a hard ride—Pvt. Mills’s gray being one of them. Second, the following Indians and British Rangers had quickly overtaken them and inaugurated an annoying rear action, sniping at the retreaters from under cover and quickly killing or capturing any stragglers. About a dozen men were missing and presumed killed or captured.

  Now, with the two principal forces of the main army rejoined, Col. Williamson placed Capt. John Biggs’s company as a strong rear guard and resumed the march through the darkness, intent on getting as far away from the Sandusky towns as possible before the break of day.

  [June 6, 1782—Thursday]

  As the first light of day came to the grove where for the past two days the Americans had holed up and fought, there was no longer any gunfire. Though many of the Indians were gone in pursuit of the broken army—the majority dogging the main force, but other parties now beginning to follow the trails of smaller scattered groups or individuals—a substantial number of Wyandots and Delawares had stayed behind and now began scouring the woods for any dead or wounded soldiers not yet found. Throughout the night exultant Indians had turned up at the various villages along the Sandusky River and Tymochtee Creek with fresh scalps, with prisoners in tow, some of them wounded, and with militia horses that they had found wandering loose and captured.552 Groups of Indian women and children scoured the battle areas as well, gathering up any items the volunteers had lost that might be of value—rifles, tomahawks and knives primarily, but also cooking gear, pouches containing food or ammunition, pieces of rope, wallets, shovels, shoes, items of clothing, saddles and saddlebags. They also scalped any of the unscalped dead they found and stripped the bodies of anything worthwhile. Many of them looked for places where balls had struck trees in the woods and used their knives or tomahawks to dig out the chunks of embedded lead to be melted down and reused. Finally, some of the younger warriors gleefully chopped at the bodies of dead Americans, dismembering them, tying the pieces to lengths of rope and triumphantly dragging them behind their horses through the various villages.

  But though the Indians searched meticulously in the first light of morning for any trace of two particular Americans on whom to exact their vengeance, they did not find either Col. Crawford or Col. Williamson. They had escaped.

  That same first light of the dawn found Col. William Crawford and Dr. John Knight only about ten miles east in a straight line away from the site of the Battle of Sandusky, though they had traveled perhaps double that distance. Throughout the night they had traveled, constantly on the alert for ambush or pursuers, guiding themselves by frequently taking bearings on the North Star.

  After leaving the island of trees last night, with the sound of gunfire and frightening yells still resounding behind them, they struck a course north and traveled in that direction for six or seven miles before turning due east. It had been about midnight when, by the light of the moon, they had crossed the Sandusky River a few miles above the mouth of Tymochtee Creek without seeing any Indians at all. They had continued eastward for a mile or so and then turned south and traveled another mile or more in that direction. With the pattern thus set, they continued alternating their passage, east a mile and then south another, east and then south.

  Now, in the wan light of dawn, they had begun to lose the apprehension that had dogged their steps all night. They had seen no Indians and, though they were still in the Sandusky Plains, there were more trees now, the islands of woodland closer together and often connected for miles. On the horizon far ahead, a barely visible dark line seemed to indicate unbroken forest.

  “I do believe, Doctor Knight,” Crawford observed, “we have a good chance of making it.”

  “I trust you’re right, Colonel,” Dr. Knight replied, “but I won’t be convinced until I see the Ohio.”

  The regimental surgeon’s pessimism took on the aspect of a presentiment when, less than an hour later, both horses gave out from exhaustion, came to a stop and stood spraddle-legged, their heads drooping nearly to the ground. Unsaddling them and hiding the riding gear in the tall grass where it was unlikely to be found by passing Indians, the two abandoned their mounts and set off on foot, taking their guns and carrying what they could from the saddlebags: a meager supply of food and all the ammunition they had, which was precious little.

  After traveling eastward another hour and spotting Indians at a distance on three occasions, they decided that traveling farther in the daylight was simply too risky. Besides, they too were very weary, having had practically no sleep over the past two days and nights. Crossing Broken Sword Creek, they entered a small, oval-shaped island of trees, made a cold camp and stretched out on the ground to rest.553

  Ten miles away from them as the crow flies, almost due south, the main army being led by Col. Williamson was straggling along on the road by which they had arrived at the Sandusky Plains. The colonel was holding the unit together, but only with considerable effort. More splinter groups had broken away during the night in the belief they could fend for themselves in smaller parties better than in the main body. In the first light of day, Col. Williamson stood high in his stirrups and looked back over the fatigued men still following his lead.

  “Listen to me!” he shouted, his voice tight with controlled anger. “Not a man of you will ever reach home if anyone attempts to shift for himself. Your only salvation is keeping in line. If our ranks are once broken, all is lost. We must keep together!”

  The march along the trail continued, and only a little over an hour ago they had reached and briefly paused at the fine springs where they had camped two nights before, though to many of the men it seemed like a lifetime ago. It was here, as they took their brief rest, that the army was increased in size again by the arrival of the almost 100 men led by Maj. Daniel Leet.
Though the unit had traveled farther, swinging widely to the west and then arcing back to the southeast, they were in better shape than the others, not having pushed their mounts to the point of uselessness. The respite at the springs, while appreciated by the men, had a drawback: It allowed more time for the pursuing enemy to overtake them. When, in the new light of this day, the army went into motion again, the soldiers were more seriously annoyed by sniper fire from hidden Indians as they passed small islands of trees. Several of the shots found their mark, wounding soldiers.

  One of those who abruptly cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground near the end of the straggling line was the already-wounded Pvt. Thomas Ogle. During the panicky retreat last night, he had taken a bullet in the arm. The bullet that just now felled him had taken him full in the spine, and he knew the wound was mortal. He shook his head and waved off the men who stooped to help him.

  “I’m done,” he gasped. “Tell my brother that you left me here lord of the trail. I’ll keep my tomahawk, pretend I’m dead, an’ when them red devils comes t’take my scalp, I’ll fix one of ’em.”

  There was nothing to do but leave him, and when they glanced back, his eyes were closed and he appeared dead, though his right hand was clasped around the handle of his tomahawk, which lay all but hidden against his leg.

  By noon the attacks at the front of the column had increased as well. Col. Williamson had sent Maj. Rose and some of his men somewhat ahead as an advance, which was at first one of the safer places to be, but the security did not last. Rose and four of his men, including his slave, Henry, and Pvt. John Hays, still in his breechclout and leggins and looking much like an Indian, were riding slightly ahead of the main part of the advance and just passing a small woods at about eleven o’clock when a force of mounted enemy—Indians and British Rangers alike—broke from hiding in the woods and attempted to get between them and the main body of the advance. Rose, however, quickly perceived the jeopardy and barked an order, turning his party into an about-face and galloping back toward the others. It was a close race, but Rose managed to pull away from the Indians bent on intercepting him and reached the advance unscathed. His Negro servant, Henry, was briefly boxed in by some of the British Rangers but extricated himself and also reached the advance safely.

  Pvt. Hays, however, found his return cut off and tried to gallop away, but his horse was too weary. Before a hurriedly mounted squad of light horse could effect a rescue, he was overtaken by a mixed group of Rangers and Wyandots. The first Ranger to reach him slashed at Hays with his sword, inflicting a terrible head wound and knocking him from his horse. As he struggled to get to his feet, a Wyandot warrior rushed up and hurriedly tried to scalp him, but botched the job so badly that he only got half of it, leaving one side of the private’s bare skull exposed. Then the assailants rushed off. By the time the American light horse reached him, John Hays was soaked with his own blood and a ghastly spectacle, but still alive. He was carried back and a makeshift litter rigged to transport him with the other wounded.

  Immediately following the attack on Maj. Rose and his party, Col. Williamson curtailed having an advance party and the retreat continued. With storm clouds gathering and rain imminent, they approached a small stream that was a branch of the headwaters of the Olentangy River. Here Williamson called a halt, and Maj. Rose rode up to him at once.554

  “Sir,” he said, pointing toward a long grove of trees about a mile ahead, “I don’t think we should delay here. There’s some protective timber ahead, and I think we ought to get there as quickly as possible and not take the risk of being surprised again in the open.”

  Williamson shook his head. “The horses need to be watered, Major Rose, and they need it now. We won’t be here for long.”

  However short the time, it was too long. As stragglers caught up to the main body and dismounted to rest the horses and let them drink, companies intermingled and the milling men became separated from their officers. It was at this juncture that a party of pursuing Indians and Rangers once again burst from the deep grasses in full gallop and attacked the rear. As if they were ants in a disrupted nest, the volunteers on foot raced about in dismay, fearful, but this time not giving way to panic.

  Several groups of volunteers ran off the trail and away from the creek, plunged into the tall grasses and vanished from sight. At first they were merely searching for a hiding place, but then two separate small groups formed and decided on the spur of the moment to desert. One group consisted of 17 men, the other 12. They struck off on their own, weakening the army in the process but also providing it with an unexpected benefit. Their departure had been observed by the enemy, and two parties of Wyandots and Delawares broke off from the fighting and immediately began trailing them, effectively weakening the attack on the main army. Within the hour both groups of deserters were overtaken, and every man among them was killed.555

  The skirmish was on, and for a time the men held their ground and fought back determinedly at rather close range.556 The fighting raged for the better part of an hour, and thus far there were eight Americans wounded and three dead. Pvt. John Walker was wounded in the shin, his leg the only part of him still exposed when he tried to take cover behind a tree, while one of those killed was Sam, the slave who had been sent to fight in the stead of his master, Richard Elson. When a lull developed in the battle and the attackers pulled back somewhat, though continuing their firing, Col. Williamson decided the retreat should recommence at once.

  Fearing a possible ambush where the trail they were following went through the woods, the commander ordered Capt. Timothy Downing to select three of his men who, in a short while, were to precede the army through the long grove and watch for Indian sign. The three privates chosen by Capt. Downing for the dangerous assignment were John Clark, Robert McBride and James Allen, all three from the same neighborhood on the Virginia side of the Ohio. Williamson then ordered Leet’s light horse to take the van and be prepared to prevent the enemy from blocking the trail’s entrance to the forest.557 Capt. John Biggs’s company had acted as rear guard throughout the entire retreat and, now reduced to only nine men of the original 32, asked to be relieved. The whereabouts of Capt. Biggs himself was still unknown since his separation from his troops in the wild flight at the beginning of the retreat.558 Williamson, sympathetic to the request of Biggs’s men, appointed other companies to take that hazardous duty in rotation for the remainder of the retreat. The formation of the continued retreat now established, only one final distasteful chore remained to be done before starting: The bodies of those killed in this little Battle of the Olentangy were gathered together and a shallow grave, large enough to accommodate them all, was ordered quickly dug.

  To the north of them, Col. Crawford and Dr. Knight, ensconced in their well-hidden little camp, remained alert for the approach of any enemies. Now that alertness paid off. In the distance they heard the sound of voices approaching and secreted themselves, ready to ambush an enemy party and then escape in the resultant confusion. It turned out not to be necessary. As the group whose voices they heard came into view, Crawford and Knight saw that they were four fleeing Americans on foot. Their leader was Capt. John Biggs.

  The newcomers had a terrible start when Col. Crawford and Dr. Knight hailed them from hiding, revealed their identity and cautioned them not to shoot as the pair stepped out of hiding. There was an enthusiastic reunion. Biggs’s three men turned out to be Lt. Hankerson Ashby of Capt. John Dean’s company, Pvt. James Mitchell of Biggs’s own company and another private who did not identify himself. Ashby was badly wounded with a ball in his side but was still ambulatory.559 Crawford immediately apprised them of his plan to continue their flight by night, at least for a day or two more, to help avoid detection, and the newcomers thought it wise and fell in with it. The whole group now settled down to rest and await nightfall to resume their flight.

  To the south of them at this moment, the dead of the Battle of the Olentangy had been gently laid side by side in the shal
low ground and then covered over with soil. Atop this grave a fire was built, using plenty of dried prairie grass as kindling, to create a fast, hot fire that would quickly consume the extensive arrangement of twigs and branches placed upon it. It was a race of time against the impending rainfall, and the army won. Within minutes of being ignited, the fire had done its job, effectively hiding the grave beneath a circle of smoldering ash. Now it was unlikely that the Indians would find the grave in order to disinter and scalp the dead Americans.

  While this was occurring and before the order could be given to move out, Maj. Rose spoke to the commander briefly and sketched out a plan suggested to him by Pvt. John Gunsaula that might aid them. Convinced the enemy would attempt a rush on them from the rear as soon as they resumed the retreat, Rose asked and received permission to stage a small ambush with a select group of his men. Secreting himself and his hand-picked men in the tall grass and fringe of trees and brush lining the creek, Rose cautioned the men to cup their gunlocks to protect them from the rain that had just begun to fall, and there they waited.

  The three privates now selected as an advance squad by Capt. Downing were given the order to start out, and they did so at once. When they were some 200 yards out, the remainder of the force was put into motion. In accordance with the plan of Pvt. Gunsaula and Maj. Rose, a handful of seemingly wounded stragglers were allowed to linger in sight as decoys. The ruse worked perfectly. As soon as the army cleared the creek, the British Rangers and Indians rode up, intent on taking the stragglers. They were met by a barrage of accurate gunfire from Rose and his men that swept about a dozen of the attackers from their horses and caused the others to hesitate and fall back out of effective range.