That Dark and Bloody River

by Allan Eckert

  Had he been taken to a military surgeon, Tom Mills would almost certainly have had both his arm and leg amputated, but Elizabeth Zane could only treat him as best she knew how. Fortunately for him, he fell unconscious as she probed and cleansed the wounds, used a straight razor to remove the misshapen lead balls that had lodged in him, applied medicated salves and poultices of pulverized slippery elm bark and jimpson weed and then bandaged each wound. Mills did not regain his senses until an hour after she was finished. She thought his first question when he aroused would be whether he was going to live. It was not. Neither did he inquire if his companions were all right, or if the Indians were attacking Wheeling.

  “Mrs. Zane,” he asked, “how much did that damned catfish weigh?”

  Elizabeth burst into a hearty peal of laughter and admitted that she didn’t know but would certainly find out. She left and returned ten minutes later, smiling broadly.

  “Eighty-seven pounds.”

  “Almost makes it worth it all,” he murmured, lapsing again into unconsciousness.611

  At this moment, about 12 miles upstream from Wheeling and nearly two miles above Vanmetre’s Fort at the mouth of Short Creek, Elizabeth Zane’s brothers, Samuel and John McCulloch, having spent the previous night at Holliday’s Cove Fort, were coming back to Vanmetre’s, where Samuel had commanded before losing his left arm last November and where John McCulloch commanded now. Unaware that any trouble had occurred a few miles downstream, they rode casually, alert for Indian sign, as always, but in no way alarmed.

  Maj. Sam McCulloch, riding as he always did these days, with his rifle cradled in the crook of his right arm and the reins in his right hand, was in the lead on the narrow trail, preceding John by seven or eight yards. With no warning whatever, a rifle cracked from behind, and the ball, aimed at John, missed him and his horse and slammed into Sam, ripping through his kidneys and killing him. He fell to the ground and never moved.

  John immediately put his horse into a gallop, Sam’s horse following close behind. After a moment he looked back and saw a warrior burst from cover, run to Sam’s body and begin to scalp him. With an oath he reined up, drew a bead on the scalper and killed him with a fine shot, just as a horde of other warriors emerged from the woods. The other Indians raised their guns to fire at him, but he put his horse into a gallop again, and the balls from at least six shots merely ripped through the nearby foliage, doing him no harm.612

  Defensive measures were instituted as soon as he reached Vanmetre’s, and they waited for the attack, but it did not come. At sunset vigilance was relaxed a little, and McCulloch led a party back to the scene. They found Sam where he had fallen but, except for a quantity of blood, no sign of the Indian who had been killed by John. Not unexpectedly, Sam had been scalped, but the Indians had also paid him a gruesome tribute: They had cut his heart out and taken it away with them, no doubt to eat it and gain for themselves the courage of an enemy they had long feared and respected.

  Sam McCulloch’s body was taken back to Vanmetre’s and, as neighbors comforted his widow, Mary, he was buried in the small graveyard there.613

  [August 2, 1782—Friday]

  Simon Girty stood before the council fire at Chalahgawtha to address the nearly 1,000 Indians who had assembled for one of the largest grand congresses of the confederated tribes of the Northwest heretofore held. Here, in what had long been the heart of the Shawnee nation and its largest and most important village, were gathered contingents of Iroquois and Mingo warriors under Thayendanegea—Joseph Brant—and Wyandots under Monakaduto and Tarhe—Half King and The Crane. Here, too, were the contingents of Miamis and their Wabash River subtribes: the Weas, Ouiatenons, Piankeshaws, Eel Rivers and Mississinewas under Michikiniqua—Little Turtle. The large party of Delawares in attendance was represented by Buckangehela, Wingenund and Pimoacan. Smaller representative groups of Chippewas, Ottawas and Potawatomies were also on hand, and even a few Kickapoos and Sacs. Most important, the Shawnees, as host tribe of this council, were represented by their finest war chiefs, Shemeneto and Wehyehpihehrsehnwah—Black Snake and Blue Jacket—as well as the 90-year-old Chief Moluntha and the present Shawnee principal chief, Catahecassa—Black Hoof.

  All 950 who assembled were aware of—and many had participated in—the recent defeat of the Americans on the Sandusky Plains, and an aura of high exultation prevailed among them. Shortly after the battles near Half King’s Town and on the upper Olentangy, runners had been sent to the various northwestern tribes inviting them to this congress. Simon Girty himself, aware of the contingent of 50 redcoated British regulars under Capt. William Caldwell and the many Iroquois and Mingoes under Thayendanegea and Alexander McKee, presently en route from Detroit to strike Wheeling, had ridden hard and intercepted them near the mouth of the Cuyahoga and had convinced them to divert from their course and attend this grand council.

  Now, in an impassioned speech, Girty proposed a major invasion of Kentucky, targeting two of the principal Kentucky settlements within six miles of one another—Bryan’s Station and Lexington. To go ahead with the planned strike against Wheeling at this time, he told them, was apt to be a mistake; Col. Williamson had returned to the upper Ohio with the residue of the American army, and now the whole frontier there was alert and in arms, prepared to meet the invasion they were convinced was coming. To attack when those forts were expecting it and were well prepared for defense, Girty argued, was simply too great a risk.

  No other strategy had worked so well against the Americans in the past as the well-planned ambush, Girty went on. What he proposed now was a stronger and better-laid-out ambush than had ever before been perpetrated. Well over half the mounted force, armed with rifles and tomahawks, would secretly move into position in the most advantageous spot for an ambush at the Blue Licks. The remainder would move against Bryan’s Station, which, Girty had learned from a Kentucky captive a few weeks ago, was weak in manpower and munitions.614 They would surreptitiously observe the station until two or three people were outside the little fort’s gates before attacking. They would deliberately allow those few to escape so they could alert the men at the next nearest station, Lexington, which was strongly manned at this time. There was no doubt those at Lexington would immediately mount a good-size force to come to the aid of Bryan’s. If this rescue force was small enough, they could simply waylay it before it reached the beleaguered station. But if, as anticipated, it was too large for that—which they would learn from their spies as soon as the force was on the move—no early attack would be made, and the force that was striking Bryan’s would retreat toward the Blue Licks. The value of the plan, Girty stressed, was that the force attacking Bryan’s and then retreating would be so large that the whites would not be able to conceive that even more than that number would be waiting in ambush at Blue Licks. The retreating Indians, allowing themselves to be closely pursued, would lead the Kentuckians directly into the jaws of the ambush. At that point, Girty said, his voice rising as he jerked out his tomahawk and slashed it through the air, they would spring their trap and annihilate the Kentuckians.

  The howls of approval, spontaneous war cries and breaking out of the war dance were confirmation of the acceptance of Girty’s plan. Capt. William Caldwell was both surprised and disgruntled that the Indians now selected Girty as leader of the proposed Kentucky invasion, the role Caldwell had intended for himself.

  There was but one significant amendment to the plan: Not all the Indians here assembled would be used in the Kentucky invasion. Six hundred would proceed with Girty and Caldwell to accomplish the strategy the Indian agent had outlined; the remaining 360, under McKee and Thayendanegea, along with 40 Queen’s Rangers under Capt. John Pratt and accompanied by George Girty, would lead a strike against Wheeling.

  [September 10, 1782—Tuesday]

  It was this evening, as the force of Indians that had massed near the Ohio River were in their camp preparing for the strike against Wheeling, when a pair of runners arrived from Chalahgawtha with wor
d of the smashing success of Simon Girty’s invasion into Kentucky and the subsequent ambush at Blue Licks.

  They listened closely and became increasingly excited as the runners related the details. The force of 600 Indians had crossed the Ohio and reached the Blue Licks on the Licking River undetected. There the majority of the force, 350 warriors, had positioned themselves for the ambush while the remaining 250, including Capt. William Caldwell and his 50 redcoats, went on and fiercely attacked Bryan’s Station. The presence of the British with the attackers, as Girty had anticipated, helped convince the Kentuckians that this was the whole attacking force. Indian spies watched as the two whites they allowed to escape fled to Lexington and raised the alarm. First a party of 50 men, including ten who had arrived from Boonesboro, galloped to Bryan’s in an attempt to provide relief for the besieged station, but they were quickly beaten off and retreated to Lexington with word that a greater force would be necessary to drive off the Indians.

  The Indian spies who followed them quickly brought back word that reinforcements had arrived at Lexington, and a mounted force of some 200 had quickly formed and were on the way. At this intelligence, Girty ordered the attackers to mount up, and they headed directly for the Blue Licks, making no effort to hide their trail. The pursuing whites were not far behind and, when the trail of the party they were following crossed the Licking and continued past the Blue Licks and up a ravine on the other side, they followed. Girty’s ambush was sprung with devastating success. Seventy-two of the Kentuckians were killed, and the rest fled in panic. Only three Indians were killed and four others slightly wounded. Taking scalps, weapons, horses and other plunder, Girty’s force then returned in triumph to Chalahgawtha.615

  All this was electrifying news, adding to the exhilaration that already existed among them at the successes recently achieved by the 100 warriors from this party who had broken into smaller war parties since their arrival here to maraud among the settlements. Now these remaining 260 Indians under Alexander McKee and Thayendanegea set about painting their faces, preparing their weapons and vowing among themselves to make their assault against Wheeling as successful as Simon Girty’s had been against the Kentuckians.

  [September 11, 1782—Wednesday]

  Ebenezer Zane was greatly disheartened by the growing carelessness of the Wheeling residents.

  When two weeks passed after the killing of Maj. Sam McCulloch without the expected attack on Wheeling materializing, the residents had gradually begun moving out of the protection of Fort Henry and back into their houses. They were now convinced that the attacks on the catfish giggers and McCulloch and a few others since then, had been nothing more than the usual attacks made by small roving bands of marauders and did not signify that a major assault against Wheeling was pending. What had transpired since then did not even seem to worry them, and Zane firmly believed it should.

  As the residents began moving back into their houses, Zane had asked for two men to go on a small spying mission in a canoe down the Virginia side of the Ohio as far as Grave Creek and see if they could detect any unusual sign of Indian presence. Jacob Hefler and John Neisinger had volunteered for the undertaking, and Zane had suggested, for their own protection, that they dress like Indians and paint their faces. When they returned, they were to shout out their names first, so the sentinels on duty would not think they were the real thing and shoot them.

  Starting out late in the day, the pair reached the mouth of Little Grave Creek, 11 miles below Wheeling, just at nightfall. Since it was becoming too dark to see well anymore, the pair decided to spend the night there and continue the remaining mile to Grave Creek in the morning. They tied their canoe to some overhanging willows close to shore and stretched out in the bottom of the small craft to sleep. During the night Hefler was awakened by a noise and a jostling of the canoe, just in time to see Neisinger killed with a tomahawk blow. Four or five Indians had silently waded out to the canoe, and now they turned their attention to Hefler, who in the darkness, snatched for his gun and grabbed a paddle instead. Using it as a club, he swung it wildly to and fro, knocking three or four of the Indians away, but then one warrior swung his tomahawk and knocked the paddle out of Hefler’s grip, cutting off two fingers of one hand in the process.

  Hefler, unable to swim, nevertheless leaped into the water and crawled along the bottom until he was close to shore before slowly rising. He was underneath the willows, unseen in the darkness. The Indians, believing he was swimming underwater and would soon rise some distance out and start swimming away, waited and listened, prepared to pursue him. Hefler eased away close to shore some distance before stopping, well hidden. The Indians hovered about for the better part of an hour before leaving, but Hefler remained in place until morning, thankful for the fog cloaking the river. At that point, staying in the water, he continued sliding and wading upstream for the better part of a mile before coming back on shore. It was close to noon before he reached Wheeling. He reported to Col. Zane what had occurred, and then, his hand in bad shape, was taken to Pittsburgh for medical treatment. Still, the Wheeling residents again considered it just another attack by an isolated raiding party.616

  Then, on August 22, one of Col. Zane’s younger brothers, Jonathan, had been returning home after hunting his horses when, ahead, just on the outskirts of the Wheeling Settlement and not more than 100 yards or so from his own house, he saw five Indians leap into the Ohio and begin to swim toward the big island. He immediately stopped, tied his horses, took careful aim at one of the swimmers and fired. The Indian thrashed and disappeared. The others swam more frantically to get away, but: in rapid succession he loaded and fired, killing three more. The fifth, nearing the island, managed to reach a sawyer—a tree bobbing and swaying in the current, but its roots wedged on the bottom—and hid among the branches. Zane, rifle ready, waited for several minutes, then caught a glimpse of the Indian’s head just barely visible above the surface, next to a large branch. Again he took careful aim and fired. The man splashed, clung a moment more, then floated free for a while before he disappeared beneath the surface and was seen no more. Still the Wheeling residents considered the swimmers no more than another isolated party of marauders.

  Then, only four days after that, Michael Myers had been on spying patrol up Yellow Creek on the Ohio side of the river with his younger brother, Christopher, when they found the trail of a war party heading downstream toward the creek’s mouth. That was where Capt. William Forbes had only recently established the little two-story fortification called Forbes’ Blockhouse. The pair, knowing Forbes and four other men were there, moved quickly downstream to warn them, but they arrived too late; the war party of Wyandots had hit them the day before. Forbes and two of his men were still all right, but a young man named George Tinkey had been taken by surprise on the riverbank and captured. Two other men with him escaped into the little blockhouse, but the Indians followed and managed to break in the door. They caught one of the men as he was climbing the ladder to the second floor, pulled him down, tomahawked and scalped him. They were driven out by gunfire from the floor above and, for the rest of the day, until nightfall, the Indians kept the place under siege before they finally moved off in the darkness. When word of this reached Wheeling, the residents became a little more cautious and some even moved back into Fort Henry, but the majority remained unconvinced that any of these scattered incidents presaged an assault on Wheeling itself.

  Yesterday, having learned from a spy that a party of Indians with horses had established a longtime camp on Stillwater Creek in the Ohio country, Ebenezer and Jonathan Zane, with Stephen Burkham along, set out on horseback to spy on the encampment themselves and try to steal some of the horses. They followed Indian Wheeling Creek to its headwaters, then crossed the dividing ridge to Stillwater Creek, a tributary of the Tuscarawas. Following it downstream, by late in the day they had found the camp and, watching it from under cover at a considerable distance, estimated there were about 30 Wyandots. By careful circling, they
discovered where the horses were being contained in a rope corral for the night some 20 yards or so from the camp. They decided to wait until the warriors were all asleep before making the attempt.

  It was not until sometime after midnight that the last few warriors lay down near the fire to sleep, leaving one of their number on guard. That individual sat with his back to the trunk of a tree and was very watchful at first. After a few hours, however, he seemed to be getting sleepy. Still he held on, shaking off his drowsiness until the very first gray of dawn streaked the eastern sky. At that point, just when they were on the verge of giving up, his head drooped three or four times in succession and then finally sagged and did not come up. After a few minutes the three white men slipped quietly to the horses and were about to cut the rope when a loud shriek erupted from behind them, and they wheeled to find the guard had roused, come toward the horses and discovered them. He was already breaking into a sprint back toward the others.