by Allan Eckert
The three wheeled and raced away, heading for where their horses were tied, knowing with certainty that the Indians would be after them in a moment. They reached their horses and had no more than mounted when they heard some of the Wyandots, themselves on horses, coming toward them. The pursuit was on and they managed to hold their lead, but it was a long chase and their horses were very nearly done in by the time they reached the Ohio and swam across, at which point the Indians gave up and disappeared the way they had come.
That narrow escape somewhat changed the lackadaisical attitude prevailing among the Wheeling area settlers, as did the fact that early this morning, heading for what used to be Catfish Camp and was now Washington village, Stephen Burkham and Edward Wright had gotten only three or four miles away when they encountered an abundance of Indian sign and thought they heard Indians picking flints in the woods nearby.617 They had turned about at once and returned to Wheeling with the alarming intelligence. Apprehension rose even more when, at three o’clock this afternoon, John Linn arrived, his horse also nearly collapsing from being overridden. Going at once to Col. Zane, he reported that while ranging on his patrol on the Ohio side of the river he encountered a huge party of war-painted Indians that he estimated to number upward of 400, accompanied by British Rangers, heading directly and quite rapidly for Wheeling. He had been seen, fired at and hotly pursued, but had managed to escape, swim his horse across the Ohio and reach here. There was no doubt in his mind whatever that an attack on Wheeling was imminent.
Without losing an instant, Col. Zane had the alarm sharply sounded and residents, at last genuinely fearful, began flocking to the two most secure places in the settlement—Fort Henry and Zane’s own fortified residence some 60 yards distant.618 Only ten able-bodied militia were on hand, plus ten other men and, though he knew he would need every one of them, Zane also realized that without reinforcements they could not hold off such an enemy force for long. He dispatched Capt. William Boggs to ride at once to the nearest strong settlement—Washington, 25 miles distant—and inform Col. David Williamson, who was in command there, what was occurring and urgently request he raise the strongest force possible and come to Wheeling in quick order. Boggs was to pause only briefly en route to warn any of the smaller settlements he passed to send their women and children to relative safety at Washington village and their men, if possible, to join the reinforcement that would be coming to Wheeling.619 Thankful that his wife, Elizabeth, was away at the time visiting her father, Abraham McCulloch, near Washington village, he then ordered everyone to cooperate in bringing water from the river to the fortified house and Fort Henry. He elected to get the water from the nearby river rather than farther away at the usual place, the springs near the base of Wheeling Hill, for fear that the Indians might already be lurking in the heavier cover there. While the women and children aided the men in bringing up buckets of water from the river, the Indians and British appeared some distance away amidst beating drums and piping fifes.
Below Wheeling Island, a body of warriors crossed the Ohio at Boggs’ Island, then circled to the north through the woods and crossed Wheeling Creek, spreading themselves out east of the settlement. At the same time a body of some 60 Indians was observed moving into position on Wheeling Island and, with that, Wheeling was effectively surrounded. Some of the enemy, on hill and island alike, began firing random long shots at those carrying water, and Zane quickly ordered everyone into the fort. At this point, as prearranged by Zane, everyone in the fort, including women and children, raised a deafening yell, tossed hats and brooms into the air, beat on kettles and made all the noise possible for a prolonged time, all designed to convey to the enemy the impression of a very large number of people on hand for defense. Then Zane turned over command of Fort Henry to his brother Silas, also a militia colonel, and placed himself in his own fortified house in order to establish a crossfire zone between his place and the fort for any attackers trying to gain entry.
Ebenezer Zane’s house, resembling a blockhouse more than a residence, had regularly spaced loopholes for rifle fire and contained much of the military stores that had been accumulated from the Virginia government for the defense of Wheeling. With Ebenezer Zane in the house were eight others—Andrew and Molly Scott and Andrew’s younger brother, Bob. George Greer was there, too, along with Miss McCulloch and, in the adjoining kitchen structure, Rachel Johnson, the Negro slave who had also gone through the first siege of Wheeling with the Zanes, plus Ebenezer Zane’s other two slaves, Old Daddy Sam and Kate, a married couple.620 Within the fort there were a total of 23 men, counting militia and civilians alike, plus 14 wives.621
About this time, a more concentrated shooting broke out from the approaching Indians, who quickly separated and took cover wherever possible around the fort as they opened their offensive. Within short minutes almost continuous rifle fire was being directed at both Fort Henry and the settlement.
Boggs, hardly a mile and a half distant, heard the firing and urged his mount to even greater exertions. In another half-mile he encountered Ebenezer McCulloch heading for Wheeling and warned him that the Indians were attacking.622 McCulloch, unconvinced, rode on, only to hear the firing himself before riding another half-mile. At once he turned around and overtook Capt. Boggs and continued with him toward Washington.
The initial firing lasted for a quarter-hour, harming no one but causing consternation among the majority of the Wheeling residents. Then, as the initial spate of firing dwindled away, British Capt. John Pratt, accompanied by Ens. John McGillen and George Girty, plus a pair of uniformed soldiers, approached the fort under two flags—one the British standard, the other a white flag. When they stopped within 20 yards of the gate, Silas Zane called loudly from inside the fort, telling them to state their business. British Capt. Pratt cupped his mouth with both hands and shouted loudly in response:
“I wish to speak to the officer in command here.”
Zane approached one of the portholes and shouted back, “I am Colonel Silas Zane, in temporary command of this post, sir, and again I demand to know what you wish.”
“I am Captain John Pratt,” the officer replied, “of the Queen’s Rangers, and I wish no harm to come to you and your people here. I wish to give you an opportunity to avoid the profusion of blood which will surely flow if the fort and the entire Wheeling Settlement are not immediately surrendered to us. We know you have only a few men and are defended mainly by women and children. I promise you in the name of King George, if you give up, everyone will be treated with humanity, but I also warn you that if you do not capitulate, we are a large force and prepared to attack with a strength you cannot withstand and, in that circumstance all here will most certainly be killed, as no quarter will be given.”
McGillen then spoke up, telling them he was a Scot and a man of Christian heart who, like Capt. Pratt, would hate to see them and their women and children massacred by the Indians, which would surely occur if they did not surrender at once.
Not to be outdone, George Girty then spoke up. “You ought’a know,” he told them, “that the other part of us jus’ whipped hell out’a the Kentuckians at Blue Licks an’ kilt most of ’em, jest like we whipped Crawford an’ jest like we’ll whip you iffen you don’t give up. Artillery’ll be here tomorry, ’long with fifteen hunnerd more Injens. Give it up, Zane—you ain’t got no chance.”
“You can go straight to hell!” Zane responded. “All of you. We’re not surrendering. McGillen, you say you’re from Scotland. Have you come all this way to butcher women and children? How heroic! Girty, you always were a liar, and I don’t figure you’ve changed now. As for you, Pratt, we don’t believe your promises for an instant.”
He gave a signal, and Stephen Burkham immediately fired a shot that tore through their standard. Pratt and McGillen, along with their soldiers, took to their heels and quickly vanished in nearby cover. Girty momentarily cursed them, but Burkham had reloaded and sent another shot that kicked up the ground at the renegade’s feet, an
d he followed the others. Burkham reloaded a second time and sent his third shot whistling past Girty’s head just as he plunged into the cover afforded by the cornfield.
Almost immediately a brisk firing was raised by the enemy, and a great many Indians charged out of the cornfields and into the settlement, dodging from house to house as they fired at the defenders; this fire was returned by everyone in both Fort Henry and Zane’s fortified house who was capable of handling a rifle. The brisk return fire from these places—especially the unexpected hot enfilading fire from Zane’s house—drove the attackers back momentarily, but they quickly recovered and charged again with even greater fervor. They were repulsed a second time as the grapeshot-loaded French swivel on the platform within the fort—which the attackers had initially thought to be merely a dummy gun made of wood—was fired into their midst time and again by Conrad Stoup and John Tate. The small cannon’s fire created consternation among the Indian attackers, scattering them, and Capt. Pratt, who recognized at the first explosion of the big gun that this was no fake artillery piece, immediately ordered his Queen’s Rangers to fall back and stand clear. They and the Indians retired back into the cornfield as well as to the cover of the woodland at the base of Wheeling Hill, from which they continued their assault with rifle fire.
Just after five in the evening, a settler galloped into Shepherd’s Fort at the forks of Wheeling Creek, urgently told them to evacuate to Washington village on instructions received from Capt. Boggs and for the men to either go directly to the aid of Wheeling or to join the relief force that would be mounted at Washington village. Eight men were on hand at the fort under Col. William Shepherd, two of whom were ordered to escort the women and children to Washington, the remainder heading at once under their commander toward Wheeling to try to break through the enemy force, gain admission to Fort Henry and aid in Wheeling’s defense.
By six-thirty this first relief party arrived within sight of Wheeling, and Col. Shepherd, assessing the strength of the attacking enemy, determined that such an effort would almost certainly fail and result in unnecessary casualties. He ordered his men to head for Washington village to intercept and join the force supposedly being mounted there.623
At nightfall the firing by the enemy dwindled away and died, replaced by an ominous quiet. Thus far, with no one killed or even injured, the Wheeling defenders were encouraged and their morale remained high, but both Silas and Ebenezer Zane warned them not to become too confident as, at this stage of the assault, anything could still happen.
A little later George Girty’s voice came out of the darkness: “Hey! You got any whiskey there in the fort?”
Betsy Wheat, a bold young Dutch woman serving as one of the sentinels at that point, shouted back, “Sure, we’ve got plenty of it.”
“How’d you make it?” Girty asked.
“In a lead melting ladle,” the young woman called back. “Come on in closer, and we’ll give you a belly full of it.”
“If that’s ’sposed to scare me off, it ain’t workin’,” Girty snarled. “I’ll have this fort before runnin’, or go t’hell!”
“Then it’s hell for you,” she laughed, “because you’re surely not getting into this fort.”
Girty snorted scornfully but said nothing more, and things quieted for a while. Then, at ten P.M., a broadhorn approached on the river laden with dispatches and a cargo of cannonballs from Fort Pitt destined for George Rogers Clark in Louisville at the Falls of the Ohio. It was commanded by boat Capt. Cobus Sullivan, who had a two-man crew. They had no inkling that Wheeling was under siege and, as they put to shore at the Wheeling wharf below the fort, Indians who had crept up unseen in the darkness and gathering fog, aided by others who came over from the island, attacked. Sullivan and his mates raced up the embankment in a hail of bullets and managed to reach the safety of Fort Henry. They immediately joined in the fighting alongside the others.
The Indians lost no time carrying away the cargo of cannonballs. Though they had no cannon, they found a hickory log with a hollow through it approximately the size of the cannonballs and decided to make one. They remembered only too well the similar attempt during the first Wheeling siege five years earlier, at which time a hollowed maple log bound with stretched rawhide had burst when fired, killing and injuring quite a number. They were determined to avoid that mistake this time and carried the log to the vacant blacksmith’s shop. There they sawed it in half and reamed out the hollow for its entire length to sufficiently accommodate the ball. This time when they sealed the halves together, they used the smithy’s equipment to forge a secure binding with chains and metal bands. When finished, they carried it to point-blank range of Fort Henry’s main gate, poured in a heavy charge of gunpowder, rammed home one of the balls and ignited the powder-impregnated wick. They really believed that this time it would work for them, but the back end of the makeshift gun blew out with a squishing sound that made even the Indians themselves laugh. They left it where it lay and returned to reliance on their rifles.
Soon the Indians again charged the fort, firing their guns and lofting fire arrows over the walls, but the defense returned fire so hotly and steadily that once again the attackers were thwarted and retired, filled with frustration. Then they tried a new tactic. Indians with armloads of flax gathered in the nearby fields piled it against the palings and set it afire, but the flax was still too wet and smoldered more than burned, doing little damage.
Cobus Sullivan—Cobe to his friends—took his turn at firing from the north blockhouse above the pickets. He was injured in the foot when a bullet entered at an angle from below, penetrated his big toe and exited out the arch. Painful though it was, he remained at his post and continued firing.
The galling fire that kept coming from Zane’s house as the Indians made their attempts on the fort finally convinced them that they should attempt to seize or destroy the place. Molly Scott was doing as much firing through the loopholes as the men, as well as helping to load guns. Late into the night they made the effort. An Indian crept close with a glowing, though not burning, firebrand in his grasp and, when he made it successfully to the kitchen adjoining Zane’s house, he waved it rapidly back and forth to rekindle the flame so as to set the place afire. In a few moments the glowing end, receiving more oxygen, rekindled itself and burst into flame.
Zane’s slave, Old Daddy Sam, detected the effort.624 Though his forehead had been grazed by a ball and his face was bloody, it was not a serious wound, and he rushed up yelling, “Take care! Sambo is here,” and just as the warrior began applying the burning torch to the kitchen wall, the Negro sent a shot at him, wounding him so badly that he screamed in pain, dropped the torch and was barely able to hobble away into the darkness. They did not try that tactic again.
At about eleven-fifteen the Indians managed to temporarily occupy the house of Jacob Reagan, but the French swivel was brought to bear upon it, and two shots with one-pound balls managed to cut the joists and cause the loft to collapse, which was enough to make them evacuate the place in great haste. Fifteen other times during the night the swivel boomed and sent grapeshot whirring through the darkness, keeping the enemy largely at bay.
During the night other efforts by the Indians to scale the walls or undermine them to gain entry—especially a massive all-out assault that occurred about midnight—failed, due to the strength of the wall pickets, as well as the constant watchfulness of the sentries and the firing their alarms evoked from the defenders, men and women alike. The vibrations from the swivel did, however, cause two of the pickets that had become rotten at their base to fall inward, but before the enemy had a chance to notice and take advantage of the gap, those pickets were quickly set upright again and a board firmly nailed across them on the inside. Had the attack on the walls become more threatening, kettles of water maintained at the boiling point were ready to be splashed over them, but thus far it hadn’t become necessary. On the orders of Silas Zane, tomahawks had been stuck in the pickets at intervals, and th
e women were instructed, should the enemy actually begin scaling the walls, to chop off their fingers.
Tom Mills, still in his hospital bed in Fort Henry, was visited briefly by his friend Stephen Burkham when the latter was finally relieved from his post by one of the women so he could get some sleep. After a little discussion about how things were going in the fight, Mills looked at his friend intently and spoke seriously.
“I want you to make me a promise, Steve.”
“Sure, Tom,” Burkham replied. “Anything.”
“If the Indians manage to break in, I want you to promise to come here and tomahawk me. I aim to deprive those red bastards of the fun of doing that.”
Burkham promised.
[September 12, 1782—Thursday]
There were two more strong attacks by the Indians and British to breach the walls of Fort Henry after midnight and before dawn, but both failed, with ever more of the attackers becoming casualties.
Shortly after daybreak, with a lull in the shooting continuing but no one daring to hope the siege had been lifted, Molly Scott abruptly raced out of Ebenezer Zane’s house and ran to the fort without any shots being fired at her. Panting somewhat on her arrival, she announced with a grin that she was preparing breakfast for the defenders at the house and had run out of bacon and needed more. Dumbfounded at her boldness, Silas Zane cautioned her about making what could be the dangerous run back, but she was determined to do so. Having encountered her stubbornness and determination before, he gave her what she needed and assigned several men to cover her run back to the house. Again she traversed the distance without a shot being fired, and those in the house enjoyed a very good breakfast.
At Washington village a lot of activity was occurring, but little being accomplished. Capt. William Boggs and Abraham McCulloch had arrived well after dark last night on horses wheezing and panting from exhaustion, and Boggs’s horse was somewhat lame in the right foreleg. Col. David Williamson had listened grim-faced to Boggs’s report and cursed the fact that the militia that had paraded here only yesterday had been dismissed and that the men had gone to their individual homes, some of them miles away. As quickly as possible those on hand in the settlement were summoned, but they amounted to only nine men. By dawn another three had arrived, but Williamson knew a mere dozen men were not enough, and so, in the early morning light he sent them out in pairs to ride to the more distant cabins and settlements and recruit more men to come to the aid of Wheeling.