That Dark and Bloody River

by Allan Eckert

  “We first knew you a feeble plant which wanted a little earth to grow in. We gave it to you, and afterward, when we could have trodden you under our feet, we watered and protected you. Now you have grown to be a tall tree. Your top is in the clouds. Your branches spread all over the land. We were then the tall pine. Now we have become the feeble plant. When you came here, you clung to our knees. You called us father. We took your hand. We called you brother. You have grown so we cannot now reach up to your hands. We wish to cling around your knees and be called your children.

  “A little while ago you lifted the war club against him who was once your and our Great Father over the water. You asked us to go with you to war. It was not our quarrel. We did not know whether you were right. We did not ask. We did not care. You are our brothers; that was enough. We went with you. We fought and bled for you. Now, when our Great Father sees blood running fresh from the wounds we received in fighting your battles, dare you tell us he has sent you to ask us to sell the birthplace of our children and the graves of our fathers?”634

  [December 31, 1784]

  This year following the end of the Revolutionary War had turned out to be even less eventful on the upper Ohio frontier than 1783 had been. Some scattered incidents of violence still occurred between diehards among both the whites and the Indians, but these were more isolated cases than the standard, as they had been for so many years previously. These days a person could even paddle his canoe on the Ohio River with reasonable assurance of getting where he was going without being shot at by someone on shore, and incursions by raiding parties from either side had become minimal.

  Lest the border people became too complacent, however, there were still enough incidents to make them remain very cautious when traveling anywhere, and even isolated settlements and cabins were still hit on occasion.

  That the Shawnees were truly interested in establishing a lasting harmony with the Americans and vice versa was evidenced by the fact that late last year and early this year, several attempts at peace talks had been made adjacent to the Falls of the Ohio, at Louisville. On February 7, 27-year-old Gen. James Wilkinson, after conferring at Fort Nelson with David Owens, who had been acting as liaison with the tribe, sent him among them with a written speech:

  Chiefs and Brothers of the Shawanoe Nation:

  We, the Big Knife, embrace this opportunity—by one of our great chiefs lately come from our Grand Council, your brothers—to inform you that the English and Americans have at length buried the hatchet, and concluded a firm peace. We wish you & our brothers, the Red People, to join your hands to the chain of friendship thus brightened by your brothers of America and your father, the English. We should have rejoiced to have had it in our power to send you the particulars of the Articles of the Peace, but your eldest brother has not yet forwarded them to us, though we every day expect to hear from him.

  We yesterday received the following Talk from him: “I approve the method you have taken to support your troops. Their terms of service being now expired by the happy conclusion of the war, you will please to discharge your whole corps.” Thus, Brothers, we prove to you our sincerity in desiring peace and friendship—our warriors are discharged &gone home to their wives and children. We have buried the tomahawk; we have covered the blood which has been spilt, & we have gathered together the bones which were scattered on the ground, & buried them in a large grave that they may no more be seen. Now, Brothers, we wish you to do the same, to join your hands to ours, bury the hatchet, & let war come no more among us, for we desire to become one flesh & blood with you. When the peace which the Americans and British have made comes among you, you will find that the British have forgot you, their children. Nevertheless, we wish to consider you as a brother, and hold with you the chain of friendship.

  Mr. Owens informed me, that the Talks I sent you some time ago on the subject of a Treaty was not yet opened on account of your chiefs being absent. As soon as they have collected and considered the matter, it will be necessary to send a runner to let us know their sentiments, that I may inform our Great Chief, who will send persons to meet them at this place at any time they may appoint to conclude a firm peace, which we hope may continue as long as the rivers and woods shall last.

  Made at the Falls of Ohio, this 7th Day of February, 1784. To the Chief Warriors of the Shawnee Nation.

  Eight days later the garrison at Fort Nelson was discharged by their commander, Maj. George Walls, though he stayed on in the headquarters office there to handle any delegations of chiefs who might wish an audience to speak of peace. Further efforts in this direction were being made among the Miami chiefs on the Wabash by deputations from the commander at Vincennes, Lt. V. Thomas Dalton. To him, upon receiving news that the United States Congress had ratified the Paris Treaty, Maj. Walls had written nine days later:

  Fort Nelson, 24th Feby 1784

  Dear Sir—

  I have the pleasure to offer you my congratulations on the final ratification of the Peace, in consequence of which, by order of his Excellency, the Governor, I disbanded the troops here on the 15th instant.…

  As I propose setting off for the Government by the middle of April, I should be glad to see you, or some of the Ouabache [Wabash] chiefs here before that period; which, as it is an object I much desire, I hope you will endeavor to accomplish, in order that on my going down I shall be the better enabled to state the real situation of those tribes to the Assembly.

  I am, Sir, Y most obt servt

  G. W.

  Yet, with all the maneuvering going on for serious councils of peace to occur between the Indians and whites, one by one the plans fell through, and now this full year had gone by without anything definitive in that respect having occurred in the Ohio Valley. The situation was worsened by the fact that talks were being set up at Pittsburgh and Fort McIntosh with delegates of tribes to discuss the purchase of lands that did not even belong to the tribes that were summoned, the Americans not caring who signed the treaty papers, only that they were, in fact, officially transferred and that settlement could, with mollified conscience, be begun.

  Well to the east and north, the second Fort Stanwix Treaty was concluded with the Iroquois on October 22, with the humbled Iroquois ceding to the United States all of their claims—many of them imagined rather than actual—to any lands west of a line extending along the western boundary of Pennsylvania, from Lake Erie to the Ohio River.

  In keeping with the discharge of troops stationed along the Ohio River, Fort Henry at Wheeling was dismantled on the grounds that the Indians had been pushed far to the west and the danger from raiding parties was now over. Besides, the fort was a reminder of desperate times in the recent past—not a good image for a town that now, with the war ended, had become the terminus of a good wagon road that had been constructed to that point from Redstone. A new flatboat industry was sprouting at Wheeling, and it was quickly replacing Pittsburgh as the fitting-out place for travelers with the west—and western lands for the claiming—in their dreams. Wheeling was becoming, as well, a litigious society, where overlapping land claims filled the courts and suits dragged on interminably as claimants strove to prove prior ownership. George Washington himself was involved in one of these; the land he and his agents had claimed a decade or more ago was now being squatted upon by others, including members of the Cresap and Tomlinson families.635

  Many old-timers on the upper Ohio frontier, however, felt that everything was moving a mite too fast and that the rejoicing over reestablished peace was considerably premature. Not only had further peace negotiations not made much headway among the northwestern tribes, but a few backward steps had been taken as a result of some of the inflammatory incidents that had occurred. There were still a good many whites in this border country who, despite governmental directives to the contrary, felt Indians were legal game. One of these individuals was Lewis Wetzel.

  Early in May, when returning from an illegal hunting trip in the woodlands west of the Ohio River, Wetzel
took refuge from an impending storm in an unfinished cabin built along Indian Wheeling Creek, about three miles above its mouth. Deciding that he really didn’t want to sleep on the damp earthen floor, he scouted about and found a few rough-sawn boards scattered about to complete the structure. He put his rifle inside a hollow log to protect it while he carried the boards into the cabin and laid them across rafter beams beneath the partially finished roof to make a pallet for the night.

  While doing this work atop the rafters, Wetzel heard a noise outside and, with only his tomahawk and sheath knife for defense, froze where he was, hidden by the boards from the view of anyone below. A moment later six Shawnee Indians entered, set up kindling and twigs and struck a fire with flint and steel. They cooked their meal and talked animatedly for a time, then stretched out on the floor for sleep, rolling themselves up in their blankets as the thunderstorm struck and the rain pelted down heavily.

  Wetzel waited silently above until all six were sound asleep, and then very carefully, taking advantage of the rainfall to mask any slight noise he might make, lowered himself to the cabin floor and slipped outside without awakening them. The storm continued for another hour, thoroughly drenching him as he crouched beside the log where his rifle was hidden. The wetter and colder he became, the more he blamed the Indians for his discomfort.

  When the storm ended, he remained where he was with his rifle, still good and dry, now clenched in his grip as he stared intently at the cabin’s entrance. He remained that way for several hours more until, in the first light of dawn, one of the warriors appeared at the open doorway, yawned and stretched hugely and inhaled deeply the invigorating, freshly washed air. It was his last breath. Wetzel’s shot caught him in the V at the base of his throat, plowed through his neck and broke his spine, killing him instantly. Before the sound of the rifle blast had finished echoing among the hills, Wetzel was running away, reloading as he ran. The Shawnees did not follow, remaining hidden in the cabin for some time, not knowing how many were in the party that had attacked them. When they finally realized the enemy was gone, it was too late for pursuit, but their anger at the Shemanese had been rekindled.

  In retaliation, these same Indians, about noon, struck Joe Tomlinson’s place at the mouth of Grave Creek and, while no one was killed, they robbed him of a variety of goods. Before evening they struck again, killing two settlers in the valley of Wheeling Creek not far from the Wetzel place. And once again the anger of the whites toward the Shawnees was rekindled.

  Two months later, John Hinkson’s new little blockhouse far down the Ohio at the mouth of Limestone Creek in the Kentucky country was burned by a party of Shawnees, who also stole all the horses. Simon Kenton, who happened to be on hand with a party of 60 men, building his own new station on Lawrence Creek a few miles away, immediately pursued with 20 of his men and recovered the horses, killing a warrior named Leaning Tree in the process. There were now some 45,000 settlers in Kentucky, and, with choice lands daily becoming more scarce, new arrivals were spilling into the Shawnee hunting grounds north of the river; already more than 1,000 had made tomahawk improvements in these Ohio lands and were filing claims that they hoped and believed would stand up in ensuing years. What Indians they did not kill with knives or tomahawks or guns, they brought down in more subtle ways with the diseases they brought among them, against which the Indians had no defense and no immunity.

  So, in view of the upsurge of encroachment into areas heretofore untouched by the whites, the cycle of strike and counterstrike continued and, in some cases, increased, keeping alive the flames of hatred that had burned so long between the Shawnees and the whites. This situation developing opposite Kentucky in the Ohio Valley was also occurring in the area to the north and west of the big river, from the mouth of the Muskingum upstream to Yellow Creek, and everyone seemed to realize that it was only a matter of time before very serious Indian troubles broke out anew, perhaps even worse than they had ever been before. At the same time, newly arriving would-be settlers found all the better bottomlands south and east of the upper Ohio laced with claims, and their only choice seemed to be the dangerous one of striking out deeper into the Ohio country and nibbling it into properties with their tomahawk claims.

  In the midst of all the continuing minor skirmishes, Capt. Andrew Van Swearingen, concerned for the safety of his daughter and son-in-law, attempted to get Drusilla and Sam Brady to move away from Holliday’s Cove to a safer location, preferably near his own place at Washington village. Brady, while appreciative, told his father-in-law he could not; as commander of Brady’s Rangers, who were still making regular border patrols, he had to remain close to them on the Ohio. He asked Dusy if she wished to move back to Washington, and she replied stubbornly that without him, she was going nowhere. He even had difficulty overriding her insistence on accompanying him on his dangerous patrols.

  Andrew Van Swearingen, still concerned for their welfare, then did what he felt was the only option left open to him: He spent a great deal of money hiring a large crew of workers to build for the Bradys a large, well-fortified home overlooking the Ohio River at the mouth of Indian Creek, centrally located to the patrol routes still regularly run by his Rangers, yet capable of being well defended in event of attack.

  Peace may have come with the signing of the Paris Treaty, but very few experienced individuals along the upper Ohio, Indians or whites, were convinced of it—or believed that this lull of sorts in hostilities would last for very long. They simply kept their guard up and waited for the time when serious troubles would return. They were certain the wait would not be long.

  [January 21, 1785—Friday]

  The latest of the councils called by the Americans on the upper Ohio was winding down today at Fort McIntosh, at the mouth of Beaver River 25 miles downstream from Pittsburgh. Here, as a testament to the efforts of the American delegates sent among the tribes since the end of the war, had gathered the chiefs, sachems and warriors of the Ottawa, Chippewa, Delaware and Wyandot nations. Among those chiefs present were Monakaduto and Pimoacan. After their arrival they had, in turn, spoken of their desire for a lasting peace with the Americans and then had listened in stony silence as the American commissioners explained to them the elements of this newest proposed treaty.

  Once again, as they had in previous treaty talks held in the Ohio Valley from Pittsburgh down to Louisville, the Americans quickly restated the situation: They had emerged victorious from their recent war with the British and were anxious to establish a permanent and lasting peace, perhaps even friendship rather than mere harmony, with these assembled Indians. But—and now came the proviso that everyone present knew was coming—in order to prevent future arguments that might eventually lead to warfare, it was necessary to establish boundaries between their peoples that were clearly defined and understood by both parties.

  Unfortunately, the American commissioners went on blandly, the boundaries that had been established in the past—especially the principal one making the Ohio River the dividing line between Americans and Indians—had somehow not held up well, most likely because of vagueness in the treaty wording or lack of understanding on the part of some people. This was a situation the Americans wished to avoid in the future and why the new boundaries would be closely and clearly explained to those assembled.

  “The boundary,” said the American commissioner through his interpreter, “is to begin at the mouth of the river Cuyahoga and to extend up said river to the portage between that and the Tuscarawas branch of the Muskingum; then down the Tuscarawas to the crossing place above Fort Laurens, then westerly to the portage of the Great Miami River and down the southeast side of same to its mouth.636

  “East of this line,” he went on, “will be American territory and to the west and north it will belong to you tribes assembled here. The only exceptions are that we Americans reserve the right to a parcel of land six miles square at the mouth of the Great Miami and a similar amount on the portage between the Great Miami and Auglaize rivers, a
nd the same amount on Sandusky Bay, and also a parcel of land two miles square on each side of the lower rapids of the Sandusky River; those areas being reserved so that we Americans can establish, for your benefit, trading posts thereon. Do you people gathered here clearly understand the new boundaries as now laid out before you?”

  Indeed the Indians understood, far better than the American commissioner could imagine. They were uncomfortably aware that some two-thirds of the Ohio country which this new treaty gave to the Americans included very little of the land claimed by any tribes here represented. Those were lands belonging to the Shawnees and Miamis, as well as some of the Mingoes; yet no representative of those tribes had been invited to attend this treaty council. They were also painfully aware of the fact that once again, as had happened time and again, their own boundaries had been pushed back from western Pennsylvania and northwestern Virginia to central Ohio, and that as soon as this land was filled with settlers, there would come more encroachment, more fighting and more treaty talk, and once again they would be pushed farther to the west.