by Allan Eckert
The conclusion was obvious to them: The treaty papers meant virtually nothing and would keep the Americans satisfied only for a while and would allow the Indians assembled here to live in peace temporarily before the next onslaught began. None of those assembled had any illusion whatever that this current uneasy peace would last, but they agreed among themselves that it would last longer than it would if here and now they refused to accept the terms.
So now they signed the treaty as the Americans wished them to, though not one person among them had any faith that it would be binding.
[March 20, 1785—Sunday]
It was early this morning that the Delaware chief Buckangehela arrived at the Shawnee capital village of Wapatomica on the upper Mad River with a young warrior of his tribe in tow. The council he had previously requested was called, the majority of the most powerful Shawnee chiefs in attendance, along with a number of Mingoes who had been invited to be on hand. Buckangehela addressed the assemblage soberly, the young warrior standing beside him.
“This, my Shawnee brothers and my Mingo friends,” he said, indicating his companion, “is the warrior Weylendeweyhing, who is of my people and of my village.637 He has just returned from attending the council that was held by the Americans at the mouth of the Beaver, in their fort called McIntosh, the council that none of us here but him attended. He will now relate to you, as he has done to me, the serious nature of what occurred there and the treaty that was signed, by which your lands and mine have now been taken.”
Buckangehela nodded to Weylendeweyhing, who spoke slowly and carefully as he accurately related what had transpired at the Fort McIntosh council and the boundaries of the new claim acquired by the Americans in the treaty that resulted. A deep, ominous hush settled over the assemblage as he spoke.
“You here know very well,” Weylendeweyhing continued, “that the Virginians called us to their council, and we were obliged to go. They desired us to listen to them, and these were their words: ‘We have beaten the English, the Six Nations and everybody we fought against, and you Delawares with the rest. The Great Spirit is on our side, by which we have gotten all your lands. Your British father gave us all the land as far as the Mississippi and the big lakes. As we have beaten you, we have got all the country. If you had beaten us, it would have been the same case with us. We are as strong as a hickory tree that is not to be overpowered. We had no assistance in beating you, from either French or Spaniards. We have done it ourselves, as well as to all our other enemies. We are now the only people to be believed, and to us alone you must now listen. Delawares, we do not shake hands with you until you assemble all your chiefs and bring all our flesh and blood here—the American captives—that are amongst you; that then we may fix on the minute to fight if that is the choice of us both. We are going to fix a blockhouse at Lower Sandusky and another at the Big Miami River and then survey our lands and place people thereon. Then let us see who dares say anything against it.’
“This, my Shawnee brothers,” Weylendeweyhing concluded, “is what the Americans told us.”
As soon as the warrior had finished, Buckangehela resumed speaking to the assemblage. “Yes,” he said, “what Weylendeweyhing has told you is true; it is what the Americans told us. We see now they mean to take all our lands, as we have always believed. We desire that you Shawnees, among whom the British agent McKee lives, relay to him what we have said, that he may in turn tell his father in Quebec, so that the British will tell us yes or no if they are going to help us as they have for so long told us they would. We shall be glad to know from you whether it is true or not. We have taken this earliest opportunity to inform you, and if it is true, we shall soon be obliged to listen to them. We shall be glad to hear from you, and what news you may have from Quebec, as we expect the Americans upon us very soon.
“We must now let you know,” Buckangehela continued firmly, “that we are going to the Miamis. You are sensible we have been long in friendship with them, which we are now going to strengthen, after which we shall tell them what the Americans told us. We understand we are all to meet in the spring in your presence. By that time, we shall be returned from the Miamis. We listen carefully to everything you say and shall leave our head warriors here, that they may continue to do the same in our absence.
“We must now tell you,” Buckangehela went on, “that the Americans intend to be soon at Detroit, being now at Beaver Creek with eight hundred soldiers, one colonel, twenty officers and some pieces of cannon. Being no longer afraid, since they say that the Detroit garrison belongs to themselves, they plan to take the English by the arm and turn them out and tell them they have no business there.
“We are glad that you recommend it to us to give up the American prisoners we have and hope, by that, you will be able to get ours away from them. This is all we heard the Americans say. We don’t know what Monakaduto may have to say to you. We received from them a speech with a belt six feet long. We let you know that the Pennsylvanians spoke good on your behalf and are apt to quarrel with the other Americans, the Virginians, for being so hard with us Delawares.”
Buckangehela was finished, and he and Weylendeweyhing seated themselves on the ground before the council fire to listen to the response of the Shawnees.
For a long while the Shawnee chiefs conferred quietly among themselves. At length a tall, distinguished-looking Shawnee with gray strands beginning to appear in his black hair rose from where he sat and strode to the fire to address them. He was Catahecassa—Black Hoof—principal chief of the Shawnees, and his expression was grim, his words stern.
“We are grateful to our Delaware brothers,” he said, “for telling us this bad thing that has occurred, and we wonder where now it will take us. We, the Shawnees, being of a mind, as we have said to the Americans, to brighten the chain of friendship between them and us, see only that those Americans, as they always have in the past, remain greedy for our lands and will go to almost any end to take them from us.”
Catahecassa stared at Buckangehela, and his words abruptly became harshly accusatory. “We see now that he has bent your heads with gifts and promises, by which you have given him rights not only to your lands but to lands that belong to us and others. This you should not have done, even though they had soldiers with them and you feel they forced you to do so.
“We Shawnees must now decide,” he added, as the Delawares looked discomfited at being so reprimanded, “whether we will renew the war between us and them that has presently hesitated. It seems that it will become necessary for us to do so if we are to preserve that which is ours. But, as you ask, before we would do so, we will send our words to Col. McKee that he may relay them to his Father so that we may know what is in their heart and mind to do in this measure. That is all we have to say at this time.”
As soon as the chagrined Delawares left, Catahecassa met with the other Shawnee chiefs—Chiuxca of the Peckuwes, Moluntha of the Maykujays, and Shemeneto of the Kispokothas—and they discussed the matter at length, resolving among themselves a course of action to follow. Catahecassa then retired to his wegiwa, where he dictated a letter to Alexander McKee, to be carried to him at Kispoko Town, also called McKee’s Town in his honor by some, just under three miles to the northwest of Wapatomica:
Wapatomica, March 20th, 1785
Father,
This speech is from your children, the Shawnees, and Mingoes. You know the Wyandots and Delawares went to Council at Beaver Creek, where they met with a man appointed by the American Congress to speak to them (as he said), who told them he was glad to see them, that he had something to tell them and that what was in his breast he would declare to them directly, saying, ‘What lands do you claim in this region? I ask you for a piece of ground. Take pity on me and grant it. If you say you will, I shall give you a great many thousands of dollars. And not only that, I shall give your children what they want, and will always continue giving them.’ The Delawares agreed to their proposals and gave them a tract of land from the mouth of Li
ttle Beaver Creek, across the falls of Big Beaver Creek to Caughnawaga and Lake Erie. The Wyandots gave them, from Little Beaver Creek, the whole Shawnee country, the line to run through your house and the Standing Stone in the Miami River, from there to Pimoacan’s line and down to the mouth of the same river. The Americans gave Monakaduto and Pimoacan each a piece of parchment and a belt, saying they might relocate their people easily to Kookhassing.638 We shall be glad that the different Nations may not listen to anything the Wyandots or Delawares may say on behalf of the Americans, as they have sold their lands and themselves with it to them. The speeches sent to us, with one from the Six Nations, are going in three days to the southward and will be delivered by the Cherokees. Our young brothers there will soon know of the treatment they received at Fort Stanwix from the Americans. The belts that the Maykujay delivered last Spring to let loose their young brothers, we beg may be given back to them, with the pipe, that they may put them to the intended use if occasion requires. We shall take it as a great favor that they will be strong and make good use of these belts. Chiuxca desires that you will write to Niagara to let them know he intends to go there as soon as the waters fall; that anything that may happen in this country, he will be able to inform them thereof. You will also please write this to your brother, Sir John Johnson, who is Thayendanegea’s great friend.
Father, you now see trouble is coming upon us fast. We think it is nearly at hand. The Virginians are settling our country and building cabins in every place. We hope you will take compassion on us, tell our young brothers, the Lake Indians, and the Six Nations, of our situation; that the Americans intend to pay us a visit early this spring when the grass is four inches high. With this letter we include the speech the Delawares this day gave to us about what happened with them and the Americans at Beaver Creek.
[March 23, 1785—Wednesday]
The Americans continued to move apace in their steps to secure their grasp on the Northwest. They were only too mindful of the rumors circulating everywhere that the Indians, growing more cognizant of how they had been hoodwinked out of a massive section of the territory on their side of the Ohio River, were girding themselves to thwart any serious move by the Americans in that direction. With this in mind, it was essential, they felt, to establish a strong military toehold in the Ohio country as quickly as possible.
Memories were still fresh enough regarding the fate of the first white fortification built in the Ohio country, Fort Laurens. Placed too far inland to be properly supported and constantly harassed by the Indians, it finally had to be abandoned, the whole operation having cost a great deal in terms of lives and money, with no substantive return for the investment. The Americans were determined not to make that same mistake.
The place they had selected to build their first new Ohio fort since Fort Laurens was a location they could reach quickly and easily and that they could support well, and that could provide a springboard for attacks against the tribes if and when they became necessary, as everyone was convinced they soon would. The site chosen was the downstream point of land at the west side of the mouth of the Muskingum River, and the substantial fort was being constructed close to the remains of the old Wyandot town that had been there many years ago.
The troops sent to build the fort were under command of a tough United States Army engineer, Maj. John Doughty, who was himself acting under direction of Col. Josiah Harmar. The troops called themselves “dime-a-day-men,” referring to the miserable pay they received as privates in the regular army—three dollars per month. They were disgruntled men who felt they were being forced to risk their necks to build a fort to protect settlers who were not yet even here, but for the most part they kept their grousing to themselves. Maj. Doughty would not tolerate complaining and was swift to punish insubordination in any form. Flogging was standard punishment for infractions and, depending upon the seriousness of the offense, a soldier might receive up to 200 lashes. The penalty for desertion, if caught, was much worse: immediate execution without benefit of court-martial.
It was expected to take nearly a year to complete the fort, which would be built in the form of a regular pentagon enclosing just under an acre of ground. The walls would be large vertical timbers buried deep in the ground and project 14 feet above it. There would be a central parade ground flanked by fine quarters for the commander and his officers, barracks for the soldiers, storage buildings, a guardhouse for prisoners and a powder magazine.
Though he had not been given instructions to do so, Maj. John Doughty, knowing only too well it was always wise to please one’s superiors, had already decided to name this strong new frontier installation after his commanding officer. When finally completed, it would be called Fort Harmar.639
It was being erected none too soon, if the United States were to maintain its tenuous hold on the wild country now being referred to by all as the Northwest Territory.640 Though the new government had endeavored to thwart some of the expected Indian problem by means of the Fort McIntosh Treaty, in which they had more or less coerced the Wyandots and Delawares to give up their lands involved, it was clear that they were having second thoughts about it all and were on the verge of repudiating it. The illegality of it was obvious in a more concrete manner by the fact that land purchased by the American commissioners included mainly territory that did not belong to the Indians who agreed to the sale, the Delawares and Wyandots. They had sold land that belonged to the Shawnee and Miami tribes, and no one was fool enough to think either tribe would not strongly oppose any penetration of it by illegal settlement or by the United States itself.
For the moment, during the time Fort Harmar was being built, the Indians were in a state of angry confusion, not sure exactly what they should do. In this confusion they were appealing to the British at Detroit, Michilimackinac, Niagara and other locations for help. For their own part, the British cautiously supported them, loftily reminding them that this was exactly what they had said would occur in this circumstance. For the British, too, however, the pending penetration of American settlers into the land posed a problem that affected them considerably, especially in the matter of the lucrative fur trade from this area. For that reason alone the Crown knew it was to its benefit to retain the loyalty of the tribes and their support in whatever was to come. Yet the British were in the position of maintaining a very delicate posture. They were not yet ready for another war with their former colonists and so could not promise the Indians active military support as they had in the past, though they did agree to continue providing them with the supplies they would need. They strongly urged the Shawnees to stand fast in their determination to keep the Americans south and east of the Ohio River, but at the same time they urged the tribes to restrain themselves from taking the offensive, lest they provoke the Americans into another full-scale war that might altogether too soon involve the British themselves.
Everyone seemed to be waiting for what would happen next and wondering what event would ignite the new war that everyone at this point conceded was inevitable.
Chapter 8
[September 22, 1785—Thursday]
Lewis Wetzel had taken his time creeping up on the camp of the three Wyandots along the bank of Stillwater Creek. He had followed them most of the day without their being aware of it, knowing that sooner or later an opportunity would come for him to do what he intended. Now that opportunity was at hand.
Whether these three warriors were the ones who had committed the deed that had set him on their trail concerned him not at all. They were Indians, and that was all that mattered. His hatred of the Indians had always been strong, ever since he and his brother Jacob had been captured as young boys. It had grown stronger when his brother George had been killed by them three years ago. Now, however, it had become intense, dominating his mind, filling him with an obsessive lust to kill Indians whenever and wherever an opportunity came. There was, so far as he was concerned, ample justification.
Several weeks ago a party of Indians had killed h
is father, Old John Wetzel.
Ever since the Fort McIntosh Treaty, which had carved Ohio practically into two portions and given the United States ownership of the much larger southern portion—at least on paper—the Indians had fallen back in confusion as they tried to determine among themselves what to do. The changes along the Ohio River from Pittsburgh to Louisville had been remarkable.
Pittsburgh now had a permanent population well in excess of 1,000, plus nearly as many transients and military. Boats plied the waters of the Ohio in such numbers, it was almost as if a constant regatta were in progress. Wheeling, entirely recovered from its second siege, now had upward of 300 permanent residents, and its boatyards were attracting droves of people from the east. Those would-be settlers, arriving at Redstone en route to Kentucky or other places downstream, could eliminate considerable cost, difficulty and almost 150 miles of river travel that the trip via Pittsburgh entailed, by taking the continually improving wagon road westward from Redstone through Washington village to Wheeling. As a result, both Washington and Wheeling were growing with amazingly increased vigor. Wheeling itself was becoming an important river port, and along with the boatyards already existing or under construction, new wharves and landings were being built to accommodate the influx. The town was now beginning to seriously compete with Pittsburgh as a merchandise shipping center as well as the jumping-off place for journeys downriver.
Adventurous parties had begun to set their sights on claiming and settling wherever the notion took them, no longer overly concerned about landing on the Ohio side of the river to make their tomahawk improvements. Four families under Peter Patrick of Redstone, originally intending to settle in the area of Vincennes, came ashore instead near the mouth of the Scioto, sank some roots there and built a few cabins, then ascended the Scioto all the way to the mouth of Paint Creek before being driven back by irate Shawnees, though not before Patrick had made tomahawk cuts on many trees and chopped his initials into some smooth-barked beeches.641