by Allan Eckert
While most of the residences in Kekionga were flimsy tepees or wegiwas and quonsets constructed of interwoven sticks, a substantial percentage of the structures were permanent buildings—fine, well-built cabins of good size, some of them with spacious lofts and several main-floor rooms, a few even having their own fruit cellars. There were six or seven excellent trading posts, including another of those owned by William Burnett, offering a wider variety of goods than the Indians had ever seen gathered together in one place. Regular streets had been laid out, and in front of the buildings facing the main central square, wide board sidewalks had been built so that the fine ladies from Detroit, who visited here so frequently, could pass from building to building during inclement weather and not get their flowing skirts muddied.
Many of the buildings had signs erected, identifying their purposes—some in French but the majority in English. There were stables for the horses that were ridden in by visitors, taverns for the thirsty and gambling rooms for those who wished to play at cards or dice. The wonderful trading posts were ready and able to fill the needs of any Indian man or woman who came with furs or leathers, sugar or lead, vegetables or grains to trade for the goods they wished to purchase. There was an official British government cabin where important closed-session meetings were often held with the chiefs resident here or with visiting chiefs from other villages and tribes. A huge log building with a fine floor of close-fitted planking served the dual purpose of council hall and ballroom, with a spacious dais at one end where important chiefs and prestigious delegates could sit during councils and where musicians could be situated for the frequent balls that were held. Apart from the center of the town was another large, squat log building of many small rooms where certain women—most of them French or English, but a scattering of Indian women as well—peddled their sexual favors to those who desired such services, all under the benevolent but stern direction of the tough old Frenchman, Monsieur Louis Duchamble, and his heavy wife, Madame Josette, who was so domineering to everyone but her husband.
There were scores of residence cabins and hundreds of less permanent wegiwas and very temporary tepees, since many Indians from other tribes had also taken up residence here with the Miamis; these included a small number of Shawnees and larger numbers of Delawares, Wyandots, Potawatomies and Ottawas. There was even an enclave of Cherokees at the western edge of the town.
Among the very finest of the dwellings was the residence of the principal chief of the Miamis, the powerful Michikiniqua—Little Turtle. It was a very spacious multiroom log structure with doors on three sides and windows with actual glass panes, fine furnishings that included well-crafted tables and chairs, a sofa, feather-tick beds of such height it was necessary to step up on a small stool to climb onto the bed proper, numerous shiny brass oil lamps with glass chimneys and shades upon which were painted pastoral scenes, well-made cupboards and sideboards and dry sinks, and numerous framed pictures on the walls—artwork brought from Europe or executed by Canadian artisans. It had the largest wall mirrors most visitors had ever seen, fine china dishes and well-made glass goblets and crystal wineglasses and decanters, and, along one wall, a harpsichord that visitors, with the skill to do so, were encouraged to play. A dozen yards behind the house, with a narrow raised wooden sidewalk leading to it, was an excellent five-seater outhouse constructed of planking. All in all, Kekionga was by far the most important Indian target that could have been chosen, against which to direct the campaign.
Gen. Harmar was unaware, however, that at almost this same moment, Gov. St. Clair had received a very private letter from the secretary of war. Henry Knox had explained to St. Clair the elements of the expedition that was to be carried out by Gen. Harmar, but then he went on to discuss a situation not brought out in the instructions Harmar had received.
The one big problem, Knox remarked, was that there were several very large British trading posts at Kekionga and a large number of English traders, many of whom had permanently moved there with their families. Fearing that the British might construe the expedition as an attack against them and, by extension, the British Crown, Secretary of War Henry Knox ordered Gov. St. Clair to write to Maj. Patrick Murray, the British commandant at Detroit, and assure him that the pending invasion was absolutely not directed at the British but at the Miamis and their allies, and that it would be wise to immediately evacuate those British in residence at Kekionga.
Gov. St. Clair, in his quarters in Fort Washington, had spent the last hour composing his letter to Murray, in which he naively asked him to keep secret from the Indians what was afoot. Now he was just beginning the final paragraph, and he thought for a long while about how best to end the letter. He decided he should simply and succinctly restate the problem, the goal and the justification. Without further delay, he dipped his pen and completed the message in firm strokes:
The expedition about to be undertaken is not intended against the post you have the honor to command, nor any other place at present in possession of the troops of his Britannic Majesty; but is on foot with the sole design of humbling and chastising some of the savage tribes, whose depredations have become intolerable and whose cruelties have of late become an outrage, not only to the people of America, but on humanity.
[January 2, 1790—Saturday]
The meeting in Gov. St. Clair’s office in Fort Washington began on time, at nine o’clock this morning, and included the three proprietors of Losantiville, Matthias Denman, Israel Ludlow and Robert Patterson. The governor wasted no time getting to the reason why he had summoned them.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “you have in Losantiville the beginnings of a great American city. It will certainly be the seat of the county I will create here today. However, I must admit that I don’t care too much for the name. As you may know, I am a member of the Society of Cincinnatus. I would consider it an honor and a very great favor if you would consent to renaming Losantiville and calling it, instead, Cincinnati.”
The settlers had no objection, none of them particularly fond of the name John Filson had coined with rather supercilious erudition, and they unanimously agreed. St. Clair was very pleased and, though it was early morning, they gladly accepted the small glasses of wine the governor poured to toast the occasion. As they did so, Judge John Cleve Symmes and Benjamin Stites joined them and accepted glasses as well. St. Clair poured a similar measure for himself and then held up his glass. The four visitors did the same.
“Gentlemen, later today I will issue a proclamation to this end, but, for now, a toast to the new county I am establishing as of this moment: a county named after my good friend, Alexander Hamilton. And also to what will become the seat of Hamilton County—Cincinnati.”694
[April 10, 1790—Saturday]
Incredibly, as the attacks by Shawnees against boats descending the Ohio increased enormously, so too did the number of boats leaving such places as Redstone, Fort Pitt and Wheeling. It was almost as if they were attempting to thwart the Indians through sheer numbers, and no matter how many reports filtered through about the ambushes, captures and terrible deaths that were occurring downstream, they had little effect; would-be settlers continued to launch their boats bravely—or perhaps foolishly—into the unknown, and commercial traffic was increasing all the time. Irregular packet boat trips had just been inaugurated by experienced rivermen between Pittsburgh and Cincinnati in both keelboats and flatboats, for which the 463-mile one-way fare, upstream or down, was five dollars, while merchandise or other cargo was normally carried at the rate of five dollars per ton.
They were a rough-and-tumble lot, these rivermen; coarse, crude, tough men who took danger as a matter of course, living hard, fighting hard and often dying young. Brownsville at Redstone had become a riotous town with wild women and wilder men, where morals were flimsy at best and where brute strength more often ruled than the law. Provance Landing, Pittsburgh and Mingo Bottom were not far behind. John Pope, upon briefly visiting Redstone, wrote in his journal:
At this Place we were detained about a Week, experiencing every Disgust which Rooks and Harpies could excite.
Many a prospective settler’s dream was lost before even begun when he drank too much and woke up the morning after lying in the mud behind a saloon or outhouse with all his goods gone, along with his horse, shoes, clothing, money and other valuables. Fighting was so commonplace as to largely be ignored by those not directly involved; duels were frequently fought, and the local graveyards filled up rapidly; often the only marker was a board into which was burned “Unknown Traveler.”
The rivermen, by and large careless of life and limb and nearly always bereft of good reputation, descended on the various settlements and towns along the way in wildly unruly manner, bringing debauchery and a wide variety of mischief with them. They normally headed first to the nearest tavern to satisfy their thirst and next to common houses to satisfy their lust. Stopping at the ordinaries to buy meals and lodging was at the bottom of their list. Settlers, men and women alike, who objected to their behavior were routinely insulted or worse. In the numerous fights that broke out between such settlers and the rivermen, it was far more often the experienced, no-holds-barred fighting of the rivermen that prevailed.
As many different types of river people as there were, so too were there a multitude of boats of every manner, along with many that virtually defied description. Individuals or small groups traveling lightly preferred canoes because of their swiftness and maneuverability and the infinitely greater ease with which they could be propelled upstream on a return journey, but they were of little value in carrying payloads of goods, provisions or cargo. The next step above the canoes were the more stable but far less maneuverable skiffs and dugouts, in which somewhat more goods could be carried. Then there was the much larger piroque, an oversize dugout usually carved from the trunk of a single tree and capable of carrying up to four tons of cargo, but it was dangerously unstable; sometimes it was better stabilized by nailing two piroques of equal size together, separated by a broad thick plank that served at various times as seat, table and lookout stand.
The French had seemed to favor the more stable but cumbersome bateaux, built with high sides that kept out water while shooting rapids, afforded protection of sorts, if attack occurred, for cargo and people hidden beneath oiled skins stretched from one side to another. A single bateau could carry up to eight tons of cargo.
There were then the low-sided or no-sided rafts referred to as Allegheny flats, ferry flats or, if protected with a wooden or cloth canopy, covered sleds. Each capable of carrying up to 12 tons of goods, they were normally one-way craft, moving downstream by the power of the current, barely steerable with a broad tiller and usually dismantled at their destination so the lumber could be used for lean-tos, sheds or cabins. Now and again a small flat-roofed cabin would be built on the surface, from which the helmsman could swing the tiller or “sweep” with greater leverage for avoiding rocks, snares and other obstructions.
Among the best of the boats were the keelboats, with a cargo capacity of between 15 and 30 tons. These long, slender, rather gracefully designed boats required a downstream crew of from 6 to 20 men and were capable of sliding easily over rocky shallows. They could also be freed without much difficulty from mud or sandbars. For the upstream push, a crew of 10 to 20 rowers were employed, and they could move the big boat with remarkable speed against the current.
Generally the largest of the watercraft, highly favored for huge cargoes, were the great Kentucky flats, also called broadhorns—arklike boats 15 feet across the beam and as much as 100 feet in length, capable of carrying a cargo of 70 tons. Most often they had cabin compartments and specified cargo areas, as well as small corrals for cattle, sheep, horses, hogs and other livestock. A huge flat-roofed tillerhouse provided a surface for the helmsmen working a sweep, which was a broad-bladed rudder as long as 70 feet. On each side of these large boats was a plank walkway from bow to stern along which the 40 to 50 polemen walked as they thrust the boat forward when moving upstream along the shorelines.695
All these various types of boats, plus scores of others of homemade design, plied the Ohio’s 1,000-mile length in remarkable abundance from Pittsburgh to the Mississippi, usually staying in midcurrent to avoid attacks from shore, but all too often being waylaid by veritable fleets of Indian canoes springing out of hidden creek mouths to overtake and overcome them by sheer numbers. The carnage and grief that resulted was frightful. It was not uncommon for bodies to be found that had floated for many miles downstream, or survivors clinging to wreckage or staggering into settlements after making it to shore from an attack, many after traveling untold miles through a disorienting and frightening wilderness.
In the recent past, in direct disobedience of the prohibitions in effect, there had been numerous crossings of the Ohio by parties of Kentuckians to pursue war parties that had raided their settlements. And lately, such parties of Kentuckians were crossing just as frequently to track down the boat-attackers and wreak vengeance on them, as well as to possibly rescue river travelers made captive. Now a great howl of frustration and anger erupted from the Kentuckians as the news just received from Richmond was relayed across the land. One month ago today, Gov. Beverley Randolph, having received a strong complaint from Gov. Arthur St. Clair, sent a circular letter-order to the county lieutenants of the various frontier counties of Virginia. It was blunt and very much to the point:
Richmond, March 10th, 1790
Sir:
The Governor of the Continental Western Territory has given the Executive information of incursions having been made by parties from this State, upon the tribes of Indians in amity with the United States. As conduct like this is highly dishonorable to our national character and will inevitably draw upon individual delinquents the punishment due such offenses, it becomes our duty to enjoin you to exert your authority to prevent any attempt of this kind in the future.
Should it be necessary, on any occasion, to order out parties to repel the attack of an enemy, within the limits of a State, you will issue the most positive orders that no such party shall, under any pretence whatever, enter the Territory either of the United States or of any Indian tribe.
I am, &c.,
Beverley Randolph696
[April 13, 1790—Tuesday]
“Helluva thing,” Alexander McIntire grumbled, “when a man’s got to have official gov’mint sanction t’go huntin’ Injens that’ve been raidin’ our places.” He looked again at the fresh Shawnee scalp in his hand, shook it a final time to dislodge the remaining blood and stuffed it into his waist pouch.
Neil Washburn nodded, not looking at his companion but instead checking the trees and bushes ahead for sign of Indians. “Times’re changing, Alex. Whole frontier’s changin’. This may’ve been one of the last ’cross-river scouts. Won’t be long ’fore we’ll be over on this side claimin’ and settlin’ legal-like.”
The two were with a party of 30 whites who were part of an “exercise” scout, as Gen. Harmar called it. This was the first time a true expedition against the Indians had crossed the Ohio River into the Ohio country since the latest ban had been laid down prohibiting it. The party was a detachment from the main force of 350 men that had been brought together at Fort Washington to discourage the Shawnee parties who were attacking boats so frequently of late.
The expedition was the result of an application made to Gen. Harmar by Gen. Charles Scott of the Kentucky militia, who requested permission to lead a force of 250 Kentuckians along the north shore of the Ohio, looking for Shawnee camps and routing whatever war parties they were able to find. Harmar had considered the idea and, after conferring with Gov. St. Clair and getting his approval, gave Scott the permission he sought, on the condition that Harmar would himself lead the expedition at the head of 100 regulars from Fort Washington. Both St. Clair and Harmar had agreed that this would be a good training exercise to prepare them for the very large expedition against the Miamis and Shawnees that was shaping up fo
r next fall; an exercise that would give the regulars an opportunity to work in concert with the Kentucky militia, as they would be doing in that larger expedition to come.