by Allan Eckert
Wilson saw murder in the man’s eyes and, seeing no sympathy in the expressions of any of the others, backed down a bit. “Well,” he grumbled, pointing at the three tents, “those are my property, and I want them back.”
“Take them, Mr. Wilson,” Brady said tightly, “and then you better do as Mr. McGuire says, as your presence here places you in extreme jeopardy.” He paused, then added, “The people on this frontier have tolerated you here for a long time under trying circumstances. It is said that you trade liquor and guns to the hostiles. I don’t claim to know the facts but, whether true or not, I’m notifying you right now to get out. If you’re still here a month from now, your trading post will be burned down, and your own life may be endangered. Now I suggest you get the hell out of here.”
Wilson shot him a malevolent glance and then wordlessly turned and strode to the tents. He quickly broke them down and tossed them in a jumble in his canoe, got in himself and set off back to his post. Halfway across he paused in his paddling and shouted back at them.
“Brady, McGuire, all of you! You ain’t heard the last of this. I promise you, you’re gonna rue this day!”
The men merely laughed and hooted at him, and Brady then ordered the Indian goods loaded onto the horses and the return journey begun.
About a week after they got home, the auction was held of the plundered goods that had been stored at McGuire’s place, with people attending from settlements for miles around. The total sales brought in $718.75 and, evenly split among the 26 men of Brady’s party, amounted to $27.64 apiece.
Twenty days after the incident, which was now being called the Beaver Blockhouse Affair, Pennsylvania Gov. Thomas Mifflin, without mentioning any names, issued a proclamation offering a $1,000 reward for the discovery and apprehension of the person or persons who committed the March 9 murders of four friendly Indians, three men and a woman, on the west side of Beaver River, in the vicinity of the blockhouse, in the County of Allegheny—the reward to be paid upon conviction of the perpetrators.
On April 22, almost a month after the proclamation was posted, traders William Wilson and John Hillman presented themselves to Gov. Mifflin. The governor heard them out, and then, at his request, the two traders signed affidavits telling their view of what had occurred, which varied considerably from the truth. They also said that on the morning following the incident, they and some hired men crossed the river and buried the four dead Indians that they found.
Gov. Mifflin transmitted the Wilson and Hillman affidavits to the state attorney general with his recommendation that four charges of murder be lodged by the state against Samuel Brady and Francis McGuire. This was immediately done and a warrant issued for their arrest, stating that they had, without provocation, murdered four Indians in the State of Pennsylvania and then fled from justice in that state to the freedom of Virginia; that the victims of the murders were one known as Moravian Henry, a Delaware man named Chictawney, an Indian woman called Letart’s Wife and a young Delaware man called The Muncey Boy.
As soon as the warrants were issued, Gov. Mifflin issued another proclamation, this one naming the accused men and calling for their arrest. He then informed Gov. Beverley Randolph of Virginia and requested that his state issue similar warrants, in line with their reciprocal criminal felony agreements and, upon capture of the fugitives, extradite them to Pennsylvania under Article 4, Section 2, of the United States Constitution. Gov. Randolph had no choice but to issue a similar proclamation and arrest warrants, which he did on May 3, offering a reward of $600 for Samuel Brady and Francis McGuire or $300 for either of them.
The result was that the whole frontier was engaged in a controversy about whether Brady and his men should be treated in such a manner. The greater majority by far were outraged that such charges had been made and staunchly supported Brady and his Rangers. One of the more outspoken of these was Col. David Shepherd, who wrote to Gov. Mifflin that he thought the governor had been badly misinformed and wished to set the record straight; that the expedition of Brady and his Rangers had been undertaken in reaction to the murder in the most cruel manner of four citizens and the taking into captivity of two others. Brady and his Rangers, Shepherd continued, had followed the trail of the perpetrators to the Indian camp on the Beaver River, where the attack was made and some of the Indians killed. He then added:
I have the greatest respect for Pennsylvania and lament extremely that its chief magistrate had not the true information of the situation necessary to render protection from the savages. Your Proclamation issues false information, so far as the Rangers attacking the Savages without provocation, or that the Indians were peaceable or friendly. Ohio County considers itself to be under the greatest obligations to the Rangers for their services on the occasion of the deaths of the Indians. The Settlements have enjoyed peace since those Indians were killed and I hope you, honored Sir, will destroy the effect of your Proclamation by a further one that will suffer not the men who deserve the highest credit for their conduct, to be stigmatized by having a reward offered for their persons.
In a similar letter to Gov. Randolph in Richmond, Col. Shepherd sent him a detailed accounting of all the facts in the case, beginning with the massacre of the Riley family. He ended his letter with barely controlled temper by writing:
During the last week, 29 persons have been most cruelly murdered; yet, upon the authenticity of Wilson & Company does Governor Mifflin send out his Proclamation. His government, it appears, is not confined to Pennsylvania, & his information is from those who have feasted upon the blood of our fellow citizens by supplying the savages with every instrument necessary for our destruction. If we have erred in being avenged of our enemy, we are willing to be corrected by your Excellency, upon whom we, at this dangerous period, rely, in hopes you will if possible make provision to relieve us from distress.
I remain your Excellency’s most obt humbl sert.,
David Shepherd
Now, today, May 19, Gov. Randolph put into motion steps to rescind his previous proclamation and arrest order and reward for Brady and McGuire and to exonerate them of any wrongdoing insofar as the State of Virginia was concerned.
Gov. Mifflin of the State of Pennsylvania, however, did not.
[May 29, 1791—Sunday]
Capt. Lawrence Van Buskirk had never fully gotten over the death of his wife, Rebecca, a year ago. Ever since that terrible day, he had hoped to exact vengeance on the Indians who so brutally tomahawked her. It was the principal reason why he had volunteered to go with Brady on the expedition that had become known as the Beaver Blockhouse Affair. Yet, while they had killed Indians, Van Buskirk himself had not been one of those who brought an Indian down. Now, aware that the Indians were close by, he knew that the time had come at last, and how fitting it was that it should be on the one-year anniversary of his wife’s death.
This whole thing had come about when, yesterday morning, a scout had come in with the intelligence of a body of Indians, perhaps 20 in number, hovering about Short Creek on the Ohio side, about a mile above its mouth. Lawrence Van Buskirk had immediately put out a call for volunteers, and by evening 27 men had arrived at the little blockhouse he commanded just below Wellsburg. This morning they had crossed the river and followed the trail up Short Creek. In less than a mile they found a chunk of jerky suspended by a line from a branch overhanging the trail. Van Buskirk immediately called to the men behind him to take cover, as he suspected an ambush. They did so.
His warning had come just in the nick of time … for the others. Before he could leap into hiding himself, however, a large number of Indians rose from behind the creek bank and poured a withering fire at the only remaining target.
Capt. Lawrence Van Buskirk was struck simultaneously by 19 lead balls, about half of which, individually, would have been fatal.
[June 14, 1791—Tuesday]
Brig. Gen. Charles Scott, in his headquarters office at Lexington, leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Only a few moments ago the se
ntries had relayed their eleven P.M. call of “all’s well,” and now silence had once again descended. He was very tired from the exhausting campaign that had lasted over three weeks, but he felt good at what had been accomplished. By his actions it was very likely that the army of Gen. St. Clair, when it finally began its move against the hostile tribes on the Maumee, would find the tribes less consolidated against it and that, after all, had been the whole purpose of Scott’s campaign. Spies sent well ahead had fed the Wabash tribes false information of an advance by the St. Clair army against the tribes on the Maumee, and the warriors of the Wabash had immediately gone in that direction in force to help repel the supposed invasion. Now it was very likely that the warriors of the Kickapoos and Weas and Ouiatenons, the Mishawakas and Mississinewas and Eel Rivers and all the other tribes of the middle and lower Wabash region would think twice before leaving their homes to aid the Shawnees and Miamis when the confrontation with St. Clair’s army finally came, as come it must. The subterfuge that had drawn them away from their villages this time and left them open to destruction was something they would be unlikely to allow to occur again. Thinking of the old fable, Scott smiled; the cry of wolf had been raised and responded to. Now, when the cry was raised again and the wolf was really there …
Still smiling, Gen. Charles Scott picked up the campaign report he had just finished writing to Secretary of War Henry Knox. He skimmed through the preliminary data of gathering and preparing the 700 troops here at Louisville and the crossing of the Ohio and began to read where the real import of the report commenced:
In prosecution of the enterprise, I marched four miles from the banks of the Ohio on the 23rd of May and on the 24th I resumed my march and pushed forward with the utmost industry, directing my route to Ouiattanon [Ouiatenon], in the best manner my guides and information enabled me, though I found myself greatly deficient in both.
By the 31st I had marched one hundred and thirty-five miles, over a country cut by four large branches of White River and many smaller streams with steep muddy banks. During this march I traversed a country alternately interspersed with the most luxuriant soil and deep clayey bogs, from one to five miles wide, rendered almost impervious by brush and briars. Rain fell in torrents every day, with frequent blasts of wind and thunder storms. These obstacles impeded my progress, wore down my horses, and destroyed my provisions.
On the morning of the 1st inst., as the army entered an extensive prairie, I perceived an Indian on horseback, a few miles to the right.734 I immediately made a detachment to intercept him, but he escaped. Finding myself discovered, I determined to advance with all the rapidity my circumstances would permit—rather with the hope, than expectation, of reaching the object sought that day, for my guides were strangers to the country which I occupied. At 1 o’clock, having marched by computation 155 miles from the Ohio, as I penetrated a grove which bordered an extensive prairie, I discovered two small villages at my left at 2 & 4 miles distance.
My guides now recognized the ground and informed me that the main town was four or five miles in my front, behind a point of wood which jutted into the prairie. I immediately detached Colonel John Hardin with sixty mounted infantry and a troop of light-horse, under Captain McCoy, to attack the villages to the left, and moved on briskly with my main body, in order of battle, towards the town, the smoke from which was discernable. My guides were deceived with respect to the situation of the town; for instead of standing at the edge of the plain through which I marched, I found it on the low ground, bordering on the Wabash; on turning the point of woods, one house presented in my front. Captain Price was ordered to assault that with 40 men. He executed the command with great gallantry and killed two warriors. When I gained the summit of the eminence which overlooks the village on the banks of the Wabash, I discovered the enemy in great confusion, endeavoring to make their escape over the river in canoes. I instantly ordered Lieutenant Colonel Commandant Wilkinson to rush forward with the first battalion.735 The order was executed with promptitude, and this detachment gained the bank of the river just as the rear of the enemy had embarked. And regardless of a brisk fire kept up from a Kickapoo town on the opposite bank, they, in a few minutes, by a well directed fire from their rifles, destroyed all the savages with which five canoes were crowded.
To my great mortification, the Wabash was many feet beyond fording at this place. I therefore detached Colonel Wilkinson to a ford 2 miles above, which my guides informed me was more practicable. The enemy still kept possession of the Kickapoo town. I determined to dislodge them and for the purpose ordered Captains King and Longsdon’s companies to march down the river, below the town, and cross under the conduct of Major Barbee. Several of the men swam the river, and others passed in a small canoe. This movement was unobserved and my men had taken post on the bank before they were discovered by the enemy, who immediately abandoned the village. About this time word was brought me that Colonel Hardin was incumbered [sic] with prisoners and had discovered a stronger village further to my left than those I had observed, which he was proceeding to attack. I immediately detached Captain Brown with his company to support the Colonel; but, the distance being six miles, before the Captain arrived, the business was done, & Colonel Hardin joined me a little before sunset, having killed six warriors and taken 52 prisoners. Captain Bull, the warrior who discovered me in the morning, had gained the main town and given the alarm a short time before me; but the villages to my left were uninformed of my approach and had no retreat.
The next morning, June 2, I determined to detach my Lieutenant Colonel Commandant James Wilkinson with 500 men to destroy the important town of Kethlipecanunk at the mouth of Eel River, 18 miles from my camp and on the west side of the Wabash.736 But on examination I discovered my men and horses to be crippled and worn down by a long, laborious march, and the active exertions of the preceding day; that 360 men could be found in capacity to undertake the enterprise, and they prepared to march on foot. Colonel Wilkinson marched with the detachment at half after five in the evening and returned to my camp the next day at one o’clock, having marched 36 miles in twelve hours, and destroyed the most important settlement of the enemy in this quarter of the federal Territory. In No. 3 you will find the Colonel’s report respecting the enterprise.737 Many of the inhabitants of this village were French and lived in a state of civilization. By the books, letters, and other documents found there, it is evident that place was in close connection with and dependent on Detroit. A large quantity of corn, a variety of household goods, peltry and other articles were burned with this village, which consisted of 70 houses, many of them well furnished.
Misunderstanding the object of a white flag which appeared on an eminence, opposite to me on the afternoon of the 1st, I liberated an aged squaw and sent her with a message to the savages, that if they would come in and surrender, their towns should be spared and they should receive good treatment. It was afterwards found that this white flag was not intended as a signal of parlay, but was placed there to mark the spot where a person of distinction among the Indians, who had died some time before, was interred.
On the 4th I determined to discharge 16 of the weakest and most infirm of my prisoners, with a talk to the Wabash tribes, a copy of which you will find inclosed [sic].738 My motives to this measure were to rid the army of a heavy incumbrance [sic], to gratify the impulsions [sic] of humanity, to increase the panic my operations had produced, and, by distracting the councils of the enemy, to favor the views of government, and I flatter myself these objects will justify my conduct and secure the approbation of my country.
On the same day, after having burned the towns and adjacent villages, and destroyed the growing corn and pulse, I began my march for the Rapids of the Ohio, where I arrived the 14th Inst. without the loss of a single man by the enemy, and five only wounded, having killed 32, chiefly warriors of size and figure, and taken 58 prisoners.739
It is with much pride and pleasure I mention that no act of inhumanity has marked the c
onduct of the volunteers of Kentucky on this occasion, even the inveterate [sic] habit of scalping the dead ceased to influence.
I have delivered 41 prisoners to Captain Asheton, of the 1st United States Regiment at Fort Steuben. I sincerely regret that the weather and the consequences it produced rendered it impossible for me to carry terror and desolation to the head of the Wabash. The Corps I had the honor to command was equal to the object, but the condition of my horses and state of my provisions were insuperable obstacles to my own intentions, and the wishes of all.
It would be invidious to make distinctions in a Corps which appeared to be animated with one soul—and where a competition for danger and glory inspired all ranks. I, however, consider it my duty to mention Colonel John Hardin, who, in the character of a volunteer, without commission, had command of my advance party and the direction of my guides from the Ohio River, for the discernment, courage and activity with which he fulfilled the trust I reposed in him. And I cannot close this letter injustice to the merits of General Wilkinson, who went out my Lieutenant Colonel Commandant, without acknowledging my obligations for the faithful discharge of the several duties depending on him, and the able support he gave me in every exigency.
Gen. Scott smiled again, very pleased with his report, and leaned forward as he dipped his pen to formally sign the document before dispatching it to the War Department.
[July 22, 1791—Friday]
It was not the Indians that finally brought Lewis Wetzel his comeuppance, but a man he thought was his friend.
Not long after the Beaver Blockhouse Affair, in which he had participated, Wetzel suddenly came to the conclusion that he ought to see more of this world than just the upper Ohio River Valley and, with that, he hired on to work his way down the Ohio as a flatboatsman and visit the supposedly fabulous city he had heard so much about in the Spanish Territory, New Orleans.