That Dark and Bloody River

by Allan Eckert

  A suitable place being selected by Gen. Wayne to pass the winter, the army left Pittsburg [sic], and took up a position 22 [17] miles below Pittsburgh and on the north side of the Ohio on a high bluff, and 7 [8] miles above the mouth of Beaver Creek. The Commander-in-Chief calls this place Legionville. Our camp was fortified in a few days. The soldiers Huts was built in a few days. Then Gen. Waynes house & the Officers houses were put up. The Officers now commence drilling the Troops. They improve in decipline [sic] every day, and beyond All expectations. Gen. Wayne sent an invitation to Corn Planter [Warhoytonehteh] and New Arrow, two chiefs of the Six Nations, to meet him at Legionville. They both arrived 19th March accompanied by Big Tree and old Chief Guyasutha [Kyashuta]; during their talk with Gen. Wayne they insisted that the Ohio River should be the boundary between the White and Red People. The day the Great Chief dined with Gen. Wayne he [Kyashuta] pointed to the Ohio River and said, My heart and Mind is fixed on that River and may that Water Continue to run and remain the boundary of everlasting Peace between the White & Red People on its opposite Shores. The Quarter Master General is ordered to have flat bottom boats in readiness immediately to transport the Troops, baggage, military stores &c to Fort Washington.

  Before leaving Legionville I will note several things that occurred. Captain Benj Price calling [challenging to a duel] Lt. Piercy [Percy] Pope, they met the next morning. The Captain was shot in the right breast and retired from the army. The worst duel that took place was with Lt. Daniel Jennifer and Ensign James Gapeway. The Ensign was killed and buried with Honours of War. Sergeant William Tarmir was tryed [sic] by a Court Martial for Forgery, found guilty and sentenced to run the gauntlet through the whole Legion, drummed out of camp with a labil [sic] on his forehead in large Capital letters. The Fatal effect of Forgery. Several Officers offered their resignations to The General. Every one was accepted by him. He has often been heard to say he does not want any officers with him without he had the most unbounded Confidence in him.

  In the midst of all his drilling of troops and preparation for the eventual move out of Legionville and down the Ohio to Fort Washington, Wayne in no way lost sight of his obligation to protect the citizens and settlements along the Ohio. In this respect he wrote to Capt. William McMahan:

  Head Quarters, Legionville, 5th January, 1793

  Sir: The protection of the frontiers of Ohio County in Virginia & as far down as Muskingum is committed to your charge, for which purpose you will have under your command Captain [James] Crawford’s Rifle Company & all the spies & guides of Ohio [County], & part of those of Washington County. Should those spies or guides neglect or refuse to obey your orders in patrolling or scouting, you are immediately to discharge them & appoint others in their places.

  You will establish two stations, one at the Mingo Bottom, & the other at Wheeling—with patrols passing constantly between them towards Muskingum. These, together with the posts & patrols from Marietta & Gallipolis will afford effectual protection to the frontiers of Virginia, so as to preclude the necessity of State troops, which are absolutely a burden both upon the State & the Union.

  You will keep me regularly informed of material information you may receive. You will clearly understand that no parties are to go into the Indian towns or settlements, or commit depredations upon them whilst the proposed treaty is pending. But should any party or parties of hostile Indians attempt to come into the settlements, or commit depredations, you are to punish them in the most exemplary manner for their temerity.

  A. Wayne

  Only yesterday, as his army prepared at last to embark downriver for Fort Washington, Gen. Wayne issued a proclamation that was copied and prominently displayed both at Legionville and in the various upper Ohio settlements. Though he was now certain the present efforts to come to some sort of agreement with the Indians would not bear fruit, he was nevertheless required to issue the statement:

  A PROCLAMATION

  By His Excellency, Anthony Wayne, Esq., Major General, and Commander in Chief of the Legion of the United States of America:

  Whereas the President of the United States of America did nominate, and by and with the advice and consent of the Senate has appointed three Commissioners to hold a treaty with the hostile Indians at the Lower Sandusky on or about the 1st of June next ensuing, to endeavor to effect a permanent peace with those Indians,

  And, whereas it would be highly improper that any hostile attempt should be made against any of the Indian towns or settlements whilst the aforesaid treaty is pending,

  I am therefore ordered by the President, and I do hereby in his name, most solemnly forbid and restrain any attempts being made against any of the Indian Towns or Settlements until the result of the aforesaid treaty is known. Given under my hand and seal at Head Quarters, Legionville, the 22nd day of April in the Year of Our Lord One Thousand Seven hundred and ninety three, and in the 17th year of the Independence of the United States.

  Anty. Wayne

  By Order of the

  Commander in Chief

  Jn DeButts, A.D.C.

  By the very first glimmering of dawn this morning, the army of 2,500 men had been afloat at last and heading toward Fort Washington. Now, late in the afternoon, Gen. Wayne came ashore for an overnight bivouac at the relatively new settlement of Wellsburg and was pleased at the growth of the settlement and the fact that Charles Prather had just established a ferry here as well as one at the mouth of Buffalo Creek. Indicative of the growth of civilization on this Ohio River frontier, Wheeling, he was informed, was no longer merely a large settlement; it had just officially become a town, with a number of streets constructed in regular fashion, and already 112 uniform lots fronting on those streets had been laid out by Ebenezer Zane. He was assured that Wellsburg would be doing the same very soon.771 He was also delighted to discover that Capt. Sam Brady was on hand with seven of his Rangers—the brothers John and Abram Cuppy, Hezekiah Bukey, George Foulks, Thomas Dillon, James Downing and Thomas Edgington.

  It had been in the course of their conversation that Brady had made his claim that any two of his Rangers could outshoot a whole 100 of whatever men Wayne chose to select from his army. Now that competition, with the keg of rum as a prize, was about to begin.

  Using a tomahawk, a circular patch of bark about 20 inches in diameter was chipped off a white oak 80 yards from the firing line, and a black mark was made in the center about the size of a dollar. Brady selected, as his two shooters, Abram Cuppy and ’Ki Bukey, but he invited Gen. Wayne to have his men shoot at the target first—only one shot per man. One after another of Wayne’s men fired their rifles, and observers near the target called out the result of each shot. Fully half of the soldiers did not even hit the tree. Of the roughly 50 shots that did hit the big oak tree, only a dozen managed to hit the white circular patch, not one within six inches of the black mark in the center.

  Then little Hezekiah Bukey stepped up, took brief but careful aim and made his shot. The ball smacked into the tree inside the black mark but close to the edge and, when the result was called out by one of the observers, the men cheered lustily and Bukey grinned in a self-satisfied way. Gen. Wayne shook his head and remarked that it was quite a shot, but then John Cuppy stepped forward and smiled at Bukey.

  “How come you was so far away from the middle of that there black mark, ’Ki?” he asked. “Reckon you’re havin’ a bad day.”

  Cuppy then raised his rifle and snapped off his shot at almost the instant the stock of the gun reached his shoulder. The observer ran to the tree and checked the mark, then called out that the ball had entered the black mark only half the diameter of the ball away from being absolutely dead center. Again a great cheer arose among the men and Brady turned to Wayne, grinning.

  “Well, General Wayne, what could you do if you had a hundred men such as these two sharpshooters of mine?”772

  “Captain Brady,” the commander replied, “I’ll tell you this—I wish to God I had five hundred such men, who could put a bullet
in an Indian’s eye at that distance. Why, with such marksmen as that, I could fight the very devil himself!”

  [May 7, 1793—Tuesday]

  The 2,500-man army of Maj. Gen. Anthony Wayne—the single largest body of men yet to descend the Ohio River—stepped ashore today at Cincinnati, exactly two weeks after having left Legionville. The town lay between the river and Fort Washington and, though the residents were overjoyed with the army’s arrival, Wayne was not impressed with Cincinnati. It was every bit as rough and bawdy a community as Pittsburgh had been, though with fewer conveniences.

  Fort Washington was much too small even to be considered as quarters for the army and, determined to keep his men as far away as possible from the brothels and taverns of the town, Wayne moved his force to the only broad, level treeless ground anywhere nearby, which was well beyond the fort, and gave orders for a permanent camp to be established. Since there was, in fact, no alternative place, Gen. Wayne, with the characteristic ironic humor he displayed in most situations, named the camp Hobson’s Choice.

  [May 30, 1793—Thursday]

  An ugly mood had prevailed in Pittsburgh this past week, ever since Sam Brady had turned himself in to the sheriff to stand trial for murder.

  The matter had all come to a head on May 18, when Allegheny County Sheriff Samuel Ewalt, acting on direct orders from Gov. Thomas Mifflin, arrived with a small posse of men at Brady’s home. Unbidden, they entered the house with weapons leveled, only to find Drusilla Brady alone there with her two young sons, Van Swearingen and John.

  “If you’re seeking my husband,” she said coldly, “you’re looking in the wrong place. He’s not in this house.” She looked at the rifles they were holding, then back at the sheriff, adding, “However, if I’m the one you want, Sheriff Ewalt, you certainly don’t need those guns. I’m unarmed and basically harmless.”

  Suddenly self-conscious, the sheriff lowered his rifle and set the butt on the floor, holding it by the barrel. He motioned for the others to do the same, and they obeyed. He shook his head and smiled a little sheepishly.

  “Sorry, Miz Brady,” he said. “You know Sam’n me are friends. It’s just … well, I know what kind of man he is, and … well, ma’am, we was just keepin’ ready. Man like Sam, y’know, we sort’a figgered he wouldn’t let hisself be took very easy.”

  “You’re right about that, Ewalt,” said a voice at the door, and they jerked around to see Sam Brady leaning against the doorjamb, rifle held waist high and pointed in their direction. There was no levity in his voice. “Not much of a way for a man to act who calls himself my friend. You ought to know better than to come here and try to take me by force.”

  “Now, Sam,” Ewalt protested, “I didn’t have no choice. Had my orders right from Governor Mifflin.”

  “You had orders from the Governor of Pennsylvania to enter a man’s house in Virginia and take him by force? You know I can’t let that happen.” Abruptly, he smiled wryly. “But I’ll tell you what. I’m tired of this charge that’s been hanging over me for two years, and I’d like to put it to rest. I’ll let you and your boys go home in peace. You tell me when you want me in Pittsburgh, and I’ll be there. I give you my word.”

  Ewalt nodded, relieved to let it go at that. “I want you in Pittsburgh in two days, Sam,” he said. “C’mon, boys, let’s go.”

  Word of what had happened flashed through the whole upper Ohio frontier with incredible speed. Sam Brady turned himself in to Sheriff Sam Ewalt as he had promised he would and was locked up in the combined jail and courthouse on the west side of Market Street.773 The trial was scheduled to begin on Wednesday, May 22, and by that time more than 500 men from practically every settlement within 100 miles were on hand. Of that number some 200, led by Col. Samuel Wilson of Raccoon Creek, held a meeting on Grant’s Hill in Pittsburgh and quietly passed a resolution among themselves: If Sam Brady were not honorably acquitted, they would tear down the jail and take him out, and woe betide anyone who tried to stop them. All of Brady’s Rangers who were not off on patrol were on hand as well, equally determined to protect him, come what may.

  Brady’s father-in-law, Andrew Van Swearingen, had meanwhile scraped up $100 and sent his son, Ellzey, on horseback to Pittsburgh to hire a lawyer for Sam. The man chosen, James Ross, was a strong admirer of Brady, and he pledged to do his best to get him acquitted. In a short time another lawyer, David Reddick of Washington village, arrived to give support to Ross in court as co-counsel. Samuel Murphy stayed as close as possible to Brady and, in fact, breakfasted with him and Sheriff Ewalt on the morning the trial began.

  The trial was presided over by Charles McKean as principal judge and two other associate justices. The two-story log courthouse on the west side of Market Street was so small that it could accommodate only a fraction of those who had come to attend and, as the trial progressed, there was standing room only inside and throngs of people constantly milling about outside. Judge McKean made it clear that he meant for order to be maintained. He also created quite a stir by charging the jury that if they found Brady guilty, his sentence would not be tempered with mercy, and if they did not come in with a guilty verdict, he would personally prevent the verdict from being recorded. This so angered the crowd that a riot very nearly broke out, and a voice in the crowd cried out, “You do that, McKean, and you’re a dead man, by God!”

  The chief witnesses for the state, John Hillman and William Wilson, maintained that the Brady party had, in an unprovoked and unwarranted manner, attacked the party of mixed Senecas and Delawares and cold-bloodedly killed them, but the testimony of the two men was contradictory, and they seemed very unsure of themselves and quite apprehensive because of both vague and direct threats from Brady supporters.

  As the trial progressed, ever more men showed up on Sam Brady’s behalf, and virtually every house from that of James Quigley, two miles from Pittsburgh, to the center of town was quartering armed men ready to go instantly to Brady’s rescue if he were convicted. The trial itself was as much a testimonial to Brady as it was a hearing on the charge of murder. Witness after witness testified to how Brady and his Rangers had rescued their children or a wife or husband after they had been captured, of Brady’s unstinting and arduous pursuits of war parties that had killed, plundered and burned and how, over these many years, he had been the prime protector on the upper Ohio frontier.

  Among the many witnesses who appeared was old Kyashuta, the Seneca, who, approaching the witness chair, veered to Brady and took both of the accused’s hands in his own. With John Gibson serving as interpreter for the court, Kyashuta continued to hold Brady’s hands, looked earnestly at the judges and exclaimed in his own tongue, “This is a good man. He did not kill anyone who didn’t deserve to be killed. They are saying the Indians killed were Senecas, but this I tell you, the Indians killed were none of my Senecas. They were bad Indians who did mischief on the frontiers wherever they could, and they deserved their fate. This”—he squeezed Brady’s hands and held them up—“is a good man, and I hope you will not hurt him.”

  Several of Brady’s Rangers also testified, among them John Cuppy, who related in a very thorough manner the events that led up to the Beaver Blockhouse Affair, beginning with the massacre at the Riley place that led to Brady’s party taking up the trail after the perpetrators, following it by way of Sandy Creek to Beaver River and there discovering the camp of the Indians, which they subsequently attacked. Cuppy’s testimony went far in aiding Brady.

  A good bit of laughter occurred with the testimony given by a rough-hewn Irishman named James Griffith, who had actually witnessed the attack, telling the court that he happened to be at Beaver Blockhouse at the time it all happened.

  “Sure, an’ I was there the whole toime, don’t y’know,” he said, his brogue heavy and amusing to hear, “an’ I seen the whole thing with one eye.”

  “One eye, Mr. Griffith?” interrupted Judge McKean. “Why not with both eyes?”

  “ ’Cause I ain’t got but one eye, yer
honor. Anyway, I seen it all; seen the Injens before they was attacked, an’ heard the guns, an’ then they began.”

  “Well,” McKean put in again, “what was it they began?”

  Griffith gave the judge a pitying look and snorted, “Bejaysus! They fired like hell and killed several of’em, that’s what.”

  The courtroom rocked with laughter, and there were similar outbursts as his testimony, consisting of about equal parts Irish wit and anti-Indian prejudice, described what had occurred, stating it with such hilarious descriptions that the whole court—jury, witnesses, defendant, lawyers, spectators and even Judge McKean himself—were convulsed with such laughter that McKean found it necessary to adjourn the morning session until after lunch.

  Jane Stoops came forward to testify as a witness for Brady, stopping first at his chair and placing a flask of brandy and a pitcher of water beneath it for him. She touched his arm and smiled at him and then told in detail of his courage in attacking a whole party of Indians when he had but one bullet left, in order to rescue her, when he could just as easily have stayed hidden for his own safety and let the Indians pass with their captives. She had concealed a tomahawk in the folds of her dress before the trial and had announced to friends that she meant to “use it on somebody if Sam Brady’s found guilty.”

  James Ross did the summing up for Brady and made a masterful job of it, lauding Brady’s many years of service and self-sacrifice on behalf of the frontier people, his participation in a variety of dangerous campaigns, his rescue of numerous innocent victims of the Indians, his constant alertness to danger, the timely warnings he gave to the settlers, and the great and unstinting service performed by himself and his Rangers. In conclusion, Ross told the jury that for them to even consider punishing him for killing Indians shown to be hostile would be nothing short of monstrous.