by Allan Eckert
Today, for the first time in these three years, he had a visitor. Unable to fathom who it could possibly be, he was taken from his cell to a room where the visitor waited to speak with him. He turned out to be a nice-looking man in his midthirties, clad in a good suit and a shirt with ruffled collar and cuffs, a string tie at his throat. On first glance, Wetzel thought he seemed vaguely familiar, but it was not until the man smiled and stepped forward to shake his hand that he recognized him.
“I don’t know if you remember me, Mr. Wetzel,” he said. “I’m David Bradford. You’ve been a hard man to find.”
Wetzel remembered now. This was the man who had been the rival of Sam Brady for the hand of Andrew Van Swearingen’s beautiful daughter, Drusilla, and who had subsequently lost her to him practically on their wedding day—a matter that had been talked about on the frontier for weeks at that time. Wetzel nodded and smiled faintly. “So why have you been looking for me in the first place?” he asked.
Bradford explained that when it became known on the upper Ohio that he, Bradford, was making a trip to New Orleans, he had been approached by Wetzel’s brothers and some of their friends with the request that he ask around and see if he could discover what had happened to Lewis. No word of any kind had been heard from him since he announced he was going down the Ohio to see what New Orleans was like.
They talked for over an hour, Bradford telling him of the difficult trail he had followed in tracing Wetzel’s moves and finally learning he was in prison here, then filling him in on all the frontier news, especially the fact that Gen. Wayne was preparing at this very moment to meet the Indians head-on in their own territory, and expectations were keen that he would whip them. Wetzel, in turn, told him more details of how he happened to be here, of Pedro Hermoso having framed him for counterfeiting to protect himself from the same crime, of how he had tried to kill Hermoso in the adjoining cell, his subsequent six months of solitary confinement in the dungeon, and with special bitterness, how Hermoso had escaped several months ago.
“It is tragic that you’re in this place, Lewis,” Bradford said at last, preparing to leave. “I’m going to see what I can do to get you out. As you know, I’m a lawyer and have some connection with certain people here in the judicial system and with a few of the higher-placed Spanish authorities. I’ll try to get an audience with the governor and see if I can convince him to give you a pardon. It may take a while, but don’t give up hope.”
“I ain’t had much of that t’give up,” Wetzel said, then added after a brief pause, “ ’til now.”
[July 5, 1794—Saturday]
The 1,200 confederated Indians under Blue Jacket, who had been camped at the area called Fallen Timbers, had long been chafing at the delays in attacking Gen. Wayne’s army. They had been camped for a long while in this area of fallen and tangled trees—the result of a tornado that had cut a swath through the forest a quarter-mile wide and a mile and a half long, just up the Maumee from the British Fort Miamis—and had been wildly happy at last when word was passed that they were moving out to strike.789
Word had come to Blue Jacket that Gen. Wayne was preparing to move out of the sturdy headquarters fort at Greenville to the smaller installation called Fort Recovery, at the site of where the Indians had defeated St. Clair. How ironic and satisfying it would be, he thought, to be able to defeat a second United States army on the same spot.
However, when they arrived near Fort Recovery late on June 29, the Indians were greatly disappointed at discovering that not only was Wayne still securely in his fort at Greenville with his army, but that only a few hours before their arrival, a large supply train from Greenville carrying 1,200 barrels of flour under an escort of 140 soldiers had arrived safely at Fort Recovery.790 The only good news brought to Blue Jacket by his spies was that the same military escort was preparing to lead the 300 load-free packhorses back to Greenville the next morning and would be vulnerable to a well-planned ambush. Those 300 horses could become a very welcome addition to the Indian force.
Studying the situation, Blue Jacket quickly called a council of the chiefs and came up with a good plan. They would make no move against Fort Recovery itself since, though small, it was too well fortified. Instead, they would wait until the packhorse train had moved far enough away from the fort to be cut off with no chance of retreating there. That attack on the military escort would be made by the Shawnees, Miamis, Delawares and some of the Potawatomies, with the object being to kill as many of the soldiers as possible in the first fire and then concentrate on catching the horses. At the same time a large contingent of Ottawas and Chippewas, other Potawatomies and a few Wyandots would remain hidden close to the fort out of firing range and wait till they heard the fighting at the packhorse train break out. At that occurrence, it was highly probable that a company of soldiers from within the fort would charge out to assist those being attacked. The force of Indians close to the fort were to wait until the reinforcement passed and then plunge in behind and cut off any attempt to retreat back into the fort.
It was a good plan that would have undoubtedly been remarkably successful had the Indian contingent near the fort not disobeyed Blue Jacket’s orders. At seven in the morning the gates opened and the packhorse train emerged, and it was escorted by a good number of soldiers, but not the 140 anticipated. The Indians close to the fort expected to see the gates closed as soon as the packhorse train departed, but they were amazed when they were left open and, without informing Blue Jacket, they altered their own plans, deciding to strike the fort itself and try to gain entry.
Blue Jacket’s force attacked the packhorses and escort when they were just reaching a woodland a mile from the fort. Close to half the escort fell, killed or wounded, at the first onslaught and, as the terrified horses galloped off away from the fort, Blue Jacket’s force pursued, then quickly disappeared from sight of the fort.
The other Indian contingent plunged toward the fort and all but collided with 50 mounted dragoons emerging at a gallop to aid the escort. There was great turmoil as the dragoons wheeled about to thunder back through the gates and collided with 100 infantrymen also emerging at a run to help. In the great confusion four or five officers and many soldiers were killed by gunfire from the approaching Indians, and the confusion was compounded when some of the surviving packhorsemen and soldiers of the escort dodged through the melee and back toward the fort.791 The soldiers who were not killed all got back inside the fort, and the gates were closed and barred only instants before the Indians arrived. Now the Indians became the brunt of the gunfire as rifles were fired from the blockhouses and over the walls. At least 20 of the Indians were killed, and an even larger number were wounded.792
As the Indians pulled back and continued firing at the fort, they expected to be reinforced immediately by Blue Jacket’s force, but the latter Indians were still pursuing the horses and believed that their other contingent had successfully cut off the relief party as planned. When Blue Jacket’s warriors successfully rounded up all the horses and returned with them, they were stunned to learn what had happened and that the Ottawas, Chippewas, Potawatomies and Wyandots had lost 20 men killed and at least that many wounded. A council was called and arguments broke out; the latter force blaming Blue Jacket for not coming to their aid and accusing his warriors of cowardice, while Blue Jacket angrily pointed out that none would have been killed or wounded had they not disobeyed his orders. The rupture between the two groups widened when the fort attackers demanded half the captured horses and Blue Jacket refused to give them any because their disobedience merited no reward.
Later, as they followed the Auglaize to the Maumee on their return toward Fallen Timbers, the bitterness between the two factions remained, and they spoke to each other not at all. When they finally reached the Maumee, an angry delegation of the Ottawa and Chippewa chiefs confronted Blue Jacket.
“We are no longer part of you,” said their spokesman. “We return to our homes now and leave you to face the Americans, wh
en they come, on your own. We will no longer help you.”
The Indians who remained with Blue Jacket, approximately half the total force, watched grimly as the Ottawas, Chippewas and St. Joseph River Potawatomies sullenly moved off. It was a severe loss, compounded by the realization that those Indians leaving would undoubtedly turn back other parties of Indians en route from the north to join them.793
Blue Jacket continued staring glumly after the departing force of Indians. “What this now means,” he said aloud, the bitterness clear in his voice, “is that General Wayne will strike us with two thousand of his regular soldiers and another sixteen hundred Kentucky men on horses, and we must face them with only six hundred.”
Now, five days after these events, Col. Alexander McKee in Fort Miamis at the foot of the Maumee Rapids was reluctantly writing to his superior, the new commanding officer at Detroit, Col. Richard England:
Rapids, July 5th, ’94
Sir—I send this by a party of Saganas [Saginaws], who returned yesterday from Fort Recovery, where the whole body of Indians, except the Delawares, who had gone another route, imprudently attacked the fort on Monday, the 30th of last month, and lost 16 or 17 men, besides a good many wounded.
Everything had been settled, prior to their leaving the Fallen Timber, and it had been agreed upon to confine themselves to taking convoys, and attacking at a distance from the forts, if they should have the address to entice the enemy out; but the impetuosity of the Mackinaw [Chippewa] Indians, and their eagerness to begin with the nearest, prevailed with the others to alter their system, the consequences of which, from the present appearance of things, may most materially injure the interests of these people; both the Mackinaw and Lake [Ottawa] Indians seeming resolved on going home again, have completed the belts they carried with scalps and prisoners, and having no provision there, or at the Glaze to subsist upon; so that his Majesty’s post [Fort Miamis] will derive no security from the late great influx of Indians into this part of the country, should they persist in their resolution of returning so soon.
Captain [Matthew] Elliott writes that they are immediately to hold a council at the Glaze, in order to try if they can prevail on the Lake Indians to remain; but without provisions, ammunition, etc., being sent to that place, I conceive it will be extremely difficult to keep them together.
[August 20, 1794—Wednesday]
This was the day.
This was the day when all the long, difficult preparations by the army of Gen. Anthony Wayne were coming to fruition. This was the day when all the prolonged waiting by the Indians under Blue Jacket was at last coming to its conclusion. This was the day when the opposing forces of Wayne and Blue Jacket would meet in battle.
And though that struggle would be occurring 275 miles away from the nearest point to the stream that the Shawnees called the Spaylaywitheepi, this was the day that would determine the future of the Ohio River Valley.
The odds were now with Wayne and even though he had heard only unconfirmed whispers of the serious rift that had occurred in the Indian force, he had long ago learned never to underestimate his enemy. The dwindling of events to this point had all come about when, at long last, he had finally, at eight A.M. on July 28, marched the army of 3,800 men northward out of Greenville, his 2,200 Legion regulars taking the lead and the 1,600 Kentuckians under Gen. Scott bringing up the rear. By August 1 they had reached the headwaters of the St. Marys River, where Wayne ordered construction begun on a post to be called Fort Randolph.794 Here, while Wayne was resting, workers felled a huge beech tree that crashed onto his tent, dazing him with a severe head blow, multiple bruises and internal bleeding that lasted for days afterward.795 It was here that the army was joined by another contingent of 800 mounted Kentucky militia under command of Col. Barbee, who immediately attached themselves to the 1,600 Kentucky volunteers already with Wayne’s army under Gen. Charles Scott.796
As soon as Blue Jacket learned of this, he sent runners to the adjoining tribes, including those Chippewas, Ottawas and St. Joseph River Potawatomies who had abandoned him in such anger following their abortive attack on Fort Recovery. The runners were instructed to tell them of Wayne’s advance and inform them that they, too, would be in great jeopardy if the army weren’t stopped, reminding them of their stunning defeat of Gen. St. Clair’s army and begging them to put aside their petty anger and send their warriors to him at once. Some, in fact, did come, but only a small portion of those who had shown up to fight against St. Clair. With their arrival, Blue Jacket’s whole force amounted to only 1,000 warriors.
Michikiniqua made a hurried trip to Detroit to see Col. Richard England, telling him that the combined Indians most desperately needed help from the British now, requesting at least 20 British regulars and two pieces of field artillery. Col. England was courteous enough but evasive, and Michikiniqua was soon convinced the British would provide them with little, if any, assistance. It was hardly good news to Blue Jacket when he heard of it, but he was gratified by the arrival somewhat later of Capt. Matthew Elliott from Detroit at the head of a packhorse train well laden with food and other supplies, escorted by 200 Ottawas under Chief Kinjoino, raising his total force to 1,200.
On August 4, before the Fort Randolph construction was completed, Wayne resumed his march, leaving the place garrisoned by 40 invalid soldiers under command of Capt. Thomas Underwood, who was himself ill. When Blue Jacket’s spies brought him word that the Americans had reached the Auglaize only a dozen miles above the Maumee, he ordered all the women, children and elderly in the Miami and Shawnee villages in the vicinity of the Auglaize River mouth to leave at once for the Michigan country. Once they were well away, he led his own warriors 60 miles down the Maumee, where he made a temporary camp beside the rapids at a place the old French traders had called Roche de Boeuf—an expansive clearing on shore adjacent to an outcrop of craggy rocks forming an island as they rose above the water to a considerable height and were capped by a growth of cedar.797
As Wayne continued marching his army down the remaining distance of the Auglaize to its mouth, they passed and destroyed great tracts of vegetables under cultivation and many hundred acres of corn just becoming fully eared. As soon as he reached the Maumee, he sent out detachments to burn all the villages in the area, as well as the Kinzie Trading Post, and immediately began erecting, in the triangular point of ground between the Maumee and the Auglaize, a new and very substantial fort. While standing with Gen. Scott looking over the continuing construction of blockhouses, pickets, fascines and ditches, Wayne had grunted in approval.
“It pleases me greatly,” he commented, “to build this fort in the very midst of this grand emporium of the hostile Indians of the west. When it is finished, I defy the English, Indians and all the devils in Hell to take it!”
“Then call it Fort Defiance,” Scott remarked, and Wayne did so.798
Wayne had then sent one final peace-talk invitation to the tribes via a squaw and an old Indian man captured in one of the villages. The chiefs held a council, but now, having become keyed up for the approaching fight with Wayne, they had voted against it for two reasons: First, only a short time ago 100 British regulars had arrived at Fort Miamis, and they took this to mean that the British there were building up their own strength for the coming battle; and second, Blue Jacket had received very encouraging news that the British Capt. William Caldwell was on his way with 53 men of the Detroit militia and 800 Chippewas newly arrived from the Saginaw area. Those militiamen had reported to Fort Miamis, and the Chippewas joined his force a day later, raising his total of warriors to 2,000. While a barrier of resentment remained between those Chippewas and Blue Jacket’s force, the two sides agreed to put personal feelings in abeyance in order to face together the greater foe. And while their arrival certainly hadn’t made the opposing forces equal, it helped turn the vote against any peace talks with Gen. Wayne.
Wayne had put his army on the move again on August 15, down the left bank of the Maumee, and they had moved
as far downstream as the village of Chief Snake of the Wyandots, where they camped for the night under heavy guard.799 The next day the army marched another ten miles downstream, their progress slowed by steep ravines through which it was extremely difficult to pull the wagons and gun carriages.800 On August 17 the army had marched 14 miles and camped for the night at the head of the rapids, which put them only ten miles from the main Indian encampment at Roche de Boeuf.801
That was when Blue Jacket had finally decided to move his force downstream another three miles to the area of Fallen Timbers, not only for the advantage it might give them in their mode of bush fighting but for its proximity to Fort Miamis. All the Indians expected Wayne’s army would march that final distance to them the next day and the battle would be on, and so on the evening of August 17, the Indians had gone into their traditional prebattle fast and waited for the army to move upon them the next morning. Wayne, however, stopped his army at the Roche de Boeuf ground the Indians had vacated and set up camp. It meant the Indians would have to continue their fast an extra day, but this was no great hardship, and there was no doubt in the minds of any of the Indians then that the battle would be fought on the morrow.
Anthony Wayne, however, was even more sagacious than they realized. Fully aware that the fast had begun and that the Indians were waiting to do battle in the area of the Fallen Timbers, the commanding general deliberately held his position at Roche de Boeuf all of yesterday, taking advantage of the delay to throw up a small bastion he named Fort Deposit, in which to store all the baggage not needed in the actual combat.