That Dark and Bloody River

by Allan Eckert

  Capt. Sam Brady, late in December, decided to go on a deer hunt in the valley of Stillwater Creek and was accompanied by his brother-in-law, Ellzey Van Swearingen, and Benjamin Biggs. It had turned very cold while they were out, and having downed all the deer they could manage, Brady went out to get the horses where they had been hobbled so they could pack the meat on them. While crossing a small stream on a log that spanned the water, Brady slipped on ice that had formed overnight on the log’s surface and fell, hitting his head on a branch and getting knocked unconscious. He narrowly missed being drowned when he fell with most of his body in the water, but his head on shore. Nevertheless, he lay in the icy water for quite a long while before regaining consciousness. With difficulty he dragged himself out of the water and got the horses, but by the time he returned to camp, his clothing was frozen and he was himself very sick. They managed to get him and the deer meat back to West Liberty, but by then he had developed a severe cold and fever and was wracked by terrible coughing. Drusilla bathed him and got him into bed, spoon-fed him with hot broth and cared for him as best she could, but, as 1794 ended and 1795 began, it was obvious that Sam Brady was a very sick man and would probably be a long time getting well. There was even talk that he might never again be able to lead his Rangers on border patrols.

  Early this year of 1795, the old French post called Fort Massac, far down the Ohio on the Illinois shore, which had been in ruins for many years, was reactivated by the United States and reoccupied by a small garrison of regulars. Only a short time later, toward the end of April, settler Samuel Chew and his party of five were attacked by a party of Kickapoos and Potawatomies near Fort Massac. A survivor brought word to the fort, and a party went out and found Chew lying in the shallows of the Ohio River, scalped and severely mutilated. Another white man of his party had been scalped, dismembered and disemboweled. Near where Chew’s papers and books were strewn all over the shore were also found the bodies of four of his Negro slaves.

  Some of the Indians responsible were captured and taken to Kaskaskia, where officials ordered them transported to Cahokia to be jailed and tried for the murders. While on their way there, however, an angry mob of whites near Belleville took the Indian prisoners away from their guards and killed them. This caused a party of Potawatomies from Lake Peoria to band together with some Kickapoos to retaliate, and a series of attacks occurred throughout the southern Illinois country as a result, culminating just last month in the massacre of a white family and 13 Negroes living near the mouth of the Ohio River. Residents in the area, terrorized by the attacks, sent word to Gen. Wayne, begging for troops and asking that he build a new United States fort at Lake Peoria.

  At about the same time on the upper Ohio, settler Mike Waxler was shot and killed on the Ohio side of the river when he happened across two Delawares, George White Eyes and his brother, Joe White Eyes, stealing some of his horses.809

  John Decker, living in Brooke County not far from the Samuel Brady place near West Liberty, was riding to Holliday’s Cove on June 4 when he was attacked by a small party of Wyandots. They shot at him and missed, but a ball broke a foreleg of his horse. Nevertheless, Decker spurred his horse on, and the animal ran on three legs until it came to a log. In attempting to jump it, the horse fell and was unable to rise. Decker tried to escape on foot but was quickly overtaken, tomahawked and scalped. He was the last white man to be killed by an Indian in Brooke County.

  Eleven days after that, the last killing of whites by Indians in Pennsylvania occurred at the Samuel Hulings settlement, when a party of surveyors was attacked at the mouth of Conneaut Outlet, where it empties into French Creek.810 Two young men of the surveying party, James Finley and Barney McCormick, were making rails when three Indians, believed to have been Senecas, crept up and tomahawked both and took their scalps. The Indians then went to the camp and found that the rest of the surveyors were out, with the exception of James Thompson, whose horse was tied near where he was working. They shot the horse and took him prisoner, terrorizing him by dangling before his eyes the scalps of Finley and McCormick.811

  Still, while the attacks along the Ohio River Valley were disastrous for those who suffered them, there were far fewer than in previous years, and a general sense of hope rose among the border people that the Battle of Fallen Timbers had at last been the blow to end the interminable border war with the Indians.

  Beginning shortly after their defeat at Fallen Timbers, numerous councils had been held by the Indians to determine what they should do now. In each of the tribes there were contingents of die-hards who wanted nothing more than to retaliate against the Americans and continue their strikes along the frontiers—which they did—but by far the greater number fully realized the hopelessness of making any further resistance against Gen. Wayne’s army. Furthermore, the ingrained superstitions of the various tribesmen had now caused them to come to the conclusion that Moneto and the Great Spirit, who had turned their faces from them at the Battle of Fallen Timbers, would continue to keep them averted and let further troubles descend upon them if they did not make peace with the Americans.

  In the meanwhile, swift strides were being made by whites toward developing more of the Ohio country. Simon Kenton and other Kentuckians were already busily at work claiming lands on the Mad River and the upper Scioto. Along the southern rim of Lake Erie, the three million acres of Western Reserve lands east of the Cuyahoga River were sold by the Connecticut Legislature to a syndicate of the state’s citizens who had organized under the name of the Connecticut Land Company. They, in turn, were selling parcels to citizens of Connecticut and other states, who were already in the process of surveying into townships of five square miles each and establishing settlements.

  Far to the south, another program was moving along at top speed for the development of an area north of the Ohio River, 18 miles wide, between the mouths of the Scioto and Big Sandy rivers. This area was being settled by a horde of Frenchmen who had been duped out of their life savings in a bogus land deal in Paris years before by a land company that had never owned any of the Ohio country land to sell. The United States Congress was sympathetic to the plight of the Frenchmen, who had lost not only the lands they had bargained for while still living in France, but equally the lands upon which they had settled in the area of Gallipolis, due to invalid titles. Now the Congress had donated a tract of just over 25,000 acres to those who had suffered in the fraud—a tract now being called the French Grant.812

  For Gen. Anthony Wayne, the events following his victory over the Indians at Fallen Timbers well befitted a good army under a good commander. First, numerous chiefs approached him at different times under flags of truce, representing only themselves, their villages or their own tribes and with no consideration at all for the confederacy they had formed, which many had begun calling the Seven Nations, and sued for peace. Though they hadn’t represented all the tribes, it was clear that they were representative of a general feeling spreading among the tribes.

  Nevertheless, the hostilities were not completely ended. Even after Wayne’s dead had been buried with honors and the wounded loaded on litters for transport to Fort Defiance, small parties of warriors continued dogging the army and firing on it when they could. Several Indians were killed, and the army got little rest at night as the Indians hooted and howled back and forth throughout the night like owls and wolves just beyond the perimeter of each night’s camp. Occasionally, a sniper’s shot found its mark. Private John O’Brian was one of a number of soldiers who were wounded or killed during the return march; a ball from an adjacent hill struck him low in the back, angled through the bottom part of his stomach and finally lodged in his penis.

  During this return from Fallen Timbers up the Maumee, Wayne had sent out detachments on either side of the river with orders to destroy every village, every trading post or other structure belonging to British agents or traders and every vestige of crops in a swath 10 miles wide and 50 in length. They had done just that, and the smoke rising be
hind them and dissipating in the atmosphere was to many, Indians and whites alike, symbolic of the dissipation of the hopes and dreams of the red men.

  Wayne’s force had reached Fort Defiance on August 27, where the general detached a large portion of his force to ascend the Auglaize and return to Greenville and Fort Washington with dispatches and many of the more mobile wounded. The more seriously wounded were treated at Fort Defiance while improvements were being made on that installation and, as that was occurring, Wayne marched most of the remainder of his army up the Maumee to where it is formed by the confluence of the St. Joseph and St. Marys rivers—the site of the capital village of the Miami tribe, Kekionga. Arriving there on September 22, Wayne ordered the construction of a large, very strong fortification. Every officer and soldier participated in the construction, and the new fort was completed on October 22. Wayne named Col. John Hamtramck as its commanding officer, and Hamtramck immediately honored his commander by firing a 150-round artillery salute, led the entire force in three rousing cheers and named the place Fort Wayne.813

  Soon after this Wayne had returned to Greenville as the army’s winter quarters, and even there the Indian delegations from as far distant as the Sacs on the Mississippi had continued coming to him, asking peace. To them all his response was the same: He would grant them a temporary peace, but all were to appear at Greenville for a great treaty council next June 1 to conclude a permanent, binding and unbreakable treaty of peace between the United States government and all the northwestern tribes. In the meanwhile, to show their good faith in the petitions for peace, they were to begin, at once, to bring to Greenville and turn over to him any and all prisoners in their hands, whether they had been formally adopted into the tribes or not. Only then could and would the new boundary lines be established and forever afterward the various tribes live in peace and brotherhood with the whites.

  The exchange of prisoners that forthwith occurred, and was continuing at this time, was entered into with alacrity by the tribes now anxious to please and mollify Gen. Wayne. There was not one general prisoner exchange at a specific time, but over the weeks and months that followed, prisoners were regularly brought in to Greenville.814 It was this return of prisoners, as much as anything, that finally convinced the Kentucky settlers that peace had truly come at last and that now a man could chop his wood or pasture his cattle and horses without fear of being robbed or killed by Indians. For the very first time since settlers had begun descending the Ohio River, attacks on the boats and rafts of the immigrants entirely ceased.

  If there lingered any trace of hope among the Indians that the British would finally rise and thrust the Americans out of the Northwest, it was dashed when word swept through the tribes of the new treaty of peace with the United States that the American special envoy, John Jay, had negotiated with the British in London. That treaty had been signed last November 19, and though it covered many aspects of international trade and other matters, the provision that struck home with the northwestern Indians most directly dealt with the strong British posts at Mackinac, Detroit, and Niagara.

  The grave nebulosity in the Treaty of Paris over 11 years ago that had enabled the British to so disruptively retain their hold on these vital western posts in American territory had finally been resolved by the astute Mr. Jay. By the new terms to which the British had agreed, all British posts anywhere in the territory of the United States would be evacuated by the first day of June next year.815 At councils held with the Indians in the Detroit area, the British quickly gave assurances that this did not mean they were actually leaving. In point of fact, they said, they were only moving across the Detroit River to Canada, where, at Amherstburg, hardly 15 miles from Detroit, they were building a very large fort, much bigger and better than the Detroit fort, and calling it Fort Malden. From here, they promised, they would continue to provide the Indians with the gifts and annuities and supplies they were accustomed to receiving. The explanations and plans did little to rejuvenate confidence in the Indians for the British.

  Among the chiefs who visited with Gen. Wayne at Fort Greenville before the winter was over were Blue Jacket and Michikiniqua. After that visit, Wayne had magnanimously sent word to the displaced Shawnees under Catahecassa, as well as to other Indians, that if they wished to do so, they could resettle, at least temporarily, at their old village sites, provided they remained peaceful and quiet. As a result, Catahecassa had now returned to the site of Wapakoneta and had reestablished the principal village of the Shawnees there, reinstituting the name Wapakoneta. Blue Jacket’s Town had also been reestablished when the war chief returned there, and Wapatomica was being rebuilt with a good msi-kah-mi-qui, but the nearby ruins of Mackachack, McKee’s Town, and others remained uninhabited. Numerous other small new villages of both Shawnee and Miami Indians were springing up again in the valleys of the Maumee, Auglaize, Blanchard, Ottawa and Little Auglaize.

  Another surprise came with news that Michikiniqua, accepting the commanding general’s invitation, had reestablished a moderate-size village at the Kekionga site quite close to Fort Wayne. Also, though Chief Five Medals of the St. Joseph River Potawatomies had made an armistice with Wayne and had agreed to attend the Greenville council, the Milwackie and Illinois River Potawatomies were not yet committing themselves to anything.

  Numerous other occurrences of interest took place throughout the Northwest prior to this day of the council fire being lighted at Greenville: Gen. Wayne’s aide during the Fallen Timbers campaign, Lt. William Henry Harrison, had been promoted to captain and was now in command of Fort Washington, and young Capt. Harrison had just married a young woman named Anna Symmes, daughter of the territorial judge and land speculator, Benjamin Symmes; adjacent Cincinnati was growing rapidly, now with well over 100 cabins; 10 large brick houses; business establishments that included stores, bakeries, blacksmith and livery stables; and a population, exclusive of the garrison, exceeding 500. Similar startling growth was occurring throughout Ohio with the great new influx of whites, who were now starting construction of houses, churches, schools, even whole villages. An army colonel, John Johnston, who had struck up a rapport with Catahecassa and established a federal trading post at Wapakoneta, had since been named Indian agent to the Shawnees and would be stationed at Fort Wayne with William Wells who was now officially agent to the Miamis. John Conner, whom the Shawnees especially favored as an unusually honest trader, had established a new trading post on the Whitewater River.816

  Due to the slowness of many of the Indian delegates in arriving at Greenville, the lighting of the Grand Council fire on June 1 had been postponed for a fortnight, and so these first two weeks of June had been filled with eating, drinking and visiting among those who were gathering, the number increasing daily. But at last today, even though many Indian delegations were still missing, Wayne had decided to wait no longer to light the council fire. The chiefs were summoned to the council house that had been prepared, and they came quickly, their followers spreading out to quietly wait outside.

  Then, with fitting pomp and ceremony, Gen. Anthony Wayne ordered the council fire lighted. A great cheer erupted from whites and Indians alike as the blaze crackled to life. The hubbub continued as the chiefs seated themselves on the ground before the fire. Ceremonial pipes were lighted and passed from one to another, the chamber soon growing hazy with the blue-white smoke of the fragrant kinnikinnick burning in the pipe bowls. Finally, Gen. Wayne, resplendent in his dress uniform, moved to the fire and stood before them, his arms raised. Only then did the hum of voices dwindle away.

  “My children,” he began, his voice carrying well over the whole assemblage, “I have cleared the ground of all brush and rubbish and have opened roads to the east, the west, the north, and the south, that all your nations may come in safety and with ease to meet me. The ground on which this council house stands is unstained with blood and is as pure as the heart of Gen. Washington, the great chief of America, and of his great council; as pure as my heart, which now wishes
for nothing so much as peace and brotherly love. The heavens are bright, the roads are open, we will rest in peace and love and await the arrival of our brothers. In the interim we will have a little refreshment, to wash the dust from our throats. We will, on this happy occasion, be merry without passing the bounds of temperance and sobriety. We will now cover up the council fire and keep it alive till the remainder of the different tribes assemble and form a full meeting and representation.”

  Teteboxti, most ancient of the Delaware chiefs, rose and responded to Wayne, saying, “All my people shall be informed of the commencement of our friendship, and they will rejoice in it, and I hope it will never end.”

  [August 7, 1795—Friday]

  Even though the Indians who continued to assemble for the grand peace council at Greenville brought certain amounts of food with them, it was customary at any such council for the host to provide for them during their stay, and they expected to be furnished with most of their needs by Gen. Wayne. Knowing this, Wayne had requisitioned large quantities of food and drink and was gratified when the government’s quartermaster system came through promptly.

  Food was distributed to the various factions on hand in equal proportions according to the number of people to be fed. In many cases this was substantial since, along with each member of the tribal delegation, there were usually one or two women and children to consider as well. In the case of beverages, hundreds of kegs of rum had been received, and the liquor was doled out in very limited quantities daily in keeping with Gen. Wayne’s opening remark that they should “be merry without passing the bounds of temperance and sobriety.”

  In their own enclave camps some distance away from the fort, the various tribes played games and held sporting competitions during the day, and the air was hazed by the rising smoke of their campfires. Many of the soldiers, at the invitation of the Indians, were given leave to be spectators and, in some instances, invited to be participants. Almost every evening dances of one sort or another were held to the accompaniment of drums, rattles, flutes, ankle and wrist bells and, occasionally, screeching fiddles—the latter usually having been acquired in the past through trade or raid. The throbbing of the instruments, chanting, singing and clapping of hands and stamping of feet was enjoyed by many of the regular soldiers but was greatly annoying to some, especially when the sounds continued far into the night and were interruptive of sleep.