The Tortuous Death of Col. William Crawford

       In my last post, we saw that John Slover and Dr. Knight had been able to elude their Indian captors and eventually, through various hardships, they were both able to make it back to the American settlements.  Col. William Crawford, the commander of the American expedition, was about to meet his Creator.  WARNING: the following narrative contains very graphic depictions of immolation and tortures.

       In the capture of Crawford, the Delawares had secured the "Big Captain" of the invading army—a prize they were determined should not be lost, as evinced by his being guarded, from the Sandusky to the Tymochtee, by their two war-chiefs—The Pipe and Wingenund.  Common prisoners were tomahawked with little ado; but Crawford was reserved for a more terrible death.

       There was a fire burning at the spot where, on the afternoon of the 11th of June, we left Crawford in charge of the Delawares, to follow the fortunes of Knight.  Around that fire was a crowd of Indians— about thirty or forty men, and sixty or seventy squaws and boys.

       A few Wyandots were there, and Simon Girty with them, as already mentioned; also Captain [Matthew] Elliott, it is believed, as he did not arrive at the Shawanese towns, where Slover was held captive, until after this date.  "Dr. Knight thinks a British captain was present," wrote Irvine to Washington, on the 11th of July.

       "He says he saw a person there who was dressed and appeared like a British officer."  There, too, was Samuel Wells, the negro boy, who had been captured by the Indians, as previously stated, and who afterward stoutly affirmed to early white settlers in the Sandusky country that his employment, at the time, was the holding of Girty's horse.  A spectator, likewise, but an unwilling and horrified one, was Dr. Knight, who stood at a short distance from the fire, securely bound and guarded by the rough-visaged Tutelu.

       Within hearing distance at least, if not in the crowd around the fire, was Christian Fast, a boy seventeen years of age, who, the year previous, having enlisted in that part of Westmoreland which soon after became Fayette county, as a member of the expedition from Western Pennsylvania that descended the Ohio river in aid of George Rogers Clark, was captured when near the Falls (Louisville) and taken to Sandusky.  Fast, it seems, saw Crawford either at the Half King's town or at Wingenund's camp, and had a conversation with him, the particulars of which are unknown.

       Crawford was stripped naked and ordered to sit down.  It is a tradition seemingly well authenticated that his clothes, especially his hat, which was made of leather, were long after in the keeping of the Delawares.  The Indians now beat him with sticks and their fists; and, presently after, Knight was treated in the same manner.  The fatal stake—a post about fifteen feet high—had been set firmly in the ground.  Crawford hands were bound behind his back, and a rope fastened—one end to the foot of the post, and the other to the ligature between his wrists.  The rope was long enough for him to sit down, or walk around the post once or twice and return the same way.  Crawford then called to Girty and asked if they intended to burn him.  Girty answered, "Yes." He then replied he would take it all patiently.  Upon this, Captain Pipe made a speech to the Indians, who, at its conclusion, yelled a hideous and hearty assent to what had been said.

       The spot where Crawford was now to be immolated to satisfy the revengeful thirst of the Delawares for the blood of the borderers, was in what is now Crawford township, Wyandot county—a short distance northeast from the present town of Crawfordsville. ¹

       That the stake was planted in the immediate vicinity, so abundantly described, there can be no doubt.  Besides, we have the positive statement of Knight that the place was three-quarters of a mile from "Captain Pipe's house"—the Delaware village upon the Tymochtee.  Here, then, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, of Tuesday, June 11, 1782, the torture began.

       The Indian men took up their guns and shot powder into Crawford's naked body from his feet as far up as his neck.  It was the opinion of Knight that not less than seventy loads were discharged upon him!  They then crowded about him, and, to the best of Knight's observation, cut off both his ears; for when the throng had dispersed, he saw the blood running from both sides of his head!

       The fire was about six or seven yards from the post to which Crawford was tied.  It was made of small hickory poles burnt quite through in the middle, each end of the poles remaining about six feet in length.  Three or four Indians by turns would take up, individually, one of these burning pieces of wood, and apply it to his naked body, already burnt black with powder.

       These tormentors presented themselves on every side of him, so that, whichever way he ran round the post, they met him with the burning fagots.  Some of the squaws took broad boards, upon which they would carry a quantity of burning coals and hot embers and throw on him; so that, in a short time, he had nothing but coals of fire and hot ashes to walk on!

       In the midst of these extreme tortures, Crawford called to Girty and begged of him to shoot him; but the white savage making no answer, he called again.  Girty then, by way of derision, told Crawford he had no gun; at the same time turning about to an Indian who was behind him, he laughed heartily, and, by all his gestures, seemed delighted at the horrid scene!

       Girty then came up to Knight and bade him prepare for death.  He told him, however, he was not to die at that place, but was to be burnt at the Shawanese towns.  He swore, with a fearful oath, that he need not expect to escape death, but should suffer it in all its extremities!  He then observed that some prisoners had given him to understand, that if the Americans had him they would not hurt him.  For his part, he said he did not believe it; but desired to know Knight's opinion of the matter.  The latter, however, was in too great anguish and distress, on account of the torments Crawford was suffering before his eyes, as well as the expectation of undergoing the same fate in two days, to made [sic] any answer to the monster.  Girty expressed a great deal of ill-will for Colonel Gibson, saying he was one of his greatest enemies—and more to the same purpose; to all which Knight paid but little attention.

       Crawford, at this period of his suffering, besought the Almighty to have mercy on his soul, spoke very low, and bore his torments with the most manly fortitude.  He continued, in all the extremities of pain, for an hour and three-quarters or two hours longer, as near as Knight could judge; when, at last, being almost spent, he lay down upon his stomach.

       The savages then scalped him, and repeatedly threw the scalp into the face of Knight, telling him that was his "great captain."  An old squaw, whose appearance, thought Knight, every way answered the ideas people entertain of the devil, got a board, took a parcel of coals and ashes, and laid them on his back and head.  He then raised himself upon his feet and began to walk around the post.

       They next put burning sticks to him, as usual; but he seemed more insensible of pain than before.  Knight was now taken away from the dreadful scene.

       It was a tradition, long after repeated by the Delawares and Wyandots, that Crawford breathed his last just at the going down of the sun.  On the following morning, when Knight started for the Shawanese towns, he was conducted to the spot where Crawford had suffered, as it was partly in the direction he and his Delaware guard were taking.  He saw the bones of his commander, lying among the remains of the fire, almost burnt to ashes.  The Delaware told Knight that was his "Big Captain," at the same time giving the scalp halloo.

       After Crawford died—so runs the tradition—the fagots were heaped together, his body placed upon them, and around his charred remains danced the delighted savages for many hours.

       When the news of the torture reached the Shawanese villages the exultation was very great.  Not so when the awful story was repeated in the settlements upon the border.  A gloom was spread on every countenance.  Crawford's melancholy end was lamented by all who knew him.  Heart-rending was the anguish in a lonely cabin upon the banks of the Youghiogheny.  There were few men on the frontiers, at that time, whose loss could have been more sensibly felt or more keenly deplored.

       The language of Washington, upon this occasion, shows the depth of his feeling: "It is with the greatest sorrow and concern that I have learned the melancholy tidings of Colonel Crawford's death.  He was known to me as an officer of much care and prudence; brave, experienced, and active.  The manner of his death was shocking to me; and I have this day communicated to the honorable, the Congress, such papers as I have regarding it."  In a letter to Irvine, at Fort Pitt, written on the 6th of August, he says: "I lament the failure of the expedition against Sandusky, and am particularly affected with the disastrous death of Colonel Crawford."  ²

       Thus ends one of the most disastrous American military campaigns in history.  The death of Col. William Crawford is not only one of the most iconic episodes in the history of the colonial frontier, it is also one of those incidents in history that reveals the awful depravity of the human heart.  It is a story that haunts the reader.  As Crawford was said to have commended his soul to God before his demise, it is hoped that we may see him in the next life.

Christ, not man, is King!

Dale

1)      C.W. Butterfield, An Historical Account of the Expedition Against Sandusky (Cincinnati, OH: Robert Clarke & Co., 1873), p. 379-84. 
2)      Ibid., p. 387-92.

Accounts of the Various Captives

       In my last post, we saw that several of the American stragglers from Col. William Crawford’s defeated army had been captured by the Indians who were hovering around the dispersed Patriot bands.  In this post, we will begin to see what ultimately happened to the distressed captives.

       It was three o'clock in the afternoon of Friday, the 7th of June, that Crawford and Knight were led captives to Wingenund's camp.  On Sunday evening following, five Delawares, who had posted themselves some distance on the road of the army, east, brought to the camp the scalps of Captain Biggs and Lieutenant Ashley; likewise, an Indian scalp taken by the former upon the field of battle.  These Indians also brought in the horses of Knight and Biggs.  The two young men who ran off when Crawford and Knight were taken, again escaped the savages.

      The Delawares had nine other prisoners at their camp besides Crawford and Knight; all securely guarded, and with very little to eat.  John McKinly, formerly an officer in the Thirteenth Virginia regiment, was one of the captives.  Several of the Indians spoke English quite fluently.  Some were personally known both to Crawford and Knight.  All very soon learned that the former was the commander of the expedition—the "Big Captain" of the Americans.  This information had been immediately carried to The Pipe and Wingenund, at the Half King's place.  Some of the Delawares at the camp were Christian Indians from the Muskingum, who, it is inferred, had gone back into heathenism.  Two of these, who were personally known to Knight, brought in scalps of the volunteers.

       On Monday morning, the 10th of June, the prisoners were all paraded to march, as they were told, to Sandusky—the Half King's town—about thirty-three miles distant, by way of the Indian trail.  There were seventeen Delawares having the captives in charge.  They carried with them the scalps of four white men.

       Crawford had been told that Simon Girty, who, it will be remembered, was an old acquaintance, was at the Half King's village; and being very desirous to see him, was permitted to go to the town the same night, with two warriors to guard him; the rest of the prisoners were to go no farther than Upper Sandusky Old Town that day.  Crawford's guards had orders to go by the route taken by him from the battle-field, that they might, if possible, find the horses he and the young man had been compelled to leave behind, on the morning after the retreat began.

       The prisoners were all marched together on the trace leading west, for three miles, when Crawford and his two guards struck off to the right—in a northwest direction, while the others were taken on to the Old Town.  The point where they separated was about eight miles almost due east from the present town of Bucyrus,—in what is now Jefferson township, Crawford county.

       Crawford reached the Half King's town some time during the night, and had an interview with Girty.  Very little has been preserved of their conversation.  "Tom Jelloway," as he was called, a Christian Indian from the Muskingum, speaking pretty plain English and French, was near and heard what was said.  Enough was reported by this Indian to Captain Pipe and Wingenund, who were in the village, to convince them that Crawford had made an earnest appeal for his safety.  He offered Girty a thousand dollars to save him; and the white savage promised, with no intention of keeping his word, to do everything in his power.  Crawford's offer of money only made the two Delaware chiefs more determined against him.

       Crawford clearly saw that the Indians, particularly The Pipe, were very much enraged against the prisoners.  Girty informed the Colonel that William Harrison and young William Crawford were made prisoners by the Shawanese, but had been pardoned at their towns.  This information was true as to their capture, but false as to their lives being spared.  The Wyandots had a few prisoners at their town; what became of them is entirely unknown—tradition, even, is silent, concerning them.  They were probably, soon after the visit of Crawford, tomahawked and their heads stuck upon poles, as was the usual custom of the Indians.  It is certain they were not tortured to death; as the Wyandots were more merciful, in this respect, than their allies, as has already been explained.

       Knight and his nine fellow-prisoners reached the Old Town late in the afternoon, as they had to travel a distance, from Wingenund's camp, of twenty-five miles.  Here they were securely guarded during the night.  Early in the morning — Tuesday, June 11th, the two Delaware chiefs, Captain Pipe and Wingenund, came up the river to them, from the Half King's town; and the former, with his own hands, painted the faces of all the prisoners black!  As he was painting Knight, he told him (the war-chief spoke very good English) he should go to the Shawanese towns and see his friends: Knight knew but too well the ominous import of these words, notwithstanding the blandness of the wily savage.

       About an hour after, Crawford also arrived up the river, whither he had been brought, as he had been told, to march into the Half King's village with the other prisoners.  The two Delaware chiefs, who had avoided seeing him at the town below, now came forward and greeted him:- he was personally known to both.  They had frequently seen each other before the disaffection of the clan to which these two Indians belonged. At the treaty of the 17th of September, 1778, at Fort Pitt, between the Delawares and the American government, Crawford and The Pipe were present, each taking part in the negotiations, and each signing the articles agreed upon.  The dissembling war-chief told the Colonel he was glad to see him, and that he would have him shaved—that is, adopted as an Indian—when he came to see his friends, the prisoners, at the Wyandot town; but, at the same time, he painted him black!

       The whole party now started on the trail leading to the village of the Wyandots, eight miles below; but, as the march began, Crawford and Knight were kept back, guarded by The Pipe and Wingenund.  They were soon ordered forward; but had not traveled far, before they saw four of their comrades lying by the path tomahawked and scalped; some of them were at a distance of a half a mile from the others.  The Delaware chiefs guarded well their two prisoners to the springs where Upper Sandusky now stands, when, to their dismay, another trail, than the one leading to the village of the Wyandots, was taken.  Their course was now to the northwest, toward the Delaware town upon the Tymochtee, instead of to the northeast in the direction of Sandusky.  If any spark of hope had been kept alive in the breasts of the two captives, it must now have been extinguished.  Onward they marched between their two guards, who seemed determined to make sure of their victims.

       Passing out of what is now Crane township into the present township of Salem, they soon reached the Little Tymochtee creek, where they overtook the five prisoners that remained alive.  The Indians now caused all their captives to sit down on the ground— Crawford and Knight with the rest; the two last, however, some distance from the others.  Knight was then given in charge of one of the Indians to be taken, on the morrow, to the Shawanese towns.

       At the place they had halted, there were a number of squaws and boys, who now fell on the five prisoners and tomahawked them all.   An old squaw cut off the head of John McKinly, and kicked it about upon the ground.   The young Indian fellows came often where Crawford and Knight were, and dashed the reeking scalps in their faces.

       Again the march began.  They were in what is now Crawford township, they were soon met by Simon Girty and several Indians, on horseback.  The former, well knowing what was to be the fate of Crawford, had come from the Half King's town across the Plains to The Pipe's village, to be present upon the arrival of the two Delaware chiefs with their prisoners, but, becoming impatient, had started out on the trail to meet the savages and their captives.  He rode up to Crawford and spoke to him; but did not inform him of the determination of The Pipe and Wingenund.  At this point the two prisoners had become separated, Crawford being about one hundred and fifty yards in advance of Knight.

       Girty had promised, it will be remembered, at the meeting with Crawford the night previous at the Half King's home, to do all he could for him; but that promise, as we have seen, he did not intend to keep; for now, at his first meeting with the Delaware chiefs since parting with Crawford, he made not the slightest effort in his behalf.  Nor is there any reason for believing, that he could have made any impression upon either The Pipe or Wingenund, had he been inclined to make the trial.

       The two war-chiefs of the Delawares were the archenemies of the Americans.  They had been, as we have seen, the prime movers in the alienation of their tribe from its neutral policy.  They drew with them from the Muskingum the war-faction, which not only set up its lodges upon the banks of the Sandusky and Tymochtee, but also formed a close alliance with the British Indians.  Besides, in the battles just fought, several of their bravest warriors had been killed.  It is not surprising, therefore, that no mercy was to be shown the prisoners who had fallen into their hands.¹

       As the party moved along toward the Tymochtee, almost every Indian the prisoners met, struck them with sticks or their fists.  Girty waited until Knight was brought up, and asked, "Was that the doctor?"  Knight answered him in the affirmative, and went toward him, reaching out his hand; but the savage bid him begone, calling him a damned rascal; upon which the Indian having him in charge pulled him along.  Girty rode up after him, telling him he was to go to the Shawanese towns.

       A short distance further brought them near to the Tymochtee, and another halt was made.  They had now arrived within three-quarters of a mile of the Delaware village, which was further down the creek.  Just here— a memorable locality—when the afternoon was well advanced, we will leave the unfortunate Crawford, to relate the incidents which afterward befell Knight, who, for over two hours before leaving the place, drank to the dregs, it may be premised, a cup of inexpressible horror!  He was then taken to Captain Pipe's house, at the Delaware village, where he lay bound all night.

       The next morning, the I2th of June, Knight was untied by the savage who had him in charge — a Delaware Indian, whose name was Tutelu, a rough looking fellow— and again painted black!  They then started for the Shawanese towns, which the Indian said was somewhat less than forty miles away.  Tutelu was on horseback, and drove Knight before him.  The latter pretended he was ignorant of the death he was to die, affected as cheerful a countenance as possible, and asked the savage if they were not to live together as brothers in one house when they should get to the town.  Tutelu seemed well pleased, and said, "Yes."  He then asked Knight if he could make a wigwam.  Knight told him he could.  He then seemed more friendly.

       The route taken by the Delaware was the Indian trace leading from the Delaware town to Wapatomica.  It led off in a direction partly southwest.  They traveled, as near as Knight could judge, the first day about twenty-five miles.  The doctor was then informed by Tutelu, that they would reach the town the next day a little before the sun was on the meridian.  The prisoner was again tied, and both laid down to rest.  Knight attempted very often to untie himself, but the Indian was extremely vigilant and scarce ever shut his eyes.  At daybreak he got up and untied his captive.

       Tutelu now began to mend up the fire; and, as the gnats were troublesome, Knight asked him if he should make a smoke behind him.  He said, "Yes."  The doctor took the end of a dogwood fork, which had been burnt down to about eighteen inches in length.  It was the longest stick he could find, yet too small for the purpose he had in view.  He then took up another small stick, and taking a coal of fire between them, went behind the savage; when, turning suddenly about, he struck the Indian on the head with all his force.  This so stunned the savage that he fell forward with both his hands in the fire.  He soon recovered and got up, but ran off howling in a most fearful manner.  Knight seized his gun and followed him, with a determination to shoot him down; but by pulling back the cock [hammer] with too great violence, broke the mainspring, as he believed.  The Indian continued to run, still followed by Knight, who was vainly endeavoring to fire his gun.  The doctor, however, soon gave up the chase and returned to the fire, where we will leave him for the present, to narrate what befell Slover and his two companions in captivity, whom we left just approaching, on the 11th of June, the upper Shawanese town, in what is now Logan county.

       The inhabitants of the village, which they were nearing, came out with clubs and tomahawks—struck, beat, and abused the three captives greatly.  They seized one of Slover's companions, the oldest one, stripped him naked, and with coal and water painted him black!  The man seemed to surmise that this was the sign that he was to be burnt, and shed tears.  He asked Slover the meaning of his being blacked; but the Indians, in their own language, forbade him telling the man what was intended.  They assured the latter, speaking English to him, that he was not to be hurt.

       A warrior had been sent to Wapatomica, to acquaint them with the arrival of the prisoners, and prepare them for the frolic; and, on the approach of the captives, the inhabitants came out with guns, clubs, and tomahawks.  The three were told they had to run to the council-house, about three hundred yards distant.  The man who was painted black was about twenty yards in advance of the other two in running the gauntlet.  They made him their principal object; men, women, and children beating him, and those who had guns firing loads of powder into his flesh as he ran naked, putting the muzzles of their guns up to his body; shouting, hallooing, and beating their drums in the meantime.

       The unhappy man had reached the door of the council-house, beaten and wounded in a shocking manner.  Slover and his companion having already arrived there, had a full view of the spectacle—a most horrid one!  They had cut him with their tomahawks, shot his body black, and burnt it into holes with loads of powder blown into it.  A large wadding had made a wound in his shoulder whence the blood gushed very freely.

       The unfortunate man, agreeable to the declarations of the savages when he first set out, had reason to think himself secure when the door of the council-house was reached.  This seemed to be his hope; for, coming up with great struggling and endeavor, he laid hold of the door, but was pulled back and drawn away by the enemy.  Finding now that no mercy was intended, he attempted several times to snatch or lay hold of some of their tomahawks; but being weak, could not effect it.

       Slover saw him borne off; and the Indians were a long time beating, wounding, pursuing, and killing him!  The same evening, Slover saw the dead body close by the council-house.  It was cruelly mangled; the blood mingled with the powder was rendered black.  He saw, also, the same evening, the body after it had been cut into pieces,—the limbs and head about two hundred yards on the outside of the town, stuck on poles!

      The same evening Slover also saw the bodies of three others at Wapatomica, in the same black and mangled condition.  These, he was told, had been put to death the same day, and just before his arrival.  Their bodies, as they lay, were black, bloody,—burnt with powder.  One of these was William Harrison, the son in-law of Crawford; another, young William Crawford, a nephew.  Slover recognized the visage of Harrison, and saw his clothing and that of young Crawford, at the town.  The Indians brought two horses to him, and asked him if he knew them.  He said they were those of Harrison and Crawford.  The savages replied they were.

       The third body, Slover could not recognize, but he believed it to be Major John McClelland, fourth in command of the expedition.  The next day, the bodies of these men were dragged to the outside of the town, and their corpses given to the dogs, except their limbs and heads, which were stuck on poles!  Such were the awful results of the wild orgies at Wapatomica.  What a gorge of infernal revelry did these unfortunate prisoners afford the infuriated savages! ²

       Slover saw Tutelu, the Delaware Indian, coming into Wapatomica.  He said that the prisoner he was bringing to be burnt, and who he said was a doctor, had made his escape from him.  Slover knew this must have been Dr. Knight, who went as surgeon of the expedition.  The Indian had a wound four inches long in his head, which he acknowledged the doctor had given him; he was cut to the skull.  His story was, that he had untied the doctor, being asked by him to do so, Knight promising that he would not go away; that while he was employed in kindling a fire, the doctor snatched up the gun, came up behind him, and struck him; that he then made a stroke at Knight with his knife, which the latter laid hold of, and his fingers were cut almost off, the knife being drawn through his hand; that he gave the doctor two stabs—one in the back, the other in the belly.  He said Knight was a big, tall, strong man!  Slover contradicted the doughty Delaware.  He told the warriors that he knew the doctor, and that he was a weak, little man; at which they laughed immoderately, and did not credit the brave Tutelu!

       On the last day of the council, save one, a "speech" came from Detroit, brought by a warrior who had been counseling with De Peyster, the commanding officer at that place.  The "speech" had long been expected, and was in answer to one sent some time previous to Detroit.  It was in a belt of wampum, and began with the address—" My Children:" and inquired why the Indians continued to take prisoners.  "Provisions are scarce; when prisoners are brought in we are obliged to maintain them; and some of them run away and carry tidings of our affairs.  When any of your people fall into the hands of the rebels, they show no mercy; why then should you take prisoners?  Take no more prisoners, my children, of any sort—man, woman, or child."

       Two days after, all the tribes that were near, being collected in council—Ottawas, Chippewas, Wyandots, Mingoes, Delawares, Shawanese, Monseys, and a part of the Cherokees—it was determined to take no more prisoners; and in the event of any tribes not present, taking any, the others would rise against them, take away the captives, and put them to death.  Slover understood perfectly what was said in these deliberations.  They laid plans also against the settlements of Kentucky, the Falls (Louisville), and toward Wheeling.  There was one council held at which Slover was not present.  The warriors had sent for him as usual, but the squaw with whom he lived would not suffer him to go, but hid him under a large quantity of skins.  It may have been done that Slover might not hear the determination she feared would be arrived at, to burn him.  About this time, twelve men were brought in from Kentucky, three of whom were burnt in Wapatomica; the remainder were distributed to other towns, and shared, as Slover was informed by the Indians, the same fate.

       The day after the last-mentioned council, about forty warriors, accompanied by George Girty, an adopted Delaware, a brother of Simon and James Girty, came early in the morning round the house where Slover was.  He was sitting before the door.  The squaw gave him up.  They put a rope around his neck, tied his arms behind his back, stripped him naked, and blacked him in the usual manner.  Girty, as soon as he was tied, cursed him, telling him he would get what he had many years deserved.  Slover was led to a town about five miles away, to which a messenger had been dispatched to desire them to prepare to receive him.  Arriving at the town, he was beaten with clubs and the pipe ends of their tomahawks, and was kept for some time tied to a tree before a house door.  In the meantime, the inhabitants set out for another town about two miles distant, where Slover was to be burnt, and where he arrived about three o'clock in the afternoon.  They were now at Mac-a-chack, not far from the present site of West Liberty, in Logan county.

       At Mac-a-chack there was a council-house also, as at Wapatomica; but part only of it was covered.  In the part without a roof was a post about sixteen feet in height.  Around this, at a distance of four feet, were three piles of wood about three feet high.  Slover was brought to the post, his arms again tied behind him, and the thong or cord with which they were bound was fastened to it.  A rope was also put about his neck, and tied to the post about four feet above his head.  While they were tying him, the wood was kindled and began to flame.  Just then the wind began to blow, and in a very short time, the rain fell violently.  The fire which, by this time, had began to blaze considerably, was instantly extinguished.  The rain lasted about a quarter of an hour.

       When it was over, the savages stood amazed, and were a long time silent.  At last, one said they would let him alone till morning, and have a whole day's frolic in burning him.  The sun at this time was about three hours high.  The rope about his neck was untied; and making him sit down, they began to dance around him.  This they continued until eleven o'clock at night; in the meantime, beating, kicking, and wounding him with their tomahawks and clubs.

       At last, one of the warriors, the Half Moon, asked him if he was sleepy.  Slover answered, "Yes."  The head warrior then chose out three men to take care of him.  These took him to a block-house.  They tied his arms until the cord was hid in the flesh; once around the wrist and once above the elbows.  A rope was fastened about his neck and tied to a beam of the house, but permitting him to lie down on a board.  The three warriors constantly harassed him, saying: "How will you like to eat fire to-morrow?  You will kill no more Indians now."  Slover was in expectation of their going to sleep, when at length, about an hour before daybreak, two laid down; but the third smoked a pipe, and talked to the captive, asking him the same painful questions.  About half an hour after, he also laid down.  Slover heard him begin to snore.  Instantly he went to work; and as his arms were perfectly benumbed, he laid himself down on his right one, which was behind his back.  With his fingers, which still had some life and strength, he slipped the cord from his left arm over his elbow and wrist.

       One of the warriors now got up and stirred the fire.  Slover was apprehensive that he would be examined, and thought it was all over with him; but the Indian laid down again, and his hopes revived.  He then attempted to unloose the rope about his neck; tried to gnaw it, but all in vain, as it was as thick as his thumb and very hard, being made of a buffalo hide.  He wrought with it a long time; finally gave it up; and could see no relief.  It was now daybreak.   Again he made an attempt—almost without hope, pulling the rope by putting his fingers between it and his neck,— when, to his great surprise, it came easily untied.  It was a noose, with two or three knots tied over it.

       Slover now stepped over the warriors as they lay; and having got out of the house, looked back to see if there was any disturbance.  He then ran through the town into a corn-field.  In the way, he saw four or five children and a squaw lying asleep under a tree.  Going a different way into the field, he untied his arm, which was greatly swollen and turned black.  Having observed a number of horses in a glade he had run through, he went back to catch one.  On his way he found a piece of an old rug or quilt hanging on a fence, which he took with him.  Catching the horse,—the rope with which he had been tied serving as a halter,—he mounted the animal and rode rapidly off. ³

Slover and Dr. Knight had been able to elude their captors.  Others were not so blessed.  Col. Crawford himself is still at the mercy of his merciless foes.  Lord willing we’ll pick up the story in my next post.

Christ, not man, is King!

Dale

1)      C.W. Butterfield, An Historical Account of the Expedition Against Sandusky (Cincinnati, OH: Robert Clarke & Co., 1873), p. 330-8. 
2)      Ibid., p. 341-7. 
3)      Ibid., p. 351-6.

The Battle of Sandusky - June 4, 1782

       In my last post, we looked at the beginning of Col. William Crawford’s expedition to punish the Indian tribes north of the Ohio River.  Here we pick up the story just as the forces are about to engage each other.

      The army crossed the river just below the site of the old town, at a point half a mile from the deserted Moravian huts, following the Indian trace, which led across a broad, level bottom, in a northerly direction, to the bluffs, or high ground, beyond.  Three miles from the starting point brought them to the springs, where Upper Sandusky is now located; when, after marching a mile further, some of the men, for the first time, expressed a desire to return home—alleging they had but five days' provisions in reserve.  [Col. William] Crawford, stopping the march, immediately called a council of war, consisting of the captains and field officers.  [Dr. John] Knight and [Lt. John] Rose were also invited, as were [John] Slover and [Jonathan] Zane. The opinion of the latter had great weight with Crawford, who knew Zane to be exceedingly well versed in Indian strategy.

       Zane advised an immediate return. He was of opinion that the Indians would, in the end, bring an overwhelming force against them.  A further march into their country, he reasoned, even though the army had supplies in abundance, would only be giving more time to the enemy to gather reinforcements.  That none of the Indians had, as yet, been discovered in the Plains was a sure evidence, in his judgment, that they were concentrating at some point not far away for a determined resistance.  The views of Crawford coincided with those of Zane.  It was finally determined by the council that the army should continue its march that afternoon, but no longer.

       Crawford had previously formed a company of light-horse to act as scouts in advance of the army.  These could now move a considerable distance in front of the main body with comparatively little risk—the woods having, to a great extent, disappeared, and there being no bushes or undergrowth in the groves for ambuscades by the enemy.  From this company Crawford had detached a small party for observation, soon after leaving the old village.  They followed along the Indian trail, and were now reconnoitering the open country to the northeast of the spot where the council of war was deliberating.  To the left of the trace they saw a beautiful island, or grove, which seemed to beckon them from the fierce heat of the sun.  They drew up for a moment to enjoy the cool shade of its clustering oaks.

       The spot where the party halted was slightly elevated above the surrounding country, and, notwithstanding the overshadowing branches of the thickly-growing trees, was covered with a luxuriant growth of the tall, wild grass of the Plains.  To the north and west the prairie spread out before them—a broad champaign of exceeding beauty, with here and there, in the distance, small island-groves, to break the otherwise uninterrupted view.  Eastward, at not more than a mile away, a long line of forest trees of the usual variety of the country, decked the margin of the Sandusky.  Midway, and near the edge of the Plains, the Indian trace led onward in a direction nearly northeast to the Wyandot town— the Half King's residence—only a little over two miles distant.  Not very far off, in a southwest direction, there was a large swamp, impassable to horsemen.  The scouts had passed to the right of this swamp .without discovering it.

       They now struck out into the open prairie to the north, moving leisurely on, when, at a distance of a mile from the grove they had just left, they suddenly came in full view of the enemy, having unsuspectingly reconnoitered, very near the rendezvous of the latter.  When first seen, the Indians were running directly toward them.  The scouts immediately drew together, and dispatched one of their number, riding their fleetest horse, as an express, to inform Crawford of the discovery of the savages; and then wheeling about, retired slowly as the foe advanced.

The Indians had chosen a favorable point for the assembling of their forces.  It was not far distant from the two traces—the one leading northeast to the Half King's town; the other, northwest to Pipe's town,—branching off from the springs, the spot where Upper Sandusky now stands.  The warriors in advance were the Delawares under The Pipe, their famous war-chief.  With him were Wingenund and [Simon] Girty.  Their object in moving south was to secure the grove before the arrival of the Americans.  The Wyandots under Zhaus-sho-toh were held back by [Capt. Matthew] Elliott for the present.

       Just as the officers of the American army had ended their council of war, the scout from the north came riding up at full speed, announcing the discovery and advance of the savages.  The news was received with evident satisfaction by the whole army.  Rapidly the volunteers mounted and fell into line. Crawford immediately prepared to meet the enemy he had been so anxiously looking for.  An advance was ordered, which was obeyed with alacrity.  The army was now joined by the retiring scouts, who reported the Indians just ahead in considerable force, evidently prepared to offer them battle.

       The resplendent genius of Rose, the aid of Colonel Crawford, began now to exhibit itself.  As the belligerents rapidly approached each other he aroused himself.  Although his keen, dark eyes flashed with excitement, yet his voice exhibited no trepidation.  In all his movements he was cool and collected.  The genial, complaisant, and retiring gentleman was now the bold, dauntless, and spirited soldier.  He rode the best horse in the army; and as he galloped up and down the lines carrying the orders of his commander, his gallantry and martial bearing attracted general attention.  It was well, as we shall presently see, that Irvine consented to spare his aid-de-camp to Crawford.

       The Americans had advanced scarcely a mile when the enemy were discovered immediately in front, taking possession of the grove the light-horse had so recently abandoned.  Crawford, instantly detecting the advantage this would give the foe, ordered his men to dismount; and a quick, forward movement, with brisk firing by the Americans, soon drove the Indians out of the wood into the open prairie to the north, the former getting full possession of the grove.  The savages then attempted to gain a small skirt of woods on the right of our army, but were prevented by the bravery and vigilance of Major Leet, who had command in that quarter.  Just then the Delawares, who had bravely met the first shock of the battle, were reinforced by the Wyandots under Zhaus-sho-toh.

Elliott, who was now present and in command of the entire force of the enemy, ordered The Pipe, with his Delawares, to flank to the right and attack Crawford in the rear.  This was quickly accomplished, the Indians passing along just beyond the edge of the grove on the west; and the action became at once general, close, and hot.  This skillful maneuver of the savages came well nigh proving fatal to the Americans; but the latter, having the advantage of position, maintained their ground, although clearly outnumbered by their assailants.  The firing began at four o'clock and continued very warm on both sides.  Girty was conspicuous in his excitement and endeavors.  The enemy were sheltered by the grass which grew high and rank upon the Plains, so that they could scarcely be seen, when on foot, at any great distance away.  On the other hand, the Americans were better protected by the grove they had so bravely secured.

       At times it was doubtful how the day would end, as the battle continued with varying success.  After a while, however, it was evident to Crawford that the Indians were slacking their efforts.  Toward sunset they became more cautious in their attacks, being evidently less inclined to expose themselves to the deadly aim of the frontiersmen; and finally, at dusk, they drew back farther into the Plains, and the firing ceased as daylight disappeared.

       The afternoon had been unusually hot.  Little or no air was stirring.  The river was over a mile away from the battle-ground, and the soldiers suffered very much from thirst.  No spring was near nor running stream.  Many canteens were emptied long before the battle was ended.  Several of the volunteers went in search of water.  John Sherrard was one of the number—his gun having become useless to him from forcing a bullet into the barrel without powder.  After a while, in wandering about, he came to a spot where a tree had been blown down and a considerable depression in the ground had been caused by the upheaval of the roots.  Here he found some stagnant water.  After quenching his thirst he filled his canteen and hat, and, thus supplied, made his way to his company—the men eagerly drinking of the water, bad as it was.  The residue of the time, during the battle, Sherrard employed in traveling back and forth with canteens filled at the pool, the bullets flying thickly around him, but he escaped unhurt.

       As the battle progressed, the savages, skulking in the high grass of the prairie, would frequently get within close range of the guns of the Americans, generally to be shot before they could make good their retreat; for, in all maneuvers of that sort, the volunteers were the equals of the Indians.  Some of the borderers climbed trees, and from their bushy tops took deadly aim at the heads of the enemy as they arose above the grass.  Daniel Canon was conspicuous in this novel mode of warfare.  He was one of the dead-shots of the army; and, from his lofty hiding-place, the reports of his unerring rifle gave unmistakable evidence of the killing of savages.  "I do not know how many Indians I killed," said he, afterward, "but I never saw the same head again above the grass after I shot at it!"

       "About a hundred feet off," says Philip Smith, "an Indian was hid in the tall grass, firing at me.  I felt the bark of a tree, where I stood, fly in my face several times.  Having discovered the position of the savage I fired several shots; and, at the seventh one, catching sight of his body, I brought him down.  No more balls came from that quarter.  After waiting a reasonable time, I crawled along to find his body, but it had been dragged away.  I could see plainly the trail of blood it made."

       Another soldier, who had climbed one of the trees of the grove, witnessed, from his lookout in its scrubby top, the pursuit of the gallant Rose by a party of mounted Indians, who were so close to him, at times, as to throw their tomahawks!  They were, however, finally baffled by his coolness and superior horsemanship.  It was, according to the narrator's account, a most exciting race—even to a forgetfulness, by the latter, of his own dangerous position.

       Francis Dunlevy, who belonged to Captain Craig Ritchie's company, had, during the fight, been engaged with an Indian of huge proportions.  The latter, as evening approached, crept carefully and cautiously toward Dunlevy, through the top of a tree lately blown down, which was full of leaves, when, getting near enough as he supposed, he threw his tomahawk, but missed his aim, and then escaped.  This Indian was afterward recognized by Dunlevy, as he believed, in "Big Captain Johnny," who, in the war of 1812, was with the friendly Shawanese at Wapakoneta.  "In a campaign in which I served," writes A. H. Dunlevy, "under General William Henry Harrison, in 1812—13, I frequently saw this Indian.  He must have been seven feet in height!  He was as frightfully ugly as he was large."

       At dark, the victory was clearly with the Americans.  The enemy drew off, "with the loss of several scalps," afterward wrote Rose to Irvine.  How many savages were killed must be left entirely to conjecture.   The loss of the enemy was doubtless severe—much more so than with the borderers.  No prisoners were captured on either side.

       Although Crawford was left in full possession of the battle-field, yet the Indians were far from being dispirited.  They well knew that reinforcements were hastening to their relief; that these would certainly reach them on the morrow.  The American army, during the three hours and a half contest, lost five killed and nineteen wounded.   Of the latter were Major Brinton, Captains Munn and Ross, Lieutenant Ashley, Ensign McMasters, and Philip Smith.  Captain Ogle was killed; also, private John Campbell, of Pigeon creek, Washington county.

       Both parties lay on their arms during the night, and both adopted the policy of kindling large fires along their lines and then retiring some distance in the rear of them, to prevent being surprised by a night attack.  The camp of the Wyandots was in the prairie north of the grove; that of the Delawares, in the open country to the south.

       The battle of Sandusky was fought in and around the grove since well known as "Battle Island," in what is now Crane township, Wyandot county, three miles north, and half a mile east, of the court-house in Upper Sandusky.  This spot has always been readily identified, by reason of the scars upon the trunks of the trees, made by the hatchets of the Indians in getting out the bullets after the action.  But the "Island" may now be said to have disappeared.  Cultivated fields mark the site where the contest took place.  Occasionally an interesting relic is turned up by the plowshare, to be preserved by the curious as a memento of the battle. ¹

       Although the Americans seemed to be victorious, the campaign wasn’t over yet.  The Indians were hoping to receive reinforcements; the Americans were hoping to just hold on.  Lord willing, we’ll pick up the story in my next post. 

Christ, not man, is King!

Dale

1)      C.W. Butterfield, An Historical Account of the Expedition Against Sandusky (Cincinnati, OH: Robert Clarke & Co., 1873), p. 202-13.