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_Title:_ Tecumseh
A Chronicle of the last Great Leader of his People
[Vol. 17 of "The Chronicles of Canada"]
_Author:_ Ethel T. Raymond (died 1960)
_Illustrator:_ Jefferys, Charles William (1869-1951)
_Date of first publication:_ 1920
_Date first posted:_ November 22, 2013
_Date last updated:_ November 22, 2013
Faded Page ebook #20131127
This eBook was produced by: Marcia Brooks, Iona Vaughan, James Wright
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
This file was produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries.
This book is dedicated to the memory of our dear colleague
James 'jimmy' Wright
who worked tirelessly and cheerfully with his friends at DPC despite great
hardship
CHRONICLES OF CANADA
Edited by George M. Wrong and H. H. Langton
In thirty-two volumes
17
TECUMSEH
BY
ETHEL T. RAYMOND
Part V
The Red Man in Canada
[Illustration: THE MEETING OF BROCK AND TECUMSEH
From a colour drawing by C. W. Jefferys.]
TECUMSEH
A Chronicle of the last Great Leader
of his People
BY
ETHEL T. RAYMOND
TORONTO
GLASGOW, BROOK & COMPANY
1920
_Copyright in all Countries subscribing to the Berne Convention_
Press of The Hunter-Rose Co., Limited, Toronto
TO
MY FATHER
Table of Contents
I. The Boyhood of Tecumseh
II. The Baptism of Fire
III. A Leader among his People
IV. The Prophet
V. A Gifted Orator
VI. The battle of Tippecanoe
VII. Under the British Flag
VIII. Fighting on American Soil
IX. The Battle of Lake Erie
X. Tecumseh's Last Fight
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
INDEX
ILLUSTRATIONS
THE MEETING OF BROCK AND TECUMSEH
From a colour drawing by C. W. Jefferys.
Map of Tecumseh's Country.
SIR ISAAC BROCK
From an engraving in the John Ross Robertson Collection, Toronto Public
Library.
THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE
(1) BARCLAY'S FLAGSHIP, THE _DETROIT_
(2)
PERRY'S FLAGSHIP, THE _NIAGARA_
(3) THE PASSAGE FROM THE _LAWRENCE_ TO
THE _NIAGARA_
From prints in the John Ross Robertson Collection, Toronto Public Library.
CAPTAIN ROBERT BARCLAY
('OUR FATHER WITH THE ONE ARM')
From the John Ross Robertson Collection, Toronto Public Library.
CHAPTER I
THE BOYHOOD OF TECUMSEH
Three Indian figures stand out in bold relief on the background of
Canadian history--the figures of Pontiac, Brant, and Tecumseh. The
Ottawa chief Pontiac was the friend of the French, and, when the French
suffered defeat, he plotted and fought to drive the English from the
Indian country. Brant, the Mohawk, took the king's side against the
Americans in the War of Independence, and finally led his defeated
people to Canada that they might have homes on British soil. And
Tecumseh threw in his lot with the British in the War of 1812 and gave
his life in their service. But, while Pontiac fought for the French and
Brant and Tecumseh for the British, it was for the lost cause of their
own people that all three were really fighting; and it was for this that
they spent themselves in vain.
* * * * *
Tecumseh, whose story we are to tell in this volume, sprang from the
Shawnees, an energetic and warlike tribe of Algonquian stock. The
Algonquins, whose tribal branches were scattered from Labrador to the
Rockies and from Hudson Bay to North Carolina, believed that a deity
presided over each of the four cardinal points of the compass. Shawan
was the guardian spirit of the South; and, as the tribe to which
Tecumseh belonged formerly lived south of the other tribes, its members
became known as Shawanoes, or Shawnees--that is, Southerners.
Little is known of the history of the Shawnees, for they were restless
bands, greater wanderers even than the generality of Indians, and their
continual change of settlement baffles historical research. Upon the
southern shores of Lake Erie, on the banks of the Ohio, and along the
broad Mississippi, at different times they pitched their tents. The name
of the river Suwanee, or 'Swanee,' corrupted from their own, marks their
abode at one time in Georgia and Florida.
The Shawnees were originally divided into twelve clans, each clan
adopting as its totem a reptile, bird, or animal that at some time had
been regarded as a benign spirit. As a result of continual wars and
wandering, however, the twelve clans had dwindled to four. Only the
Mequachake, Chillicothe, Piqua, and Kiscopoke remained. In the first of
these, which conducted all tribal rites, the chiefship was hereditary;
in the other three it was the reward of merit.
To the Kiscopoke clan belonged Tecumseh's father, Puckeshinwau
('something that drops'). He had been elevated to the rank of chief by
his brother-warriors, and at the time of Tecumseh's birth was a powerful
leader among his people. The panther was the totem of his clan.
Tecumseh's mother, named Methoataske ('a turtle laying eggs in the
sand'), is said to have been noted for wisdom among the women of her
tribe, and her name shows that she belonged to the clan having the
turtle as its totem. After much wandering, Puckeshinwau settled down in
the Ohio country with his family and the band that accompanied him in
his migrations. It was in the old Indian village of Piqua, about six
miles south-west of the site of the present city of Springfield, Ohio,
and within sound of the rushing waters of the Mad River, that he set up
the wigwam in which, in the year 1768, Tecumseh first opened his eyes.
We are told that a rich, wide plateau, gemmed with wild flowers,
extended between the village and the river, and that precipitous cliffs
rose on one side, while rolling hills crowned with tall trees completed
the circle of the village.
Tecumseh was the fourth child of a family of seven. His elders were
Cheeseekau, the eldest son, Tecumapease, the only daughter, and
Sauwaseekau; the younger children were Nehasumo, Laulewasikaw, and
Kumshakaw. The two last were twins; and twins were held in superstitious
awe by the Indians, who feared them as possessed of occult power, and
frequently put one or both to death. In this instance no such fate
befell the children. Kumshakaw evinced none of the dreaded attributes,
and lived to a ripe old age, but Laulewasikaw, by his practice of magic
and claims of supernatural knowledge and power, as we shall see later,
bore out the ancient belief.
Tecumseh in his early days was left largely to the care of his sister,
Tecumapease. Thus between the two there arose a strong attachment which
lasted until Tecumseh's death. From the well-known Indian practices in
relation to the bringing up of young children we can imagine how the
days of his infancy were passed. When not rolling on the ground, the
child would be closely confined in his curious cradle, a sack made from
the skin of an animal and bound to a thin, straight board, somewhat
larger than his body. Great care would be taken to keep straight the
infant limbs, that their symmetry might be preserved in later life. This
was the first stage in the making of an Indian stoic. Every part of the
cradle was symbolical. That the child's life might be preserved, the
heart of a tree was used for the cradle board. Along the wooden bow
above the child's head, which symbolized the sky, zigzag furrows were
cut to represent lightning, the power of which was designated by
suspended arrows. Through holes in the upper part of the board was
threaded a leather thong, or burden-strap, which Tecumapease passed
about her forehead when carrying the papoose on her back, or which the
mother fastened to the pommel of her saddle when making long journeys.
It served also to hang the cradle to the branch of a tree, when the
child swayed backwards and forwards with the motion of the bough while
the wind crooned him to sleep. The cradle would sometimes be placed
upright against a tree trunk, so that Tecumseh's eyes might follow
Tecumapease as she helped to grind the corn in a hollow stone or sift it
through baskets; or, again, while she mixed the meal into cakes, and
carefully covered them with leaves before baking them in the ashes.
Sometimes Tecumapease would carry Tecumseh on her back to where
Methoataske worked in the field with the other women of her tribe. Like
them, from bearing heavy burdens and doing the drudgery of the camp,
Tecumapease was strong and sturdy rather than graceful. Her hair, black
and glossy as a raven's wing, hung below her waist in a heavy braid. The
short, loose sleeves of her fringed leather smock gave freedom to her
strong brown arms. A belted skirt, leggings, and embroidered moccasins
completed her costume. On special occasions, like other Indian women,
she adorned herself with a belt and collar of coloured wampum, weaving
strands of it into her hair; and sometimes a necklace of polished
elk-teeth gleamed on her dusky throat. When Tecumseh had learned the use
of his legs, he would romp about the camp with the other black-eyed
children of his tribe. He watched his father, Puckeshinwau, make the
flint arrowhead and split the wooden shaft to receive it, bind it firmly
with a thong, and tip the other end of the shaft with a feather to wing
it on its flight; and saw the men build the birch canoe, so light that
one man could shoulder it, yet strong enough to carry a heavy load.
During Tecumseh's childhood the Indians north of the Ohio were in a
state of unrest. They had been subdued by Bouquet,[1] but the leniency
of that humane leader, in merely exacting that they should return their
white prisoners and remain at peace, was looked on by the tribes as a
mark of weakness; and, while no open war broke out, young warriors
occasionally attacked traders and settlers. By the Treaty of Fort
Stanwix, in 1768, the Six Nations had ceded to the whites the land
between the Ohio and the Tennessee. But this was the common
hunting-ground of all the tribes, and the Indians both south and north
of the Ohio resented the action of the Six Nations and opposed the
entrance of white settlers into this region. They were encouraged in
their opposition by the action of the British government in proclaiming
the territory west of the Alleghanies Indian country and forbidding
settlers to enter it. But the hardy Virginians could not be kept out,
and slowly but surely ever westward the smoke of their woodland huts
ascended, and the forests of what are now Kentucky and Tennessee were
falling beneath the axe of the frontiersmen. Resentful of the
encroachments of the Virginians on their hunting-grounds, frequent
war-parties of Shawnees, Delawares, Mohicans, Cherokees, and Mingoes
crossed the Ohio and crept stealthily on some unguarded settlement, to
slay and scalp the inhabitants and carry off their horses and cattle.
The chiefs disclaimed responsibility for these raids, but in words which
made the settlers in a sense responsible for them.
It was we [they said] who so kindly received Europeans on their
first arrival into our own country. We took them by the hand and
bade them welcome, to sit down by our side and live with us as
brothers; but how did they requite our kindness? They at first
asked only for a little land on which to raise bread for their
families and pasture their cattle, which we freely gave them.
They saw the game in the woods which the Great Spirit had given
us for our subsistence, and they wanted it too. They penetrated
into the woods in quest of game, they discovered spots of land
which they also wanted, and because we were loath to part with
it, as we saw they already had more than they had need of, they
took it from us by force and drove us to a great distance from
our homes.
At this time there was not community of interest or united action among
the colonies. Pennsylvania and Virginia each claimed authority in the
Indian country. The Pennsylvanians viewed the country from a trading
point of view; the Virginians viewed it as a field for settlement. So
bitter was the feud between the two colonies that for a time civil
strife was imminent. And while this family quarrel was at its height,
the Indian scalping raids grew in frequency and violence; and the memory
of the Pontiac War was still fresh in the minds of the frontiersmen.
Many Pennsylvanians in the west became alarmed, and soon the passes of
the Alleghanies were filled with fugitive settlers returning to their
former homes. The Virginians of Kentucky were made of sterner stuff.
Lord Dunmore, the royal governor of Virginia, was ambitious for his
colony, and determined to make good by the sword Virginia's claim to the
region of which Fort Pitt was the centre; and, under leaders like the
veteran borderers, Michael Cresap and Daniel Boone, and the youthful and
audacious hunter and surveyor, George Rogers Clark, the Virginians
strengthened their fortified villages and led successful raids against
the tribes north of the Ohio.
For some time the Shawnees had been at peace, but in the latter part of
April 1774, when two Indians suspected of horse-stealing were put to
death near Wheeling, on the Ohio, they threatened war. A little later a
party of Virginians fired upon a band of Indians, and killed several.
Again, thirty-two white men, hitherto friends of the Indians, set out to
attack a hunting-party of warriors camped on the Ohio. A friendly squaw
warned them to return, as the Indians, who were carousing, had vowed
vengeance for the death of their tribesmen. But the white men had
determined to destroy the band; and by the promise of more rum they
enticed a number of the Indians to cross the river to their camp, where
they put all to death, with the exception of one child, not even sparing
the kindly counsellor. Other Indians across the river, alarmed by the
sound of shooting, sent two canoes to the rescue, but the whites drawn
up on shore fired upon their occupants, killing twelve and wounding
several more. The Indians were further incensed by the murder of Bald
Eagle, a sachem of the Delawares, who was attacked and scalped while
returning from a visit to a fort at the mouth of the Great Kanawha, and
whose body, placed in an upright position in his canoe, was found
drifting down the Ohio by his enraged followers. Even Silver Heels, a
favourite Shawnee chief, barely escaped death. While guiding some white
settlers along unfamiliar trails on their way to safety, he was severely
wounded by the bullets of other whites waiting for him in ambush.
Such deeds as these urged on the inevitable war, for which the Indians
now openly prepared. Even the mighty Mingo chief, Logan, who had ever
extended the hand of friendship to the white man, now appeared with
uplifted tomahawk to avenge the unprovoked murder of his friends. Some
eight hundred warriors were soon assembled, thirsting to avenge these
recent murders, and eager to establish their right to the disputed
territory. Logan, Elenipsico, Red Eagle, and Puckeshinwau were to lead
the Indians, with Cornstalk, 'the mighty sachem of the Shawnee, and king
of the northern confederacy,' in supreme command.
So it happened that in 1774, when the eastern colonies were on the verge
of revolution, the west was in the throes of an Indian war. When Lord
Dunmore learned that the Shawnees had declared war, he at once proceeded
to raise in Virginia an army of fifteen hundred men; and he instructed
General Andrew Lewis to go to Kentucky and recruit among the borderers
there an army of the same numerical strength, and march to the mouth of
the Great Kanawha, where the two armies would meet. Meanwhile Dunmore
advanced to Fort Pitt; but here he changed his plan, marched to the
Scioto, and entrenched his force not far from the Indian town of Old
Chillicothe.[2]
The 9th of October found Lewis with his troops encamped at Point
Pleasant, where the Great Kanawha pours its waters into the Ohio, when a
messenger arrived with new orders directing him to cross the Ohio and
join Dunmore on the Scioto for an advance against the Indian towns to
the north. Next morning the camp was astir at daybreak, and the soldiers
were busily preparing for their intended march, when a scout returned
with news that, about a mile away, a large body of Indians lay in
ambush.
These were Cornstalk's warriors, who had arrived at the Great Kanawha
the night before. Advised by active scouts of every movement of the
enemy, Cornstalk's Shawnees, Delawares, Mingoes, and Ioways had crossed
the Ohio on the 9th and had lain all night ambushed in the wet woods,
impatiently awaiting the dawn. Shortly after sunrise they perceived the
Americans advancing to the attack in two detachments, one at some
distance from the Ohio, the other along its bank. Presently Cornstalk
gave the signal to attack both bodies simultaneously, and the piercing
war-cry resounded through the forest as the Indians rushed upon the
advancing foe. In the first furious onset the Americans were beaten
back, several of them being killed and an officer fatally wounded.
Cornstalk's commanding voice rose high above the clash of arms, cheering
on his followers; but the Americans, reinforced from their camp, and
fighting desperately, finally drove the Indians from the field.
Tecumseh's father, Puckeshinwau, and others among the ablest warriors,
had fallen in the early onrush.
Cornstalk led his defeated warriors to the valley of the Scioto. Here a
council-fire was kindled and the chiefs gathered about it. Into the
middle of the circle stepped Cornstalk with gloomy countenance but
majestic bearing. Searching the faces of those he had led through the
long day of battle, he gave voice to the question that was in the mind
of all--'What is now our course?' The only response was the crackling of
the fire as its fitful light played on the dusky warriors. 'The Long
Knives are coming upon us by two routes,' he continued. 'Shall we fight
them--Yes or No?' The only answer was the harsh, ominous cry of a
night-bird. 'Shall we kill all our women and children and then fight
until we ourselves are killed?' The chiefs still maintained a gloomy
silence. Cornstalk wheeled suddenly about; his tomahawk gleamed in the
firelight and then sank quivering into the war-post which stood in the
midst. 'Since you are not inclined to fight, I will go and make peace!'
he exclaimed.
Runners bearing belts of white wampum were at once dispatched by the
Indians to inform Lord Dunmore, who was now encamped not far from the
Shawnee settlement, of their desire for peace. A conference was
arranged, only eighteen chiefs, with unarmed escorts, being permitted to
attend. Logan, although not averse to peace, had refused to be present.
But as the consent of such an influential chief was necessary to any
Indian treaty, Dunmore sent a special messenger to him in the person of
Colonel Gibson. Gibson met Logan in the forest, and there Logan gave
vent to his pent-up feelings with passionate eloquence.
I appeal to any white man to say if he ever entered Logan's
cabin hungry and he gave him not meat; if ever he came cold and
naked and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long
and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate of
peace. Such was my love for the whites that my countrymen
pointed as they passed and said, 'Logan is the friend of white
men.' Colonel Cresap,[3] the last spring and in cold blood and
unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not even
sparing my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood
in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for
revenge. I have sought it. I have killed many. I have fully
glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of
peace. But do not harbour a thought that mine is the joy of
fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to
save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one.
Gibson recorded the words of Logan, and they were duly presented to
Dunmore. A treaty of peace was drawn up, by which the Indians agreed to
give up all white prisoners and stolen horses and to surrender all claim
to the land south of the Ohio.
[Illustration: Map of Tecumseh's Country.]
The effect of Lord Dunmore's war was to make peace in the hinterland, a
matter of vast importance to the Americans on the eve of the Revolution.
Great Britain by the Quebec Act had placed the country north of the Ohio
and extending to the Mississippi under the government of Canada. But
Great Britain was soon too busy with the war in the east to pay any
attention to the west, and the hinterland posts remained as they were,
feebly guarded and, except for Detroit, administered by French Creoles.
The Indians, it is true, were friendly to the British, but the crushing
defeat they had received at the hands of Lewis and the humiliating terms
they were forced to make with Dunmore left them impotent. They once more
began their raids, but they were incapable of concerted action; and when
in 1778 George Rogers Clark, with a feeble force of less than two
hundred men, advanced against the British posts at Kaskaskia and Cahokia
on the Mississippi and Vincennes on the Wabash, they were unable to
hinder his march. These posts fell into the hands of the Americans, and
the Indians, as we shall see, were doomed.
After the battle of Point Pleasant, Cheeseekau, Tecumseh's eldest
brother, led his father's warriors back to the village of Piqua, where
the disasters of the fight were recounted. Still covered with the stains
of battle, Cheeseekau related to his mother and his awestruck brothers
and sisters the manner of his brave father's death. The dark shadow of
mourning fell upon the survivors. Throughout the village rose the wail
of the death-song, Methoataske's voice mingling in the dirge of the
widows; and so a new and tragic scene was imprinted upon the young
Tecumseh's plastic mind.
A father's task now fell upon Cheeseekau, who took much pride in
instructing his younger brother in the art of war and in hunting, and
how to endure fatigue and to perform feats of agility and daring. He
gave him lessons in woodcraft and forest lore, showing him how to snare
the fish, to stalk the wary deer, to guide the frail canoe through
treacherous rapids, and, with tightly fastened snow-shoe, to traverse
the wintry waste. Tecumseh, of course, had learned to swim almost as
soon as he could walk; in running it is said that he could easily
out-distance his companions; while his skill with the bow excited their
admiration and envy. His greatest delight, however, was to muster his
playmates into rival bands for mimic warfare.
The history of Tecumseh's nation was not recorded in cold print between
the covers of a book; it lived in the memories of the elders and on the
lips of orators and sachems. In impassioned language and with graphic
gesture the deeds of the past were conjured up before the minds of the
listeners. By the light of the camp-fire the stripling heard, with
kindling eye and throbbing pulse, the tales of the heroic dead; and he
early formed the ambition to become a leader of his race. Some sachem
would sadly sketch the smiling scenes of health and happiness in the
days before the pale-face came to wrest from the Indians their land, the
gift of the Great Spirit. And as the boy listened to these stories of
encroachment and oppression, a fierce impulse fired his blood and bade
him check the advance of the whites and win back the land of which his
people had been robbed. Thus was moulded his life's high purpose; thus
was fanned that spark of eloquence which later burst into flame and
fired the hearts of his race, from Florida to the Great Lakes.
CHAPTER II
THE BAPTISM OF FIRE
The populous Indian village of Piqua on the Mad River had prospered
during six years of peace. The fertile plains about it had been
cultivated in the rude fashion of the Indian, and the corn now stood
ripening in the August sun with promise of an abundant harvest. Amid
such a scene Tecumseh and his young companions, tired of their play,
threw themselves down one evening to listen to the exciting tales of the
warriors who lounged smoking in the cool shade. The women busied
themselves about the camp-fires cooking the game just brought in by the
men. The voices of the Indian girls rose and fell in monotonous song as
with nimble fingers they deftly wove the rushes into mats, while keeping
a watchful eye upon the little ones who played near by. The few years of
peace had given the inhabitants of Piqua a feeling of security, and they
did not know that the dark cloud of war even then overshadowed them.
The agents of the British commandant at Detroit had been busy among the
Indians seeking to enlist their aid against the revolutionists. And in
May of this year (1780) a party of six hundred warriors from the country
north of the Ohio, accompanied by a few Canadians, had raided a number
of villages in Kentucky, slain many settlers, and carried off horses and
prisoners. George Rogers Clark, now holding the rank of colonel in the
American army, was on a visit to Kentucky. The frontiersmen rallied
about him; and with a body of 970 crack riflemen he crossed the Ohio and
advanced on the town of Old Chillicothe. The Indians there had been
warned and the town was deserted. The Americans burnt it to the ground
and continued their march to Piqua.
At this time there were in Piqua about two hundred warriors and two
British agents, Simon Girty and his brother, who had fought under
Dunmore against the Shawnees in 1774, and who were now known to the
Kentuckians as 'the white renegades.' The appearance of Clark and his
raiders on the outskirts of the village took the inhabitants completely
by surprise. At the first note of alarm, the women, wild with terror,
snatched up their infants and fled shrieking to the woods. Tecumseh and
the older children followed, hastily gathering a few treasured
possessions. The warriors, awakening the forest echoes with their
defiant war-cries, took up their position in an old fort which commanded
the river. From the opposite side the Kentucky riflemen assailed the
fort, which, in its decayed and ruinous condition, offered but poor
shelter. The Indians quickly evacuated it, but not before several had
been killed. While the defenders were occupied by the attack from across
the river, a detachment of the enemy crept round through the wood and
suddenly emerged at the rear of the village. The red men rushed to the
defence of their wigwams, and kept the enemy at bay for some time; but
the whites being vastly superior in number, the Indians were defeated
with great loss, and the whites applied the torch to the village.
At length, when the cry of battle and the sound of firing had ceased,
the women and children ventured to creep forth from their forest
shelter. The enemy had gone, but had left a scene of desolation behind.
The village was a heap of smoking ruins, and the corn in the fields was
laid waste. Bodies of dead warriors strewed the ground, many of them
lying stretched before their own wigwams, which they had defended so
bravely. A scene of smiling peace had indeed been turned into one of
deepest mourning. Content and happiness had fled before the ruthless
destroyer, and he had gone forward to the next Indian village on his
mission of destruction.
The impression made by this scene upon Tecumseh's youthful mind was
enduring. The youth gazed with awe at the dead warriors and watched with
childish wonder the preparations for burial. The fallen defenders of
Piqua might not have the customary funeral dress, for such things had
been destroyed by the fire, but the survivors did what their resources
permitted. About the mat whereon each warrior lay were placed his
tomahawk, scalping-knife, and other weapons of war. By his side lay his
bow and arrow, wherewith to resume the chase with phantom hunters in the
Indian paradise. As darkness descended upon the village the women stole
out to mourn by the new-made graves. During four nights they faithfully
kept long vigil until the lurid light of the funeral fires paled against
the brightening dawn. Then, after these last solemn tribal rites had
been performed, the Shawnees gathered together their few remaining
possessions and followed the trail, leading about thirty miles in a
north-westerly direction, to the Great Miami, where they rebuilt their
houses.[4] A modern American city, with its great mills and costly
residences, preserves the Shawnee name of Piqua, and marks the site
where these poor Indian fugitives set up their wigwams in the autumn of
1780.
The feud between the Indians and the whites continued with unabated
fury. Cheeseekau was now as noted a warrior as his father had been, and
became the leading spirit in many fierce frontier encounters. At the
camp-fire Tecumseh listened eagerly as his brother told his thrilling
tales. So persistent was Tecumseh's plea to be allowed to go on the
war-path that Cheeseekau promised to let him taste real fighting in an
attack on a party of whites encamped a few miles south of Piqua. The
youth, impatient for the fray, set out bravely with Cheeseekau and his
warriors, but when the actual horrors of war, with its blood and
confusion, burst upon him, he fled from the field. It may be recalled
that Frederick the Great, when first under fire, did the same.
The time soon came when, according to Indian custom, Tecumseh must
undergo the solemn ordeal of initiation. He must establish his personal
relationship with the unseen world before taking rank as a warrior in
his tribe. For this purpose he must go into the solitary woods or ascend
some lonely mountain, where, by virtue of fasting, he should receive
supernatural help and a revelation of the unknown. He entered alone into
the green gloom of the forest. Wild things at which he had been wont to
draw his bow now peered at him from the bushes and crossed his path
unharmed. For many days he saw the rising sun shine through the dewy
woods and watched it sink in splendour below the tree-tops. He slept the
tired sleep of youth, and woke refreshed to resume his sacred quest. One
day, weary with continual wandering and exhausted from persistent
fasting, he threw himself down where a little stream poured its waters
into a rocky basin. Lulled by the music of the waterfall, he fell
asleep. Then in a dream was revealed to him the unseen world. Suddenly,
out of a cluster of stars shot one, brighter than the rest, with shining
train. Its brilliance startled him from sleep. About him were the
familiar trees, and placid moonlight silvered the waterfall. Across his
passive mind flitted half-remembered tales of strange monsters of the
sky. The flaming meteor now assumed the crouching shape of a panther
about to spring on its prey; now that of a dragon taking its flight
across some midnight sky to seek the dark waters of a lake, where it was
condemned to dwell, lest it should set the world on fire. Wooed by the
slumberous music of the fall, sleep once more closed the dreamer's heavy
eyes. Scarcely had he crossed the threshold of this unknown world when
the bright symbol again traced its path. So often did the strange
messenger appear that he accepted it as the radiant guardian of his
destiny. When he returned to his people they were filled with rejoicing
that his dream had been of things above, for this augured well.
Henceforth they called him 'the shooting star,' or, in their own soft
tongue, 'Tecumtha.'
When the elaborate religious ceremonies customary to the initiation of a
warrior had been performed, Tecumseh's power of physical endurance was
put to a severe test. He presented himself for public torture before the
chiefs and warriors of his tribe. Sharp skewers were thrust through the
muscles of his back, and from these he was suspended by thongs to a
pole. Had he flinched or evinced any sign of anguish during this painful
ordeal, he would have been rejected as unworthy to take his place among
his tribesmen. With stoic fortitude, however, he endured the torture,
and when it was ended took a warrior's rank among his people.
Tecumseh was not content with the narrow territory which satisfied his
tribesmen. He desired to explore regions far remote from the
hunting-grounds of the Shawnees. The same wandering instinct that had
led his father to the Ohio country awakened within him. His fancy roamed
beyond the familiar trails and peopled foreign regions with strange
tribes. By his eloquence he played upon the responsive minds of his
companions until they were fired with the same restless spirit. A
wandering life became the theme of general interest as they smoked round
the evening camp-fire. When finally fifty of the boldest expressed a
desire to go on such an expedition as Tecumseh had planned, a party was
organized. With due ceremony Cheeseekau was appointed leader, to decide
each day's journey and choose the camping-ground; and he bore with him a
tribal talisman to ensure safety and success and to be consulted when
they were uncertain as to their course.
Along the well-worn trail Cheeseekau started forth, followed in Indian
file by his young adventurers, none more eager than Tecumseh. The narrow
path, worn smooth by the feet of runners, followed high ground to avoid
the dense brush, and led to points where the streams were shallowest and
most easily fordable. Every day soon after sunrise the party was
journeying through new regions which unfolded beauties ever fresh. At
sunset they pitched their tents, lighted their fires, and gathered about
them to discuss the day's adventures. Thus they journeyed until they
came to the waters of the Mississinewa, in what is now northern Indiana.
By its bank Cheeseekau chose a favourable spot whereon to pitch the
tents. Here they remained until their interest in the surrounding
country was exhausted. Then they took a westward trail. Signs of Indian
occupation were everywhere visible. Where the path abruptly mounted a
steep ascent, a mound of pebbles would be heaped in the ravine. Each
passer-by had cast his tribute on the pile as an offering to good
spirits that they might lessen his fatigue in the toilsome climb. At
last they reached the broad Mississippi. By its waters the adventurous
band remained until the sun had made a complete course. Then they took a
southerly route through the Illinois country, where the trail had been
made by the countless hoofs of the bison, through whose haunts it led.
Presently the prairies stretched before them, and they saw the
skin-covered 'teepees' of the dwellers of the plains. They joined a
party of Mandans and soon were free to follow with them the exciting
chase of the buffalo. A hunting-party was organized and a leader was
chosen with due ceremony according to tribal rites. Those engaging in
this dangerous pastime were mounted. They spread out so as to form a
circle round the dense herd of buffaloes. By this means an equal chance
was ensured to each hunter. Turn what way they would, the confused and
struggling animals were confronted by hunters with gun and bow. When the
sport was at its height misfortune befell Tecumseh. When an infuriated
bull escaped from the ring, Tecumseh rode after him in hot pursuit. But
his horse suddenly stumbled and threw him heavily to the ground. Those
nearest galloped to rescue him from the trampling hoofs of the following
herd, but they found him unable to rise, for his thigh had been broken
by the fall. He was borne back to camp, and there was carefully tended.
Everything known to the Indian doctor's art was done to heal him, but
owing to his mishap the band were forced to prolong their stay at the
hunting-place. When at last Tecumseh was fit for the trail the party
moved southward. After a time they saw the smoke of distant camp-fires.
Thereupon Cheeseekau halted his men and dispatched two messengers with a
packet of tobacco and a belt of wampum to signify his friendly intent.
The rest donned their gala garments and painted their faces in readiness
to receive visitors. With the messengers came two Cherokees to conduct
the Shawnees to their settlement, where the chief warriors of the tribe
welcomed Cheeseekau and his braves. After the calumet had gone the
rounds in token of goodwill, the Cherokee chief explained that their
hatchet was raised against the white settlers, and that they were on the
eve of setting out on the war-path. This was good news for the Shawnees,
who promptly agreed to cast in their lot with the Cherokees.
While Tecumseh and his companions were making ready for war, Cheeseekau
withdrew to fast and thus to prepare himself to consult worthily the
sacred talisman of the tribe. The future was revealed to him in a
trance. He saw the Cherokees and his own band, brightly painted for war,
move forward to battle under the leadership of a ghostly semblance of
himself. Suddenly a musket rang out and a bullet sped from the enemy's
line. His wraith was struck full in the forehead and fell to earth in
the agony of death. On rejoining his comrades he related his vision and
foretold that in the battle about to take place he should meet death. He
said also, however, that, if the Indians fought on, victory would crown
their efforts.
Cheeseekau remained undaunted by his evil vision, and when the day of
battle arrived led his warriors forth as usual. Incited by the Shawnees,
the Cherokees fought stubbornly, and success seemed about to be
achieved. But at the hour foretold, in the thickest of the fight, the
fatal bullet found its mark, and Cheeseekau fell pierced through the
forehead. The second part of the prophecy was unheeded. Deaf to
Tecumseh's loud avenging cry, and heedless of his rallying shout, the
superstitious Indians fled in a panic.
Tecumseh felt keenly the death of his noble brother, who had guided his
youthful mind in all things, and deeply his followers mourned the loss
of their dauntless leader, who had directed them safely through all
their wanderings. Tecumseh was now chosen leader unanimously. For nearly
two years he and his comrades remained in the south, taking an active
part in many forays.
Exciting incidents were not lacking. For a time Tecumseh's band dwelt
near a cane thicket on the Tennessee, whither they had gone in quest of
booty. Here they were frequently attacked. On one occasion, under cover
of darkness, thirty whites stealthily surrounded the Shawnees, thinking
to take them by surprise. Tecumseh was occupied in flaying the last of
the day's quarry, when his quick ear caught the sound of their approach.
With a shrill war-cry he summoned his sleeping band. Without pausing to
consider the numbers of the foe, he charged them fearlessly and his men
followed him impetuously. The enemy were routed by the furious attack,
and the Indians bore two scalps back to their camp in triumph. By such
exploits Tecumseh won great renown among the southern tribes as a
warrior. Unlike his followers, he cared little for plunder: his ruling
passion was the love of glory.
In the end the adventurers turned their faces homeward. They travelled
through West Virginia, crossed the Ohio near the mouth of the Scioto,
and visited the Indian villages scattered along that river. And as the
verdure of summer was changing into the tints of autumn in the year
1790, they passed familiar scenes along the Great Miami. Tecumseh, who
had gone out as a follower of his brother but was now leader, brought
eight survivors back to Piqua, where he was received with clamorous
rejoicing.
Such apparently aimless wanderings were slowly but surely shaping
Tecumseh's life for future action. By his intercourse with the various
tribes, by learning their languages and customs, he had gleaned
knowledge which was later to be of the greatest use to him; and his
widespread reputation as a warrior was to count with telling effect in
that great plan and purpose of his life--the formation of his Indian
confederacy.
CHAPTER III
A LEADER AMONG HIS PEOPLE
After the feast of welcome at Piqua the villagers gathered round the
camp-fire and plied the adventurers with many questions. The wanderers
recounted the exciting exploits of their band and told of Cheeseekau's
summons to the spirit-world and of his brave death on the distant
battlefield. Then they in turn listened eagerly as an old chief rose and
dramatically related the important events that had taken place in their
absence. He told how General Harmar, with three hundred troops of the
Thirteen Fires and eleven hundred Kentucky volunteers, had advanced into
the Miami country and laid waste all their cornfields; how he and his
followers had watched from a distant hill the soldiers at their work of
destruction; and how Colonel Hardin, spying them in the distance, had
suddenly turned and attacked them. With rapid gestures the chief
described the pretended flight of the Indians. He told how, when out of
sight of the enemy, they had divided their force and marched back some
distance on either side of their trail. Assuming a crouching attitude
and cunning mien, he pictured them as they crept back through the tall
grass towards the place where they waited for the enemy. Then he
recalled their loud, triumphant yells as they rushed upon the foe. He
snatched his tomahawk from his belt to go through the movements of the
Indians striking and cutting down the white men on all sides, and told
how the white leader escaped with but a handful of his men. He depicted
further victories of the Indians. Colonel Hardin had returned with five
hundred militia and sixty regulars to take vengeance on his savage foes.
The regulars remained at the village, while the militia, bent on
revenge, routed the few Indians whom they found lurking about. But the
Indians were not really beaten. Blue Jacket of the Shawnees and Little
Turtle of the Miamis concealed their assembled warriors in another
ambush. At the critical moment the Indians rushed from their ambuscade,
fell upon both regulars and militia, and pitilessly drove them ever
farther back.
Tecumseh had not long to wait for the time when he should again embark
on active service. In the autumn of 1791 news came that Generals St
Clair and Butler were advancing from the south with an army of some
fourteen hundred men. Tecumseh was placed in command of a party of
scouts to watch the movements of the enemy. On November 3 he discovered
the American army encamped at the upper waters of the Wabash about
twenty miles north of Greenville. At once he dispatched runners to tell
the war chiefs Blue Jacket and Little Turtle of the enemy's position. On
the following morning the Americans awoke to find their camp surrounded
by whooping savages. A frightful slaughter ensued. General Butler and
many of the officers were slain, together with nearly half the troops.
The remainder fled in disorder. General St Clair himself escaped on a
pack-horse after having had three horses killed under him in the battle.
The next winter, when the snow lay deep in the forest, Tecumseh, while
on a hunting expedition with ten warriors and a boy, made his camp near
Big Rock, not far from Piqua. One morning after breakfast, as they sat
about the fire smoking and discussing plans for the day, they were
suddenly assailed by a storm of bullets. A party of whites, three times
their number, under Robert M'Clelland, had attacked them. Instantly the
Indian war-cry rang out on the clear, frosty air. Tecumseh called to the
boy to run to shelter, and he and his companions returned the fire of
their assailants. Black Turkey, one of the Indians, took to his heels
and was running away at full speed, but in obedience to Tecumseh's angry
command he halted and returned to join in the battle. On came the whites
with challenging shout, answered by defiant war-whoops. The assaulting
party was finally beaten back; and Tecumseh, with his men, pursued them
through the woods, driving them from every sheltering tree and cover.
Shortly after this, Tecumseh, with a party of chiefs and warriors,
established his headquarters on a southern tributary of the Little
Miami. From this point they made frequent inroads upon the property of
white settlers, plundering flat-boats on the Ohio, and capturing some of
the finest horses belonging to Kentuckians. It was here that Tecumseh
had more than one encounter with Simon Kenton, the well-known American
pioneer. Hearing of the exploits of the marauders, Kenton quickly
mustered thirty-six men and set out to punish them. He came upon the
Indians at night, divided his force into three detachments, and
surrounded the encampment. That night Tecumseh had flung himself down by
the camp-fire. The flickering light threw into fitful relief the bark
tents of his sleeping companions. It did not penetrate, however, the
gloom where lurked the watchful Americans. One of the Indians rose to
stir the smouldering embers. A rifle cracked sharply, and the warrior
fell forward into the fire. At the same moment a body of the Americans
made a rush for the camp. Tecumseh leaped up and called loudly to his
companions. He felled his first assailant with his war-club and dealt
savage blows to all within reach. A shower of bullets rained upon the
tents, but the Indians were now aroused and ready to return the fire.
Presently reinforcements came from the Indians of a near-by camp who had
heard the yelling and shooting; and the whites were dispersed.
Tecumseh's next skirmish with Kenton was in 1793. He was hunting in the
Scioto valley with a few followers and their families. Shortly before
dawn, when it was supposed that the Indians would not be on their guard,
Kenton's men surrounded the camp and cautiously closed in upon it. The
loud barking of a dog gave the alarm to the Indians. When the whites
charged, the Indians sought shelter behind trees. Though Tecumseh was
surrounded by a superior force, he maintained his presence of mind. He
ordered some of his men to bring up the horses while he and others
defended the camp. In the end the Indians adroitly managed to escape
with their women and children. In the engagement they had sustained a
loss of but one warrior.
* * * * *
Two years passed in this desultory fighting, after the defeat of St
Clair's army, before the Americans made any organized attempt to
retrieve their fortunes. But in the autumn of 1793 General Anthony Wayne
marched into the Indian country with a strong and thoroughly disciplined
army. He encamped for the winter at Greenville and built several forts:
one, which he erected at the place of St Clair's disaster, he hopefully
named Fort Recovery. In the summer of 1794 the Indians watched three
hundred pack-horses laden with flour making their way towards this fort,
under the protection of an escort of ninety riflemen and fifty dragoons.
The savages hovered about, but they found the force too strong to
attack. Their chance came later. By the time the escort was ready to
return, one thousand tribesmen had assembled. The Americans had
proceeded only about four hundred yards from the fort when they found
themselves surrounded. The dragoons charged the Indians, but were
repulsed with heavy loss. Then they manœuvred to regain the fort, but
the Indian forces cut them off. An American officer, with twenty
volunteers, now rushed from the fort to the assistance of his comrades,
and the Indians gave way before a determined attack. The white men
brought their wounded off the field; and although two officers had been
captured by the Indians, they afterwards escaped to the fort. In the
fight twenty-two white men were killed and thirty wounded. The Indians
had suffered much greater loss. The warriors rallied, however, and kept
up an incessant fire against the fort until a heavy fog fell and night
closed in. Then with flaring torches they sought their dead. This made
them an easy mark for the soldiers, who fired on them from the fort.
When daylight appeared eight or ten more bodies were found lying near
the walls.
In July the American army was reinforced by two thousand Kentucky
volunteers under Major-General Scott, and Wayne was now ready to strike.
He manœuvred as though he intended to attack the Miami villages to the
south, but, suddenly changing his course, he marched his troops
northward, straight into the Indian settlements on the Au Glaize. At the
mouth of this river, where it enters the Maumee, he built Fort Defiance.
The Indians had followed Wayne's march down the Au Glaize, hovering on
the flanks of his army, and they were now mustered some two thousand
strong on the Maumee river. From Fort Defiance Wayne sent them a final
offer of peace; but, without waiting for an answer, he marched his
forces down the Maumee and encamped at the foot of the rapids, about
fifteen miles from the site of the present city of Toledo.
The war chiefs of the Miami, Potawatomi, Delaware, Shawnee, Chippewa,
Ottawa, and Seneca tribes held a great council to consider the proposal
of peace sent them by the general of the Long Knives. Little Turtle of
the Miamis advised peace. 'We have beaten the enemy twice,' said he. 'We
cannot expect the same good fortune always to attend us. The Americans
are now led by a chief who never sleeps. The day and night are alike to
him, and he has been ever marching upon our villages, notwithstanding
the watchfulness of our young men. We have never been able to surprise
him. Think well of it,' he cautioned; 'there is something that whispers
to me it were well to listen to his offers of peace.'
Profound silence followed this speech. Then rose Blue Jacket, the
Shawnee, who commanded the entire Indian forces. Blue Jacket strongly
favoured battle; and his counsel prevailed. The chiefs decided on war. A
plan of action was quickly formed. The Indian forces were to be drawn up
in three detachments within supporting distance of each other behind the
Fallen Timbers. This was a place some distance up the river from Wayne's
encampment, where the forest had been levelled by a hurricane, the
fallen trees forming a natural barricade.
On August 20, 1794, shortly after daybreak, Wayne ordered his troops to
advance. He was still uncertain whether the Indians were hostile or
friendly. But before he had proceeded far his soldiers were fired upon
by a body of red men secreted in the tall grass. In the battle which
followed Tecumseh led the Shawnees, and, with two of his brothers, was
in the advance-guard when the fighting began. The Indians fought
stubbornly, but to no purpose. The American force of mounted volunteers
advanced, while the infantry with fixed bayonets drove the red men from
cover and compelled them to retreat. In the latter part of the action
Tecumseh lost the use of his gun by having, in his excitement, rammed a
bullet into it before putting in powder. Falling back until he met
another body of Shawnees, he secured a fowling-piece, and then fought on
bravely until again forced to give ground. In spite of his desperate
efforts to rally his followers, the Indians were beaten and were fleeing
in disorder through the woods. When night fell and the Indians stole
back to bury or hide their dead, Tecumseh gazed on the familiar
features, now fixed in death, of Sauwaseekau, his second brother to fall
in battle; and another battlefield, in which Cheeseekau had in like
manner beheld the silent face of his father, arose before his mind. He
remembered his eldest brother's return from the battle, with tidings
that had burned into his very soul, while he was yet too young to take
up arms in defence of his race.
The Indian warriors were defeated and scattered, and the Americans
proceeded to lay waste their villages and cornfields in the valley of
the Au Glaize. The blow to Indian power was irrevocable. On August 3 of
the following year, 1795, was concluded the Treaty of Greenville, by
which large tracts of Indian territory in what are now the states of
Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Michigan were surrendered to the Americans.
The treaty was signed by Blue Jacket for the Shawnees, by Little Turtle
for the Miamis, and by chiefs representing the Wyandots, the Delawares,
the Ottawas, the Potawatomis, and other tribes. Tecumseh, however, had
refused to attend Wayne's council, and when he heard from Blue Jacket of
the terms of the treaty, he disputed its validity. Indian land, he said,
was common property; all the chiefs had not been consulted, and many of
them would refuse to accept the loss of their lands.
CHAPTER IV
THE PROPHET
Tecumseh was now pondering a great plan. Year after year he had seen his
people pushed farther and farther back from their streams and
hunting-grounds. When he looked into the future, he saw that the red
race was doomed unless a strong and united effort was made to check this
aggression. He did not at once take his followers into his confidence,
but meditated long on a plan to gather the tribes into one great
confederacy to oppose the encroachments of the whites and to prevent the
extermination of the Indian race. Pontiac, that towering figure in
Indian speech and legend, was ever in his mind. Before Tecumseh's birth
Pontiac had formed an Indian confederation against the English in
America. But his was only a temporary union of the Indians, while
Tecumseh planned to unite the tribes in a great and permanent empire.
To further his great plan of bringing about a confederation of the
tribes, Tecumseh resolved to take advantage of the superstitions of the
people. An Indian familiar with the lore of his tribe believes himself
to be continually surrounded by spirits, of whose power he is in
constant dread. He sees them dimly in visions and recognizes them in
many signs and omens--in gliding snake, flying bird, the lightning, the
wind, the rustling of leaves, the noise of the tempest, the roaring
cataract, the sound of thunder. To the hunter roaming through the forest
the trees take on weird shapes, and ghostly shadows lurk in dark
defiles. At twilight he sees gnomelike figures dancing before him and
anon swallowed up in the darkness; again he sees them, holding their
elfin revels on some moonlit cliff. Thus it is that the Indian
imagination peoples the gloom of the ancient forests.
It has been mentioned that Tecumseh had a younger brother named
Laulewasikaw, who had been born a twin, and, in consequence, would be
supposed by the Indians to possess supernatural power. One day, while
Laulewasikaw was smoking in his wigwam, his pipe dropped from his hand,
and he fell prone upon the ground. His body remained so long without
sign of life that his friends assembled to administer the last rites for
the dead. Suddenly, however, he awoke from his death-like trance, and
announced to the startled mourners that he had been transported to the
spirit-world, where marvellous things had been revealed to him. After
this he frequently retired to secret places to hold converse with the
Great Spirit, and from his knowledge of the spirit-world he became an
object of reverence and awe to his fellow-tribesmen.
It thus came about that on the death of Pengashega, an aged and
influential prophet of the Shawnees, this brother of Tecumseh,
Laulewasikaw, or 'the Prophet,' was made his successor. From his
conical-shaped lodge, with its stout poles bound about by skins of
animals, the Prophet gave forth his oracles. He was often consulted, and
a well-worn path soon marked the way to his abode. It was believed that
he could foretell the future, reveal the haunts of animals of the chase,
and inform anxious inquirers about the fate of friends. He evaded
impossible requests skilfully, and by moderation in his pretensions he
was able to maintain the respect of his many suppliants. He jealously
guarded in his lodge a bowl credited with miraculous powers, which he
claimed the Great Spirit had bestowed upon him. He had also a mystic
torch, the gift, as he said, of Manabozho, keeper of the sacred fire. He
had also a singular belt made of beans, which he assured his credulous
followers had grown from his flesh and would render invulnerable all who
touched it. To widen his influence the Prophet had this belt carried by
Indian runners far and wide.
Laulewasikaw, who had already many names, now wished to be known as
Tenskwatawa, 'the Open Door,' to intimate that he was to be the
deliverer of his people. Unlike other Indian prophets, he preached to
his followers after the manner of the white missionaries. Upon him, as
upon Tecumseh, had descended the gift of oratory. But he lacked
Tecumseh's dignity. He was ugly, and had lost an eye. On account of his
dissolute habits he appeared much older than his distinguished brother.
In spite of his bad character his persuasive eloquence gained the
attention of the Shawnees, and he flattered their pride by reminding
them of their ancient belief that they were the first people created by
the Master of Life and the greatest of all his children. At Wapakoneta,
on the Au Glaize, he gathered about him Shawnees, Wyandots, Ottawas, and
Senecas, and announced himself as a bearer of new revelations from the
Master of Life. He claimed to have been taken up into the spirit-world,
and that there the veil of the future had been lifted to him. He had
seen the suffering of evil-doers and also the happiness that would
reward those who heeded his words. Radical reform, he declared, must be
made in the manners of the red people. They must eschew all habits
learned from the whites. Linen or woollen clothing must be replaced by
the old-time buckskin; the 'fire-stick' of the white man must be
abandoned and the bow and arrow must be used in its stead; the flesh of
sheep and bullocks must no longer be eaten, but only that of deer and
buffalo; bread should no more be made of wheat, but of Indian corn.
Every tool and custom of the whites must be relinquished, and the Indian
must return to the ways taught by the Master of Life. The Prophet
exhorted the young to help the aged and the infirm; he forbade Indian
women to intermarry with the whites, since the outcome would be
inevitable misery; he condemned the accursed fire-water, which had
caused such contention among the Indians, and threatened with
never-ending flames all those who should persist in its use. He referred
glowing terms to the boundless hunting-ground of the red men before the
coming of the whites, and contrasted it with their rapidly narrowing
territory. The Indians, he said, should hold all their lands in common.
Having outlined these reforms, he declared that when the Indians had
carried them out, they should enjoy the long and peaceful lives of their
ancestors and regain their ancient happiness. To assure his hearers of
the divine character of his mission, he announced that power had been
given him to cure all diseases and to arrest death as a result of
sickness or on the battlefield.
Encouraged by the hope of regaining their lost liberty and happiness,
many flocked about the new prophet. The Kickapoos and Delawares believed
in him without reserve. His stoutest opponents were some of his own
people, who resented the sudden rise to power and influence of one
hitherto regarded with disfavour as stupid and intemperate. Shawnee
chiefs, jealous of his position, made a plot to overthrow him. But
Tenskwatawa, as he was now called, turned the tables upon them, and,
accusing several of his most outspoken enemies of witchcraft, caused
them to be put to death, with torture.
In 1806 the governor of Indiana Territory sent an envoy to the Delawares
to deliver the following message:
The dark and thorny road you are now pursuing certainly will
lead you to endless woe and misery. And who is this pretended
prophet, who dares to speak in the name of the Great Creator?
Examine him. Is he more virtuous than you are yourselves that he
should be selected to convey to you the orders of your God?
Demand of him some proof at least of being the messenger of the
Deity. If God has really employed him, He has doubtless
authorized him to perform miracles, that he may be known and
received as a prophet. If he is really a prophet, ask him to
cause the sun to stand still, the moon to alter its course, the
rivers to cease to flow, or the dead to rise from their graves.
If he does these things, you may then believe that he has been
sent from God.
In reply to this unexpected attack Tenskwatawa assured his followers
that he would give them convincing proof of his being the true messenger
of the Great Spirit, and he boldly predicted that on a certain day he
would draw a veil of darkness over the sun. Many Indians assembled to
witness the test of his supernatural power. If it succeeded, it would
establish his position beyond doubt; if it failed, the faith of his
followers would be sadly shaken. Scoffers pointed to the brightness of
the summer sun, and openly questioned the power of the Prophet to dim
its rays. Believers furtively watched the entrance of the Prophet's
lodge, which was decorated with strange symbols. From it at the time
appointed the familiar form of the one-eyed wizard emerged, clad in his
prophet's robe with outspread raven's wings. At his appearance the
noonday brilliance of the sun began to wane. Sudden silence fell upon
the awestruck throng, and faces took on a look of fear as the darkness
deepened about them. The Prophet's voice thrilled through the gloom.
'Did I not prophesy truly? Behold, darkness has shrouded the sun.' The
apparent miracle convinced many unbelievers and established the
influence of Tenskwatawa more strongly than ever. The Indians were
completely deceived. The achievement had, of course, a very simple
explanation: the Prophet had overheard some white missionaries
predicting an eclipse of the sun, and had used this information very
adroitly for his purpose.
In April 1807 some four hundred redskins had gathered near Greenville,
ready to do the Prophet's bidding. Tenskwatawa and Tecumseh were invited
by Captain Wells, the Indian agent at Fort Wayne, to visit the fort with
a few chiefs, to learn the news contained in a recent letter from the
president of the Seventeen Fires.[5] Tecumseh peremptorily commanded the
messenger to 'go back to Fort Wayne and tell Captain Wells that my fire
is kindled on the spot appointed by the Great Spirit above, and, if he
has anything to communicate to me, he must come here; I shall expect him
in six days from this time.' At the time appointed the messenger
returned, bearing a copy of a letter from the United States government,
in which Tecumseh and his followers were charged with still occupying
land that had passed out of their possession by the Treaty of
Greenville. Tecumseh vented his feelings in vehement speech.
These lands are ours, and no one has the right to remove us,
because we were the first owners; the Great Spirit above has
appointed this place for us on which to light our fires, and
here we will remain. As to boundaries, the Great Spirit above
knows no boundaries, nor will His red people know any. If my
great father, the President of the Seventeen Fires, has anything
more to say to me, he must send a man of note as his messenger;
I will hold no further intercourse with Captain Wells.
The American settlers saw with increasing anxiety the unending stream of
Indians on their way to the Prophet. The strange garb of many of them
denoted that they had journeyed from distant regions. Runners
continually passed to and fro, bearing pipes and belts of wampum from
tribe to tribe. Council fires were frequently kindled. It was commonly
believed that this unwonted activity was due to the secret plottings of
British agents from Canada. By the autumn of 1807 the Prophet had
assembled near Greenville about eight hundred Indians, many of whom were
equipped with new rifles.
On September 12 came two commissioners from the governor of Ohio. These
were received by the Indians in a friendly manner, and a council was
immediately called to hear their message. The governor, the
commissioners said, desired to know why so many Indians were gathered on
land no longer theirs. He wished to remind the Indians of their former
relations with the Seventeen Fires, and of the importance of remaining
neutral in the event of war with the British. After hearing the
commissioners the council adjourned until the following day, when Blue
Jacket, who was unanimously chosen to voice the sentiment of his people,
spoke as follows:
Brethren, we are seated who heard you yesterday. You will get a
true relation as far as we and our connections can give it, who
are as follows: Shawnees, Wyandots, Potawatomis, Tawas,
Chippewas, Winnepaus, Malominese, Malockese, Sacawgoes, and one
more from the north of the Chippewas. Brethren, you see all
these men sitting before you, who now speak to you.
About eleven days ago we [the Indians] had a council, at which
the tribe of Wyandots [the elder brother of the red people]
spoke and said God had kindled a fire and all sat around it. In
this council we talked over the treaties with the French and the
Americans. The Wyandot said the French formerly marked a line
along the Alleghany mountains, southerly, to Charleston. No man
was to pass it from either side. When the Americans came to
settle over the line, they told the Indians to unite and drive
off the French, until the war came on between the British and
the Americans, when it was told them that King George, by his
officers, directed them to unite and drive the Americans back.
After the treaty of peace between the English and Americans, the
summer before Wayne's army came out, the British held a council
with the Indians and told them if they would turn out and unite
as one man, they might surround the Americans like deer in a
ring of fire and destroy them all. The Wyandot spoke further in
the council. We see, said he, there is like to be war between
the English and our white brethren, the Americans. Let us unite
and consider the sufferings we have undergone, from interfering
in the wars of the English. They have often promised to help us,
and at last when we could not withstand the army that came
against us, and went to the English fort for refuge,[6] the
English told us, 'I cannot let you in; you are painted too much,
my children.' It was then we saw the British dealt treacherously
with us. We now see them going to war again. We do not know what
they are going to fight for. Let us, my brethren, not interfere,
was the speech of the Wyandot.
Further, the Wyandot said, I speak to you, my little brother,
the Shawnees at Greenville, and to you our little brothers all
around. You appear to be at Greenville to serve the Supreme
Ruler of the universe. Now send forth your speeches to all our
brethren far around us, and let us unite to seek for that which
shall be for our eternal welfare, and unite ourselves in a band
of perpetual brotherhood. These, brethren, are the sentiments of
all the men who sit around you: they all adhere to what the
elder brother, the Wyandot, has said, and these are their
sentiments. It is not that they are afraid of their white
brethren, but that they desire peace and harmony, and not that
their white brethren could put them to great necessity, for
their former arms were bows and arrows, by which they got their
living.
The Prophet then arose and launched forth into one of the lengthy
harangues so familiar to his followers. Three years ago, he said, he had
been called upon by powers he could not disobey to follow the course
which had been revealed to him by the Great Spirit. In accordance with
this divine guidance he had earnestly endeavoured ever since to teach
the Indians how to live sober, industrious, and peaceful lives. He had
been persecuted by chiefs of his own tribe who had refused to listen to
his preaching. He had been driven from his own village. But the Great
Spirit had directed him to this place, which the Americans now claimed
as their own. Here he desired to remain, not for the value of the land
or the natural beauty of the surroundings, but to obey the divine
command, and by his exemplary life to prove to the complete satisfaction
of the white people his genuine honesty of purpose. By this adroit
speech the Prophet succeeded in allaying suspicion, and thus under the
guise of peace and religion Tecumseh was enabled to continue his
preparations for war. When the council had terminated, Tecumseh, Blue
Jacket, Roundhead, and Panther accompanied the messengers to
Chillicothe, then the capital of Ohio, and assured the governor of their
peaceful intentions towards the Americans.
CHAPTER V
A GIFTED ORATOR
Indian oratory, like that of most savage races, is poetical and
picturesque in thought and expression. It abounds in imagery and is not
without touches of pathos and humour. The unlettered Indian has no rich
store of written history from which to draw his illustrations. He takes
them from Nature's ever-open book--the sheltered lake, the winding
stream, the storm-swept forest--and from the legendary lore of his
tribe. Tecumseh was one of the most renowned of a race of orators. The
stately Algonquian language displayed its greatest beauty when spoken by
him. His eloquence flowed as freely as a mighty river, or again,
thundering like a cataract, it swept everything along on its tempestuous
tide. Tecumseh's speech can never reach our ears; we cannot see the
light flash from his hazel eye or the smile play upon his bronzed cheek.
We cannot watch his graceful gestures. His personal presence we may not
feel; but behind his recorded words we are still aware of living force
and power. We can picture his manly form in its simple attire, as he
paces up and down, dominating his hearers by his persuasive speech,
convincing their reason, controlling their judgment, compelling their
action. None knew the untaught and unteachable art of oratory better
than Tecumseh. Throughout his life it ever played an important part,
from his first outburst, which was in defence of a helpless captive,
until his last appeal to the courage of a British general. Tecumseh
acquitted himself gallantly upon the field of battle, where he was
always conspicuous for his courage; but in the council-chamber there
were also battles to be fought, in which words were weapons, and there
Tecumseh was no less conspicuous and successful.
After the arrival of the commissioners and Indian chiefs at Chillicothe
the governor summoned them to a great council. Tecumseh was to speak on
behalf of the red men. Upon him was centred the attention of all. He
spoke for three hours, during which he held his listeners spellbound. He
assured them that it was far from his intention to take up the hatchet
against the pale-face, but that he would sternly resist any trespass
upon his people's rights. Rapidly reviewing all the treaties between the
western tribes and the whites, he boldly denied the validity of the
Treaty of Greenville. At the same time, he pleaded for conciliation and
peace. His speech made a great impression. The governor's fear of an
uprising at Greenville was allayed, and the militia, which had been
hastily summoned, were dismissed.
Tecumseh's oratory was called into play again in the autumn of 1807,
when the Americans were thrown into a state of terror by the murder of a
white man near the site of the present town of Urbana. This deed of
violence, coupled with the constant increase of the Prophet's band at
Greenville, caused the wildest alarm among the settlers. Tecumseh and
his brother disclaimed all knowledge of the murder, which had been
committed by some wandering Indians, and they agreed to attend a council
at Springfield to reassure the whites.
The Indians who attended the council were asked to lay aside their arms.
Tecumseh haughtily refused, thinking it unbecoming the dignity of a
warrior chief. When the request was repeated, the wily Indian replied
that his tomahawk was also his pipe and that he might wish to smoke.
Thereupon a gaunt American advanced and offered Tecumseh his own pipe.
Taking the earthen bowl with its long stem into his fingers, Tecumseh
eyed it curiously; his gaze then travelled to the owner, who stood half
fearful of the result of this offer. Then with an indignant gesture the
chief tossed the pipe into the bushes behind him. Nothing more was said
about the tomahawk.
The council was held in the shade of spreading maples. The chiefs and
their warriors ranged themselves in a semicircle on the grass. The pipe
of peace slowly made its round in token of goodwill. Several chiefs
spoke in turn, expressing the pacific intentions of the Indians.
Tecumseh referred to the recent murder, and denied that it had been the
act of any of the tribes under his influence. He explained that the
motive for the gathering of so many red men at Greenville was purely
religious, and that all were friendly towards the whites. His words and
manner again carried conviction, and the council terminated peacefully.
The Americans, however, still continued to regard the Prophet's
settlement at Greenville as a real menace. During the same autumn came
another message to all the tribes under the Prophet's influence from the
governor of the territory of Indiana, William Henry Harrison, afterwards
president of the United States, and an active and successful leader of
the Americans in the War of 1812. The message closed with these words:
My children, I have heard bad news. The sacred spot where the
great council fire was kindled, around which the Seventeen Fires
and ten tribes of their children smoked the pipe of peace--that
very spot, where the Great Spirit saw His red and white children
encircle themselves with the chain of friendship,--that place
has been selected for dark and bloody councils. My children,
this business must be stopped. You have called in a number of
men from the most distant tribes, to listen to a fool, who
speaks not the words of the Great Spirit, but those of the devil
and of the British agents. My children, your conduct has much
alarmed the white settlers near you. They desire that you will
send away those people, and if they desire to have the impostor
with them, they may carry him. Let him go to the lakes; he can
hear the British more distinctly.
Tecumseh was absent from Greenville when this message was received, and
it fell to the Prophet to make a reply. He was sorry, he said, that his
father listened to the advice of bad birds. He denied that the Indians
had any intercourse with the British, or that they desired anything but
peace and to hear the words of the Great Spirit.
Early in the spring of 1808 Tecumseh and the Prophet, with their band of
followers, left Greenville and set out in a westerly direction, across
what is now the state of Indiana. Land had been granted to them by the
Potawatomis and Kickapoos on the banks of the Tippecanoe, near its
junction with the Wabash, and here they intended to make a new town,
which should be the headquarters of their proposed confederacy. No more
desirable spot could have been chosen. It was almost central in relation
to the tribes they were endeavouring to bring together, and it had
convenient communication with Lake Erie by means of the Wabash and
Maumee rivers, and with Lake Michigan and the Illinois country by way of
the Tippecanoe and other connecting waters. On one side an almost
impenetrable stretch of wilderness formed a natural defence. From this
position, also, Tecumseh was able to watch carefully the country from
which he wished to exclude white settlers.
The Prophet's influence soon extended among the neighbouring tribes, and
the American authorities again became alarmed, the more so as they
learned that among his followers warlike sports were now being practised
along with religious rites. To counteract the effect of such reports the
Prophet sent a message to Governor Harrison to say that he had been
misrepresented, and followed it up by a personal visit along with a
number of his followers, to explain his attitude towards the Americans.
The visit lasted for a fortnight and frequent conferences took place
between Harrison and the Prophet. The governor also questioned many of
the Indians, but could learn nothing from them derogatory to their
leader. Desiring to know to what extent the Prophet's teachings
controlled his followers, he tempted them with liquor, but they remained
true to their vow of total abstinence.
Before taking his leave Tenskwatawa thus addressed himself to the
governor:
I told all the redskins, that the way they were in was not good,
and that they ought to abandon it. That we ought to consider
ourselves as one man; but we ought to live agreeably to our
several customs, the red people after their mode, and the white
people after theirs; particularly that they should not drink
whisky; do not take up the tomahawk should it be offered by the
British, or by the Long Knives; do not meddle with anything that
does not belong to you, but mind your own business and cultivate
the ground, that your women and your children may have enough to
live on.
I now inform you, that it is our intention to live in peace with
our father and his people for ever.
This harangue ended with the customary begging for presents, after which
the Prophet and his company took their departure.
Meanwhile Governor Harrison was planning to take more territory from the
Indians and add it to the United States. By a treaty with some of the
tribes made at Fort Wayne on September 30, 1809, he obtained a tract of
about three million acres, extending nearly one hundred miles on each
side of the Wabash. By this treaty the Indians found that they were
deprived of much of their best hunting-ground. Their indignation rose to
fighting pitch, and many who had been holding back now accepted
Tecumseh's scheme of a great confederation by means of which they might,
with some hope of success, battle for their rights. The powerful
Wyandots, keepers of the great wampum belt of tribal union, turned to
the Prophet. Many of the lesser tribes followed their example, and
refused to recognize the American claims to this newly ceded territory.
For lands acquired under various treaties, the Indians were receiving
from the Americans certain annuities in goods. That year, when their
annual portion of salt arrived at Tippecanoe, the Indians refused to
take it and drove the boatmen away. They accused the Americans of
deception, demanding that the land should be given back, and that no
more should be taken without the unanimous consent of all the tribes.
War between the British and the Americans now seemed inevitable, and
everything pointed to an alliance between the British and the Indians of
Tecumseh's confederacy. British interests required that the confederacy
should not be weakened by premature outbreaks. Gifts of clothing, food,
and weapons were lavishly bestowed upon Tecumseh, who was encouraged to
unite the tribes, but not to declare war until word came from Canada.
'My son,' said a British agent, 'keep your eyes fixed on me; my tomahawk
is now up; be you ready, but do not strike until I give the signal.'
The governor of Indiana, desiring to learn the Prophet's strength and,
if possible, to avert war, sent the following message to Tippecanoe:
There is yet but little harm done, which may be easily repaired.
The chain of friendship, which united the whites with the
Indians, may be renewed and be as strong as ever. A great deal
of that work depends on you--the destiny of those who are under
your direction depends upon the choice you may make of the two
roads which are before you. The one is large, open and pleasant,
and leads to peace, security, and happiness; the other, on the
contrary, is narrow and crooked, and leads to misery and ruin.
Do not deceive yourselves; do not believe that all the nations
of Indians united are able to resist the force of the Seventeen
Fires. I know your warriors are brave, but ours are not less so;
and what can a few brave warriors do against the innumerable
warriors of the Seventeen Fires? Our blue coats are more
numerous than you can count; our hunters are like the leaves of
the forest, or the grains of sand on the Wabash.
Do not think the red coats can protect you; they are not able to
protect themselves. They do not think of going to war with us.
If they did, you would in a few moons see our flag wave over all
the forts of Canada.
To this the Prophet made no direct reply, but said that Tecumseh, as his
representative, would visit the governor shortly.
True to this promise, early in August 1810, Tecumseh, with four hundred
warriors grotesquely painted for the occasion, swept down the Wabash in
canoes. Captain Lloyd, then at Fort Knox, writes of their passing:
The Shawanoe Indians have come; they passed this garrison, which
is three miles above Vincennes, on Sunday last, in eighty
canoes. They were all painted in the most terrific manner. They
were stopped at the garrison by me, for a short time. I examined
their canoes and found them well prepared for war, in case of an
attack. They were headed by the brother of the Prophet
(Tecumseh), who, perhaps, is one of the finest-looking men I
ever saw--about six feet high, straight, with large, fine
features, and altogether a daring, bold-looking fellow. The
governor's council with them will commence to-morrow morning.
Tecumseh and his warriors encamped at Vincennes, the capital at that
time of the territory of Indiana, where many had assembled for the
council, which was fixed for August 12. At the hour appointed Tecumseh,
attended by forty followers, proceeded to the governor's house. Seated
in state on the portico was the governor, surrounded by judges of the
Supreme Court, officers, and citizens. About forty yards from the house
Tecumseh halted abruptly. An interpreter advanced with the request that
the chief and his warriors should take seats on the portico. To this
Tecumseh signified strong disapproval, saying that he preferred a
neighbouring grove. The governor objected that there were no chairs
there. 'The earth is my mother, and on her bosom will I repose,' was the
rejoinder. The chief carried his point, and chairs for the governor and
his suite were removed to the grove.
Tecumseh put forth all the powers of his eloquence. He traced the course
of relations between the two races from the time when only the
moccasined foot of the red man trod the wilderness. He depicted vividly
the evils suffered by his race since their first contact with the
whites. The ruthless destruction of his birthplace, the sufferings of
his childhood, the conflicts of his early manhood--all these he passed
over in rapid review. And he closed his address by contending that the
Treaty of Fort Wayne was illegal, since it had not been agreed to by all
the tribes, who constituted a single nation and who had joint ownership
in the land. Governor Harrison in his reply disputed Tecumseh's
statement that all the Indians were of one nation, using as his main
argument the fact that they spoke different tongues. He contended that
if the Miamis desired to sell their land, the Shawnees had no right to
interfere. On the following day he inquired whether Tecumseh intended to
prevent a survey of the disputed land. The chief replied that it was the
intention of the united tribes to recognize the old boundary only, and
that, while he had no desire to provoke war, he would oppose further
aggression. If the Americans gave up this land, he would serve them
faithfully; if not, he would cast in his lot with the British. The
governor promised to notify the president of Tecumseh's views, without
holding out much prospect of a decision to surrender the land to its
former owners.
'Well,' returned Tecumseh, 'as the great chief is to decide the matter,
I hope the Great Spirit will put enough sense into his head to induce
him to direct you to give up this land. It is true he is so far off he
will not be injured by the war; he may sit still in his town and drink
his wine, while you and I shall have to fight it out.'
In the following spring (1811), when the Americans were distributing the
annuity of salt to the Kickapoos and Shawnees, the Prophet's Indians at
Tippecanoe, on being offered their share of five barrels, forcibly
seized the whole boat-load. This angered the Americans, who were further
incensed by the murder on the Missouri of four white men by two Indians
of the Potawatomi tribe. Tecumseh, who was absent at the time either on
a hunting expedition or for the purpose of strengthening his
confederation, was summoned to Vincennes shortly after his return. He
arrived on July 27, attended by a party of three hundred warriors. The
governor referred to the recent seizure of the salt by the Prophet's
warriors and demanded an explanation. Tecumseh replied that it was
indeed difficult to please the governor, since he seemed equally annoyed
if the salt were taken or rejected. When asked to deliver up the Indians
guilty of the murder, he replied that he had no jurisdiction over them,
since they were not of his town. The white people, he said, were
needlessly alarmed at his active measures in uniting the northern
tribes; for he was but following the example which the Seventeen Fires
had set him when they joined the Fires in one confederacy, and he boldly
declared that he would endeavour also to unite the various tribes of the
south with those of the north. The land question he hoped would be left
in abeyance until his return in the spring.
CHAPTER VI
THE BATTLE OF TIPPECANOE
Tecumseh was soon on his southern journey, with twenty warriors to aid
in the work which was now apparently nearing completion. Inspired by
patriotic zeal, he passed from tribe to tribe, incessantly active.
Through dismal swamps and across wide plains he made his way, and in his
light canoe shot many a dangerous rapid. He laboured diligently among
the Indians to make them sensible of their wrongs and induce them to
sink their petty tribal jealousies in a grand and noble patriotism. He
braved the dangers and difficulties of winter travel over the crusted
snow and through the white forests. From sunrise to sunset he journeyed,
passing from camp-fire to camp-fire, binding together the scattered
tribes by the fire and force of his eloquence.
In Tecumseh's absence the Prophet reigned at Tippecanoe, performing his
mysterious rites, seeing visions, and dreaming dreams. Indians from the
most remote tribes were drawn by tales of his miraculous deeds to this
chosen seat of the Great Spirit, the centre from which radiated the
Prophet's influence. The ever-increasing number of red men there
assembling was evidence also of the success of Tecumseh's mission. The
Americans had heard with uneasiness his bold avowal before starting on
his southern journey, and their alarm was increased by the reports from
Harrison's spies, posted near the Prophet's town.
On August 7, 1811, the United States government demanded the surrender
of all Indians who were in any way connected with the murder of American
citizens, and threatened to exterminate those tribes which raised the
hatchet. In response the Prophet promised to comply with the president's
demands, and reiterated his earnest desire to avert war. But, in spite
of such pacific protesting, the Indians continued their acts of
hostility. Some horses were stolen, and the thieves were tracked to
Tippecanoe. The owners hastened thither to reclaim their property, and
on nearing the town were fired upon by Indians. Similar incidents were
common.
Harrison was well aware of the important and extensive nature of the
work in which Tecumseh was engaged, and viewing with alarm the rapid
growth of the confederation on the western frontier, he resolved on
action. The destruction of Tippecanoe would be of the utmost strategic
importance, but, if such a drastic measure were determined upon, it
would have to be accomplished before Tecumseh's return. On the other
hand, the president's commands had been to maintain peace. The governor
reconciled the two opposing courses of action by the thought that a
large army advancing upon the Indians might intimidate them into
submission. Failing that, the alternative war became inevitable.
On October 5 Harrison set out from Vincennes with over one thousand men.
This army encamped for a brief period on the Wabash, where the city of
Terre Haute now stands, and erected a fort which, in honour of the
leader, was named Fort Harrison. Leaving about one hundred men as a
guard, Harrison, with the remaining nine hundred, set out for Tippecanoe
on October 29. Two well-worn trails made by the Prophet's disciples led
along the Wabash, one on either side of the river. Harrison chose that
along the eastern side, then forded the river and struck the other
trail. He safely crossed the dangerous pass at Pine Creek, where fatal
havoc had been wrought upon the troops of General Harmar. Worn out by
their tedious and difficult march, the soldiers encamped on the evening
of November 5 within ten miles of the Prophet's headquarters. Next
morning they were early on the march; and, after having gone about five
miles, they sighted a party of reconnoitring Indians, with whom they
endeavoured to communicate, but the red men ignored their advances and
assumed an unfriendly attitude. Within a mile and a half of the town
several of the officers impatiently urged an immediate attack; but as
the president's commands were to keep peace as long as possible,
Harrison decided to send an officer with a small guard to arrange for a
conference. This overture, however, did not succeed; the Indians were
hostile, and even made an attempt to capture the officer and his men.
And Harrison then ordered his army to advance upon the town.
Suddenly three Indians appeared, making their way directly towards the
army. The Prophet's chief counsellor, with two interpreters, had come to
demand the reason of this warlike advance. Peace, they declared, was
their one desire. With much gesticulation they explained that messages
to that effect had been sent by certain chiefs, who must have taken the
other trail and so missed the general of the Seventeen Fires. The
governor agreed to suspend hostilities in order that terms of peace
might be arranged in council on the following day, and then set his men
in motion towards Tippecanoe. This unlooked-for action startled the
Indians, who immediately assumed the defensive. The governor, however,
assured them that he had no hostile intentions, and asked whether there
was a near-by stream by the side of which his troops might encamp. He
was directed to a creek about a mile distant which ran through the
prairie to the north of the town. Thither the Americans at once
proceeded, and finding it a most desirable camping-ground, the soldiers
were soon busily engaged in pitching their tents and gathering brushwood
to make fires, for the November air was chill. Although no attack was
anticipated, Harrison arranged his camp as if expecting battle, and
posted around it a thin line of sentries.
Darkness fell upon the two encampments. The weary soldiers were sleeping
on their arms; the Prophet and his counsellors sat about their council
fire, eager and alert, earnestly discussing the situation. Tecumseh's
parting injunction had been to maintain peace at all hazards until his
return. But the Prophet saw himself surrounded by intrepid warriors who
would dare anything at his command, and his ambition was sorely tempted.
In point of numbers his force was equal to that of the Americans, and
the latter, moreover, were without the protection of fortifications.
Visions of certain victory passed before his mind. He was still smarting
from Harrison's stinging message to the tribes five years before, and
not too well pleased with Tecumseh's rising fame, which threatened to
eclipse his own. Moved by these thoughts, the Prophet yielded to the
counsel of his boldest warriors and decided upon battle.
Hurried preparations were then made to take the enemy by surprise. There
was no moon and the sky was clouded. Nature herself apparently was
aiding the Prophet's plans. All being ready, he concocted some charmed
fluid, over which he muttered curious incantations. He assured his
credulous followers that half the enemy were mad and the remainder dead;
and he solemnly promised them that bullets would glance harmlessly from
their own bodies. The superstitious Indians, thus excited to an intense
pitch of religious fanaticism, were prepared to dare anything.
Shortly before daylight on November 7 the whole Indian force crept
stealthily through the grass towards the fires of Harrison's camp. The
hush that precedes the dawn was broken only by the soft patter of rain.
A watchful sentinel discerned in the dawning light the spectre-like form
of the foremost savage. He fired at once, and the shot roused the
sleeping camp. It told the Indians that they were discovered, and with
wild war-whoops they rushed against the American position. The line of
sentries was quickly broken through; but the soldiers sprang to arms;
camp-fires were trodden out; and Indians and whites fought furiously in
the darkness. Perched on a safe eminence, the Prophet looked down upon
the fight, chanting his war-song further to excite the savages, and
rattling deers' hoofs as signals for advance or retreat. Under the
influence of their fierce fanaticism the Indians abandoned their usual
practice of fighting from behind cover, and braved the enemy in open
conflict. In spite of Tenskwatawa's prophecies, the American bullets
wrought deadly havoc among the warriors, who, seeing that they had been
deceived, began to waver. Finally, the Indians gave way before a
terrific charge and fled to the woods, while the soldiers applied the
torch to their village.
On the head of the Prophet fell the blame for this disastrous reverse.
'You are a liar,' said a Winnebago chief to his former spiritual
adviser, 'for you told us that the white people were all dead or crazy,
when they were in their right mind and fought like the devil.' The
Prophet vainly endeavoured to give reasons for the failure of his
prophecy; it was, he declared, all due to some error in compounding his
concoction; but the wizard's rod was broken, his mysterious influence
shattered. His radiant visions of power had vanished in the smoke of
battle, and he slipped back into the oblivion from which he had so
suddenly sprung.
Meanwhile Tecumseh was pursuing his mission with determination and
vigour. After travelling many weary miles, he turned again homeward,
pleased with his success, his thoughts soaring hopefully as he neared
the little town which owed its existence to him. But he arrived there to
find his headquarters demolished, his followers disbanded, his brother
humiliated. Hardest of all to bear was the knowledge that his own
brother, on whose co-operation he had so firmly relied, had caused this
great disaster to his people. The Prophet's miserable excuses so enraged
him that he seized him by the hair and shook him violently. Tecumseh
mused upon his years of patient and careful organization, and thought
sorrowfully of his town, so laboriously fortified, and peopled at the
cost of so many dangers risked and privations endured. It was a blow
almost too great to be borne. Should he accept it as a total defeat and
abandon his purpose? No! The courageous chief, as he stood amid the
charred remains of Tippecanoe, resolved to persevere in his struggle for
the freedom of his race.
Tecumseh now informed the governor of his return and expressed his
willingness to visit the president of the United States. Permission was
granted him to go to Washington, but it was stipulated that he must do
so unattended. This offended Tecumseh's pride and dignity. He was the
most powerful American Indian living, with five thousand warriors at his
command; holding in one hand an alliance with Great Britain, and in the
other an alliance with the Indians of the south-west. Such was the
position he had reached, and he intended to maintain it. Was so great a
chief, ruler over a confederacy similar to that of the white man, to
visit the chief of the Seventeen Fires without a retinue! No! He
haughtily refused to go to Washington under such conditions.
In the early spring of 1812 two settlers were put to death near Fort
Dearborn, several others near Fort Madison, and a whole family was
murdered near Vincennes. These acts of violence threw the settlers into
a panic. A general Indian rising was feared; but at this critical moment
Tecumseh attended a grand council at Mississinewa, on the Wabash,
between Tippecanoe and Fort Wayne, and succeeded in calming the excited
fears of the Americans. He was not yet prepared for open war. On this
occasion, in the course of his address, he said:
Governor Harrison made war on my people in my absence; it was
the will of the Great Spirit that he should do so. We hope it
will please the Great Spirit that the white people may let us
live in peace; we will not disturb them, neither have we done
it, except when they came to our village with the intention of
destroying us. We are happy to state to your brothers present,
that the unfortunate transaction that took place between the
white people and a few of our men at our village has been
settled between us and Governor Harrison; and I will further
state, had I been at home, there would have been no blood shed
at the time.
In speaking of the recent murders, Tecumseh said he greatly regretted
that the ill-will of the Americans should be exercised upon his
followers, when the Potawatomis, over whom he had no power, alone were
guilty.
To a message from the British agent Tecumseh replied:
You tell us to retreat or turn to one side should the Long
Knives come against us. Had I been at home in the late
unfortunate affair [the attack on Tippecanoe] I should have done
so, but those I left at home were (I cannot call them men) a
poor set of people, and their scuffle with the Long Knives I
compare to a struggle between little children, who only scratch
each other's faces. The Kickapoos and Winnebagoes have since
been at Post Vincennes and settled the matter amicably.
If Tecumseh regarded the Tippecanoe battle lightly, the Americans
considered it a serious event. It was magnified into an important
victory, and cited to rouse feelings of enmity against Great Britain,
whose agents were held to be responsible for the conduct of the Indians.
Occurring at a crisis of affairs, it was made a strong argument for a
declaration of war against England.
When June came Tecumseh demanded ammunition from the Indian agent at
Fort Wayne. The agent presented many reasons why the chief should now
become friendly to the Seventeen Fires. Tecumseh listened with
indifference. He then bitterly expressed his resentment at Governor
Harrison's advance in his absence, and maintained his right to the lands
the Americans had invaded, but he still declared that he had no
intention of taking up arms against the United States. The agent refused
the ammunition. 'My British father will not deny me; to him will I go,'
retorted Tecumseh.
CHAPTER VII
UNDER THE BRITISH FLAG
We now leave the Wabash for the Detroit, and the interior of Indiana for
the frontiers of Canada. Early in June 1812 Tecumseh, with a small band
of chosen warriors, left his wigwam and set out through the forest for
the British post at Amherstburg on the Canadian side of the Detroit
river, solemnly vowing not to bury the tomahawk until the Long Knives
were humbled. At Amherstburg he sought out Colonel Matthew Elliott, the
Canadian superintendent of Indian Affairs, and formally pledged his
allegiance to the king of Great Britain. In front of Fort Malden at
Amherstburg, near the mouth of the Detroit river, lay Bois Blanc Island,
upon which several blockhouses had been erected. This island was fixed
upon as the headquarters of the Indians, and here Tecumseh and his
warriors encamped.
The fidelity of the great chief was put to the test even before active
hostilities began. A band of neutral Indians, encamped at Brownstown, on
the American side, opposite Amherstburg, invited him to a council they
were about to hold. His decision was quickly made. He had cast in his
lot with the British and would not falter in his allegiance. 'No,' he
replied to the runner that awaited his answer; 'I will suffer my bones
to bleach upon this shore before I engage in any council of neutrality.'
He soon gave proof of his sincerity by leading his intrepid little band
in one of the initial engagements of the war, an engagement, as we shall
learn, of the greatest importance in this early stage of the conflict.
Tecumseh had taken his stand for the coming war: the flag of Britain
should be his flag, and her soldiers his comrades-in-arms. To him,
indeed, it was that Britain owed her Indian allies in the War of 1812.
Canadians and Indians stood side by side in face of a common peril and
were inspired by a common purpose. To Canada defeat meant absorption in
the United States and the loss of national life; to the red men it meant
expulsion from their homes and hunting-grounds and the ultimate
extinction of their race.
Long before the formal declaration of war by the United States (June 18,
1812) the inevitable conflict had been foreseen. The Democrats, then in
power in the United States, were determined to have it. To many
Americans it appeared as a necessary sequel to the Revolution, a second
War of Independence; to others it seemed a short and easy means of
adding to the United States that northern territory, the inhabitants of
which had refused the opportunity to join the Thirteen Colonies in the
War of the Revolution. But the causes of this unhappy war are too
complex and manifold to be discussed here.[7]
Canada's position at the opening of hostilities was far from reassuring.
The population of all British North America was only half a million of
whites at most, as compared with about eight million in the United
States. Great Britain was engaged elsewhere in a life-and-death struggle
and could spare but few troops to support the Canadian militia. Indeed,
there were not fifteen hundred British soldiers along the whole Canadian
frontier; while, even before the declaration of war, to Detroit alone
had been dispatched more than two thousand American troops. The
Americans had, therefore, reasonable grounds for confidence in the
ultimate result, notwithstanding a somewhat depleted treasury and the
opposition of a considerable party in the northern, especially the New
England, States. Canadians, however, loyally answered the call to arms,
and proved the truth of the words that 'a country defended by free men
enthusiastically devoted to the cause of their king and constitution can
never be conquered.' Canada, too, had a tower of strength in Isaac
Brock, a distinguished British soldier, who had seen active service in
the West Indies and in Holland, and had been with Nelson at Copenhagen.
On July 11, 1812, General William Hull, commander of the American army
of the north-west, invaded Canada and occupied Sandwich, a small town
almost directly opposite Detroit. On the following day he issued a
proclamation with the intent of detaching Canadians from their
allegiance. In this proclamation he protested against the employment of
Indians as combatants, although the persistent endeavours of the
Americans to win the Indians over to their cause must have been known to
him. The words of the proclamation are as follows:
If the barbarous and savage policy of Great Britain be pursued,
and the savages let loose to murder our citizens, and butcher
our women and children, this war will be a war of extermination.
The first stroke of the tomahawk, the first attempt with the
scalping-knife, will be the signal for one indiscriminate scene
of desolation! No white man found fighting by the side of an
Indian will be taken prisoner; instant destruction will be his
lot.
To this Brock replied:
This inconsistent and unjustifiable threat of refusing quarter,
for such a cause as being found in arms with a brother sufferer
in defence of invaded rights, must be exercised with the certain
assurance of retaliation, not only in the limited operation of
war in this part of the King's Dominions, but in every quarter
of the globe. For the national character of Britain is not less
distinguished for humanity than strict retributive justice,
which will consider the execution of this inhuman threat as
deliberate murder, for which every subject of the offending
power must make expiation.
Tecumseh, with the aid of the British agents, had assembled six hundred
warriors on Bois Blanc Island, and his scouts were soon out watching the
movements of the enemy in the surrounding country. The only way of
communication open to the Americans who were advancing towards Detroit
was along the west side of the Detroit river by a road which passed
through Brownstown from the river Raisin. This road was kept under the
strictest surveillance by the Indians. On August 5 the scouts reported
that Major Van Horne, with two hundred cavalry of Hull's army, was on
his way from Detroit to meet Captain Brush, who was near the Raisin with
a company of Ohio volunteers, bringing official dispatches and
provisions for Hull at Sandwich. On receiving this news Tecumseh
mustered seventy of his boldest warriors at Brownstown and started
through the woods towards Detroit to meet Van Horne. About three miles
out he secreted his men on each side of the road and awaited the enemy.
Apparently Van Horne, little dreaming that a trap would be set for him,
had not sent out scouts; and as he marched down the road the quiet
forest gave no indication of the foe lurking on his flanks, until
Tecumseh and his band, suddenly springing from their ambuscade and
sounding the war-whoop, leaped upon his horsemen. The terrified
Americans thought the woods alive with Indians. Officers tried in vain
to rally their men, who turned and sought safety in flight, while
Tecumseh and his warriors followed in pursuit. A Parthian shot from one
of the Americans killed a young chief; this was Tecumseh's only loss.
The enemy lost about a hundred in killed, wounded, and missing; and,
what was of the greatest importance, a packet, containing official
dispatches from Hull to the secretary of War and other papers, was
captured. This was Tecumseh's first engagement in the British cause.
The Indian leader knew that the majority of Indians would incline
towards the side which was first victorious. When, therefore, the
encouraging news was now received that the American fort on Mackinaw
Island had been captured, Tecumseh sent runners in all directions to
tell the Indians of his recent victory and of the fall of Fort Mackinaw.
He announced that British success was assured, and adroitly added that,
if they desired to share the plunder, they must immediately join the
conquerors. One of these light-footed messengers reached the famous
chief of the Potawatomis, Shaubena, as he was about to start on a
hunting expedition. The runner distributed presents of bright-coloured
beads and other ornaments among the women of the tribe, and to Shaubena
he delivered a belt of wampum with Tecumseh's message. The hunting
expedition was abandoned, Shaubena with his warriors set out at once for
Amherstburg, and became Tecumseh's trusty aide, fighting henceforth by
his side until the hour of the great Shawnee's death.
Meanwhile General Hull had come to the conclusion that he could not
maintain his position on the soil of Canada. On the night of August 7 he
withdrew his troops from Sandwich and crossed the river to Detroit. It
was of the utmost importance, however, that he should make a juncture
with Captain Brush and reopen his communications with the country beyond
Lake Erie. To effect this object he sent out a force of six hundred men
under Colonel James Miller, with cavalry and artillery. At this time
Tecumseh was at Brownstown with about two hundred warriors, and Major
Muir of the British Army, in command of about one hundred and sixty
regulars and militia, was also stationed there. On the morning of August
9 some Indians emerged from the forest and reported that the American
troops under Miller were about eight miles distant, and, on account of
the difficulty of transporting the guns over the heavy roads, were
making but slow progress. It was evident that they could not reach
Brownstown before night, and Major Muir, after a hasty consultation with
Tecumseh, decided to meet the enemy at Maguaga, a small Indian village
between Brownstown and Detroit. The Indians in their scant habiliments
of war, their dark bodies grotesquely painted in varied colours, strode
silently by the side of the British soldiers. The allies rapidly pushed
their way along the muddy road, past the scene of the recent attack,
where carcasses of men and horses still lay by the roadside. A halt was
called within a quarter of a mile of Maguaga, at a place favourable for
an ambuscade, and preparations were made for battle. The British took up
a position behind a slightly rising bit of ground. Tecumseh disposed his
men in a meadow, about six hundred yards in extent, which bordered the
road along which the Americans were advancing. The wild grass grew rank
and high and afforded sufficient concealment. The Indians threw
themselves down to await the enemy, and their example was followed by
the British. Tecumseh and his men, peering from their covert, soon
distinguished the main body of the enemy marching in two lines, slowly
and steadily. As they came within range a single shot rang out--the
signal for battle. The Indians fired one deadly volley, and, with the
blood-curdling cry that the Americans had learned to dread, burst wildly
from their hiding-place. The enemy replied with a crackling fire and, as
Tecumseh and his men sprang bravely forward, followed it up with a
bayonet charge.
The bright uniforms of the British now revealed their position, and the
action became general. Unknown to the regulars, a body of Indians had
been posted at the extremity of a neighbouring wood, and, being
subjected to a hot fire and unable to endure the hail of bullets, they
endeavoured to gain the British rear. Appearing in this unexpected
quarter they were mistaken for the foe, and as they emerged from the
wood were fired upon by their comrades-in-arms. The red men in turn
mistook the British for Americans and promptly returned the fire, and
for some time disorder and confusion reigned. The loud remonstrances of
the officers were lost in the din and confusion of battle. Hard pressed
in front and, as he imagined, attacked in the rear, Major Muir ordered a
retreat; he then re=formed his men on the crest of a hill to await the
appearance of the enemy. This position commanded a small bridge over
which the American artillery would have to pass. Here, about a quarter
of a mile distant from their former position, the British waited for a
quarter of an hour, after which, as the enemy did not reappear, Muir
again ordered a retreat. His communication with Tecumseh had been
broken, and, hearing sounds of firing from the woods to his left, he
inferred that the Americans were driving the Indians in that direction
with the object of reaching the road to cut him off from his boats. He
gained the shore of the river, however, without interference from the
enemy, found his boats intact, and pulled swiftly towards Amherstburg.
Tecumseh and his warriors had borne the brunt of the battle and
displayed magnificent courage. After the firing of Muir's men had
ceased, they still fought stubbornly, in spite of the vast numerical
superiority of the enemy, and retreated slowly through the woods in a
westerly direction. Then, turning about, they succeeded in regaining
their canoes, and followed in the wake of the British. The Americans
were unaware of the extent of their success, and fearing a renewed
attack, they abandoned their march and retreated to Detroit. And it was
not until several days after this lively encounter that they again
attempted to reopen communications with their army to the south.
* * * * *
Four uneventful days followed. The night of the 13th was calm and
cloudless. About Fort Malden sentries paced their ceaseless round.
Camp-fires glowed about the wigwams and blockhouses of Bois Blanc.
Tecumseh lay in the open, surrounded by his sleeping warriors. Although
it was past midnight, his sleepless eyes scanned the heavens. The moon
cast a shimmering path upon the water, in whose depths myriads of stars
were reflected. Even as Tecumseh gazed a bright star sped like a golden
arrow across the sky. He marked its flight until it fell afar and seemed
to cleave the dark depths of the river. What did this fiery messenger
portend? Again a youth, he threaded his way through the gloom of the
forest, seeking the guiding spirit of his manhood, until a bright star
fell across his path. Then, in vivid memory, came the tortures of
initiation. A man, he journeyed in strange lands beneath a scorching
sun, or felt the biting winter blasts. Again his heart beat high with
hope, only to be cast down by the crushing defeat of his plans. But
still, upborne by almost superhuman strength, urged by some strange,
impelling power, he must battle for his race. The restless river, as it
fretted the sides of the little island placed so protectingly against
the Canadian shore, sang of battle, whose outcome none might guess.
Suddenly he was aroused from his waking dream by shouts of joy and the
booming of cannon from the decks of the _General Hunter_, which lay at
anchor in the river. It was a salute in honour of the arrival of General
Brock. A vigorous cheer announced his appearance at Fort Malden. The
Indians joined in the welcome and fired off their muskets. A boat made
its way towards the island, and the warriors crowded about it as Colonel
Elliott stepped ashore. He gave them official information of Brock's
arrival, and warned the Indians to save their scanty ammunition.
Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, Tecumseh with his attendant
chiefs accompanied Elliott back to the fort to meet the commander in
whose hands he had placed the fate of his people. Arrived at
Amherstburg, Elliott replied to the sentry's challenge, and they entered
the fort. On reaching the room in which Brock sat, they found him deeply
engrossed in the contents of the captured mail packets, which were
strewn on the table before him, for these told him that General Hull had
lost the confidence of his garrison at Detroit, and that dissensions had
destroyed all unity of purpose among the officers. The candlelight
streamed on his red-brown hair and shone on the gold-fringed epaulets of
his scarlet uniform. Elliott at once presented Tecumseh to Brock. The
latter raised his eyes to behold 'the king of the woods,' whose very
presence seemed to exhale the freedom of the forest.
One of the best pen-portraits extant of Tecumseh is by Captain Glegg,
who thus describes him upon this occasion of his presentation to Brock:
Tecumseh was very prepossessing, his figure light and finely
proportioned, his age I imagined to be about five-and-thirty,
his height five feet nine or ten inches, his complexion light
copper, his countenance oval, with bright hazel eyes beaming
cheerfulness, energy and decision. Three small crowns or
coronets were suspended from the lower cartilage of his aquiline
nose, and a large silver medallion of George the Third, which I
believe his ancestor had received from Lord Dorchester when
governor-general of Canada, was attached to a mixed coloured
wampum string which hung round his neck. His dress consisted of
a plain, neat uniform, a tanned deer-skin jacket with long
trousers of the same material, the seams of both being covered
with neatly cut fringe, and he had on his feet leather moccasins
much ornamented with work made from the dyed quills of the
porcupine.
[Illustration: SIR ISAAC BROCK
From an engraving in the John Ross Robertson Collection, Toronto Public
Library.]
Tecumseh regarded Brock calmly, noting with admiration the athletic form
as it towered to its full height. Thus stood the two commanding figures,
both born to lead, alike bold in purpose and ready in resource. With the
same intuitive perception each trusted the other. They were akin--both
of the 'brotherhood that binds the brave of all the earth.' The brown
hand of Tecumseh met the strong white hand of Brock in a warm clasp, the
seal of a firm friendship. Brock thanked Tecumseh for his salute of
welcome, and like Colonel Elliott mentioned the shortage of ammunition.
With warm words of praise he referred to the work of the warriors in the
recent engagements, commending Tecumseh's leadership and courage in the
highest terms. The chief listened with characteristic calm. Brock
continued: 'I have fought against the enemies of our great father, the
king beyond the great lake, and they have never seen my back. I am come
here to fight his enemies on this side the great lake, and now desire
with my soldiers to take lessons from you and your warriors, that I may
learn how to make war in these great forests.' After a pause Tecumseh,
turning round to his attendant chiefs, stretched out his hand and
exclaimed, 'Ho-o-o-e; this is a man!'
Brock was particularly pleased with the contents of the mail taken at
Brownstown. In striking contrast to Hull's high-sounding proclamation,
it revealed that general's real attitude of dejection. Communication
from the rear had been cut off; he feared starvation and despaired of
being able to withstand attack. The contents of these dispatches
prompted Brock to invade American territory without delay. Rapidly he
unfolded a daring plan against Fort Detroit, but his officers shook
their heads and strongly dissented. Not so Tecumseh, who, as Brock
sketched his scheme, had listened with gleaming eye, and who now
enthusiastically supported it. The commander inquired as to the
character of the country through which they must pass to reach Detroit.
For answer the chief unrolled a piece of elm bark, which he held flat
with four stones; and, drawing his scalping-knife from its sheath, he
traced with its point the roads, ravines, groves, and streams. Brock
intently followed the blade of Tecumseh, beneath whose hand a fine
military map rapidly took shape. Was ever before Indian scalping-knife
put to so good a use! This unexpected skill surprised and delighted
Brock. When the map was completed, clear in outline, intelligent in
detail, any misgivings he may have had vanished. In the face of all
opposition and dissent Brock resolved to attempt the capture of Detroit.
Thanking Tecumseh for his invaluable aid and promising to address his
followers at noon the next day, the commander retired for a few hours of
much-needed rest. Accompanied by his chiefs, the Indian leader made his
way back over the water to the little island. It was now almost morning,
and as he scanned the brightening sky he wondered within himself whether
it heralded a hopeful dawn for his unhappy people.
At noon of that day one thousand Indians of various tribes assembled
beneath the trees about Fort Malden. After the customary opening
ceremonies Brock addressed them, telling them he had come across the
great salt lake (the Atlantic ocean), at the request of their great
father, to help them, and that with their assistance he would drive the
Americans from Fort Detroit. His words were greeted with noisy approval.
Tecumseh then replied that he was pleased that 'their father beyond the
great salt lake had at last consented to let his warriors come to the
assistance of his red children, who had never ceased to remain steadfast
in their friendship and were now all ready to shed their last drop of
blood in their great father's service.'
Seeing Tecumseh surrounded by his warriors, who, fiery and indomitable,
but unstable as water, were united by his leadership alone, Brock
realized the powerful personality of his new and valuable ally. Here is
an extract from one of Brock's letters written soon afterwards:
Among the Indians whom I found at Amherstbourg and who arrived
from different parts of the country there were some
extraordinary characters. He who most attracted my attention was
a Shawnee chief--brother of the Prophet, who for the last two
years has carried on, contrary to our remonstrance, an active
war with the United States. A more sagacious or a more gallant
warrior does not, I believe, exist. He was the admiration of
every one who addressed him.
Preparations were rapidly made for a movement against Detroit, and on
the morning of the next day, August 15, the British and Indians marched
towards Sandwich. Brock sent Lieutenant-Colonel Macdonell and Captain
Glegg to General Hull, under a flag of truce, demanding the surrender of
Detroit. Adroitly embodied in his dispatch were the following words:
'You must be aware that the numerous bodies of Indians who have attached
themselves to my troops will be beyond my control the moment the contest
commences.' Hull replied that he was prepared to meet any force at
Brock's command; whereupon the British batteries at Sandwich opened
fire, which continued until evening. Under cover of darkness Colonel
Elliott and Tecumseh led six hundred Indian warriors to the shore of the
river on the night of the 15th, where they silently launched their
canoes and gained the American side, prepared to protect the crossing of
the main army in the morning.
In the quiet early dawn 320 British regulars and 400 Canadian militia
were in readiness to embark; and, as sunrise coloured the sky, a motley
fleet pushed off from the Canadian shore. The war vessel _Queen
Charlotte_ and the batteries at Sandwich opened fire, while the wooded
shores re-echoed to the savage yells of 600 painted braves. Brock stood
erect in the foremost boat, which steered towards Springwells, about
four miles below Detroit, where Tecumseh awaited his landing. Scarcely
had Brock stepped ashore when a scout rushed up with the news that a
large body of American troops, who had left the fort two days before for
another attempt to reach the army at the Raisin, were approaching from
the rear, and were now but a few miles distant. The attack must,
therefore, be made at once. The forces were rapidly formed in two
columns, an advance was sounded, and the allies pressed forward towards
Fort Detroit.
That formidable stronghold bristled with cannon, which could be trained
on any part of the advancing army. Yet steadily forward marched the
British, while the Indians shouted their wild war-cry, which doubtless
struck terror to the heart of Hull. The gunners in Detroit stood at
their posts with lighted fuses, but the British and Indians dauntlessly
advanced till they could see the black, yawning mouths of the guns,
whose thunder each moment they thought to hear.
At some distance from the fort Brock and Tecumseh ascended an elevated
bit of ground to reconnoitre. Scarcely had they done so when a messenger
was seen speeding from the fort with a white flag. Colonel Macdonell and
Captain Glegg were sent to meet him. The news they brought back was that
Hull was prepared to surrender. The fire from the batteries at Sandwich
and from the _Queen Charlotte_, with the bold advance of the British and
the Indian war-cry, had done their work. The commanders rode forward and
took possession of the fort. Hull's twenty-five hundred men became
prisoners of war, and all the armaments and stores, along with the
territory of Michigan, passed into the hands of the British. The Stars
and Stripes were lowered, and the Union Jack streamed out upon the
breeze.
Tecumseh was elated and amazed at this bloodless victory over the Long
Knives. Shortly after the surrender of Detroit, he is reported to have
said to Brock:
I have heard much of your fame and am happy again to shake by
the hand a brave brother warrior. The Americans endeavoured to
give us a mean opinion of British generals, but we have been
witnesses of your valour. In crossing the river to attack the
enemy, we observed you from a distance standing the whole time
in an erect position, and when the boats reached the shore you
were among the first who jumped on land. Your bold and sudden
movements alarmed the enemy and compelled them to surrender to
less than half their own force.
Brock, realizing the value of Tecumseh's services, honoured him
publicly. Removing his silken sash, he fastened it about the chief's
shoulders, presenting him at the same time with a pair of pistols. Stoic
though Tecumseh was, he could not conceal his pride and gratification at
Brock's gift. Next day, however, he appeared without the sash; and when
the British general sent to inquire the reason, he explained that he had
given it to Roundhead of the Wyandots, an older and more valiant chief
than himself.
In his general order from Detroit, August 17, Brock wrote:
The conduct of the Indians, joined to that of the gallant and
brave chiefs of their respective tribes, has since the
commencement of the war been marked with acts of true heroism,
and in nothing can they testify more strongly their love to the
king, their great father, than by following the dictates of
honour and humanity by which they have been hitherto actuated.
Two fortifications have already been captured from the enemy
without a drop of blood being shed by the hands of Indians. The
instant the enemy submitted, his life became sacred.
That such was the case at Detroit was almost entirely due to the
dominating influence of Tecumseh over his followers.
CHAPTER VIII
FIGHTING ON AMERICAN SOIL
After Brock had accomplished his work at Detroit, he hastily returned to
the seat of government at York to make preparations for guarding the
Niagara frontier; and here we must take our leave of the great soldier,
for another writer in these Chronicles is to tell of his subsequent
movements, and of his glorious death on Queenston Heights. Colonel
Procter was left in command of the western forts, to which Tecumseh was
attached. Owing to an unfortunate armistice arranged between the
belligerent nations, the energetic Indian chief could do nothing more
than exert his powers in persuading many undecided warriors to become
Britain's allies. In this business he moved through the Indian country
between Lake Michigan and the Wabash, daily increasing his forces.
In the meantime General Harrison, of whom we learned something in a
preceding chapter, was given command of the north-western army of the
United States. He was invested with wide authority, and instructed,
first of all, to provide for the defence of the western frontiers and
then to 'retake Detroit, with a view to the conquest of Canada.' The
first part of these instructions he proceeded to carry out by raiding
Indian villages and burning their cornfields. Next he arranged his
autumn campaign, which had in view the recapture of Detroit and, if
possible, the capture of Fort Malden and the invasion of Canada. His
troops occupied Fort Defiance, on the Maumee, as a base of supplies, and
Sandusky, on the south shore of Lake Erie, as an observation post.
Before much could be done, however, the autumn waned, and Harrison, with
seventeen hundred men, encamped for the winter on the right bank of the
Maumee, at the foot of the rapids, near the place where Wayne had fought
the battle of the Fallen Timbers sixteen years before.
In January 1813 Major Reynolds, of the British forces on the Detroit,
marched into Frenchtown with fifty soldiers and two hundred Indians.
Frenchtown stood on the site of the present city of Monroe (Mich.) on
the river Raisin, about midway between Detroit and Harrison's camp on
the Maumee. On the 18th scouts reported the approach of an American
force of some five hundred and fifty regulars and Kentucky volunteers.
Reynolds made a judicious disposition of his men to meet this superior
force, but the enemy fell suddenly upon him, driving him back about a
mile. When the British had gained the shelter of a wood their
three-pounder did effective work, causing the enemy considerable loss,
and a continuous fire from militia and Indians held the Americans in
check for a time. But the contest was hopeless, and Reynolds retreated
to Brownstown, about eighteen miles distant, having lost one militiaman
and three Indians, and having killed twelve Americans and wounded
fifty-five. The American captain made no attempt to pursue the British,
but established himself at Frenchtown, and two days later General
Winchester marched in with a large body of American troops.
During the night of the 18th word of Reynolds's repulse was brought to
Procter, who, with unaccustomed alacrity, hastened from Amherstburg with
all his available force, leaving but a few men to guard the fort. Early
on the morning of the 20th he led five hundred militia and regulars and
eight hundred Indians across the frozen waters of the Detroit river. The
troops were soon winding their way along the road on the western shore.
At nightfall they encamped in the open about five miles from the enemy,
and lighted huge fires to protect themselves from the bitter winter
cold. Before daybreak of the 21st they were again on the march and
sighted the American camp while all was darkness and silence. No outpost
guarded the slumbering encampment, and the British approached
unchallenged. They had brought three three-pounders with them, and these
were swiftly but silently placed in commanding positions. The line for
attack was being formed when the musket-shot of a sentinel rang out
through the crisp air, and was immediately followed by the roar from a
three-pounder, which startled the sleeping camp into activity. Thus the
British lost some of the advantage of a surprise attack. Instead of
making a rapid advance and bayonet charge, or an attack upon the
surrounding parapet, from which the enemy wrought such havoc later,
Procter ordered the three-pounders to be brought into action, and while
this was being done, the Americans had seized their arms and prepared
for a stubborn defence.
Procter attacked with the regulars in the centre and the militia and
Indians on the flanks. The American centre fought from behind defences,
and their fire caused great havoc in the ranks of the regulars, where
the fire was hottest and the loss most severe. After the fight had
continued for upwards of an hour, the Indians decided the issue.
Outflanking the enemy on each side, they gained the rear, and fiercely
assailed and drove in the enemy's right, which gave way and fled in
terror to the farther side of the river Raisin, seeking shelter in the
woods. The Indians followed across the ice in swift pursuit, eager for
slaughter. The blood-stained snow and the bodies of those overtaken
marked the direction of their flight for almost two miles. Only a few
prisoners were captured, but among them were Colonel Lewis, General
Winchester, and his son, a lad of sixteen years of age. So complete had
been the surprise of the American camp that when Winchester was led into
the British lines he was clothed only in his night-shirt.
The American left and centre, however, still held out stubbornly,
fighting desperately through fear of falling into the hands of the
Indians and sharing a fate similar to that of their comrades. On
learning that the conflict was still in progress, Winchester pencilled
an order to the commanding officer to surrender, in order to prevent
further loss of life. The command was immediately obeyed, and the action
ceased. A number of the Americans made good their escape to Harrison's
camp on the Maumee, where Fort Meigs was erected immediately afterwards.
'The zeal and courage of the Indian department were never more
conspicuous than on this occasion,' wrote Procter, 'and the Indian
warriors fought with great bravery.' Tecumseh himself was not present at
the battle of Frenchtown, as he was busy seeking recruits among the
Indian allies of the British. The leader of the Indians on that occasion
was Roundhead of the Wyandots.
Learning that Harrison had reorganized his army and brought up artillery
and stores to strengthen his position at Fort Meigs, Procter decided to
attack the American general in force. Harrison, as we have seen, had
about 1700 men and expected an equal reinforcement under General Green
Clay. Procter, now a brigadier-general, embarked at Amherstburg with
1000 white troops and all available artillery. Tecumseh, who had
returned to headquarters, led his Indians overland. The result of his
mission among the tribes now manifested itself. As he advanced, his
force was greatly augmented, many warriors joining him at the mouth of
the Maumee, until at last he commanded not fewer than 1200 men. The
British forces reached the vicinity of Fort Meigs on April 28, and went
into camp opposite the fort; but heavy rains delayed operations until
the 1st of May. Procter erected a battery a short distance above his
camp; another battery was soon added: but the fire from both proving
ineffective, a third was established across the river just below Fort
Meigs.
The expected American reinforcements reached the head of the rapids, and
on the night of May 4 a messenger from Harrison made his way through the
British lines to Clay, instructing him to land eight hundred men on the
left bank of the Maumee to carry the British batteries there, and spike
the guns, afterwards crossing to the fort. The remainder of the troops
were to land on the right side of the river and make their way through
the Indians to the fort. According to orders, Colonel Dudley landed with
the specified force, rushed the batteries, which were manned only by a
few gunners, and spiked the guns. The main body of British were at the
camp a mile and a half distant. But, contrary to orders, Dudley did not
return immediately to his boats and cross to the fort; instead, he left
the greater part of his men at the batteries under Major Shelby and set
off with the rest in pursuit of some Indians.
The routed artillerymen, reaching the British camp, made known the loss
of guns, and Tecumseh led his warriors to retake them through a downpour
of rain. Dudley and the smaller body that accompanied him were drawn
into an ambuscade and annihilated, Dudley himself falling beneath the
tomahawk; while the larger force left in possession of the captured
batteries was assailed by Major Muir, with fewer than two hundred men,
and put to rout. The Americans fled for refuge to the woods, only to be
confronted there by the Indians. Thus caught between two fires, they
were utterly destroyed.
Clay's force of 450 men had landed on the opposite side of the river,
where they were attacked by the Indians. But they were soon reinforced
by a detachment sent from the fort to meet them, whereupon they turned
upon the British position, captured one gun, and took prisoner forty of
the 41st regiment. The remainder of the British at this point,
strengthened by a small detachment of militia and Indians, advanced and
retook the battery, and the Americans were driven back into the fort.
A white flag now fluttered from the walls of Fort Meigs. Harrison
proposed an exchange of prisoners, in the hope that during the delay
caused by these proceedings he would be able to get much-needed baggage,
stores, and ammunition into the fort. But the boats containing his
supplies were captured by the Indians, who took childish pleasure in
their rich plunder. When the prisoners had been exchanged Harrison again
opened fire, and the contest continued until the 9th with little result.
Unaccustomed to this prolonged warfare and weary of fighting, the
greater part of the Indians now returned to their villages to celebrate
their recent victory; but Tecumseh, although his force, so laboriously
brought together, had dwindled to fewer than twenty warriors, remained
with the British. The militia also grew restless and discontented, and
desired to return to their homes, to attend to the spring seeding of
their fields. Under these conditions Procter was obliged to abandon the
siege of Fort Meigs and withdraw his forces.
During this affair an event occurred which illustrates the marvellous
power of Tecumseh's personality. While some of the American prisoners
were being conducted to the boats, they were savagely attacked by a band
of strange Indians. These warriors, who had taken no part in the
engagement, greatly out-numbered the guard. Forty of the prisoners had
already been put to death before a messenger set off at full speed to
Tecumseh with news of this horrible outrage. The Indian leader rode
rapidly towards the scene of the massacre, which was then at its height.
Throwing himself from his horse, he grasped the two nearest savages and
hurled them violently to the ground. Brandishing his tomahawk, he rushed
among the Indians, and in a voice of thunder forbade them to touch
another prisoner. The massacre ceased instantly, and, awed by Tecumseh's
presence and threatening manner, the savages disappeared into the woods.
Towards the latter part of July Tecumseh persuaded Procter to make
another attempt to take Fort Meigs. After much deliberation the British
general finally started up the Maumee with a force of four hundred white
soldiers and about three hundred Indians. He took with him also several
six-pounders. The troops disembarked on the right bank not far from the
fort. Tecumseh, fertile in strategy, had devised a plan by which he
hoped to lure the garrison from the fort. His scouts had apprised him
that Harrison with a large force was at Sandusky, about sixty miles
distant. The chief proposed that the Indians should gain the road which
led from Sandusky to Fort Meigs and that a sham battle should be enacted
there to deceive the garrison, who would naturally suppose that some of
Harrison's force, coming to the fort, were being attacked. They would
hasten to the assistance of their comrades, and the British would fall
upon them in the rear, while a strong force assailed the fort. The plan
met with Procter's approval, and the Indians proceeded to carry it out.
Heavy firing was soon heard, and it became so animated that even some of
Procter's men believed that a real engagement was in progress. But the
garrison made no response, and the mock battle, which lasted about an
hour, was finally terminated by a heavy downpour of rain.
Tecumseh's plan for the capture of Fort Meigs had miscarried, but he
still hoped for victory. He induced Procter to make an attack upon Fort
Stephenson (now Fremont in the state of Ohio), about ten miles from the
mouth of the Sandusky river. On July 28 the British troops embarked with
artillery and stores and entered Sandusky Bay. Most of the Indians
marched through the woods between the Sandusky and the Maumee. On August
1 Procter, having ascended the river, demanded the surrender of Fort
Stephenson from Major Croghan, the officer in command. The garrison
consisted of only one hundred and sixty men, and they had but one gun;
yet Croghan refused to surrender. Procter then landed his men and opened
fire on the north-west angle of the fort; but his guns were light, and
the cannonade, which continued for thirty hours, had but little effect.
Fort Stephenson was built on the edge of a deep ravine filled with
brushwood. Before the main building was a ditch, the sides of which were
crowned with palisades. About four o'clock in the afternoon Procter
ordered an assault. He divided his men into two parties, one to attack
the fort from the north-west, the other to assail the southern side.
Armed with axes, which, however, were so blunt as to be almost useless,
the men of the first party broke through the outer palisades and gained
the ditch. Here they found further advance impossible, as they had no
scaling-ladders. In this position they were raked by a deadly fire of
musketry from the fort. The men at the southern side were not so
severely pressed; but after two hours' hard fighting the British were
forced to withdraw, having suffered a loss of about one hundred killed
and wounded. Under cover of darkness Procter and his men regained their
boats and returned to Amherstburg. Greatly disheartened at these
repeated failures, Tecumseh and his warriors marched overland to the
head of Lake Erie and again went into camp on Bois Blanc Island.
CHAPTER IX
THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE
The hope of the British now centred in their fleet, which commanded Lake
Erie. It was known that Harrison was anxious to regain Detroit and
invade Canada, but he could do nothing until the control of the lake had
been won. Towards this object the Americans now bent their energies,
sparing no expense in their effort to equip a lake fleet superior to
that of the British. Several new ships were building in the port of
Presqu'isle (now Erie), Pennsylvania, under the direction of Captain
Oliver Perry, the young officer in command on Lake Erie. At length nine
American vessels were fitted out--_Lawrence_, twenty guns; _Niagara_,
twenty guns; _Caledonia_, three guns; _Ariel_, four guns; _Scorpion_,
two guns; _Somers_, two guns; _Trippe_, one gun; _Porcupine_, one gun;
_Tigress_, one gun. These boats were commanded by able officers and were
manned chiefly by experienced seamen taken from the crews of frigates
which were blockaded in the seaports.
Opposed to this fleet Canada had on Lake Erie a squadron consisting of
six vessels--_Queen Charlotte_, seventeen guns; _Lady Prevost_, thirteen
guns; _Hunter_, ten guns; _Little Belt_, three guns; _Chippewa_, one
gun; _Detroit_, still on the stocks at Amherstburg, nineteen guns.
Captain Robert Barclay, one of Nelson's heroes at Trafalgar, was in
command. Like the great admiral under whom he served, he had lost an arm
in naval conflict, which gained for him the Indian title of 'our father
with the one arm.'
The American ships had been in readiness since the early part of July,
but were blockaded in Presqu'isle. There were but seven feet of water on
the bar at the entrance to the harbour, which made it impossible for the
larger ships to sail out with their heavy armament on board and in face
of a fire from the British ships. Barclay, assured of his mastery of the
situation, frequently visited places along the coast in search of
provisions. The enemy, who maintained constant and careful watch, took
advantage of his absence on one of these occasions and skilfully slipped
their vessels over the bar. Barclay, on returning, saw with dismay that
the American fleet had escaped from Presqu'isle, and, realizing that the
control of the lake had passed from his hands, he directed his course
towards Amherstburg to hasten the completion of the _Detroit_.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE
(1) BARCLAY'S FLAGSHIP, THE _DETROIT_
(2) PERRY'S FLAGSHIP, THE _NIAGARA_
(3) THE PASSAGE FROM THE _LAWRENCE_ TO THE _NIAGARA_
From prints in the John Ross Robertson Collection, Toronto Public
Library.]
Starvation threatened the garrison at Amherstburg. Indians swarmed about
the fort, their numbers seeming to increase as the food supply
diminished. Barclay writes, 'There was not a day's flour in the store
and the squadron was on half allowance of many things,' and 'it was
necessary to fight the enemy to enable us to get supplies of every
description.' Immediate battle was inevitable, and on the efforts of the
navy hung a momentous issue. Should it fail, supplies from Niagara would
be cut off and Harrison's forces, which were stationed in readiness for
this opportunity, would march in and crush Procter's command.
From Bois Blanc Island Tecumseh and his warriors followed with interest
the manœuvres of the American ships. They watched with wonder the
spreading sails, which in the morning sun looked like a flock of huge
white sea-gulls. Naval warfare was new to many of the Indians, and they
gazed in silent awe as the ships sailed towards Amherstburg. Tecumseh,
who closely followed their movements, assured the Indians crowded about
him on the beach that these vessels with their proud white sails would
soon be destroyed by 'their father with the one arm.' But there were no
signs of immediate battle, and Tecumseh grew impatient. Launching his
canoe, he paddled over to Amherstburg to discover the reason of delay.
'A few days since you were boasting that you commanded the waters; why
do you not go out and meet the Americans?' he demanded of Procter. 'See,
yonder they are waiting for you and daring you to meet them.' Procter
assured Tecumseh that the delay would not be long; the British were
waiting for the completion of the _Detroit_. The chief returned to the
island to inform his warriors that the big canoes of their great fathers
were not yet ready and that the destruction of the American fleet must
be delayed a few days.
Barclay remained in Amherstburg to hasten the completion of the
_Detroit_, his largest vessel. But, at length, as further delay was
dangerous, she had to be launched as she was, in a rough and imperfect
condition. In default of other guns, she was armed with long battering
pieces taken from the ramparts of the fort. Every calibre of gun was
used, and so incomplete was her equipment that her cannon had to be
discharged by flashing pistols at the touch-holes.
Long and vainly had Barclay waited for the arrival of the promised
seamen from Lake Ontario, with whom he hoped to man his ships. His
insistent appeal and final remonstrance were treated with indifference.
There were but fifty experienced seamen in the British ships, the
remainder of the crews consisting of two hundred and forty soldiers and
eighty Canadian volunteer sailors, who had no proper training in
seamanship and gunnery. While Barclay was obliged to enter the contest
with his fleet thus wretchedly equipped, Perry had a force of over five
hundred men, hardy frontiersmen and experienced soldiers, and a
sufficiency of trained seamen to work his squadron in any weather or
circumstance. On the night of September 9 the British commander ran up
his flag, weighed anchor, and set sail, hoping to encounter early next
morning the American fleet, which lay thirty or more miles distant at
Put-in-Bay.
The grey curtain of morning mist rolled up from Lake Erie, where the
British fleet stood out in battle array. A light breeze rippled the
surface of the lake and filled the swelling sails. Barclay took
advantage of the favourable wind and bore towards the American vessels,
which were lying among a cluster of islands. He put forth every effort
to reach them before they could sail clear of the islands to form their
line. But the wind was so light that they had got away from their
cramped quarters before Barclay could come near them.
The enemy's fleet now bore towards the British, Perry leading in his
flagship the _Lawrence_. From his mast-head flew a flag with the motto,
'Don't give up the ship'--the dying words of Captain James Lawrence of
the _Chesapeake_, after whom the vessel was named. The British fleet,
compactly formed and under easy sail, awaited the enemy's approach.
Captain Barclay in his flagship _Detroit_ headed towards the south-west.
The _Chippewa_, _Hunter_, _Queen Charlotte_, _Lady Prevost_, and _Little
Belt_, in close column, followed in his wake. The breeze, still light,
veered to the north-east, giving the Americans the weather gauge.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN ROBERT BARCLAY
('OUR FATHER WITH THE ONE ARM')
From the John Ross Robertson Collection, Toronto Public Library.]
About noon the action began. The roar of the _Detroit's_ twenty-four
pounder, reverberating over the lake, told the anxious watchers on land
that the battle had begun. The first shot fell short, but the second
struck the decks of the _Lawrence_, dealing death and destruction.
Perry's _Scorpion_ now opened fire with her long thirty-two, and the
_Lawrence_ with her long twelves and her carronades. As soon as the two
flagships were engaged, the battle was taken up by the _Scorpion_,
_Ariel_, and _Caledonia_ opposed to the _Chippewa_, _Queen Charlotte_,
and _Hunter_.
For over two hours Barclay engaged Perry, until brace and bowline of the
_Lawrence_ had been shot away. The American flagship's hull was rent by
shot and shell and every gun on her fighting side dismounted. The
condition of the _Detroit_ was equally perilous. Masts and rigging were
cut to pieces and her decks torn and splintered from the heavy fire of
the _Lawrence_. Captain Barclay's remaining arm had been disabled in the
early part of the action, and, weak from his wounds, he had been carried
below. But the valiant crew, inspired by the courage and determination
of their officers, stubbornly continued the fight.
Perry's ship being reduced to a wreck, that gallant young commander,
still undaunted, determined to abandon her. Hauling down his flag, he
bade four stout seamen row him to the _Niagara_. The little boat sped
swiftly on her way; all about her the water was churned to foam by shot
and shell. Those on the flagship anxiously watched the dangerous
passage, and broke into cheers as their commander reached the
_Niagara's_ deck in safety and ran up his flag on that ship. The
_Lawrence_ now struck to the _Detroit_, but the latter's small boats had
been so damaged by the enemy's fire that they were not seaworthy. The
British, therefore, were unable to take possession of their prize before
the action recommenced.
A fresh breeze sprang up, and the fortunes of the fight changed. The
Americans still had the advantage of the wind, for Perry was able to
choose both position and distance, while Barclay's ships became
unmanageable for lack of proper seamen. The American fleet was now drawn
up in line. The _Niagara_ bore up to pierce the British line. Passing
between the _Lady Prevost_, _Little Belt_, and _Chippewa_ on the port
side and the _Detroit_, _Queen Charlotte_, and _Hunter_ upon the
starboard, she fired heavy broadsides both ways. The _Detroit_,
anticipating the manœuvre, attempted to wear, but in so doing ran foul
of the _Queen_ _Charlotte_. In this helpless condition the two British
ships remained for some time. Perry, promptly availing himself of this
accident, bore down upon the distressed vessels, pouring in broadside
after broadside with deadly effect. The _Detroit_ had already received
rough treatment in combat with the _Lawrence_; and the smaller vessels
now also made her a target, the _Somers_, _Porcupine_, _Tigress_, and
_Caledonia_, which had closed up in the rear, keeping up a deadly fire
astern.
Never in any naval action was the loss greater in proportion to the
number of men engaged. The encounter had been so severe that every
officer on the _Detroit_ was either killed or wounded. Barclay's thigh
was badly shattered and he had also been severely wounded in the
shoulder. So deadly had been the fire from the American guns that
three-fourths of his men were disabled. Without officers to direct or
men to fight, resistance was no longer possible. All that perseverance
and courage could do had been done. The brave Barclay was compelled to
yield at last to a superior force and to double the weight of metal. The
two ships so helplessly entangled were the first to strike their
colours, and their example was followed by the _Hunter_ and _Lady_
_Prevost_. The _Little Belt_ and the _Chippewa_ endeavoured to escape,
and led the _Trippe_ and _Scorpion_ a lively chase before they were
eventually captured.
Cooper in his naval history remarks:
Stress was laid at the time on the fact that a portion of the
British crews were Provincials, but the history of this
continent is filled with instances which went to increase the
renown of the mother country without obtaining any credit for
it. The hardy frontier men of the American lakes are as able to
endure fatigue, as ready to engage and as constant in battle as
the seamen of any marine in the world. They merely require good
leaders, and this the English appear to have possessed in
Captain Barclay and his assistants.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when the flag of the _Detroit_ was
lowered, and Captain Barclay with his officers, amidst the dead and
dying who cumbered her decks, gave up their swords to Perry on the
_Niagara_. The American commander could not but feel the greatest
admiration for his courageous opponent. Courteous as he was brave, Perry
begged the British officers to retain their swords.
For three hours the cannon had thundered over Lake Erie on that fateful
day, but, after the opening encounter, the manœuvres of the ships were
lost to those on shore in the heavy clouds of smoke that hung over the
water. When these had cleared away, a scene was revealed that contrasted
sadly with that disclosed by the lifting of the morning mist. Crippled
and dismantled, the brave ships, whose sails had swelled so proudly in
the morning breeze, now made their way towards Put-in-Bay.
The Indians, marvelling at the roar of the guns, watched intently the
heavy smoke of battle drifting over the lake. When the thunder had
ceased and the sky was clear they eagerly inquired as to the result of
the fight; and Tecumseh demanded the reason for the vessels sailing in
the direction of the American shore. Procter, fearing that the news of
defeat might cause the chief and his warriors to desert, craftily
explained that his vessels had beaten the Americans, but had gone to
refit and would return in a few days. But Tecumseh's keen eyes soon
detected signs on land which aroused his suspicions, for hasty
preparations were being made for retreat. He was indignant at what
seemed to him the cowardice of Procter, and demanded to be heard in the
name of all his warriors. At a council of war held on September 18 the
great orator delivered his last powerful speech. With flashing eye and
rapid gesture he thundered forth to Procter:
Father, listen to your children! You have them now all before
you.
The war before this, our British father gave the hatchet to his
red children, when our old chiefs were alive. They are now dead.
In that war our father was thrown on his back by the Americans;
and our father took them by the hand without our knowledge; and
we are afraid our father will do so again at this time.
Summer before last, when I came forward with my red brethren and
was ready to take up the hatchet in favour of our British
father, we were then told not to be in a hurry--that he had not
yet determined to fight the Americans.
Listen! When war was declared our father stood up and gave us
the tomahawk, and told us that he was then ready to strike the
Americans; that he wanted our assistance, and that he certainly
would get us back our lands, which the Americans had taken from
us.
Listen! You told us at that time to bring forward our families
to this place, and we did so, and you promised to take care of
them and that they should want for nothing, while the men would
go and fight the enemy; that we need not trouble ourselves about
the enemy's garrisons; that we knew nothing about them and that
our father would attend to that part of the business. You also
told your red children that you would take good care of your
garrison here, which made our hearts glad.
Listen! When you were last at the Rapids, it is true we gave you
little assistance. It is hard to fight people who live like
ground hogs.
Father, listen! Our fleet has gone out; we know they have
fought; we have heard the great guns; but we know nothing of
what has happened to 'our father with the one arm.' Our ships
have gone one way, and we are much astonished to see our father
tying up everything and preparing to run away the other, without
letting his red children know what his intentions are. You
always told us to remain here and take care of your lands; it
made our hearts glad to hear that was your wish. Our great
father, the king, is the head, and you represent him. You always
told us you would never draw your foot off British ground; but
now, father, we see that you are drawing back, and we are sorry
to see our father doing so, without seeing the enemy. We must
compare our father's conduct to a fat dog that carries its tail
on its back, but when affrighted drops it between its legs and
runs off.
Father, listen! The Americans have not yet defeated us by land,
neither are we sure they have done so by water; _we, therefore,
wish to remain here and fight our enemy should they make their
appearance_. If they defeat us, we will then retreat with our
father.
At the battle of the Rapids, last war, the Americans certainly
defeated us; and when we returned to our father's fort at that
place, the gates were shut against us. We were afraid it would
again be the case, but instead of closing the gates we now see
our British father preparing to march out of his garrison.
Father, you have the arms and ammunition which our great father
sent for his red children. If you intend to retreat, give them
to us, and you may go, and welcome, for us. Our lives are in the
hands of the Great Spirit. We are determined to defend our
lands, and if it be His will, we wish to leave our bones upon
them.
This challenging, straightforward, and heroic speech failed to move
Procter. He stubbornly refused to make a stand at Amherstburg, which,
indeed, would have been fatal. Tecumseh, however, accused him of
cowardice, contrasting his conduct with that of the courageous Barclay,
and expressed his own fixed determination to remain and meet the enemy.
CHAPTER X
TECUMSEH\'S LAST FIGHT
Tecumseh felt that the great purpose of his life was about to fail. He
had been champion not only of the rights of the Indians, but of their
very existence as a nation. Dear to his heart was the freedom of his
people, and to achieve this had been his sole ambition. All the powers
with which he had been endowed--his superb physical strength, his keen
intellect, his powerful oratory--had been used to this one end. But now
the cause for which he had fought so heroically in the face of frequent
disaster seemed about to be overthrown by Procter's weakness and
irresolution. Tecumseh was born to command, and his proud spirit,
naturally intolerant of control, chafed at following the dictates of a
leader who had deceived him. The Indians had lost faith in Procter.
There were daily desertions, and Tecumseh bitterly meditated following
the example of other chiefs. But his courageous spirit revolted at the
thought of retreat: to fly before the enemy without striking a blow
seemed to him the action not of warriors but of cowards.
Procter pointed out that the fort, which had been dismantled to equip
the _Detroit_, was open to attack from the river; that the hospital was
filled with sick soldiers; and that starvation stared the British in the
face. But the argument which weighed most with Tecumseh was that they
would be able to find along the river Thames a place much better suited
for battle. And at last the Indian leader reconciled his mind to the
thought of retreat.
The troops were soon busily engaged in loading the baggage. Part was
stowed in boats to be sent inland by way of the Detroit river, Lake St
Clair, and the Thames; the remainder was placed in heavy wagons to be
taken overland. The women and children, among whom were the general's
wife and his sick daughter, were sent on ahead, the squaws trudging
along bearing their papooses on their backs. The troops set fire to the
shipyards, fortifications, and public buildings on September 24, and
marched out leaving Amherstburg a mass of flames. Tecumseh seemed sad
and oppressed; and as he gazed at the rolling clouds of smoke he said to
Blue Jacket: 'We are now going to follow the British, and I feel well
assured we shall never return.'
Procter halted at Sandwich, where he was joined by the garrison of
Detroit, now also abandoned by the British, its fortifications and
public buildings having been destroyed. On the morning of the 27th the
column moved out of Sandwich. The lumbering wagons, encumbered with much
heavy and unnecessary baggage, made slow progress. Procter's energy had
vanished, and he displayed none of the forethought that a commander
should have in the performance of his duty. He took no precaution to
guard the supply-boats; his men were indifferently fed, and no care was
taken for their safety. Even the bridges, which should have been cut
down to hamper the progress of the enemy in pursuit, were left standing.
Three days after Procter's flight from Amherstburg Harrison landed below
the town from Perry's vessels an army about five thousand strong.
Finding Fort Malden a smoking ruin, and no enemy there, he pressed on to
Sandwich, with his bands playing _Yankee_ _Doodle_, and encamped. Two
days later he was joined by Colonel Johnson with fifteen hundred
cavalry, and on the same day (September 29) a flotilla under Perry
sailed up the river and stood off Detroit. After taking possession of
Detroit, Harrison resolved to hasten in pursuit of the British. On
October 2 he left Sandwich with four thousand men, sending his baggage
by water under the protection of three gunboats which Perry had
provided. Thus unencumbered, his troops marched rapidly. On the morning
of the 3rd they overtook and captured a small cavalry picket of the
British; and keeping in motion throughout the day, they encamped that
night not far below the place known as Dolsen's, on the south side of
the Thames river, about six miles below Chatham.
The main body of the British had left Dolsen's just a day in advance of
the enemy, having travelled only forty-five miles in five days. All
along the route Tecumseh had persistently urged that a stand should be
made. Procter had promised that this should be done, first at one place,
then at another; but each time he had made some excuse. At length, when
they came to the site of the present city of Chatham, where M'Gregor's
Creek falls into the Thames, Tecumseh pointed out to Procter the natural
advantages of the ground and appealed to him to prepare for battle. The
general approved of making a stand at this point, and declared that the
British would either defeat Harrison here or leave their bones on the
field of conflict. After the leaders had completed their survey of the
proposed battle-ground, Tecumseh gazed musingly at the swiftly flowing
waters. 'When I look at those two streams,' he said, 'they remind me of
the Wabash and the Tippecanoe.' A gentler light shone in the warrior's
eyes; his thoughts were far away among the scenes of his Indian
village--the village that he had hoped to make the centre of a great
confederacy of red men.
Meanwhile the main body of the British troops were at Dolsen's, where
they had arrived on the 1st of October. Leaving his troops at their
camp, and Tecumseh and his Indians at Chatham, Procter set out with a
guard to escort his wife and daughter to Moraviantown, a village of the
Delaware Indians, twenty odd miles farther up the river. He was still
absent on October 3, when scouts returned with news of the capture of
the cavalry picket. Procter had left no orders; and Warburton, the
officer in command, was at a loss what action to take. After consulting
with Tecumseh, who had come down from Chatham, he ordered a retreat for
two miles up the river; there the troops formed up, fully expecting
attack. But as the enemy failed to appear, they proceeded to Chatham.
Tecumseh desired the troops to halt and encamp with his Indians on the
opposite side of the river. Warburton, however, desired to continue the
retreat. But Tecumseh would not yield, and Warburton ordered his men
across the stream, where the entire force camped for the night. Next
morning, before the troops had breakfasted, scouts rushed into the camp
bringing word of the rapid advance of the enemy. Immediately Warburton
ordered his men to march, not allowing them time even to take food.
About six miles up from Chatham Procter joined the army and took
command. The retreat continued until nightfall, when the troops encamped
about five miles below Moraviantown, on the north bank of the Thames,
where the village of Thamesville now stands.
But Tecumseh and his band had not accompanied the retreating party; and
when Harrison reached M'Gregor's Creek at Chatham, he found his progress
checked. The bridge there had been destroyed, and Tecumseh with his
warriors disputed the passage. Harrison, thinking he was opposed by the
whole British force, marshalled his army and brought up his artillery.
After a slight skirmish, in which Tecumseh was wounded in the arm, the
Indians were forced to fall back. A second bridge was similarly
contested, with a like result. Then Tecumseh and his Indians retreated
and joined Procter's forces near Moraviantown, while the Americans
pushed eagerly forward. Drifting down-stream were seen several British
boats, which had been deserted by their occupants and set on fire.
The morning of the 5th found Harrison near Arnold's Mills, where he
overtook and captured two gunboats and some bateaux laden with supplies
and ammunition. A few of the occupants escaped and fled overland towards
the British camp. Harrison's men then crossed the Thames, some of them
in boats and canoes and others on horseback. By noon the entire American
army had reached the opposite shore, where, farther up, the British were
bivouacked, only a short march distant.
On the morning of the same day, while the soldiers were waiting for
their rations to be meted out, the fugitives from Arnold's Mills arrived
at Procter's camp and informed him of the capture of the gunboats and of
Harrison's near approach. Tecumseh was sitting on a moss-covered log,
smoking and discussing the situation with Shaubena and a few of his
chief warriors, when a messenger summoned the Indian leader to the
general's headquarters. He returned after a short absence, with clouded
brow and thoughtful mien, and silently resumed his pipe. One of the
chiefs finally asked, 'Father, what are we to do? shall we fight the
Americans?' 'Yes, my son,' slowly replied Tecumseh. 'We will be in their
smoke before sunset.'
The dark shadow of his fate stole across Tecumseh's consciousness. He
had the same strange presentiment of death as his brother Cheeseekau,
but he entered upon his last battle just as fearlessly. 'Brother
warriors,' he said to those about him, 'we are now about to enter into
an engagement from which I shall never come out. My body will remain
upon the field of battle.' His followers gazed at their leader in
superstitious awe, as if they were listening to a prediction that must
inevitably be fulfilled. He removed his sword, and presented it to the
Potawatomi chief Shaubena, saying, 'When my son becomes a noted warrior,
give him this.'
Again the troops, tired and hungry, were ordered to march without being
permitted to eat their morning meal. They now numbered less than four
hundred, without counting the Indians. Many were sick; all were worn out
with marching and much disheartened. Retreat has a depressing effect
upon the best of soldiers, but in this instance the troops, in addition,
had lost faith in their leader and entertained only slight hope of
victory. The boats that carried their ammunition had been taken--all
they had left was what their pouches contained. Five of their cannon
were at a ford behind Moraviantown, and the one remaining gun--a
six-pounder--was useless for lack of ammunition.
The British took up their position about two miles below the village of
Moraviantown, across the travelled road which lay along the Thames some
two hundred yards from its banks. Their left flank was protected by the
river and their right by a cedar swamp. By about one o'clock the troops
were drawn up in order of battle between the swamp and the river. A
double line was formed extending across the road into the heart of a
beech wood, the second line about two hundred yards to the rear of the
first. The six-pounder mounted guard on the road, threatening, but
useless. Procter, on a fleet charger and surrounded by his staff, had
taken up his position far back on the road, as if prepared for flight.
Tecumseh had sagaciously disposed his thousand warriors behind the swamp
on the right of the British lines; and, when all was in readiness, the
Indian leader visited Procter and, expressing his approval of the
arrangement of the forces, passed down the British line. All eyes
followed admiringly the familiar figure in its tanned buckskin. In his
belt was his silver-mounted tomahawk, and his knife in its leathern
case. About his head a handkerchief was rolled like a turban, and
surmounted by a white feather. He addressed each officer in Shawnee,
accompanying his speech with expressive gestures. Whatever doubts were
in his mind, he maintained the dignity of a warrior to the end, and
endeavoured to instil courage into the hearts of those about him.
'Father, have a big heart,' were his last words to Procter. He then
joined his warriors and awaited the attack.
Clear and distinct sounded the American bugles through the autumn wood,
and in a few moments the enemy came into view. As soon as Harrison
caught sight of the British formation he halted his troops, and spurred
his horse forward to consult with Colonel Johnson, one of his cavalry
leaders. It was quickly decided to break through the British line with
cavalry. Only one cavalry battalion, however, could manœuvre between the
river and the swamp; but Johnson was to lead another in person across
the swamp against the Indians. The order to charge was given, and the
American horsemen swept towards the British position. A loud musketry
volley rang out along the first scarlet line, and the cavalry advance
was checked for the moment. Horses reared and plunged, and many of the
riders were thrown from their saddles. The British delivered a second
volley before the Americans recovered from their confusion. But then,
through the white, whirling smoke, sounded the thunder of trampling
hoofs. With resistless force the American horsemen dashed against the
opposing ranks and fired their pistols with telling effect. The first
line of the British scattered in headlong flight, seeking shelter behind
the reserves. The second line stood firm and delivered a steady fire;
but the men of the first line were thrown into such disorder by the
sudden attack that they could not be rallied. The Americans followed up
their first charge and pressed hard upon the exhausted British, for whom
there was now no alternative but to surrender. Those not killed were
taken prisoners, with the exception of about fifty who effected their
escape through the woods. Procter and his staff had taken flight at the
first sight of the enemy.
Behind the swamp, where the Indians were posted, the battle went no more
favourably. Tecumseh and his warriors had lain silent in their covert
until Johnson's cavalry had advanced well within range. Then the
leader's loud war-cry rang out as the signal for battle. The enemy
shouted a derisive challenge, and the Indians replied with a
well-directed volley. So destructive was the fire of the Indians that
the front line of the Americans was annihilated. The horses were
struggling in the swamp, and Johnson, himself wounded, ordered some of
the horsemen to dismount, hoping to draw their foe out of cover, while
he and a few of the boldest soldiers led the attack. Tecumseh's keen eye
singled out the American leader. He rushed through his warriors to
strike him down. Johnson levelled his pistol. Like lightning Tecumseh's
tomahawk gleamed above his head. But before it could whirl on its deadly
flight, there was a flash and a report. Johnson, weakened by the wound
he had already received, but still clutching the smoking weapon, reeled
from his saddle. Tecumseh's tomahawk dropped harmless to the earth, and
the noblest of red patriots, the greatest and truest of Indian allies,
fell shot through the breast. The Indians lost heart and fled into the
depths of the forest, leaving many of their bravest warriors dead on the
field.
Sunset faded into darkness. The body of Tecumseh lay on the battlefield
in the light of the American camp-fires. Like spectres his faithful
followers stole swiftly through the wood and bore it away. On the dead
face still lingered the impress of the proud spirit which had animated
it in life. But silent was the war-cry that had urged his followers to
battle; stilled was the silver eloquence that had won them to his
purpose.
Tecumseh was no more; but his memory was cherished by the race for whose
freedom he had so valiantly fought. In the light of the camp-fire his
courageous deeds were long extolled by warriors and handed down by the
sachems of his people. Many an ambitious brave felt his heart leap as he
listened--like Tecumseh when as a boy he drank in the stories of the
heroic deeds of his ancestors.
The white men respected Tecumseh as the Indians revered Brock. But how
different the obsequies of the two heroes! For Brock flags floated at
half-mast. He was borne to the grave to the sound of martial music,
followed by a sorrowing multitude. His valour was the theme of orators.
A stately monument perpetuates his memory and attracts pilgrims to his
burial-place. The red hero fell fighting for the same flag--fighting on,
though deserted by a British general in the hour of direst need. But no
flag drooped her crimson folds for him. A few followers buried him
stealthily by the light of a flickering torch. No funeral oration was
uttered as he was lowered to his last resting-place. Night silently
spread her pall; softly the autumn leaves covered the spot, and the wind
chanted a mournful requiem over his lonely grave. No towering column
directs the traveller to Tecumseh's burial-place; not even an Indian
totem-post marks the spot. The red man's secret is jealously guarded and
to no white man has it ever been revealed.
FOOTNOTES
Footnote 1:
See _The War Chief of the Ottawas_ in this Series.
Footnote 2:
On Paint Creek, near the present city of Chillicothe, Ohio.
Footnote 3:
Logan was mistaken: Cresap was not the murderer. See Roosevelt's
_Winning of the West_, part ii, p. 31.
Footnote 4:
See _Handbook of American Indians_, vol. ii, p. 260.
Footnote 5:
The United States. Four new states had been added to the original
thirteen, making, in Indian terms, seventeen council fires.
Footnote 6:
He is referring to what happened in 1794 at the Fallen Timbers. There
was a British post on the Maumee not far from the scene of the battle.
At this time, it will be remembered, Detroit and other western posts,
which passed to the United States in 1796, were still held by the
British.
Footnote 7:
See _The War with the United States_ in this Series.
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
The principal books dealing with Tecumseh are Drake's _Life of
Tecumseh_, Eggleston's _Tecumseh and the Shawnee Prophet_, and _The
Story of Tecumseh_, by Norman S. Gurd. The last mentioned is a vividly
written, interesting book.
The following general books on the Indians contain short sketches of, or
reference to, the subject of this story: Thatcher's _Indian Biography_;
Drake's _Indians of North America_; Hodge's _Handbook of American
Indians_; White's _Handbook of Indians of Canada_ (based on Hodge);
Roosevelt's _Winning of the West_; Trumbull's _Indian Wars_; Brownell's
_The Indian Races of North and South America_; and Tupper's _Life and
Correspondence of Sir Isaac Brock_.
All works dealing with the War of 1812 contain matter essential to the
student of the career of Tecumseh. Chief among these are: David
Thompson's _War of 1812_; Richardson's _War of 1812_ (the edition edited
by A. C. Casselman (1902) contains many valuable notes); Coffin's _1812:
The War and its Moral; a Canadian Chronicle_; Auchinleck's _History of
the War_; Hannay's _War of 1812_; Lucas's _Canadian War of 1812_;
Roosevelt's _Naval War of 1812_; and Adams's _History of the United
States during the Administration of Jefferson and Madison_.
The life and character of Tecumseh have formed the subject of three
somewhat ambitious poems: Richardson's _Tecumseh_; Jones's _Tecumseh_, a
tragedy in five acts; and Mair's _Tecumseh_, a drama.
INDEX
Algonquins, tribal branches of, 1-2.
Americans,
their relations with the Indians, 21-2, 34, 37, 41, 55, 62, 63, 66, 76,
84.
See United States.
Amherstburg, 87.
meeting of Brock and Tecumseh at, 99-104.
hard times at, 125, 126.
evacuated and destroyed, 139-140.
Arnold's Mills, British gunboats captured at, 144.
Bald Eagle, a Delaware sachem, 11.
Barclay, Captain Robert,
his blockade of the American fleet under Perry, 124-125.
wounded and defeated in battle of Lake Erie, 126-133, 137.
Black Turkey, a brave with Tecumseh, 37.
Blue Jacket, a Shawnee chief, 35, 36, 140.
voices the sentiments of his people, 55-58, 59.
Bois Blanc Island, Tecumseh's warriors encamped at, 87, 92, 98, 122, 125.
Bouquet, Colonel, and the Indians, 7.
Brant, Joseph, the Mohawk chief, 1.
British, the,
and the Indians, 56, 57, 64, 65, 85-86.
an alliance, 68-69, 73, 83.
Brock, Sir Isaac, 90, 110.
his reply to Hull's proclamation, 91.
his meeting with Tecumseh, 99-105, 108, 151.
his capture of Fort Detroit, 103-108.
his praise of the Indians, 108-9.
Brownstown, Tecumseh's ambuscade near, 92-93.
Butler, General, killed at fray on the Wabash, 36.
Canada,
her position at the beginning of the War of 1812,
89 89-90.
her navy on Lake Erie, 124.
Cheeseekau, Tecumseh's eldest brother, 4, 16-18, 24, 27-30.
his death, 31, 145.
Cherokees, the, 8, 30-31.
Chillicothe, 12, 21.
council with Indians at 59, 61-63.
Chippewas, the, 41, 55.
Clark, Colonel George Rogers, 10, 17.
his Indian raid, 21-22.
Clay, General Green, reinforces Harrison at Fort Meigs, 116-117.
Cornstalk, a Shawnee sachem, 11-14.
Cresap, Colonel Michael, 9, 15.
Croghan, Major, holds Fort Stephenson against British, 121-122
Delawares, the, 8, 13, 41, 44, 50, 51.
Detroit,
the surrender of, 103, 105-108.
abandoned by the British, 140.
Dudley, Colonel, tomahawked in Indian ambuscade, 117.
Dunmore, Earl of, governor of Virginia,9.
his expedition against the Indians, 12.
his Indian treaty of peace, 14-16.
Elliott, Col. Matthew, superintendent of Indian Affairs, 87.
presents Tecumseh to Brock, 99-100.
at Detroit, 106.
Fallen Timbers, battle of the, 42-44, 111.
Fort Defiance, 41, 111.
Fort Detroit.
See Detroit.
Fort Mackinaw, fall of, 93.
Fort Malden, Brock at, 98, 99, 104, 140.
Fort Meigs, siege of, 115-19.
Fort Recovery, an Indian raid at, 39-40.
Fort Stanwix, treaty of, 7.
Fort Stephenson, siege of, 121-122.
Fort Wayne, 85.
treaty of, 67, 71.
Frenchtown,
captured by Americans, 112.
battle of, 112-115.
Gibson, Colonel, and Logan, the Mingo chief, 15-16.
Girty, Simon, a 'white renegade,' 21.
Glegg, Captain,
his portrait of Tecumseh, 100-101.
with Brock at Detroit, 105, 107.
Great Britain, and the Indians, 7, 16-17, 21.
See British.
Greenville,
treaty of, 44, 53-54.
religious gathering at, 54-55, 62.
Hardin, Colonel, defeated by the Indians, 34-35.
Harmar, General, defeated at Pine Creek, 34-35, 78.
Harrison, W. H., governor of Indiana,
his relations with the Indians, 51, 67.
and Tecumseh, 69-70, 71-74, 83, 84-86.
destroys Tippecanoe, 76-82.
commands American forces in War of 1812, 110-111, 123.
holds Fort Meigs against the British, 116-119.
in pursuit of Procter, 140-145.
victorious at Moraviantown, 148-150.
Hull, General William,
his protest against the use of Indians in War of 1812, 90-91.
at Detroit, 94, 102.
surrenders to Brock, 107-108.
Indians,
three great, 1.
grievances of, 7-10, 15-16.
raid American settlements, 8, 9 17, 76, 83.
superstition of, 31, 46, 80-82.
oratory of, 60.
their relations with French, British, and Americans, 56-57, 68, 76.
in the War of 1812, 90-91, 93.
in praise of, 109, 115.
Ioways, the, 13.
Johnson, Colonel, 141.
wounded in battle of Moraviantown, 148-149.
his fatal shot, 150.
Kenton, Simon, his encounters with Tecumseh, 37-39.
Kickapoos, the, 50, 73, 86.
Lake Erie, battle of, 127-33.
Laulewasikaw, Tecumseh's brother, 4.
as the 'Prophet' co-operates with Tecumseh in an Indian confederacy,
46-48.
See Tenskwatawa.
Lewis, General Andrew, in command at battle of Point Pleasant, 12-13.
Lewis, Colonel, taken prisoner by the British at Frenchtown, 114.
Little Turtle, a Miami chief, 35, 36, 41, 44.
Lloyd, Captain, his description of Tecumseh, 70-71.
Logan, a Mingo chief, 11.
his friendship for the whites, 15-16.
M'Clelland, Robert, his encounter with Tecumseh, 37.
Macdonell, Lieut.-Col., with Brock at Detroit, 105, 107.
Maguaga, battle of, 94-98.
Mandans, the, 29-30.
Methoataske, Tecumseh's mother, 3, 6 17.
Miamis, the, 44.
Miller, Colonel James, American leader at Maguaga, 94-98.
Mingoes, the, 8, 13.
Mississinewa, council of, 84-85.
Mohicans, the, 8.
Moraviantown, battle of, 146-150.
Muir, Major,
British leader at Maguaga, 94-98.
at Fort Meigs, 117.
Ohio, governor of, and the Indians, 55, 61-62.
Ottawas, the, 41, 44, 49.
Panther, an Indian chief, 59, 61.
Pennsylvania, and the Indians 9.
Perry, Captain Oliver,
defeats the British on Lake Erie, 123, 127-133.
in conjunction with Harrison, 140-1.
Pine Creek, battle of, 34-35, 78.
Piqua,
Tecumseh's birthplace, 3, 16, 20.
destroyed, 21-23.
rebuilt on the Great Miami, 24, 33-34.
Point Pleasant, Indians defeated at, 12-13.
Pontiac, the Ottawa chief, 1, 45.
Potawatomis, the, 41, 44, 55, 65, 74, 85, 94.
Procter, General, 126.
defeats Americans at Frenchtown, 112-115.
his failures at Fort Meigs, 115-119, 120-121.
and at Fort Stephenson, 121-122.
and Tecumseh's appeal, 133-137.
retreats from Amherstburg after British defeat on Lake Erie,
139-145.
takes to flight at Moraviantown, 146-149.
his bad generalship, 138, 140, 146.
Puckeshinwau, Tecumseh's father, 3 6, 11.
killed, 13.
Reynolds, Major, his retreat from Frenchtown, 111-112.
Roundhead, a Wyandot chief, 59, 61.
honoured by Tecumseh, 109, 115.
St Clair, General, defeated in fray on the Wabash, 36, 39.
Sauwaseekau, Tecumseh's brother, 4.
his death, 43.
Scott, Major-General, with Wayne's Indian expedition, 41.
Senecas, the, 41, 49.
Shaubena, a Potawatomi chief, 94, 145, 146.
Shawnees, an Algonquin tribe, 1-2.
their feuds with the whites, 8, 10-11, 13, 44, 70-71, 73.
their village, 22-24.
join the British in War of 1812, 87.
See Indians and Tecumseh.
Shelby, Major, killed near Fort Meigs, 117.
Silver Heels, a Shawnee chief, 11.
Six Nations, the, 7 7.
Tecumapease, Tecumseh's sister, 4, 5 6.
Tecumseh,
his birth, parentage, and infancy, 1-5.
early training, 18-19, 23.
his initiation as a warrior, 24-27, 98-99.
with party of Shawnees in search of adventure, 27-29.
his thigh broken while hunting buffalo, 29-30.
succeeds to the leadership on death of Cheeseekau, 30-33.
present at defeat of General St Clair, 36.
his encounters with Simon Kenton, 37-39.
at the battle of the Fallen Timbers, 42-43.
disputes the validity of the Treaty of Greenville, 44, 53-54, 62.
his plan of an Indian confederacy, 45-46, 59, 68, 74, 75-76, 77.
attends council at Chillicothe, 59, 61-62.
and at Springfield, 62-63.
his headquarters at Tippecanoe, 65.
receives encouragement from the British in his plans, 69, 83, 85-86.
at councils with Governor Harrison at Vincennes, 70-73, 74.
his plans of an Indian confederacy crushed at Tippecanoe, 82-83, 85,
138.
refuses to go to Washington unattended, 83-84.
attends council at Mississinewa, 84-85.
pledges his allegiance to Britain, 87-98.
his successful ambuscade at Brownstown, 92-93.
at battle of Maguaga, 94-98.
his meeting with Brock, 100-105, 108-109.
at the taking of Detroit, 106-108.
seeks Indian recruits, 110, 115.
at siege of Fort Meigs, 116-119, 120-121.
and Fort Stephenson, 121-122.
his interest in the battle of Lake Erie, 125-126, 133.
his appeal to Procter to hold out at Amherstburg, 134-137, 138, 139.
his forebodings on leaving Amherstburg, 140.
urges Procter to make a stand, 141, 142-143.
wounded while covering the retreat, 144.
his presentiment of death, 145-146.
encourages Procter before battle of Moraviantown, 147.
his death and resting-place, 149-152.
his renown, 151.
his appearance, 71, 100-101, 105.
his powers of oratory, 60-63, 72, 134-137.
his character, 32-33, 60-63, 119-120, 142.
Tenskwatawa,
the 'Open Door,' 48, 54-55.
his teaching, 49-50, 58-59, 66-67.
gives convincing proof of his authority, 51-3.
his power and popularity, 54-55, 62, 63, 66.
and Governor Harrison, 64-65, 66-67, 69-70, 73, 80.
his influence shattered at Tippecanoe, 75-76, 78-82.
See Laulewasikaw.
Thirteen Colonies, 89.
See United States.
Tippecanoe, Tecumseh's headquarters, 65-66, 68.
destroyed, 77-82, 85.
United States,
and the Indians, 7-16, 21-23, 34, 44, 53, 55, 68, 73, 76, 86.
declare war on Britain, 89-90.
their navy on Lake Erie, 123.
See Americans.
Van Horne, Major, defeated by Tecumseh in an ambuscade, 92-93.
Vincennes, 17.
council of, 71.
Virginia, and the Indians, 7-10, 12-13.
Wabash river, Indian victory on the, 36.
War of 1812,
inevitable, 68, 70, 86.
declaration of, 88-89.
Warburton, Procter's second-in-command, 143.
Wayne, General Anthony,
his Indian expedition, 39-41.
defeats Indians at the Fallen Timbers and concludes a peace, 42-44, 111.
Wells, Captain, United States Indian agent, 53, 54.
Winchester, General,
occupies Frenchtown, 112.
surprised and taken prisoner, 114-115.
Winnebagoes, the, 82, 86.
Wyandots, the, 44, 49, 55, 56, 68.
THE CHRONICLES OF CANADA
Edited by George M. Wrong and H. H. Langton of the University of Toronto
A series of thirty-two freshly-written narratives for popular reading,
designed to set forth, in historic continuity, the principal events
and movements in Canada, from the Norse Voyages to the Railway Builders.
PART I. THE FIRST EUROPEAN VISITORS
1. The Dawn of Canadian History
A Chronicle of Aboriginal Canada
BY STEPHEN LEACOCK
2. The Mariner of St Malo
A Chronicle of the Voyages of Jacques Cartier
BY STEPHEN LEACOCK
PART II. THE RISE OF NEW FRANCE
3. The Founder of New France
A Chronicle of Champlain
BY CHARLES W. COLBY
4. The Jesuit Missions
A Chronicle of the Cross in the Wilderness
BY THOMAS GUTHRIE MARQUIS
5. The Seigneurs of Old Canada
A Chronicle of New-World Feudalism
BY WILLIAM BENNETT MUNRO
6. The Great Intendant
A Chronicle of Jean Talon
BY THOMAS CHAPAIS
7. The Fighting Governor
A Chronicle of Frontenac
BY CHARLES W. COLBY
PART III. THE ENGLISH INVASION
8. The Great Fortress
A Chronicle of Louisbourg
BY WILLIAM WOOD
9. The Acadian Exiles
A Chronicle of the Land of Evangeline
BY ARTHUR G. DOUGHTY
10. The Passing of New France
A Chronicle of Montcalm
BY WILLIAM WOOD
11. The Winning of Canada
A Chronicle of Wolfe
BY WILLIAM WOOD
PART IV. THE BEGINNINGS OF BRITISH CANADA
12. The Father of British Canada
A Chronicle of Carleton
BY WILLIAM WOOD
13. The United Empire Loyalists
A Chronicle of the Great Migration
BY W. STEWART WALLACE
14. The War with the United States
A Chronicle of 1812
BY WILLIAM WOOD
PART V. THE RED MAN IN CANADA
15. The War Chief of the Ottawas
A Chronicle of the Pontiac War
BY THOMAS GUTHRIE MARQUIS
16. The War Chief of the Six Nations
A Chronicle of Joseph Brant
BY LOUIS AUBREY WOOD
17. Tecumseh
A Chronicle of the last Great Leader of his People
BY ETHEL T. RAYMOND
PART VI. PIONEERS OF THE NORTH AND WEST
18. The 'Adventurers of England' on Hudson Bay
A Chronicle of the Fur Trade in the North
BY AGNES C. LAUT
19. Pathfinders of the Great Plains
A Chronicle of La Vérendrye and his Sons
BY LAWRENCE J. BURPEE
20. Adventurers of the Far North
A Chronicle of the Arctic Seas
BY STEPHEN LEACOCK
21. The Red River Colony
A Chronicle of the Beginnings of Manitoba
BY LOUIS AUBREY WOOD
22. Pioneers of the Pacific Coast
A Chronicle of Sea Rovers and Fur Hunters
BY AGNES C. LAUT
23. The Cariboo Trail
A Chronicle of the Gold-fields of British Columbia
BY AGNES C. LAUT
PART VII. THE STRUGGLE FOR POLITICAL FREEDOM
24. The Family Compact
A Chronicle of the Rebellion in Upper Canada
BY W. STEWART WALLACE
25. The Patriotes of '37
A Chronicle of the Rebellion in Lower Canada
BY ALFRED D. DECELLES
26. The Tribune of Nova Scotia
A Chronicle of Joseph Howe
BY WILLIAM LAWSON GRANT
27. The Winning of Popular Government
A Chronicle of the Union of 1841
BY ARCHIBALD MACMECHAN
PART VIII. THE GROWTH OF NATIONALITY
28. The Fathers of Confederation
A Chronicle of the Birth of the Dominion
BY A. H. U. COLQUHOUN
29. The Day of Sir John Macdonald
A Chronicle of the Early Years of the Dominion
BY SIR JOSEPH POPE
30. The Day of Sir Wilfrid Laurier
A Chronicle of Our Own Times
BY OSCAR D. SKELTON
PART IX. NATIONAL HIGHWAYS
31. All Afloat
A Chronicle of Craft and Waterways
BY WILLIAM WOOD
32. The Railway Builders
A Chronicle of Overland Highways
BY OSCAR D. SKELTON
Published by
Glasgow, Brook & Company
TORONTO, CANADA
* * * * *
=Transcriber's Notes=
Minor omissions in punctuation corrected.
Original place-name spellings retained.
[The end of _Tecumseh_ by Ethel T. Raymond]