Chapter III: Part 3

During the battle which was fought on the 18th of January, 1813, between the American forces, under the command of Colonel Lewis, and the combined British and Indians, I received a wound in my right leg by a ball which fractured the bone, but did not entirely break it. After the battle was over I, with many others who were also wounded, was carried off the field and put in a house, where we remained until after the battle of the 22d, when we were surrendered prisoners of war to the British. I remained here during the night of the 22d, with the expectation of being carried to Malden the next day, but in this I was disappointed. On the morning of the 23d I witnessed the most horrid scenes of cruelty imaginable; for the British, instead of sending sleighs, as was most solemnly promised, to convey the wounded prisoners to Maiden, sent the Indians, who, after selecting a few from amongst the wounded, tomahawked and scalped the rest in the most savage and cruel manner that malice could invent, or devils incarnate execute, and set fire to the houses in which they had been and burned them to ashes! Then, instead of going to Malden, they took me to Brownstown, where I had nothing to eat except a little parched corn. While I was at Brownstown an Indian asked me whether I had a squaw, to which I answered in the negative. He then replied, “_We make an Indian of you, and by’n by you have a squaw, by’n by you have a gun and horse and go a hunting._” The next day we proceeded on our march until we came near the River Rouge, where the Indians procured some provisions, consisting of fresh meat, but no salt. From here we set off again and travelled slowly (I rather think to favor the wounded) until we arrived at their encampment, three or four miles from Detroit, at which place there were a number of squaws and children who had taken up winter quarters.

As soon as we had arrived at this place I was presented to an old squaw, whom the Indians instructed me to call by the appellation of mother. This old witch, as I took her to be, had lost two sons at the River Raisin; I had therefore to supply the place of one of them, and thus had to become the adopted son of the most hideous of all animals that ever roamed over the forests of North America. After this they dressed my wound for the first time, which now appeared to be getting well fast; in the next place they trimmed my hair off, except a small quantity on the top of my head, and painted me; then adorned me with ear-rings, bracelets, &c. and put a band of silver round my head. By this time I began to look very stylish, or rather made as uncouth and grotesque a figure as any of my _copper-colored brethren_.

While we remained at this place Mr. Gabriel Godfrey, a citizen of Detroit, offered the Indians $100 for my ransom, which they refused. I now began to conclude that there were no other means of extricating myself from bondage, unless it were by flight, and therefore determined to embrace the first opportunity that presented. In a few days after, the Indians presented a squaw to me, who appeared to have little more of humanity than the form, but equally as detestable as my _mother_, although she was younger. This ugly looking creature the Indians told me I should marry! I confess I never was so shocked at the thoughts of matrimony in my life! I told them “_no good squaw_.” They then brought several more of those inhuman looking creatures, whom I understood were also candidates for conjugal felicity. I told them “_by’n by I have a squaw_.” This appeared to satisfy them at the present time; in this manner I frequently had to put them off.

They frequently solicited me to wear a breech-clout, which I always refused. One time my mother discovered me mending my pantaloons; thinking this a good opportunity to get me to wear one, she immediately brought one, which I took hold of and said “no good,” then threw it down and stamped it. At the sight of this she was very much enraged, and scolded desperately to herself in her own Indian dialect. I have often wondered since that they did not kill me for disobeying their orders, for I was extremely obstinate, and scarcely ever complied with their injunctions.

Notwithstanding my disobedience, the Indians treated me as well as was in their power, especially my mother, who was very kind to me. Some considerable time I had to eat my victuals without salt. I knew they had none, yet I would always ask for some. My old mother, after some time, procured some for me, which she kept hid to prevent the others from making use of it, and never failed to give me a small portion when I was eating.

Intoxication is practised by the squaws as well as the men; they frequently have drunken frolics, at which times it is dangerous for prisoners to be amongst them. During these frantic revels the prisoners are kept hid by the squaws (a part of whom keep sober) to keep them from being murdered. One night, after the rest had gone to bed, my mother, who had stayed out later than usual, came in, sat down, and began to sing; she did not appear to be in her senses; I soon discovered that this old priestess of Bacchus had got very drunk. In this mood she seized hold of the fire and threw it on those who were sleeping round the fire, which soon caused them to rise; she then jumped into the fire and danced until she had burned the soles of her moccasons off.

They continued here about a month, and then removed about eight miles on the River Rouge, in order to prepare for making sugar. While we were employed at this business a Frenchman persuaded me to marry a squaw, if they insisted, for I would then be treated with more respect, and consequently would have greater liberties. After mature consideration, I thought probably this would be the best plan I could adopt, in order to make my escape, and therefore resolved to marry the next one that was presented to me. It was not long before they brought me a squaw (the most decent looking one I had seen), whom I resolved to marry without hesitation. I however, when just on the point of forming a connubial alliance with her, was prevented by an Indian, who claimed her as _his_ squaw.

Several weeks before the battle of Fort Meigs, the Indians began to collect and dance the _war-dance_.

Just before the Indians marched they prepared a number of hoops, both ends of which they stuck in the ground and spread their blankets over them. In this place they put hot stones, threw water on them, and then went in themselves and remained until they were wet with sweat. This I conjectured was done in the way of devotion, or in imploring the assistance of the Great Spirit in their intended expedition.

When the Indians marched I was committed to the care of the squaws and a few old invalids. Thinking this the most favorable opportunity I could get, I was determined to put my plan in execution. At night I lay down with the intention of starting when the moon arose, but overslept my time and did not awake till daylight. I arose and started, notwithstanding I was apprehensive of being discovered, and ran directly to Detroit, a distance of about nine miles, probably in as short a time as any Indian in the nation could have performed the same journey.

As soon as I had arrived at Detroit I went to Mr. T. S’s, who had persuaded me to run away, and he and his friends would conceal me, which they did accordingly. It was but a short time before a Frenchman, of the name of Shover, and some squaws, came in search of me, but could not find me.

From here I was sent to Sandwich, and concealed there two days, and suffered extremely for provisions. From Sandwich I was sent to Malden, where I found six of my fellow-prisoners, who, together with myself, were kept under close confinement in the fort for three weeks. While we remained here we frequently heard from the Rapids, but the news was always favorable on the British side. One morning an old man, who looked as if he had just emerged from the lower regions, came into the fort and exclaimed, “good news, gentlemen! good news! we have killed _fifteen hundred Yankees_, and have taken Harrison and all the rest that were at the fort prisoners!!” I was informed afterwards that this old man was the notorious Simon Girty, so much renowned for cruelty and slaughter, and who has delighted in the shrieks of dying women and _expiring infants_!

From the most correct information I could obtain, their forces at the siege of Fort Meigs, consisting of British regulars, Canadian militia, and Indians, amounted to 5,000!

From Malden I was taken across to Cleveland, and from there I pursued my journey towards the delightful regions of Kentucky, where I arrived in Montgomery county, in June, 1813.

THE BATTLE OF RAISIN,

ON THE 22D OF JANUARY, 1813.

On Raisin darkness reigned around,
And silent was the tented ground,
Where weary soldiers slept profound,
Far in the wintery wilderness.

No danger did the sentry fear,
No wakeful watch at midnight drear;
But ah! the foe approaches near,
Through forests frowning awfully.

And ere the sun had risen bright,
Fast flashing ’mid the stormy fight,
The thundering cannon’s livid light
Glared on the eye most frightfully.

Then deadly flew the balls of lead!
Then many of the foemen bled,
And thrice their banded legion fled,
Before Kentucky’s bravery.

And long our heroes’ swords prevail:
But hist! that deep and doleful wail--
Ah! freedom’s sons begin to fail,
Oppressed by numbers battling.

Rise! rise! ye volunteers, arise!
Behold! your right hand column flies!
And hark! yon shout which rends the skies!
Where Indians yell tumultuously.

Rush o’er the bloody field of fame,
Drive back the savage whence he came!
For glory ’waits the victor’s name,
Returning home exultingly.

’Tis done. The dreadful fight is o’er;
Thick clouds of smoke are seen no more--
The snowy plain is red with gore,
Where fell the friends of liberty.

CAMPBELL.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] To prove that this surrender was not in consequence of the want of ammunition and provisions, it is sufficient to state, upon the authority of official information, that there were thirty-three pieces of cannon, twenty-five of which were brass and eight iron, which were well manned and supplied with ammunition.

For the muskets, seventy-five thousand cartridges were made up, besides twenty-four rounds in the cartouch-box of each man.

In the magazine were sixty barrels of powder, and one hundred and fifty tons of lead.

In the contractor’s store were at least twenty-five days’ provision; and in the adjacent country considerable supplies could have been had, besides three hundred head of cattle, under an escort commanded by Captain Brush, at the River Raisin.

AN OHIO VOLUNTEER.

[B] Colonel Allen stopped at St. Mary’s for the remaining part of the army.

[C] He died in a few days.

[D] Pronounced Rushdeboo.

[E] We learned since, the British officer was Col. Elliott’s son, and was probably a Captain.

[F] The French, who were looking at us when we started, were heard to say, we were not men enough.

[G] A Frenchman who lived in this village said when the word came the Americans were in sight, there was an old Indian smoking at his fireside; the Indian exclaimed, “_Ho, de Mericans come; I suppose Ohio men come, we give them another chase_:” (alluding to the time they chased Gen. Tapper from the Rapids.) He walked to the door smoking, apparently very unconcerned, and looked at us till we formed the line of battle, and rushed on them with a mighty shout! he then called out “_Kentuck, by God!_” and picked up his gun and ran to the woods like a wild beast.

[H] It would have been better for us if we had been contented with the possession of the village, without pursuing them to the woods.

[I] This want of precaution was a great cause of our mournful defeat!

[J] When the right wing began to retreat, it is said orders were given by some of the officers to the men in the eastern end of the picketing to march out to their assistance. Capt. Price and a number of men sallied out. Capt. Price was killed, and most of the men.

[K] Col. Proctor had informed Gen. Winchester he would afford him an opportunity of surrendering his troops, and if not accepted he would let loose the Indians on us, who would burn the town, and he would not be accountable for their conduct. Gen. Winchester, not knowing how we had resisted their efforts, thought probably it would be the case.

But why did not Col. Proctor make this proposition before he had exerted all his skill in trying to burn the town and to set the Indians on us? Proctor knew very well he had done all that was in his power with the force he had then, and he was then less able to rout us from the town than he was at first.

The British informed us afterwards that Col. Proctor had ordered a general retreat to Malden, and that they had _spiked four pieces of their cannon_! but he thought he would demand a surrender, according to custom.

Our officers, knowing that we had but little ammunition, and the troops being still exposed to the fire of the cannon, thought proper to surrender.

[L] I was since informed that Col. Elliott instructed the interpreters to leave the wounded, after dark, to the mercy of the savages. They all went off, except one half-Indian.

[M] Upon taking a view of these scenes of wo, who can avoid some such exclamation as the following? Why has the all-seeing, beneficent Ruler of the universe delivered so many of our choice officers and brave soldiers into the hands of our enemies, to be slain in battle, and to lie unburied, to be dragged away in the galling chains of captivity, and to be put to torturing deaths by monsters of cruelty? Not, I presume, because of infidelity and injustice towards our enemies; but owing to our ingratitude towards the God of armies; and to our want of confidence in Jehovah--our pride, our too great confidence in our own wisdom, valor, and strength; our unbelief--and a catalogue of vices too tedious to enumerate. Aggravated national crimes have involved us in heavy and complicated judgments!

[N] Here we met a number of the 41st regiment of British regulars, just from Fort George, going to Malden to supply the places of those who were killed on the 22d of January, at Frenchtown. They appeared to be very sociable, generally of the Irish descent. One of their officers said, “In a few weeks they would drive General Harrison and all his army along there.” “Yes,” replied James Allen[O] (who was one of my messmates), “before that time your Irish hides will be riddled so that they would not hold hickory nuts.”

Another of that party said, “What nonsensical things those leather stocks were which we wore, with the sign of the eagle pecking out the eyes of the lion.” Said Allen, “This is only the shadow, the substance will soon follow.”

[O] This Allen is the same who fought the duel with Fuller, near Fort Massac, who was supposed to be a British spy, before the commencement of the war. Fuller, after having been twice knocked down by Allen’s balls, was found to have a Dutch blanket folded, and a quire of paper over his COWARDLY breast as a shield. Allen was not injured.

[P] Six of us, who formed a mess, stopped at a Major Boon’s, and asked him “if we might stay all night.” He said we could. His father, who lived with him, let us know he had been a Tory major in the American revolution. He said “he had lived in the Jerseys, and had one of Lord Howe’s commissions in the house then, and was a half-pay officer.” He said “the Americans would have no possible chance to take Canada, for the British next spring would bring seventy thousand Indians from the north-west, and as many negroes from St. Domingo, besides three hundred thousand Turks!” Said James Allen, “I suppose you will set dogs on us next!” The old fellow said “it was very evident the Lord was on their side!” Then said Allen, “If the Lord has joined with the British, savages, and negroes, to massacre his own people, it is surprising! But I rather think it is only your Canadian lord that acts in this manner.” The old fellow then ordered him out of the house. He told him “he was very well suited in a room, and would stay till morning.” They still continued arguing. The old fellow said “We had no business on their soil,” alluding to Frenchtown. Allen told him “we were on our own soil.” He said “it was a lie, for Michigan Territory was given up to them by General Hull.” Said Allen, “Hull was such a fellow as the d----l, who offered Christ all the kingdoms of the world if he would fall down and worship him; when, poor old sneaking whelp, he did not own a foot on earth.” Said Boon, “You had better stayed away, for all you have done; the Major who commanded the Indians on the 18th was here a few nights ago, and said there was not one killed, and but three wounded.” Said Allen, “I would not believe my father if he were to tell me so, for I saw a number that were killed and scalped and lay on the snow for days; and if there were but three wounded, there must have been an abundance of blood in them to have stained the snow for miles square.” Said he, “Did you scalp them? you are bloody dogs.” “Yes,” said Allen, “you might say so, if we had hired the savages to kill your women and children, and massacre and burn your wounded, when we had promised to take care of them.” He said “the British had never hired the Indians to kill women and children; they were too humane a people to do so.” “Yes,” said Allen, “they showed humanity in the time of the American Revolution, when they paid the Indians for infants’ scalps that were taken out of their mothers’ wombs; they call themselves Christians, and when the Indians sent home to them scalps, from the unborn infant to the gray hairs, in bales like goods, they had days of feasting, rejoicing, and thanksgiving to the Lord, for the victory they had gained--the d----l would be ashamed to acknowledge such a people as any part of his offspring.” The old fellow again ordered him out of the house; but Allen told him “he would go in the morning.” Allen said “we had more friends in Canada than they had.” “Yes,” said he, “there are men mean enough to join against their own country.” Allen replied, “none but a mean, low-lived wretch would fight against his own country.” The old fellow took the hint, as he had been a tory, and got in a violent passion. He asked Allen “if he was not a Congressman?” Allen said “No.” “Are you an Assemblyman?” “No.” “Are you a Yankee lawyer?” “No.” “Well, you are a Yankee liar, then.” Allen said, “if we were of an age, and on an equal footing, you would not give me the lie so often.” The old fellow told Allen “he must be an antediluvian, for he appeared to know all things that had passed, and all the crimes that England ever committed seemed to be fresh on his mind; he supposed he was one of the greatest enemies the British had.” Allen said “he had done his best; and if he was exchanged he would shoot at them as long as he could crook his finger to draw the trigger.” A young woman who was in the house said “we were only coming to drive them off their lands.” Allen said “we were only coming to set them free, so that those lands might be their own, and not King George’s.” She said “the Americans that were killed at Queenstown had deeds in their pockets for all their best plantations.” Said Allen “I must believe it because you say so, but if I had seen it myself I would not.”

The old fellow’s passion subsided, and Allen and he were friendly.

[Q] The second division, who had been used far better than the first, arrived the day following, and were parolled in like manner, amounting in all to five hundred and twelve.

Particular inquiries were made respecting the British loss in the battle of the 22d, while passing through Canada. The loyalists stated their loss to be very trifling; some would say fifteen killed, and others twenty-five. But different persons, in whom we had reason to place confidence, stated their loss to be very considerable--about six hundred killed and wounded, and amongst these Col. St. George. This account will not be considered exaggerated, when reflecting on the length of time they were exposed to a deliberate and well-directed fire from our troops ... the number that was seen lying on the ground after they retreated, and the number of sleighs loaded with their bloody guns.

[R] An inhabitant near the head of Lake Ontario heard of the prisoners, and went to see them. He began to talk to one, judging him to be an American officer, and telling him he had more friends in Canada than the British had, and if he wanted money, or any assistance, he should be accommodated. The poor fellow soon found his mistake, that he was talking to a British officer, just from Fort George.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is
entered into the public domain.