Stories of Old Kentucky Part 6

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The walk finally ended in a very brisk run."]

Erelong the arrangements for defense were completed and thirteen men marched out to form a decoy party on the Lexington road; their orders were to fire rapidly, make all possible noise, but not to pursue the savages too far. They obeyed orders well and as soon as the guns sounded in the distance, five hundred warriors, led by Girty, rushed from the ambush near the spring, expecting to force their way over defenseless walls. The greater part of the sixty men had resolved themselves into a reception committee, expecting just such a call. So, when "their deadly b.a.l.l.s whistled free," wild cries of terror came from Girty's ranks and "in two minutes not an Indian was to be seen," while the thirteen reentered through the opposite gateway, very jubilant over the success of their little ruse.

The attack was renewed, but nothing of marked importance occurred unless it was the supreme cooperation that went on within the fort. Every breech was repaired, every gate and loophole manned; men, women, and even children were busily engaged in firing at the foe, molding bullets, or quenching the flames that the burning arrows from the bows of the savages had lighted. At two in the afternoon, just at a time when the firing had ceased, about fifty men, from various stations, one third on horse, the rest afoot, came in reply to the request sent out that morning.

As the Indians knew that runners had been dispatched for reenforcements, they had planned to receive them. On one side of the road "stood the forest primeval," while on the other side was a vast field of one hundred acres of luxuriant corn, ten feet high, whose long green banners formed a dense thicket. Here on each side lay warriors within range of the road over which they knew the men would come. As soon as the hors.e.m.e.n appeared, shots from the guns of the savages rang out; but quickly spurring their horses, the recruiting party escaped within the fort through such a cloud of dust that not one was wounded.

Had the foot soldiers been more cautious, they too might have fared better; but hearing the firing on their friends, they rushed forward into the presence of the great crowd of savages, who, having emptied their guns, began to advance with tomahawk; but in many instances they were held at bay by the muzzle of the frontiersman's gun. Thus for an hour, the savages pursued the flying soldiers, who when too hard pressed turned and aimed, but did not fire until absolutely forced to do so, as they could have no time to reload.

In a skirmish, a ball from a rifle brought Girty to the ground, but when the warriors gathered around him, they found that it was only the force that had caused him to fall, as the ball had struck a thick piece of leather in his shot pouch. Despairing of success, Girty crawled to the protection of a huge stump, hailed the fort, and attempted negotiations. He spoke in commendatory terms of their courage, but a.s.sured them that to pursue such policy further was madness, as in addition to his six hundred warriors he would soon have reenforcements with cannons, when their weak walls would no longer protect them. He urged an immediate surrender, pledged his honor to protect them as prisoners of war, and inquired if they knew him, Simon Girty.

Some were rather anxious at the news of artillery, but a young man named Aaron Reynolds inspired the weaker ones with courage when he derisively told the speaker to bring on his reenforcements; that they too were expecting reenforcements and if Girty and his savage allies remained much longer, their scalps would grace his cabin. He said Girty was "very well known," that he himself owned a cur, so worthless that he called him "Simon Girty."

Offended at such language, Girty rejoined his chiefs. The night pa.s.sed without interruption, but daylight showed camp fires burning, meat roasting, and not an Indian in sight. They had evidently departed just before dawn.

THE RESULT OF ONE RASH ACT

After the retreat of the savages from Bryan's Station it did not take long for the Kentucky riflemen to gather and go in pursuit. In the afternoon of the same day the savages had retreated from the fort, one hundred and eighty-two men from the various stations a.s.sembled. Fearing that the Indians would escape across the river, they started at once to overtake them, without waiting for the arrival of Colonel Logan, who was coming with three hundred more men.

Colonel John Todd was put in command, while many commissioned officers took their places in the ranks. On they pressed, until on the second day, as they reached the Lower Blue Licks, they saw the Indians leisurely ascending the farther bank.

The pioneers halted and held a conference in which all officers took part. The veteran Boone was asked for his opinion which all valued. He counseled either waiting for Colonel Logan's reenforcements or so dividing their numbers that part could cross above and fall in the rear of the enemy, while others could fight from the front.

Some preferred the first plan, others wished to adopt the second. In the midst of the consultation the rash, undisciplined nature of Colonel Hugh McGary, daring but with no deference to authority, oblivious to peril but not prudent, caused him to exchange some hot words with Todd and Boone; then giving a war whoop, he rushed madly into the stream, holding his hat above his head, and shouting, "All who are not cowards follow me."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Giving a war whoop, he rushed madly into the stream."]

The effect was electric. Horse and foot rushed headlong, each trying to be foremost. No order was given, none observed. In their unreasonable enthusiasm they heeded no command. In vain the officers tried to check them, then finally followed. Reaching the farther bank, by great difficulty a halt was secured and spies sent ahead to examine a ravine where Boone feared an ambush; as they returned and reported no sign of the enemy, the pioneers moved forward in three divisions. By the time they came to this ravine Girty's Indians had so placed themselves that from their murderous fire many fell. Still the pioneers maintained their ground, until at last all hope lay in retreat. On the bank of the river there was soon a seething ma.s.s of hors.e.m.e.n, foot soldiers, and Indians.

Sixty of Kentucky's bravest fell, and sorrow filled every home.

Colonel Logan and his soldiers came next day and buried their dead, among whom were many of the leaders in both public and private life as well as a son of the aged Boone.

There is a tradition that when the Indians saw four more of their own among the slain than of the whites, they barbarously put to death four of the seven pioneers they had taken and subjected the others many times to the most cruel and inhuman treatment.

Through this rash act of McGary nearly one tenth of all the fighting men in Kentucky fell. Distress and discouragement were general; and the greatest disaster that had yet befallen the country had been brought about.

TWO KENTUCKY HEROES

In the latter part of the year 1779, David Rogers was making his way from New Orleans to Pittsburgh with two boats full of military stores.

On nearing the four-mile bar above the present site of Cincinnati, he discovered a great number of Indians emerging from the mouth of the Little Miami. Hastily landing, his men cautiously crept through the underbrush, expecting to take the Indians unawares, when they were suddenly surprised by a large force of savages, who with rifle and tomahawk made such a terrible onslaught that more than half of the whites met an almost instantaneous death.

The crew, in a panic, rushed forward to their boats only to find one in the possession of the enemy and the other too far from sh.o.r.e to reach its friendly shelter. With a courage born of despair they rushed through the enemy's lines, and some escaped in the darkness to Harrodstown, while others were so severely wounded that they barely existed until they were rescued by their friends.

Among these was Robert Benham, who, after being shot through the hips, managed to crawl to a large fallen tree and hide among its foliage.

There he quietly lay until the battle was ended, and the Indians had returned and gathered the spoils from the dead whites. Thinking the coast clear once more and suffering pangs of hunger, Benham could not resist shooting a racc.o.o.n that came within his range, trusting to providence to reach it after it fell. Scarcely had the sound of his gun died away when he heard some one speak. He instantly reloaded and sat quietly, expecting an Indian every moment.

Finally some one said, "Whoever you are, answer me."

He then, realizing that it was no savage, readily answered; and soon one of his former comrades, John Watson, appeared with both arms broken.

Never was there a happier combination. From that time the arms of Benham and the legs of Watson each did duty for both. Benham could easily load his gun and kill the game, while Watson could readily kick it within reach of his companion, who could dress and cook it. Thus they subsisted until the game in their vicinity grew scarce; then the man with the sound legs would walk around a drove of wild turkeys until he got them within range of Benham's gun, who was such a splendid marksman that he never failed to kill two or three of the number.

Their greatest difficulty was in securing water; but as in all things, "where there is a will there is a way," so even this difficulty was obviated. Benham would place his hat rim between the teeth of Watson, who would wade into the river up to his chin, duck his head, and thus fill the hat with water which he securely delivered to the man without legs, who could use it as needed. Benham was thus enabled to cook, dress his own and his comrade's wounds, and feed the latter also.

For several weeks they lived thus, until they grew stronger and traveled to the Licking River. After a great deal of difficulty in making themselves known to some pa.s.sing boats, they were rescued, and taken to the Falls of the Ohio, where both recovered. Benham afterwards partic.i.p.ated in several expeditions, and, after peace, returned to the scenes of his sufferings, bought land there, and pa.s.sed his remaining days peacefully where he had so nearly met death.

THE BATTLE OF THE BOARDS

From time immemorial women have been accused of possessing an unusual amount of curiosity, but an incident of the early days, in what is now Mercer County, will prove that some men also belong to the curious cla.s.s.

In 1783, the same year that saw the treaty of peace between Great Britain and the thirteen colonies go into effect, Kentucky, still a part of Virginia, was a dense forest, infested by roving bands of Indians who plundered and murdered the pioneers; hence caution was still the watchword of the white inhabitants. During this year, three men in the early dawn left Harrod's Station to hunt for some horses that had strayed off while grazing. For some time, over many miles, through dense cane and tangled pea vine, they pursued the trail, until, as a refuge from the darkness and a cold, drenching rain, the pioneers took shelter in an old, deserted log cabin, in the midst of a canebrake.

Having seen signs of Indians during the day and knowing that the red men also knew of the cabin, they decided to endure the cold, rather than light a fire. Finally they concluded a still further precaution would be to take refuge in the "loft" of the cabin for fear the savage foes might also take shelter therein and dispute the right of possession.

They at once climbed up into the loft, the floor of which was clapboards, lying loose upon some round poles. Here, with their trusty rifles, they lay quietly for a short time, when to their terror six armed savages entered the cabin. Placing their guns and tomahawks in a corner, they built a fire and began a scene of hilarity characteristic of their tribe.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The Indians built a fire."]

One of the men was anxious to know the number of the Indians. So, though he was lying on his back, and was the middle man, he determined to turn over and peep at the crowd below. The other two white men determined he should keep still; so they held him, but as he quietly struggled, a pole broke and with a terrible crash, clapboards, men, and guns fell upon the frightened savages, who with yells of terror fled into the forest and never returned. Though almost as much terrified as the Indians, the white men quietly enjoyed the fire till morning, when they returned to the station with their trophies of what they laughingly called "The Battle of the Boards."

THE FAITHFUL SLAVE AND HIS REWARD

If we search the annals of both ancient and modern times we can find no record that shows greater fidelity from slave to master than was exhibited by a negro to one of Kentucky's most noted pioneers.

In 1782, March 19, people living in the vicinity of Boonesborough discovered some empty rafts floating down the river. They at once knew that Indians had used them to cross the stream so as to attack the unprotected settlements. News was sent to the various stations warning the settlers. Colonel Logan dispatched fifteen men to Estill's Station, where they were joined by twenty-five from that fort. Under the command of Captain James Estill, they started to pursue and punish the invaders.

Early in the morning of the 20th, Miss Jennie Ga.s.s, with a slave, Monk, as protector, went just outside the fort at Estill's Station to milk the cows. Her mother, seeing the savages approaching, called loudly for her to run, but the warning came too late. Ere her daughter could reach the gate, her mother saw her tomahawked and scalped.

Monk was captured and asked about the force of the fort. Like the half-witted boy who was questioned by the Tories, Monk exaggerated the situation, saying there were forty men in the fort then molding bullets in antic.i.p.ation of an attack. The truth is that aside from the women and children, there were only four men, who were too disabled to march. The savages accordingly thought it best to retreat.

No sooner had they withdrawn from the vicinity of the fort than two boys were dispatched to find Captain Estill's band and tell them of the tragedy. In a few hours the messengers found the men, and so uneasy were some of the party for their families that five returned to help protect the fort, while the other thirty-five began to search for the trail of the Indians. A part of the horses became so jaded that ten more dropped from the ranks, while the remaining twenty-five pushed forward with a grim determination to find the savages.