This etext was produced by Gardner Buchanan.





CHRONICLES OF CANADA
Edited by George M. Wrong and H. H. Langton
In thirty-two volumes

Volume 15


THE WAR CHIEF OF THE OTTAWAS
A Chronicle of the Pontiac War

By THOMAS GUTHRIE MARQUIS
TORONTO, 1915


CONTENTS

I.    THE TIMES AND THE MEN
II.   PONTIAC AND THE TRIBES OF THE HINTERLAND
III.  THE GATHERING STORM
IV.   THE SIEGE OF DETROIT
V.    THE FALL OF THE LESSER FORTS
VI.   THE RELIEF OF FORT PITT
VII.  DETROIT ONCE MORE
VIII. WINDING UP THE INDIAN WAR
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE




CHAPTER I

THE TIMES AND THE MEN

There was rejoicing throughout the Thirteen Colonies, in
the month of September 1760, when news arrived of the
capitulation of Montreal. Bonfires flamed forth and
prayers were offered up in the churches and meeting-houses
in gratitude for deliverance from a foe that for over a
hundred years had harried and had caused the Indians to
harry the frontier settlements. The French armies were
defeated by land; the French fleets were beaten at sea.
The troops of the enemy had been removed from North
America, and so powerless was France on the ocean that,
even if success should crown her arms on the European
continent, where the Seven Years' War was still raging,
it would be impossible for her to transport a new force
to America. The principal French forts in America were
occupied by British troops. Louisbourg had been razed to
the ground; the British flag waved over Quebec, Montreal,
and Niagara, and was soon to be raised on all the lesser
forts in the territory known as Canada. The Mississippi
valley from the Illinois river southward alone remained
to France. Vincennes on the Wabash and Fort Chartres on
the Mississippi were the only posts in the hinterland
occupied by French troops. These posts were under the
government of Louisiana; but even these the American
colonies were prepared to claim, basing the right on
their 'sea to sea' charters.

The British in America had found the strip of land between
the Alleghanies and the Atlantic far too narrow for a
rapidly increasing population, but their advance westward
had been barred by the French. Now, praise the Lord, the
French were out of the way, and American traders and
settlers could exploit the profitable fur-fields and the
rich agricultural lands of the region beyond the mountains.
True, the Indians were there, but these were not regarded
as formidable foes. There was no longer any occasion to
consider the Indians--so thought the colonists and the
British officers in America. The red men had been a force
to be reckoned with only because the French had supplied
them with the sinews of war, but they might now be treated
like other denizens of the forest--the bears, the wolves,
and the wild cats. For this mistaken policy the British
colonies were to pay a heavy price.

The French and the Indians, save for one exception, had
been on terms of amity from the beginning. The reason
for this was that the French had treated the Indians with
studied kindness. The one exception was the Iroquois
League or Six Nations. Champlain, in the first years of
his residence at Quebec, had joined the Algonquins and
Hurons in an attack on them, which they never forgot;
and, in spite of the noble efforts of French missionaries
and a lavish bestowal of gifts, the Iroquois thorn remained
in the side of New France. But with the other Indian
tribes the French worked hand in hand, with the Cross
and the priest ever in advance of the trader's pack.
French missionaries were the first white men to settle
in the populous Huron country near Lake Simcoe. A missionary
was the first European to catch a glimpse of Georgian
Bay, and a missionary was probably the first of the French
race to launch his canoe on the lordly Mississippi. As
a father the priest watched over his wilderness flock;
while the French traders fraternized with the red men,
and often mated with dusky beauties. Many French traders,
according to Sir William Johnson--a good authority, of
whom we shall learn more later-were 'gentlemen in manners,
character, and dress,' and they treated the natives
kindly. At the great centres of trade--Montreal, Three
Rivers, and Quebec--the chiefs were royally received with
roll of drum and salute of guns. The governor himself
--the 'Big Mountain,' as they called him--would extend
to them a welcoming hand and take part in their feastings
and councils. At the inland trading-posts the Indians
were given goods for their winter hunts on credit and
loaded with presents by the officials. To such an extent
did the custom of giving presents prevail that it became
a heavy tax on the treasury of France, insignificant,
however, compared with the alternative of keeping in the
hinterland an armed force. The Indians, too, had fought
side by side with the French in many notable engagements.
They had aided Montcalm, and had assisted in such triumphs
as the defeat of Braddock. They were not only friends of
the French; they were sword companions.

The British colonists could not, of course, entertain
friendly feelings towards the tribes which sided with
their enemies and often devastated their homes and murdered
their people. But it must be admitted that, from the
first, the British in America were far behind the French
in christianlike conduct towards the native races. The
colonial traders generally despised the Indians and
treated them as of commercial value only, as gatherers
of pelts, and held their lives in little more esteem than
the lives of the animals that yielded the pelts. The
missionary zeal of New England, compared with that of
New France, was exceedingly mild. Rum was a leading
article of trade. The Indians were often cheated out of
their furs; in some instances they were slain and their
packs stolen. Sir William Johnson described the British
traders as 'men of no zeal or capacity: men who even
sacrifice the credit of the nation to the basest purposes.'
There were exceptions, of course, in such men as Alexander
Henry and Johnson himself, who, besides being a wise
official and a successful military commander, was one of
the leading traders.

No sooner was New France vanquished than the British
began building new forts and blockhouses in the hinterland.
[Footnote: By the hinterland is meant, of course, the
regions beyond the zone of settlement; roughly, all west
of Montreal and the Alleghanies.] Since the French were
no longer to be reckoned with, why were these forts
needed? Evidently, the Indians thought, to keep the red
children in subjection and to deprive them of their
hunting-grounds! The gardens they saw in cultivation
about the forts were to them the forerunners of general
settlement. The French had been content with trade; the
British appropriated lands for farming, and the coming
of the white settler meant the disappearance of game.
Indian chiefs saw in these forts and cultivated strips
of land a desire to exterminate the red man and steal
his territory; and they were not far wrong.

Outside influences, as well, were at work among the
Indians. Soon after the French armies departed, the
inhabitants along the St Lawrence had learned to welcome
the change of government. They were left to cultivate
their farms in peace. The tax-gatherer was no longer
squeezing from them their last sou as in the days of
Bigot; nor were their sons, whose labour was needed on
the farms and in the workshops, forced to take up arms.
They had peace and plenty, and were content. But in the
hinterland it was different. At Detroit, Michilimackinac,
and other forts were French trading communities, which,
being far from the seat of war and government, were slow
to realize that they were no longer subjects of the French
king. Hostile themselves, these French traders naturally
encouraged the Indians in an attitude of hostility to
the incoming British. They said that a French fleet and
army were on their way to Canada to recover the territory.
Even if Canada were lost, Louisiana was still French,
and, if only the British could be kept out of the west,
the trade that had hitherto gone down the St Lawrence
might now go by way of the Mississippi.

The commander-in-chief of the British forces in North
America, Sir Jeffery Amherst, despised the red men. They
were 'only fit to live with the inhabitants of the woods,
being more nearly allied to the Brute than to the Human
creation.' Other British officers had much the same
attitude. Colonel Henry Bouquet, on a suggestion made to
him by Amherst that blankets infected with small-pox
might be distributed to good purpose among the savages,
not only fell in with Amherst's views, but further proposed
that dogs should be used to hunt them down. 'You will do
well,' Amherst wrote to Bouquet, 'to try to inoculate
the Indians by means of Blankets as well as to try every
other method that can serve to extirpate this Execrable
Race. I should be very glad if your scheme for hunting
them down by dogs could take effect, but England is at
too great a Distance to think of that at present.' And
Major Henry Gladwyn, who, as we shall see, gallantly held
Detroit through months of trying siege, thought that the
unrestricted sale of rum among the Indians would extirpate
them more quickly than powder and shot, and at less cost.

There was, however, one British officer, at least, in
America who did not hold such views towards the natives
of the soil. Sir William Johnson, through his sympathy
and generosity, had won the friendship of the Six Nations,
the most courageous and the most cruel of the Indian
tribes. [Footnote: For more about Sir William Johnson
see _The War Chief of the Six Nations_ in this Series.]
It has been said by a recent writer that Johnson was 'as
much Indian as white man.' [Footnote: Lucas's _A History
of Canada, 1763-1812_, p. 58.] Nothing could be more
misleading. Johnson was simply an enlightened Irishman
of broad sympathies who could make himself at home in
palace, hut, or wigwam. He was an astute diplomatist,
capable of winning his point in controversy with the most
learned and experienced legislators of the colonies, a
successful military leader, a most successful trader;
and there was probably no more progressive and scientific
farmer in America. He had a cultivated mind; the orders
he sent to London for books show that he was something
of a scholar and in his leisure moments given to serious
reading. His advice to the lords of trade regarding
colonial affairs was that of a statesman. He fraternized
with the Dutch settlers of his neighbourhood and with
the Indians wherever he found them. At Detroit, in 1761,
he entered into the spirit of the French settlers and
joined with enthusiasm in their feasts and dances. He
was one of those rare characters who can be all things
to all men and yet keep an untarnished name. The Indians
loved him as a firm friend, and his home was to them
Liberty Hall. But for this man the Indian rising against
British rule would have attained greater proportions. At
the critical period he succeeded in keeping the Six
Nations loyal, save for the Senecas. This was most
important; for had the Six Nations joined in the war
against the British, it is probable that not a fort west
of Montreal would have remained standing. The line of
communication between Albany and Oswego would have been cut,
provisions and troops could not have been forwarded, and,
inevitably, both Niagara and Detroit would have fallen.

But as it was, the Pontiac War proved serious enough. It
extended as far north as Sault Ste Marie and as far south
as the borders of South Carolina and Georgia. Detroit
was cut off for months; the Indians drove the British
from all other points on the Great Lakes west of Lake
Ontario; for a time they triumphantly pushed their
war-parties, plundering and burning and murdering, from
the Mississippi to the frontiers of New York. During the
year 1763 more British lives were lost in America than
in the memorable year of 1759, the year of the siege of
Quebec and the world-famous battle of the Plains of Abraham.




CHAPTER II

PONTIAC AND THE TRIBES OF THE HINTERLAND

Foremost among the Indian leaders was Pontiac, the
over-chief of the Ottawa Confederacy. It has been customary
to speak of this chief as possessed of 'princely grandeur'
and as one 'honoured and revered by his subjects.' But
it was not by a display of princely dignity or by inspiring
awe and reverence that he influenced his bloodthirsty
followers. His chief traits were treachery and cruelty,
and his pre-eminence in these qualities commanded their
respect. His conduct of the siege of Detroit, as we shall
see, was marked by duplicity and diabolic savagery. He
has often been extolled for his skill as a military
leader, and there is a good deal in his siege of Detroit
and in the murderous ingenuity of some of his raids to
support this view. But his principal claim to distinction
is due to his position as the head of a confederacy
--whereas the other chiefs in the conflict were merely
leaders of single tribes--and to the fact that he was
situated at the very centre of the theatre of war. News
from Detroit could be quickly heralded along the canoe
routes and forest trails to the other tribes, and it thus
happened that when Pontiac struck, the whole Indian
country rose in arms. But the evidence clearly shows
that, except against Detroit and the neighbouring
blockhouses, he had no part in planning the attacks.
The war as a whole was a leaderless war.

Let us now look for a moment at the Indians who took part
in the war. Immediately under the influence of Pontiac
were three tribes--the Ottawas, the Chippewas, and the
Potawatomis. These had their hunting-grounds chiefly in
the Michigan peninsula, and formed what was known as the
Ottawa Confederacy or the Confederacy of the Three Fires.
It was at the best a loose confederacy, with nothing of
the organized strength of the Six Nations. The Indians
in it were of a low type--sunk in savagery and superstition.
A leader such as Pontiac naturally appealed to them. They
existed by hunting and fishing--feasting to-day and
famishing to-morrow--and were easily roused by the hope
of plunder. The weakly manned forts containing the white
man's provisions, ammunition, and traders' supplies were
an attractive lure to such savages. Within the confederacy,
however, there were some who did not rally round Pontiac.
The Ottawas of the northern part of Michigan, under the
influence of their priest, remained friendly to the
British. Including the Ottawas and Chippewas of the Ottawa
and Lake Superior, the confederates numbered many thousands;
yet at no time was Pontiac able to command from among
them more than one thousand warriors.

In close alliance with the Confederacy of the Three Fires
were the tribes dwelling to the west of Lake Michigan--the
Menominees, the Winnebagoes, and the Sacs and Foxes. These
tribes could put into the field about twelve hundred
warriors; but none of them took part in the war save in
one instance, when the Sacs, moved by the hope of plunder,
assisted the Chippewas in the capture of Fort Michilimackinac.

The Wyandots living on the Detroit river were a remnant
of the ancient Hurons of the famous mission near Lake
Simcoe. For more than a century they had been bound to
the French by ties of amity. They were courageous,
intelligent, and in every way on a higher plane of life
than the tribes of the Ottawa Confederacy. Their two
hundred and fifty braves were to be Pontiac's most
important allies in the siege of Detroit.

South of the Michigan peninsula, about the head-waters
of the rivers Maumee and Wabash, dwelt the Miamis,
numbering probably about fifteen hundred. Influenced by
French traders and by Pontiac's emissaries, they took to
the war-path, and the British were thus cut off from the
trade-route between Lake Erie and the Ohio.

The tribes just mentioned were all that came under the
direct influence of Pontiac. Farther south were other
nations who were to figure in the impending struggle.
The Wyandots of Sandusky Bay, at the south-west corner
of Lake Erie, had about two hundred warriors, and were
in alliance with the Senecas and Delawares. Living near
Detroit, they were able to assist in Pontiac's siege.
Directly south of these, along the Scioto, dwelt the
Shawnees--the tribe which later gave birth to the great
Tecumseh--with three hundred warriors. East of the
Shawnees, between the Muskingum and the Ohio, were the
Delawares. At one time this tribe had lived on both sides
of the Delaware river in Pennsylvania and New York, and
also in parts of New Jersey and Delaware. They called
themselves _Leni-Lenape_, real men; but were, nevertheless,
conquered by the Iroquois, who 'made women' of them,
depriving them of the right to declare war or sell land
without permission. Later, through an alliance with the
French, they won back their old independence. But they
lay in the path of white settlement, and were ousted from
one hunting-ground after another, until finally they had
to seek homes beyond the Alleghanies. The British had
robbed the Delawares of their ancient lands, and the
Delawares hated with an undying hatred the race that had
injured them. They mustered six hundred warriors.

Almost directly south of Fort Niagara, by the upper waters
of the Genesee and Alleghany rivers, lay the homes of
the Senecas, one of the Six Nations. This tribe looked
upon the British settlers in the Niagara region as
squatters on their territory. It was the Senecas, not
Pontiac, who began the plot for the destruction of the
British in the hinterland, and in the war which followed
more than a thousand Seneca warriors took part. Happily,
as has been mentioned, Sir William Johnson was able to
keep the other tribes of the Six Nations loyal to the
British; but the 'Door-keepers of the Long House,' as
the Senecas were called, stood aloof and hostile.

The motives of the Indians in the rising of 1763 may,
therefore, be summarized as follows: amity with the
French, hostility towards the British, hope of plunder,
and fear of aggression. The first three were the controlling
motives of Pontiac's Indians about Detroit. They called
it the 'Beaver War.' To them it was a war on behalf of
the French traders, who loaded them with gifts, and
against the British, who drove them away empty-handed.
But the Senecas and the Delawares, with their allies of
the Ohio valley, regarded it as a war for their lands.
Already the Indians had been forced out of their
hunting-grounds in the valleys of the Juniata and the
Susquehanna. The Ohio valley would be the next to go,
unless the Indians went on the war-path. The chiefs there
had good reason for alarm. Not so Pontiac at Detroit,
because no settlers were invading his hunting-grounds.
And it was for this lack of a strong motive that Pontiac's
campaign, as will hereafter appear, broke down before
the end of the war; that even his own confederates deserted
him; and that, while the Senecas and Delawares were still
holding out, he was wandering through the Indian country
in a vain endeavour to rally his scattered warriors.




CHAPTER III

THE GATHERING STORM

When Montreal capitulated, and the whole of Canada passed
into British hands, it was the duty of Sir Jeffery Amherst,
the commander-in-chief, to arrange for the defence of
the country that had been wrested from France. General
Gage was left in command at Montreal, Colonel Burton at
Three Rivers, and General Murray at Quebec. Amherst
himself departed for New York in October, and never again
visited Canada. Meanwhile provision had been made, though
quite inadequate, to garrison the long chain of forts
[Footnote: See the accompanying map. Except for these
forts or trading-posts, the entire region west of Montreal
was at this time practically an unbroken wilderness.
There were on the north shore of the St Lawrence a few
scattered settlements, on Ile Perrot and at Vaudreuil,
and on the south shore at the Cedars and Chateauguay;
but anything like continuity of settlement westward ceased
with the island of Montreal.] that had been established
by the French in the vaguely defined Indian territory to
the west. The fortunes of war had already given the
British command of the eastern end of this chain. Fort
Levis, on what is now Chimney Island, a few miles east
of Ogdensburg, had been captured. Fort Frontenac had been
destroyed by Bradstreet, and was left without a garrison.
British troops were in charge of Fort Oswego, which had
been built in 1759. Niagara, the strongest fort on the
Great Lakes, had been taken by Sir William Johnson. Near
it were two lesser forts, one at the foot of the rapids,
where Lewiston now stands, and the other, Fort Schlosser,
on the same side of the river, above the falls. Forts
Presqu'isle, Le Boeuf, and Venango, on the trade-route
between Lake Erie and Fort Pitt, and Fort Pitt itself,
were also occupied. But all west of Fort Pitt was to the
British unknown country. Sandusky, at the south-west end
of Lake Erie; Detroit, guarding the passage between Lakes
Erie and St Clair; Miami and Ouiatanon, on the trade-route
between Lake Erie and the Wabash; Michilimackinac, at
the entrance to Lake Michigan; Green Bay (La Baye), at
the southern end of Green Bay; St Joseph, on Lake Michigan;
Sault Ste Marie, at the entrance to Lake Superior--all
were still commanded by French officers, as they had been
under New France.

The task of raising the British flag over these forts
was entrusted to Major Robert Rogers of New England, who
commanded Rogers's Rangers, a famous body of
Indian-fighters. On September 13, 1760, with two hundred
Rangers in fifteen whale-boats, Rogers set out from
Montreal. On November 7 the contingent without mishap
reached a river named by Rogers the Chogage, evidently
the Cuyahoga, on the south shore of Lake Erie. Here the
troops landed, probably on the site of the present city
of Cleveland; and Rogers was visited by a party of Ottawa
Indians, whom he told of the conquest of Canada and of
the retirement of the French armies from the country. He
added that his force had been sent by the commander-in-chief
to take over for their father, the king of England, the
western posts still held by French soldiers. He then
offered them a peace-belt, which they accepted, and
requested them to go with him to Detroit to take part in
the capitulation and 'see the truth' of what he had said.
They promised to give him an answer next morning. The
calumet was smoked by the Indians and the officers in
turn; but a careful guard was kept, as Rogers was suspicious
of the Indians. In the morning, however, they returned
with a favourable reply, and the younger warriors of the
band agreed to accompany their new friends. Owing to
stormy weather nearly a week passed--the Indians keeping
the camp supplied with venison and turkey, for which
Rogers paid them liberally--before the party, on November
12, moved forward towards Detroit.

Detroit was at this time under the command of the Sieur
de Beletre, or Bellestre. This officer had been in charge
of the post since 1758 and had heard nothing of the
surrender of Montreal. Rogers, to pave the way; sent one
of his men in advance with a letter to Beletre notifying
him that the western posts now belonged to King George
and informing him that he was approaching with a letter
from the Marquis de Vaudreuil and a copy of the
capitulation. Beletre was irritated; the French armies
had been defeated and he was about to lose his post. He
at first refused to believe the tidings; and it appears
that he endeavoured to rouse the inhabitants and Indians
about Detroit to resist the approaching British, for on
November 20 several Wyandot sachems met the advancing
party and told Rogers that four hundred warriors were in
ambush at the entrance to the Detroit river to obstruct
his advance. The Wyandots wished to know the truth
regarding the conquest of Canada, and on being convinced
that it was no fabrication, they took their departure
'in good temper.' On the 23rd Indian messengers, among
whom was an Ottawa chief, [Footnote: In Rogers's journal
of this trip no mention is made of Pontiac's name. In _A
Concise Account of North America_, published in 1765,
with Rogers's name on the title-page, a detailed account
of a meeting with Pontiac at the Cuyahoga is given, but
this book seems to be of doubtful authenticity. It was,
however, accepted by Parkman.] arrived at the British
camp, at the western end of Lake Erie, reporting that
Beletre intended to fight and that he had arrested the
officer who bore Rogers's message. Beletre's chief reason
for doubting the truth of Rogers's statement appears to
have been that no French officers had accompanied the
British contingent from Montreal.

When the troops entered the Detroit river Rogers sent
Captain Donald Campbell to the fort with a copy of the
capitulation of Montreal and Vaudreuil's letter instructing
Beletre to hand over his fort to the British. These
documents were convincing, and Beletre [Footnote: Although
Beletre received Rogers and his men in no friendly spirit,
he seems soon to have become reconciled to British rule
for in 1763 he was appointed to the first Legislative
Council of Canada, and until the time of his death in
May 1793 he was a highly respected citizen of Quebec.]
consented, though with no good grace; and on November 29
Rogers formally took possession of Detroit. It was an
impressive ceremony. Some seven hundred Indians were
assembled in the vicinity of Fort Detroit, and, ever
ready to take sides with the winning party, appeared
about the stockade painted and plumed in honour of the
occasion. When the lilies of France were lowered and the
cross of St George was thrown to the breeze, the barbarous
horde uttered wild cries of delight. A new and rich people
had come to their hunting-grounds, and they had visions
of unlimited presents of clothing, ammunition, and rum.
After the fort was taken over the militia were called
together and disarmed and made to take the oath of
allegiance to the British king.

Captain Campbell was installed in command of the fort,
and Beletre and the other prisoners of war were sent to
Philadelphia. Two officers were dispatched with twenty
men to bring the French troops from Forts Miami and
Ouiatanon. A few soldiers were stationed at Fort Miami
to keep the officers at Detroit informed of any interesting
events in that neighbourhood. Provisions being scarce at
Detroit, Rogers sent the majority of his force to Niagara;
and on December 10 set out for Michilimackinac with an
officer and thirty-seven men. But he was driven back by
stormy weather and ice, and forced, for the present year,
to give up the attempt to garrison the posts on Lakes
Huron and Michigan. Leaving everything in peace at Detroit,
Rogers went to Fort Pitt, and for nine months the forts
in the country of the Ottawa Confederacy were to be left
to their own resources.

Meanwhile the Indians were getting into a state of unrest.
The presents, on which they depended so much for existence,
were not forthcoming, and rumours of trouble were in the
air. Senecas, Shawnees, and Delawares were sending
war-belts east and west and north and south. A plot was
on foot to seize Pitt, Niagara, and Detroit. Seneca
ambassadors had visited the Wyandots in the vicinity of
Detroit, urging them to fall on the garrison. After an
investigation, Captain Campbell reported to Amherst that
an Indian rising was imminent, and revealed a plot,
originated by the Senecas, which was identical with that
afterwards matured in 1763 and attributed to Pontiac's
initiative. Campbell warned the commandants of the other
forts of the danger; and the Indians, seeing that their
plans were discovered, assumed a peaceful attitude.

Still, the situation was critical; and, to allay the
hostility of the natives and gain their confidence,
Amherst dispatched Sir William Johnson to Detroit with
instructions 'to settle and establish a firm and lasting
treaty' between the British and the Ottawa Confederacy
and other nations inhabiting the Indian territory, to
regulate the fur trade at the posts, and to settle the
price of clothes and provisions. He was likewise to
collect information as exhaustive as possible regarding
the Indians, their manners and customs, and their abodes.
He was to find out whether the French had any shipping
on Lakes Huron, Michigan, and Superior, what were the
best posts for trade, and the price paid by the French
for pelts. He was also to learn, if possible, how far
the boundaries of Canada extended towards the Mississippi,
and the number of French posts, settlements, and inhabitants
along that river.

Sir William left his home at Fort Johnson on the Mohawk
river early in July 1761. Scarcely had he begun his
journey when he was warned that it was dangerous to
proceed, as the nations in the west were unfriendly and
would surely fall upon his party. But Johnson was confident
that his presence among them would put a stop to 'any
such wicked design.' As he advanced up Lake Ontario the
alarming reports continued. The Senecas, who had already
stolen horses from the whites and taken prisoners, had
been sending ambassadors abroad, endeavouring to induce
the other nations to attack the British. Johnson learned,
too, that the Indians were being cheated in trade by
British traders; that at several posts they had been
roughly handled, very often without cause; that their
women were taken from them by violence; and that they
were hindered from hunting and fishing on their own
grounds near the posts, even what they did catch or kill
being taken from them. He heard, too, that Seneca and
Ottawa warriors had been murdered by whites near Forts
Pitt and Venango. At Niagara he was visited by Seneca
chiefs, who complained that one of their warriors had
been wounded near by and that four horses had been stolen
from them. Johnson evidently believed the story, for he
gave them 'two casks of rum, some paint and money to make
up their loss,' and they left him well satisfied. On Lake
Erie, stories of the hostility of the Indians multiplied.
They were ready to revolt; even before leaving Niagara,
Johnson had it on good authority that the Indians 'were
certainly determined to rise and fall on the English,'
and that 'several thousands of the Ottawas and other
nations' had agreed to join the dissatisfied member 'of
the Six Nations in this scheme or plot.' But Johnson kept
on his way, confident that he could allay dissatisfaction
and win all the nations to friendship.

When Sir William reached Detroit on September 3 he was
welcomed by musketry volleys from the Indians and by
cannon from the fort. His reputation as the great
superintendent of Indian Affairs, the friend of the red
man, had gone before him, and he was joyously received,
and at once given quarters in the house of the former
commandant of Detroit, Beletre. On the day following his
arrival the Wyandots and other Indians, with their priest,
Father Pierre Potier (called Pottie by Johnson), waited
on him. He treated them royally, and gave them pipes and
tobacco and a barbecue of a large ox roasted whole. He
found the French inhabitants most friendly, especially
Pierre Chesne, better known as La Butte, the interpreter
of the Wyandots, and St Martin, the interpreter of the
Ottawas. The ladies of the settlement called on him, and
were regaled 'with cakes, wine and cordial. He was
hospitably entertained by the officers and settlers, and
in return gave several balls, at which, it appears, he
danced with 'Mademoiselle Curie--a fine girl.' This
vivacious lady evidently made an impression on the
susceptible Irishman; for after the second ball--'there
never was so brilliant an affair' at Detroit before--he
records in his private diary: 'Promised to write
Mademoiselle Curie my sentiments.'

While at Niagara on his journey westward Johnson had been
joined by Major Henry Gladwyn, to whom Amherst had assigned
the duty of garrisoning the western forts and taking over
in person the command of Fort Detroit. Gladwyn had left
Niagara a day or two in advance of Johnson, but on the
way to his new command he had been seized with severe
fever and ague and totally incapacitated for duty. On
Johnson fell the task of making arrangements for the
still unoccupied posts. He did the work with his customary
promptitude and thoroughness, and by September 10 had
dispatched men of Gage's Light Infantry and of the Royal
Americans from Detroit for Michilimackinac, Green Bay,
and St Joseph.

The chiefs of the various tribes had flocked to Detroit
to confer with Sir William. He won them all by his honeyed
words and liberal distribution of presents; he was told
that his 'presents had made the sun and sky bright and
clear, the earth smooth and level, the roads all pleasant';
and they begged that he 'would continue in the same
friendly disposition towards them and they would be a
happy people.' His work completed, Johnson set out,
September 19, on his homeward journey, leaving behind
him the promise of peace in the Indian territory.
[Footnote: It is remarkable that Johnson in his private
diary or in his official correspondence makes no mention
of Pontiac. The Ottawa chief apparently played no
conspicuous part in the plots of 1761 and 1762.]

For the time being Johnson's visit to Detroit had a
salutary effect, and the year 1761 terminated with only
slight signs of unrest among the Indians; but in the
spring of 1762 the air was again heavy with threatening
storm. The Indians of the Ohio valley were once more
sending out their war-belts and bloody hatchets. In
several instances Englishmen were murdered and scalped
and horses were stolen. The Shawnees and Delawares held
British prisoners whom they refused to surrender. By
Amherst's orders presents were withheld. Until they
surrendered all prisoners and showed a proper spirit
towards the British he would suppress all gifts, in the
belief that 'a due observance of this alone will soon
produce more than can ever be expected from bribing them.'
The reply of the Shawnees and Delawares to his orders
was stealing horses and terrorizing traders. Sir William
Johnson and his assistant in office, George Croghan,
warned Amherst of the danger he was running in rousing
the hatred of the savages. Croghan in a letter to Bouquet
said: 'I do not approve of General Amherst's plan of
distressing them too much, as in my opinion they will
not consider consequences if too much distressed, tho'
Sir Jeffery thinks they will.' Although warnings were
pouring in upon him, Amherst was of the opinion that
there was 'no necessity for any more at the several posts
than are just enough to keep up the communication, there
being nothing to fear from the Indians in our present
circumstances.' To Sir William Johnson he wrote that it
was 'not in the power of the Indians to effect anything
of consequence.'

In the spring of 1763 the war-cloud was about to burst;
but in remote New York the commander-in-chief failed to
grasp the situation, and turned a deaf ear to those who
warned him that an Indian war with all its horrors was
inevitable. These vague rumours, as Amherst regarded
them, of an imminent general rising of the western tribes,
took more definite form as the spring advanced. Towards
the end of March Lieutenant Edward Jenkins, the commandant
of Fort Ouiatanon, learned that the French traders had
been telling the Indians that the British would 'all be
prisoners in a short time.' But what caused most alarm
was information from Fort Miami of a plot for the capture
of the forts and the slaughter of the garrisons. A war-belt
was received by the Indians residing near the fort, and
with it came the request that they should hold themselves
in readiness to attack the British. Robert Holmes, the
commandant of Fort Miami, managed to secure the 'bloody
belt' and sent it to Gladwyn, [Footnote: Gladwyn's illness
in 1761 proved so severe that he had to take a journey
to England to recuperate; but he was back in Detroit as
commandant in August 1762.] who in turn sent it to Amherst.

News had now reached the Ohio tribes of the Treaty of
Paris, but the terms of this treaty had only increased
their unrest. On April 30, 1763, Croghan wrote to Amherst
that the Indians were 'uneasy since so much of North
America was ceded to Great Britain,' holding that the
British had no right in their country. 'The Peace,' added
Croghan, 'and hearing so much of this country being given
up has thrown them into confusion and prevented them
bringing in their prisoners this spring as they promised.'
Amherst's reply was: 'Whatever idle notions they may
entertain in regard to the cessions made by the French
crown can be of very little consequence.' On April 20
Gladwyn, though slow to see danger, wrote to Amherst:
'They [the Indians] say we mean to make Slaves of them
by Taking so many posts in the country, and that they
had better attempt Something now to Recover their liberty
than wait till we are better established.' Even when word
that the Indians were actually on the war-path reached
Amherst, he still refused to believe it a serious matter,
and delayed making preparations to meet the situation.
It was, according to him, a 'rash attempt of that turbulent
tribe the Senecas'; and, again, he was 'persuaded this
alarm will end in nothing more than a rash attempt of
what the Senecas have been threatening.' Eight British
forts in the west were captured and the frontiers of the
colonies bathed in blood before he realized that 'the
affair of the Indians was more general than they
apprehended.'

The Indians were only waiting for a sudden, bold blow at
some one of the British posts, and on the instant they
would be on the war-path from the shores of Lake Superior
to the borders of the southernmost colonies of Great
Britain. The blow was soon to be struck. Pontiac's
war-belts had been sent broadcast, and the nations who
recognized him as over-chief were ready to follow him to
the slaughter. Detroit was the strongest position to the
west of Niagara; it contained an abundance of stores,
and would be a rich prize. As Pontiac yearly visited this
place during the trading season, he knew the locality
well and was familiar with the settlers, the majority of
whom were far from being friendly to the British. Against
Detroit he would lead the warriors, under the pretence
of winning back the country for the French.

In the spring of 1763, instead of going direct to his
usual camping-place, an island in Lake St Clair, Pontiac
pitched his wigwam on the bank of the river Ecorces, ten
miles south of Detroit, and here awaited the tribes whom
he had summoned to a council to be held 'on the 15th of
the moon'--the 27th of April. And at the appointed time
nearly five hundred warriors--Ottawas, Potawatomis,
Chippewas, and Wyandots--with their squaws and papooses,
had gathered at the meeting-place, petty tribal jealousies
and differences being laid aside in their common hatred
of 'the dogs dressed in red,' the British soldiers.

When the council assembled Pontiac addressed them with
fiery words. The Ottawa chief was at this time about
fifty years old. He was a man of average height, of darker
hue than is usual among Indians, lithe as a panther, his
muscles hardened by forest life and years of warfare
against Indian enemies and the British. Like the rush of
a mountain torrent the words fell from his lips. His
speech was one stream of denunciation of the British. In
trade they had cheated the Indians, robbing them of their
furs, overcharging them for the necessaries of life, and
heaping insults and blows upon the red men, who from the
French had known only kindness. The time had come to
strike. As he spoke he flashed a red and purple wampum
belt before the gaze of the excited braves. This, he
declared, he had received from their father the king of
France, who commanded his red children to fight the
British. Holding out the belt, he recounted with wild
words and vehement gestures the victories gained in the
past by the Indians over the British, and as he spoke
the blood of his listeners pulsed through their veins
with battle ardour. To their hatred and sense of being
wronged he had appealed, and he saw that every warrior
present was with him; but his strongest appeal was to
their superstition. In spite of the fact that French
missionaries had been among them for a century, they were
still pagan, and it was essential to the success of his
project that they should believe that the Master of Life
favoured their cause. He told them the story of a Wolf
(Delaware) Indian who had journeyed to heaven and talked
with the Master of Life, receiving instructions to tell
all the Indians that they were to 'drive out' and 'make
war upon' the 'dogs clothed in red who will do you nothing
but harm.' When he had finished, such chiefs as Ninevois
of the Chippewas and Takay of the Wyandots--'the bad
Hurons,' as the writer of the 'Pontiac Manuscript'
describes them to distinguish them from Father Potier's
flock--spoke in similar terms. Every warrior present
shouted his readiness to go to war, and before the council
broke up it was agreed that in four days Pontiac 'should
go to the fort with his young men for a peace dance' in
order to get information regarding the strength of the
place. The blow must be struck before the spring boats
arrived from the Niagara with supplies and additional
troops. The council at an end, the different tribes
scattered to their several summer villages, seemingly
peaceful Indians who had gathered together for trade.




CHAPTER IV

THE SIEGE OF DETROIT

At the time of the Pontiac outbreak there were in the
vicinity of Fort Detroit between one thousand and two
thousand white inhabitants. Yet the place was little more
than a wilderness post. The settlers were cut off from
civilization and learned news of the great world outside
only in the spring, when the traders' boats came with
supplies. They were out of touch with Montreal and Quebec,
and it was difficult for them to realize that they were
subjects of the hated king of England. They had not lost
their confidence that the armies of France would yet be
victorious and sweep the British from the Great Lakes,
and in this opinion they were strengthened by traders
from the Mississippi, who came among them. But the change
of rulers had made little difference in their lives. The
majority of them were employed by traders, and the better
class contentedly cultivated their narrow farms and traded
with the Indians who periodically visited them.

The settlement was widely scattered, extending along the
east shore of the Detroit river for about eight miles
from Lake St Clair, and along the west shore for about
six miles, four above and two below the fort. On either
side of the river the fertile fields and the long row of
whitewashed, low-built houses, with their gardens and
orchards of apple and pear trees, fenced about with
rounded pickets, presented a picture of peace and plenty.
The summers of the inhabitants were enlivened by the
visits of the Indians and the traders; and in winter they
light-heartedly whiled away the tedious hours with gossip
and dance and feast, like the habitants along the Richelieu
and the St Lawrence.

The militia of the settlement, as we have seen, had been
deprived of their arms at the taking over of Detroit by
Robert Rogers; and for the most part the settlers maintained
a stolid attitude towards their conquerors, from whom
they suffered no hardship and whose rule was not galling.
The British had nothing to fear from them. But the Indians
were a force to be reckoned with. There were three Indian
villages in the vicinity--the Wyandot, on the east side
of the river, opposite the fort; the Ottawa, five miles
above, opposite Ile au Cochon (Belle Isle); and the
Potawatomi about two miles below the fort on the west
shore. The Ottawas here could muster 200 warriors, the
Potawatomis about 150, and the Wyandots 250, while near
at hand were the Chippewas, 320 strong. Pontiac, although
head chief of the Ottawas, did not live in the village,
but had his wigwam on Ile a la Peche, at the outlet of
Lake St Clair, a spot where whitefish abounded. Here he
dwelt with his squaws and papooses, not in 'grandeur,'
but in squalid savagery. Between the Indians and the
French there existed a most friendly relationship; many
of the habitants, indeed, having Indian wives.

Near the centre of the settlement, on the west bank of
the river, about twenty miles from Lake Erie, stood Fort
Detroit, a miniature town. It was in the form of a
parallelogram and was surrounded by a palisade twenty-five
feet high. According to a letter of an officer, the walls
had an extent of over one thousand paces. At each corner
was a bastion and over each gate a blockhouse. Within
the walls were about one hundred houses, the little
Catholic church of Ste Anne's, a council-house, officers'
quarters, and a range of barracks. Save for one or two
exceptions the buildings were of wood, thatched with bark
or straw, and stood close together. The streets were
exceedingly narrow; but immediately within the palisade
a wide road extended round the entire village. The
spiritual welfare of the French and Indian Catholics in
the garrison was looked after by Father Potier, a Jesuit,
whose mission was in the Wyandot village, and by Father
Bocquet, a Recollet, who lived within the fort; Major
Henry Gladwyn was in command. He had a hundred and twenty
soldiers, and two armed schooners, the _Gladwyn_ and the
_Beaver_, were in the river near by.

On the first day of May 1763, Pontiac came to the main
gate of the fort asking to be allowed to enter, as he
and the warriors with him, forty in all, desired to show
their love for the British by dancing the calumet or
peace dance. Gladwyn had not the slightest suspicion of
evil intent, and readily admitted them. The savages
selected a spot in front of the officers' houses; and
thirty of them went through their grotesque movements,
shouting and dancing to the music of the Indian drum,
and all the while waving their calumets in token of
friendship. While the dancers were thus engaged, the
remaining ten of the party were busily employed in
surveying the fort--noting the number of men and the
strength of the palisades. The dance lasted about an
hour. Presents were then distributed to the Indians, and
all took their departure.

Pontiac now summoned the Indians about Detroit to another
council. On this occasion the chiefs and warriors assembled
in the council-house in the Potawatomi village south of
the fort. When all were gathered together Pontiac rose
and, as at the council at the river Ecorces, in a torrent
of words and with vehement gestures, denounced the British.
He declared that under the new occupancy of the forts in
the Indian country the red men were neglected and their
wants were no longer supplied as they had been in the
days of the French; that exorbitant prices were charged
by the traders for goods; that when the Indians were
departing for their winter camps to hunt for furs they
were no longer able to obtain ammunition and clothing on
credit; and, finally, that the British desired the death
of the Indians, and it was therefore necessary as an act
of self-preservation to destroy them. He once more
displayed the war-belt that he pretended to have received
from the king of France. This belt told him to strike in
his own interest and in the interest of the French. He
closed his speech by saying that he had sent belts to
the Chippewas of Saginaw and the Ottawas of Michilimackinac
and of the river La Tranche (the Thames). Seeing that
his words were greeted with grunts and shouts of approval
and that the assembled warriors were with him to a man,
Pontiac revealed a plan he had formed to seize the fort
and slaughter the garrison. He and some fifty chiefs and
warriors would wait on Gladwyn on the pretence of discussing
matters of importance. Each one would carry beneath his
blanket a gun, with the barrel cut short to permit of
concealment. Warriors and even women were to enter the
fort as if on a friendly visit and take up positions of
advantage in the streets, in readiness to strike with
tomahawks, knives, and guns, all which they were to have
concealed beneath their blankets. At the council Pontiac
was to address Gladwyn and, in pretended friendship, hand
him a wampum belt. If it were wise to strike, he would
on presenting the belt hold its reverse side towards
Gladwyn. This was to be the signal for attack. Instantly
blankets were to be thrown aside and the officers were
to be shot down. At the sound of firing in the council-room
the Indians in the streets were to fall on the garrison
and every British soldier was to be slain, care being
taken that no Frenchman suffered. The plan, by its
treachery, and by its possibilities of slaughter and
plunder, appealed to the savages; and they dispersed to
make preparations for the morning of the 7th, the day
chosen for carrying out the murderous scheme.

The plot was difficult to conceal. The aid of French
blacksmiths had to be sought to shorten the guns. Moreover,
the British garrison had some friends among the Indians.
Scarcely had the plot been matured when it was discussed
among the French, and on the day before the intended
massacre it was revealed to Gladwyn. His informant is
not certainly known. A Chippewa maiden, an old squaw,
several Frenchmen, and an Ottawa named Mahiganne have
been mentioned. It is possible that Gladwyn had it from
a number of sources, but most likely from Mahiganne. The
'Pontiac Manuscript,' probably the work of Robert Navarre,
the keeper of the notarial records of the settlement,
distinctly states that Mahiganne revealed the details of
the plot with the request that Gladwyn should not divulge
his name; for, should Pontiac learn, the informer would
surely be put to death. This would account for the fact
that Gladwyn, even in his report of the affair to Amherst,
gives no hint as to the person who told him.

Gladwyn at once made preparations to receive Pontiac and
his chiefs. On the night of the 6th instructions were
given to the soldiers and the traders within the fort to
make preparations to resist an attack, and the guards
were doubled. As the sentries peered out into the darkness
occasional yells and whoops and the beating of drums
reached their ears, telling of the war-dance that was
being performed in the Indian villages to hearten the
warriors for the slaughter.

Gladwyn determined to act boldly. On the morning of the
7th all the traders' stores were closed and every man
capable of bearing weapons was under arms; but the gates
were left open as usual, and shortly after daylight
Indians and squaws by twos and threes began to gather in
the fort as if to trade. At ten in the morning a line of
chiefs with Pontiac at their head filed along the road
leading to the river gate. All were painted and plumed
and each one was wrapped in a brightly coloured blanket.
When they entered the fort they were astonished to see
the warlike preparations, but stoically concealed their
surprise. Arrived in the council-chamber, the chiefs
noticed the sentinels standing at arms, the commandant
and his officers seated, their faces stern and set,
pistols in their belts and swords by their sides. So
perturbed were the chiefs by all this warlike display
that it was some time before they would take their seats
on the mats prepared for them. At length they recovered
their composure, and Pontiac broke the silence by asking
why so many of the young men were standing in the streets
with their guns. Answer was made through the interpreter
La Butte that it was for exercise and discipline. Pontiac
then addressed Gladwyn, vehemently protesting friendship.
All the time he was speaking Gladwyn bent on him a
scrutinizing gaze, and as the chief was about to present
the wampum belt, a signal was given and the drums crashed
out a charge. Every doubt was removed from Pontiac's
mind--his plot was discovered. His nervous hand lowered
the belt; but he recovered himself immediately and
presented it in the ordinary way. Gladwyn replied to his
speech sternly, but kindly, saying that he would have
the protection and friendship of the British so long as
he merited it. A few presents were then distributed among
the Indians, and the council ended. The chiefs, with
their blankets still tightly wrapped about them, filed
out of the council-room and scattered to their villages,
followed by the disappointed rabble of fully three hundred
Indians, who had assembled in the fort.

On the morrow, Pontiac, accompanied by three chiefs,
again appeared at the fort, bringing with him a pipe of
peace. When this had been smoked by the officers and
chiefs, he presented it to Captain Campbell, as a further
mark of friendship. The next day he was once more at the
gates seeking entrance. But he found them closed: Gladwyn
felt that the time had come to take no chances. This
morning a rabble of Potawatomis, Ottawas, Wyandots, and
Chippewas thronged the common just out of musket range.
On Pontiac's request for a conference with Gladwyn he
was sternly told that he might enter alone. The answer
angered him, and he strode back to his followers. Now,
with yells and war-whoops, parties of the savages bounded
away on a murderous mission. Half a mile behind the fort
an English woman, Mrs Turnbull, and her two sons cultivated
a small farm. All three were straightway slain. A party
of Ottawas leapt into their canoes and paddled swiftly
to Ile au Cochon, where lived a former sergeant, James
Fisher. Fisher was seized, killed, and scalped, his young
wife brutally murdered, and their two little children
carried into captivity. On this same day news was brought
to the fort that Sir Robert Davers and Captain Robertson
had been murdered three days before on Lake St Clair by,
Chippewas who were on their way from Saginaw to join
Pontiac's forces. Thus began the Pontiac War in the
vicinity of Detroit. For several months the garrison was
to know little rest.

That night at the Ottawa village arose the hideous din
of the war-dance, and while the warriors worked themselves
into a frenzy the squaws were busy breaking camp. Before
daylight the village was moved to the opposite side of
the river, and the wigwams were pitched near the mouth
of Parent's Creek, about a mile and a half above the
fort. On the morning of the 10th the siege began in
earnest. Shortly after daybreak the yells of a horde of
savages could be heard north and south and west. But few
of the enemy could be seen, as they had excellent shelter
behind barns, outhouses, and fences. For six hours they
kept up a continuous fire on the garrison, but wounded
only five men. The fort vigorously returned the fire,
and none of the enemy dared attempt to rush the palisades.
A cluster of buildings in the rear sheltered a particularly
ferocious set of savages. A three-pounder--the only
effective artillery in the fort--was trained on this
position; spikes were bound together with wire, heated
red-hot, and fired at the buildings. These were soon a
mass of flames, and the savages concealed behind them
fled for their lives.

Presently the Indians grew tired of this useless warfare
and withdrew to their villages. Gladwyn, thinking that
he might bring Pontiac to terms, sent La Butte to ask
the cause of the attack and to say that the British were
ready to redress any wrongs from which the Indians might
be suffering. La Butte was accompanied by Jean Baptiste
Chapoton, a captain of the militia and a man of some
importance in the fort, and Jacques Godfroy, a trader
and likewise an officer of militia. It may be noted that
Godfroy's wife was the daughter of a Miami chief. The
ambassadors were received in a friendly manner by Pontiac,
who seemed ready to cease hostilities. La Butte returned
to the fort with some of the chiefs to report progress;
but when he went again to Pontiac he found that the Ottawa
chief had made no definite promise. It seems probable,
judging from their later actions, that Chapoton and
Godfroy had betrayed Gladwyn and urged Pontiac to force
the British out of the country. Pontiac now requested
that Captain Donald Campbell, who had been in charge of
Detroit before Gladwyn took over the command, should come
to his village to discuss terms. Campbell was confident
that he could pacify the Indians, and, accompanied by
Lieutenant George McDougall, he set out along the river
road for the Ottawas' encampment at Parent's Creek. As
the two officers crossed the bridge at the mouth of the
creek, they were met by a savage crowd--men, women, and
children--armed with sticks and clubs. The mob rushed at
them with yells and threatening gestures, and were about
to fall on the officers when Pontiac appeared and restored
order. A council was held, but as Campbell could get no
satisfaction he suggested returning to the fort. Thereupon
Pontiac remarked: 'My father will sleep to-night in the
lodges of his red children.' Campbell and McDougall were
given good quarters in the house of Jean Baptiste Meloche.
For nearly two months they were to be kept close prisoners.

So far only part of the Wyandots had joined Pontiac:
Father Potier had been trying to keep his flock neutral.
But on the 11th Pontiac crossed to the Wyandot village,
and threatened it with destruction if the warriors did
not take up the tomahawk. On this compulsion they consented,
no doubt glad of an excuse to be rid of the discipline
of their priest.

Another attack on the fort was made, this time by about
six hundred Indians; but it was as futile as the one of
the earlier day. Pontiac now tried negotiation. He summoned
Gladwyn to surrender, promising that the British should
be allowed to depart unmolested on their vessels. The
officers, knowing that their communications with the east
were cut, that food was scarce, that a vigorous assault
could not fail to carry the fort, urged Gladwyn to accept
the offer, but he sternly refused. He would not abandon
Detroit while one pound of food and one pound of powder
were left in the fort. Moreover, the treacherous conduct
of Pontiac convinced him that the troops and traders as
they left the fort would be plundered and slaughtered.
He rejected Pontiac's demands, and advised him to disperse
his people and save his ammunition for hunting.

At this critical moment Detroit was undoubtedly saved by
a French Canadian. But for Jacques Baby, the grim spectre
Starvation would have stalked through the little fortress.
Baby was a prosperous trader and merchant who, with his
wife Susanne Reaume, lived on the east shore of the river,
almost opposite the fort. He had a farm of one thousand
acres, two hundred of which were under cultivation. His
trading establishment was a low-built log structure eighty
feet long by twenty wide. He owned thirty slaves--twenty
men and ten women. He seems to have treated them kindly;
at any rate, they loyally did his will. Baby agreed to
get provisions into the fort by stealth; and on a dark
night, about a week after the siege commenced, Gladwyn
had a lantern displayed on a plank fixed at the water's
edge. Baby had six canoes in readiness; in each were
stowed two quarters of beef, three hogs, and six bags of
meal. All night long these canoes plied across the
half-mile stretch of water and by daylight sufficient
food to last the garrison for several weeks had been
delivered.

From day to day the Indians kept up a desultory firing,
while Gladwyn took precautions against a long siege. Food
was taken from the houses of the inhabitants and placed
in a common storehouse. Timber was torn from the walks
and used in the construction of portable bastions, which
were erected outside the fort. There being danger that
the roofs of the houses would be ignited by means of
fire-arrows, the French inhabitants of the fort were made
to draw water and store it in vessels at convenient
points. Houses, fences, and orchards in the neighbourhood
were destroyed and levelled, so that skulking warriors
could not find shelter. The front of the fort was
comparatively safe from attack, for the schooners guarded
the river gate, and the Indians had a wholesome dread of
these floating fortresses.

About the middle of the month the _Gladwyn_ sailed down
the Detroit to meet a convoy that was expected with
provisions and ammunition from Fort Schlosser. At the
entrance to Lake Erie, as the vessel lay becalmed in the
river, she was suddenly beset by a swarm of savages in
canoes; and Pontiac's prisoner, Captain Campbell, appeared
in the foremost canoe, the savages thinking that the
British would not fire on them for fear of killing him.
Happily, a breeze sprang up and the schooner escaped to
the open lake. There was no sign of the convoy; and the
_Gladwyn_ sailed for the Niagara, to carry to the officers
there tidings of the Indian rising in the west.

On May 30 the watchful sentries at Detroit saw a line of
bateaux flying the British flag rounding a point on the
east shore of the river. This was the expected convoy
from Fort Schlosser, and the cannon boomed forth a welcome.
But the rejoicings of the garrison were soon stilled.
Instead of British cheers, wild war-whoops resounded from
the bateaux. The Indians had captured the convoy and were
forcing their captives to row. In the foremost boat were
four soldiers and three savages. Nearing the fortress
one of the soldiers conceived the daring plan of
overpowering the Indian guard and escaping to the _Beaver_,
which lay anchored in front of the fort. Seizing the
nearest savage he attempted to throw him into the river;
but the Indian succeeded in stabbing him, and both fell
overboard and were drowned. The other savages, dreading
capture, leapt out of the boat and swam ashore. The bateau
with the three soldiers in it reached the _Beaver_, and
the provisions and ammunition it contained were taken to
the fort. The Indians in the remaining bateaux, warned
by the fate of the leading vessel, landed on the east
shore; and, marching their prisoners overland past the
fort, they took them across the river to Pontiac's camp,
where most of them were put to death with fiendish cruelty.

The soldiers who escaped to the _Beaver_ told the story
of the ill-fated convoy. On May 13 Lieutenant Abraham
Cuyler, totally ignorant of the outbreak of hostilities
at Detroit, had left Fort Schlosser with ninety-six men
in ten bateaux. They had journeyed in leisurely fashion
along the northern shore of Lake Erie, and by the 28th
had reached Point Pelee, about thirty miles from the
Detroit river. Here a landing was made, and while tents
were being pitched a band of painted savages suddenly
darted out of the forest and attacked a man and a boy
who were gathering wood. The man escaped, but the boy
was tomahawked and scalped. Cuyler drew up his men in
front of the boats, and a sharp musketry fire followed
between the Indians, who were sheltered by a thick wood,
and the white men on the exposed shore. The raiders were
Wyandots from Detroit, the most courageous and intelligent
savages in the region. Seeing that Cuyler's men were
panic-stricken, they broke from their cover, with unusual
boldness for Indians, and made a mad charge. The soldiers,
completely unnerved by the savage yells and hurtling
tomahawks, threw down their arms and dashed in confusion
to the boats. Five they succeeded in pushing off, and
into these they tumbled without weapons of defence. Cuyler
himself was left behind wounded; but he waded out, and
was taken aboard under a brisk fire from the shore. The
Indians then launched two of the abandoned boats, rushed
in pursuit of the fleeing soldiers, speedily captured
three of the boats, and brought them ashore in triumph.
The two others, in one of which was Cuyler, hoisted sail
and escaped. The Indians, as we have seen, brought the
captured boats and their prisoners to Detroit. Cuyler
had directed his course to Sandusky, but finding the
blockhouse there burnt to the ground, he had rowed eastward
to Presqu'isle, and then hastened to Niagara to report
the disaster.

The siege of Detroit went on. Towards the middle of June,
Jacques Baby brought word to the commandant that the
_Gladwyn_ was returning from the Niagara with supplies
and men, and that the Indians were making preparations
to capture her. A few miles below Detroit lay Fighting
Island; between it and the east shore, Turkey Island.
Here the savages had erected a breastwork, so carefully
concealed that it would be difficult even for the keenest
eyes to detect its presence. The vessel would have to
pass within easy range of this barricade; and it was the
plan of the Indians to dart out in their canoes as the
schooner worked up-stream, seize her, and slay her crew.
On learning this news Gladwyn ordered cannon to be fired
to notify the captain that the fort still held out, and
sent a messenger to meet the vessel with word of the
plot. It happened that the _Gladwyn_ was well manned and
prepared for battle. On board was Cuyler with twenty-two
survivors of the ill-starred convoy, besides twenty-eight
men of Captain Hopkins's company. To deceive the Indians
as to the number of men, all the crew and soldiers, save
ten or twelve, were concealed in the hold; to invite
attack, the vessel advanced boldly up-stream, and at
nightfall cast anchor in the narrow channel in front of
Turkey Island. About midnight the Indians stealthily
boarded their canoes and cautiously, but confidently,
swept towards her with muffled paddles. The _Gladwyn_
was ready for them. Not a sound broke the silence of the
night as the Indians approached the schooner; when suddenly
the clang of a hammer against the mast echoed over the
calm waters, the signal to the soldiers in the hold. The
Indians were almost on their prey; but before they had
time to utter the war-whoop, the soldiers had come up
and had attacked the savages with bullets and cannon
shot. Shrieks of death arose amid the din of the firing
and the splash of swimmers hurriedly making for the shore
from the sinking canoes. In a moment fourteen Indians
were killed and as many more wounded. From behind the
barricade the survivors began a harmless musketry fire
against the schooner, which simply weighed anchor and
drifted down-stream to safety. A day or two later she
cleared Turkey Island and reached the fort, pouring a
shattering broadside into the Wyandot village as she
passed it. Besides the troops, the _Gladwyn_ had on board
a precious cargo of a hundred and fifty barrels of
provisions and some ammunition. She had not run the
blockade unscathed, for in passing Turkey Island one
sergeant and four men had been wounded. There was rejoicing
in the fort when the reinforcement marched in. This
additional strength in men and provisions, it was expected,
would enable the garrison to hold out for at least another
month, within which time soldiers would arrive in sufficient
force to drive the Indians away.

In the meantime Pontiac was becoming alarmed. He had
expected an easy victory, and was not prepared for a
protracted siege. He had drawn on the French settlers
for supplies; his warriors had slain cattle and taken
provisions without the consent of the owners. Leaders in
the settlement now waited on Pontiac, making complaint.
He professed to be fighting for French rule, and expressed
sorrow at the action of his young men, promising that in
future the French should be paid. Acting, no doubt, on
the suggestion of some of his French allies, he made a
list of the inhabitants, drew on each for a definite
quantity of supplies, and had these deposited at Meloche's
house near his camp on Parent's Creek. A commissary was
appointed to distribute the provisions as required. In
payment he issued letters of credit, signed with his
totem, the otter. It is said that all of them were
afterwards redeemed; but this is almost past belief in
the face of what actually happened.

From the beginning of the siege Pontiac had hoped that
the French traders and settlers would join him to force
the surrender of the fort. The arrival of the reinforcement
under Cuyler made him despair of winning without their
assistance, and early in July he sent his Indians to the
leading inhabitants along the river, ordering them to a
council, at which he hoped by persuasion or threats to
make them take up arms. This council was attended by such
settlers as Robert Navarre, Zacharie Sicotte, Louis
Campau, Antoine Cuillerier, Francois Meloche, all men of
standing and influence. In his address to them Pontiac
declared: 'If you are French, accept this war-belt for
yourselves, or your young men, and join us; if you are
English, we declare war upon you.'

The _Gladwyn_ had brought news of the Peace of Paris
between France and England. Many of the settlers had been
hoping that success would crown the French arms in Europe
and that Canada would be restored. Some of those at the
council said that these articles of peace were a mere
ruse on the part of Gladwyn to gain time. Robert Navarre,
who had published the articles of peace to the French
and Indians, and several others were friendly to the
British, but the majority of those present were unfriendly.
Sicotte told Pontiac that, while the heads of families
could not take up arms, there were three hundred young
men about Detroit who would willingly join him. These
words were probably intended to humour the chief; but
there were those who took the belt and commenced recruiting
among their fellows. The settlers who joined Pontiac were
nearly all half-breeds or men mated with Indian wives.
Others, such as Pierre Reaume and Louis Campau, believing
their lives to be in danger on account of their loyalty
to the new rulers, sought shelter in the fort.

By July 4 the Indians, under the direction of French
allies, had strongly entrenched themselves and had begun
a vigorous attack. But a force of about sixty men marched
out from the fort and drove them from the position. In
the retreat two Indians were killed, and one of the
pursuing soldiers, who had been a prisoner among the
Indians and had learned the ways of savage warfare,
scalped one of the fallen braves. The victim proved to
be a nephew of the chief of the Saginaw Chippewas, who
now claimed life for life, and demanded that Captain
Campbell should be given up to him. According to the
'Pontiac Manuscript' Pontiac acquiesced, and the Saginaw
chief killed Campbell 'with a blow of his tomahawk, and
after cast him into the river.' Campbell's fellow-prisoner
McDougall, along with two others, had escaped to the fort
some days before.

The investment continued, although the attacks became
less frequent. The schooners manoeuvring in the river
poured broadsides into the Indian villages, battering
down the flimsy wigwams. Pontiac moved his camp from the
mouth of Parent's Creek to a position nearer Lake St
Clair, out of range of their guns, and turned his thoughts
to contrive some means of destroying the troublesome
vessels. He had learned from the French of the attempt
with fire-ships against the British fleet at Quebec, and
made trial of a similar artifice. Bateaux were joined
together, loaded with inflammable material, ignited, and
sent on their mission but these 'fire-ships' floated
harmlessly past the schooners and burnt themselves out.
Then for a week the Indians worked on the construction of
a gigantic fire-raft, but nothing came of this ambitious
scheme.

It soon appeared that Pontiac was beginning to lose his
hold on the Indians. About the middle of July ambassadors
from the Wyandots and Potawatomis came to the fort with an
offer of peace, protesting, after the Indian manner, love
and friendship for the British. After much parleying they
surrendered their prisoners and plunder; but, soon after,
a temptation irresistible to their treacherous natures
offered itself, and they were again on the war-path.

Amherst at New York had at last been aroused to the
danger; and Captain James Dalyell had set out from Fort
Schlosser with twenty-two barges, carrying nearly three
hundred men, with cannon and supplies, for the relief of
Detroit. The expedition skirted the southern shore of
Lake Erie until it reached Sandusky. The Wyandot villages
here were found deserted. After destroying them Dalyell
shaped his course for the Detroit river. Fortune favoured
the expedition. Pontiac was either ignorant of its approach
or unable to mature a plan to check its advance. Through
the darkness and fog of the night of July 28 the barges
cautiously crept up-stream, and when the morning sun of
the 29th lifted the mists from the river they were in
full view of the fort. Relief at last! The weary watching
of months was soon to end. The band of the fort was
assembled, and the martial airs of England floated on
the morning breeze. Now it was that the Wyandots and
Potawatomis, although so lately swearing friendship to
the British, thought the opportunity too good to be lost.
In passing their villages the barges were assailed by a
musketry fire, which killed two and wounded thirteen of
Dalyell's men. But the soldiers, with muskets and swivels,
replied to the attack, and put the Indians to flight.
Then the barges drew up before the fort to the welcome
of the anxious watchers of Detroit.

The reinforcement was composed of men of the 55th and
8th regiments, and of twenty Rangers under Major Robert
Rogers. Like their commander, Dalyell, many of them were
experienced in Indian fighting and were eager to be at
Pontiac and his warriors. Dalyell thought that Pontiac
might be taken by surprise, and urged on Gladwyn the
advisability of an immediate advance. To this Gladwyn
was averse; but Dalyell was insistent, and won his point.
By the following night all was in readiness. At two
o'clock in the morning of the 31st the river gate was
thrown open and about two hundred and fifty men filed out.

Heavy clouds hid both moon and stars, and the air was
oppressively hot. The soldiers marched along the dusty
road, guided by Baby and St Martin, who had volunteered
for the work. Not a sound save their own dull tramp broke
the silence. On their right gleamed the calm river, and
keeping pace with them were two large bateaux armed with
swivels. Presently, as the troops passed the farm-houses,
drowsy watch-dogs caught the sound of marching feet and
barked furiously. Pontiac's camp, however, was still far
away; this barking would not alarm the Indians. But the
soldiers did not know that they had been betrayed by a
spy of Pontiac's within the fort, nor did they suspect
that snake-like eyes were even then watching their advance.

At length Parent's Creek was reached, where a narrow
wooden bridge spanned the stream a few yards from its
mouth. The advance-guard were half-way over the bridge,
and the main body crowding after them, when, from a black
ridge in front, the crackle of musketry arose, and half
the advance-guard fell. The narrow stream ran red with
their blood, and ever after this night it was known as
Bloody Run. On the high ground to the north of the creek
a barricade of cordwood had been erected, and behind this
and behind barns and houses and fences, and in the
corn-fields and orchards, Indians were firing and yelling
like demons. The troops recoiled, but Dalyell rallied
them; again they crowded to the bridge. There was another
volley and another pause. With reckless bravery the
soldiers pressed across the narrow way and rushed to the
spot where the musket-flashes were seen. They won the
height, but not an Indian was there. The musket-flashes
continued and war-whoops sounded from new shelters. The
bateaux drew up alongside the bridge, and the dead and
wounded were taken on board to be carried to the fort.
It was useless to attempt to drive the shifty savages
from their lairs, and so the retreat was sounded. Captain
Grant, in charge of the rear company, led his men back
across the bridge while Dalyell covered the retreat; and
now the fight took on a new aspect. As the soldiers
retreated along the road leading to the fort, a destructive
fire poured upon them from houses and barns, from behind
fences, and from a newly dug cellar. With the river on
their left, and with the enemy before and behind as well
as on their sight, they were in danger of being annihilated.
Grant ordered his men to fix bayonets: a dash was made
where the savages were thickest, and they were scattered.
As the fire was renewed panic seized the troops. But
Dalyell came up from the rear, and with shouts and threats
and flat of sword restored order. Day was breaking; but
a thick fog hung over the scene, under cover of which
the Indians continued the attack. The house of Jacques
Campau, a trader, sheltered a number of Indians who were
doing most destructive work. Rogers and a party of his
Rangers attacked the house, and, pounding in the doors,
drove out their assailants. From Campau's house Rogers
covered the retreat of Grant's company, but was himself
in turn besieged. By this time the armed bateaux, which
had borne the dead and wounded to the fort, had returned,
and, opening fire with their swivels on the Indians
attacking Rogers, drove them off; the Rangers joined
Grant's company, and all retreated for the fort. The
shattered remnant of Dalyell's confident forces arrived
at Fort Detroit at eight in the morning, after six hours
of marching and desperate battle, exhausted and crestfallen.
Dalyell had been slain--an irreparable loss. The casualty
list was twenty killed and forty-two wounded. The Indians
had suffered but slightly. However, they gained but little
permanent advantage from the victory, as the fort had
still about three hundred effective men, with ample
provisions and ammunition, and could defy assault and
withstand a protracted siege.

In this fight Chippewas and Ottawas took the leading
part. The Wyandots had, however, at the sound of firing
crossed the river, and the Potawatomis also had joined
in the combat, in spite of the truce so recently made
with Gladwyn. At the battle of Bloody Run at least eight
hundred warriors were engaged in the endeavour to cut
off Dalyell's men. There was rejoicing in the Indian
villages, and more British scalps adorned the warriors'
wigwams. Runners were sent out to the surrounding nations
with news of the victory, and many recruits were added
to Pontiac's forces.




CHAPTER V

THE FALL OF THE LESSER FORTS

While Fort Detroit was withstanding Pontiac's hordes,
the smaller forts and block-houses scattered throughout
the hinterland were faring badly. On the southern shore
of Lake Erie, almost directly south of the Detroit river,
stood Fort Sandusky--a rude blockhouse surrounded by a
stockade. Here were about a dozen men, commanded by Ensign
Christopher Paully. The blockhouse could easily have been
taken by assault; but such was not the method of the band
of Wyandots in the neighbourhood. They preferred treachery,
and, under the guise of friendship, determined to destroy
the garrison with no risk to themselves.

On the morning of May 16 Paully was informed that seven
Indians wished to confer with him. Four of these were
members of the Wyandot tribe, and three belonged to
Pontiac's band of Ottawas. The Wyandots were known to
Paully, and as he had no news of the situation at Detroit,
and no suspicion of danger to himself, he readily admitted
them to his quarters. The Indians produced a calumet and
handed it to Paully in token of friendship. As the pipe
passed from lip to lip a warrior appeared at the door of
the room and raised his arm. It was the signal for attack.
Immediately Paully was seized by the Indians, two of whom
had placed themselves on either side of him. At the same
moment a war-whoop rang out and firing began; and as
Paully was rushed across the parade-ground he saw the
bodies of several of his men, who had been treacherously
slain. The sentry had been tomahawked as he stood at arms
at the gate; and the sergeant of the little company was
killed while working in the garden of the garrison outside
the stockade.

When night fell Paully and two or three others, all that
remained of the garrison, were placed in canoes, and
these were headed for Detroit. As the prisoners looked
back over the calm waters of Sandusky Bay, they saw the
blockhouse burst into flames. Paully and his men were
landed at the Ottawa camp, where a horde of howling
Indians, including women and children, beat them and
compelled them to dance and sing for the entertainment
of the rabble. Preparations were made to torture Paully
to death at the stake; but an old squaw, who had recently
lost her husband, was attracted by the handsome,
dark-skinned young ensign, and adopted him in place of
her deceased warrior. Paully's hair was cut close; he
was dipped into the stream to wash the white blood from
his veins; and finally he was dressed and painted as
became an Ottawa brave.

News of the destruction of Fort Sandusky was brought to
Gladwyn by a trader named La Brosse, a resident of Detroit,
and a few days later a letter was received from Paully
himself. For nearly two months Paully had to act the part
of an Ottawa warrior. But early in July--Pontiac being
in a state of great rage against the British--his squaw
placed him in a farmhouse for safe keeping. In the
confusion arising out of the attack on Fort Detroit on
the 4th of the month, and the murder of Captain Campbell,
he managed to escape, by the aid, it is said, of an Indian
maiden. He was pursued to within musket-shot of the walls
of Detroit. When he entered the fort, so much did he
resemble an Indian that at first he was not recognized.

The next fort to fall into the hands of the Indians was
St Joseph, on the east shore of Lake Michigan, at the
mouth of the St Joseph river. This was the most inaccessible
of the posts on the Great Lakes. The garrison here lived
lonely lives. Around them were thick forests and swamps,
and in front the desolate waters of the sea-like lake.
The Indians about St Joseph had long been under the
influence of the French. This place had been visited by
La Salle; and here in 1688 the Jesuit Allouez had
established a mission. In 1763 the post was held by Ensign
Francis Schlosser and fourteen men. For months the little
garrison had been without news from the east, when, on
May 25, a party of Potawatomis from about Detroit arrived
on a pretended visit to their relations living in the
village at St Joseph, and asked permission to call on
Schlosser. But before a meeting could be arranged, a
French trader entered the fort and warned the commandant
that the Potawatomis intended to destroy the garrison.

Schlosser at once ordered his sergeant to arm his men,
and went among the French settlers seeking their aid.
Even while he was addressing them a shrill death-cry rang
out--the sentry at the gate had fallen a victim to the
tomahawk of a savage. In an instant a howling mob of
Potawatomis under their chief Washee were within the
stockade. Eleven of the garrison were straightway put to
death, and the fort was plundered. Schlosser and the
three remaining members of his little band were taken to
Detroit by some Foxes who were present with the Potawatomis.
On June 10 Schlosser had the good fortune to be exchanged
for two chiefs who were prisoners in Fort Detroit.

The Indians did not destroy Fort St Joseph, but left it
in charge of the French under Louis Chevalier. Chevalier
saved the lives of several British traders, and in every
way behaved so admirably that at the close of the Indian
war he was given a position of importance under the
British, which position he held until the outbreak of
the Revolutionary War.

We have seen that when Major Robert Rogers visited Detroit
in 1760, one of the French forts first occupied was Miami,
situated on the Maumee river, at the commencement of the
portage to the Wabash, near the spot where Fort Wayne
was afterwards built. At the time of the outbreak of the
Pontiac War this fort was held by Ensign Robert Holmes
and twelve men. Holmes knew that his position was critical.
In 1762 he had reported that the Senecas, Shawnees, and
Delawares were plotting to exterminate the British in
the Indian country, and he was not surprised when, towards
the end of May 1763, he was told by a French trader that
Detroit was besieged by the Ottawa Confederacy. But though
Holmes was on the alert, and kept his men under arms, he
was nevertheless to meet death and his fort was to be
captured by treachery. In his desolate wilderness home
the young ensign seems to have lost his heart to a handsome
young squaw living in the vicinity of the fort. On May
27 she visited him and begged him to accompany her on a
mission of mercy--to help to save the life of a sick
Indian woman. Having acted as physician to the Indians
on former occasions, Holmes thought the request a natural
one. The young squaw led him to the Indian village,
pointed out the wigwam where the woman was supposed to
be, and then left him. As he was about to enter the wigwam
two musket-shots rang out, and he fell dead. Three
soldiers, who were outside the fort, rushed for the gate,
but they were tomahawked before they could reach it. The
gate was immediately closed, and the nine soldiers within
the fort made ready for resistance. With the Indians were
two Frenchmen, Jacques Godfroy, whom we have met before
as the ambassador to Pontiac in the opening days of the
siege of Detroit, and one Miny Chesne; [Footnote: This
is the only recorded instance, except at Detroit, in
which any French took part with the Indians in the capture
of a fort. And both Godfroy and Miny Chesne had married
Indian women.] and they had an English prisoner, a trader
named John Welsh, who had been captured and plundered at
the mouth of the Maumee while on his way to Detroit. The
Frenchmen called on the garrison to surrender, pointing
out how useless it would be to resist and how dreadful
would be their fate if they were to slay any Indians.
Without a leader, and surrounded as they were by a large
band of savages, the men of the garrison saw that resistance
would be of no avail. The gates were thrown open; the
soldiers marched forth, and were immediately seized and
bound; and the fort was looted. With Welsh the captives
were taken to the Ottawa village at Detroit, where they
arrived on June 4, and where Welsh and several of the
soldiers were tortured to death.

A few miles south of the present city of Lafayette, on
the south-east side of the Wabash, at the mouth of Wea
Creek, stood the little wooden fort of Ouiatanon. It was
connected with Fort Miami by a footpath through the
forest. It was the most westerly of the British forts in
the Ohio country, and might be said to be on the borderland
of the territory along the Mississippi, which was still
under the government of Louisiana. There was a considerable
French settlement, and near by was the principal village
of the Weas, a sub-tribe of the Miami nation. The fort
was guarded by the usual dozen of men, under the command
of Lieutenant Edward Jenkins. In March Jenkins had been
warned that an Indian rising was imminent and that soon
all the British in the hinterland would be prisoners.
The French and Indians in this region were under the
influence of the Mississippi officers and traders, who
were, in Jenkins's words, 'eternally telling lies to the
Indians,' leading them to believe that a great army would
soon arrive to recover the forts. Towards the end of May
ambassadors arrived at Ouiatanon, either from the Delawares
or from Pontiac, bringing war-belts and instructions to
the Weas to seize the fort. This, as usual, was achieved
by treachery. Jenkins was invited to one of their cabins
for a conference. Totally unaware of the Pontiac
conspiracy, or of the fall of St Joseph, Sandusky, or
Miami, he accepted the invitation. While passing out of
the fort he was seized and bound, and, when taken to the
cabin, he saw there several of his soldiers, prisoners
like himself. The remaining members of the garrison
surrendered, knowing how useless it would be to resist,
and under the threat that if one Indian were killed all
the British would be put to death. It had been the original
intention of the Indians to seize the fort and slaughter
the garrison, but, less blood-thirsty than Pontiac's
immediate followers, they were won to mercy by two traders,
Maisonville and Lorain, who gave them presents on the
condition that the garrison should be made prisoners
instead of being slain. Jenkins and his men were to have
been sent to the Mississippi, but their removal was
delayed, and they were quartered on the French inhabitants,
and kindly treated by both French and Indians until
restored to freedom.

The capture of Forts Miami and Ouiatanon gave the Indians
complete control of the route between the western end of
Lake Erie and the rivers Ohio and Mississippi. The French
traders, who had undoubtedly been instrumental in goading
the Indians to hostilities, had now the trade of the
Wabash and lower Ohio, and of the tributaries of both,
in their own hands. No British trader could venture into
the region with impunity; the few who attempted it were
plundered and murdered.

The scene of hostilities now shifts to the north. Next
to Detroit the most important fort on the Great Lakes
west of Niagara was Michilimackinac, situated on the
southern shore of the strait connecting Lakes Huron and
Michigan. The officer there had supervision of the lesser
forts at Sault Ste Marie, Green Bay, and St Joseph. At
this time Sault Ste Marie was not occupied by troops. In
the preceding winter Lieutenant Jamette had arrived to
take command; but fire had broken out in his quarters
and destroyed the post, and he and his men had gone back
to Michilimackinac, where they still were when the Pontiac
War broke out. There were two important Indian tribes in
the vicinity of Michilimackinac, the Chippewas and the
Ottawas. The Chippewas had populous villages on the island
of Mackinaw and at Thunder Bay on Lake Huron. They had
as their hunting-grounds the eastern half of the peninsula
which is now the state of Michigan. The Ottawas claimed
as their territory the western half of the peninsula,
and their chief village was L'Arbre Croche, where the
venerable Jesuit priest, Father du Jaunay, had long
conducted his mission.

The Indians about Michilimackinac had never taken kindly
to the new occupants of the forts in their territory.
When the trader Alexander Henry arrived there in 1761,
he had found them decidedly hostile. On his journey up
the Ottawa he had been warned of the reception in store
for him. At Michilimackinac he was waited on by a party
of Chippewas headed by their chief, Minavavna, a remarkably
sagacious Indian, known to the French as _Le Grand
Sauteur_, whose village was situated at Thunder Bay. This
chief addressed Henry in most eloquent words, declaring
that the Chippewas were the children of the French king,
who was asleep, but who would shortly awaken and destroy
his enemies. The king of England, he said, had entered
into no treaty with the Chippewas and had sent them no
presents: they were therefore still at war with him, and
until he made such concessions they must look upon the
French king as their chief. 'But,' he continued, 'you
come unarmed: sleep peacefully!' The pipe of peace was
then passed to Henry. After smoking it he bestowed on
the Indians some gifts, and they filed out of his presence.
Almost immediately on the departure of the Chippewas came
some two hundred Ottawas demanding of Henry, and of
several other British traders who were also there,
ammunition, clothing, and other necessaries for their
winter hunt, on credit until spring. The traders refused,
and, when threatened by the Indians, they and their
employees, some thirty in all, barricaded themselves in
a house, and prepared to resist the demands by force of
arms. Fortunately, at this critical moment word arrived
of a strong British contingent that was approaching from
Detroit to take over the fort, and the Ottawas hurriedly
left for their villages.

For nearly two years the garrison at Michilimackinac
lived in peace. In the spring of 1763 they were resting
in a false security. Captain George Etherington, who was
in command, heard that the Indians were on the war-path
and that the fort was threatened; but he treated the
report lightly. It is noteworthy, too, that Henry, who
was in daily contact with the French settlers and Indians,
and had his agents scattered throughout the Indian country,
saw no cause for alarm. But it happened that towards the
end of May news reached the Indians at Michilimackinac
of the situation at Detroit, and with the news came a
war-belt signifying that they were to destroy the British
garrison. A crowd of Indians, chiefly Chippewas and Sacs,
presently assembled at the post. This was a usual thing
in spring, and would cause no suspicion. The savages,
however, had planned to attack the fort on June 4, the
birthday of George III. The British were to celebrate
the day by sports and feasting, and the Chippewas and
Sacs asked to be allowed to entertain the officers with
a game of lacrosse. Etherington expressed pleasure at
the suggestion, and told the chiefs who waited on him
that he would back his friends the Chippewas against
their Sac opponents. On the morning of the 4th posts were
set up on the wide plain behind the fort, and tribe was
soon opposed to tribe. The warriors appeared on the field
with moccasined feet, and otherwise naked save for
breech-cloths. Hither and thither the ball was batted,
thrown, and carried. Player pursued player, tripping,
slashing, shouldering each other, and shouting in their
excitement as command of the ball passed with the fortunes
of the game from Chippewa to Sac and from Sac to Chippewa.
Etherington and Lieutenant Leslie were standing near the
gate, interested spectators of the game; and all about,
and scattered throughout the fort, were squaws with
stoical faces, each holding tight about her a gaudily
coloured blanket. The game was at its height, when a
player threw the ball to a spot near the gate of the
fort. There was a wild rush for it; and, as the gate was
reached, lacrosse sticks were cast aside, the squaws
threw open their blankets, and the players seized the
tomahawks and knives held out in readiness to them. The
shouts of play were changed to war-whoops. Instantly
Etherington and Leslie were seized and hurried to a
near-by wood. Into the fort the horde dashed. Here stood
more squaws with weapons; and before the garrison had
time to seize their arms, Lieutenant Jamette and fifteen
soldiers were slain and scalped, and the rest made
prisoners, while the French inhabitants stood by, viewing
the tragedy with apparent indifference.

Etherington, Leslie, and the soldiers were held close
prisoners. A day or two after the capture of the fort a
Chippewa chief, _Le Grand Sable_, who had not been present
at the massacre, returned from his wintering-ground. He
entered a hut where a number of British soldiers were
bound hand and foot, and brutally murdered five of them.
The Ottawas, it will be noted, had taken no part in the
capture of Michilimackinac. In fact, owing to the good
offices of their priest, they acted towards the British
as friends in need. A party of them from L'Arbre Croche
presently arrived on the scene and prevented further
massacre. Etherington and Leslie were taken from the
hands of the Chippewas and removed to L'Arbre Croche.
From this place Etherington sent a message to Green Bay,
ordering the commandant to abandon the fort there. He
then wrote to Gladwyn at Detroit, giving an account of
what had happened and asking aid. This message was carried
to Detroit by Father du Jaunay, who made the journey in
company with seven Ottawas and eight Chippewas commanded
by Kinonchanek, a son of Minavavna. But, as we know,
Gladwyn was himself in need of assistance, and could give
none. The prisoners at L'Arbre Croche, however, were well
treated, and finally taken to Montreal by way of the
Ottawa river, under an escort of friendly Indians.

On the southern shore of Lake Erie, where the city of
Erie now stands, was the fortified post of Presqu'isle,
a stockaded fort with several substantial houses. It was
considered a strong position, and its commandant, Ensign
John Christie, had confidence that he could hold out
against any number of Indians that might beset him. The
news brought by Cuyler when he visited Presqu'isle, after
the disaster at Point Pelee, put Christie on his guard.
Presqu'isle had a blockhouse of unusual strength, but it
was of wood, and inflammable. To guard against fire,
there was left at the top of the building an opening
through which water could be poured in any direction.
The blockhouse stood on a tongue of land--on the one side
a creek, on the other the lake. The most serious weakness
of the position was that the banks of the creek and the
lake rose in ridges to a considerable height, commanding
the blockhouse and affording a convenient shelter for an
attacking party within musket range.

Christie had twenty-four men, and believed that he had
nothing to fear, when, on June 15, some two hundred
Wyandots arrived in the vicinity. These Indians were soon
on the ridges, assailing the blockhouse. Arrows tipped
with burning tow and balls of blazing pitch rained upon
the roof, and the utmost exertions of the garrison were
needed to extinguish the fires. Soon the supply of water
began to fail. There was a well near by on the
parade-ground, but this open space was subject to such
a hot fire that no man would venture to cross it. A well
was dug in the blockhouse, and the resistance continued.
All day the attack was kept up, and during the night
there was intermittent firing from the ridges. Another
day passed, and at night came a lull in the siege. A
demand was made to surrender. An English soldier who had
been adopted by the savages, and was aiding them in the
attack, cried out that the destruction of the fort was
inevitable, that in the morning it would be fired at the
top and bottom, and that unless the garrison yielded they
would all be burnt to death. Christie asked till morning
to consider; and, when morning came, he agreed to yield
up the fort on condition that the garrison should be
allowed to march to the next post. But as his men filed
out they were seized and bound, then cast into canoes
and taken to Detroit. Their lives, however, were spared;
and early in July, when the Wyandots made with Gladwyn
the peace which they afterwards broke, Christie and a
number of his men were the first prisoners given up.

A few miles inland, south of Presqu'isle, on the trade-route
leading to Fort Pitt, was a rude blockhouse known as Le
Boeuf. This post was at the end of the portage from Lake
Erie, on Alleghany Creek, where the canoe navigation of
the Ohio valley began. Here were stationed Ensign George
Price and thirteen men. On June 18 a band of Indians
arrived before Le Boeuf and attacked it with muskets and
fire-arrows. The building was soon in flames. As the
walls smoked and crackled the savages danced in wild glee
before the gate, intending to shoot down the defenders
as they came out. But there was a window at the rear of
the blockhouse, through which the garrison escaped to
the neighbouring forest. When night fell the party became
separated. Some of them reached Fort Venango two days
later, only to find it in ruins. Price and seven men
laboriously toiled through the forest to Fort Pitt, where
they arrived on June 26. Ultimately, all save two of the
garrison of Fort Le Boeuf reached safety.

The circumstances attending the destruction of Fort
Venango on June 20 are but vaguely known. This fort,
situated near the site of the present city of Franklin,
had long been a centre of Indian trade. In the days o
the French occupation it was known as Fort Machault.
After the French abandoned the place in the summer of
1760 a new fort had been erected and named Venango. In
1763 there was a small garrison here under Lieutenant
Gordon. For a time all that was known of its fate was
reported by the fugitives from Le Boeuf and a soldier
named Gray, who had escaped from Presqu'isle. These
fugitives had found Venango completely destroyed, and,
in the ruins, the blackened bones of the garrison. It
was afterwards learned that the attacking Indians were
Senecas, and that they had tortured the commandant to
death over a slow fire, after compelling him to write
down the reason for the attack. It was threefold: (1)
the British charged exorbitant prices for powder, shot,
and clothing; (2) when Indians were ill-treated by British
soldiers they could obtain no redress; (3) contrary to
the wishes of the Indians, forts were being built in
their country, and these could mean but one thing--the
determination of the invaders to deprive them of their
hunting-grounds.

With the fall of Presqu'isle, Le Boeuf, and Venango, the
trade-route between Lake Erie and Fort Pitt was closed.
Save for Detroit, Niagara, and Pitt, not a British fort
remained in the great hinterland; and the soldiers at
these three strong positions could leave the shelter of
the palisades only at the risk of their lives. Meanwhile,
the frontiers of the British settlements, as well as the
forts, were being raided. Homes were burnt and the inmates
massacred. Traders were plundered and slain. From the
eastern slopes of the Alleghanies to the Mississippi no
British life was safe.




CHAPTER VI

THE RELIEF OF FORT PITT

On the tongue of land at the confluence of the Monongahela
and Aheghany rivers stood Fort Pitt, on the site of the
old French fort Duquesne. It was remote from any centre
of population, but was favourably situated for defence,
and so strongly garrisoned that those in charge of it
had little to fear from any attempts of the Indians to
capture it. Floods had recently destroyed part of the
ramparts, but these had been repaired and a parapet of
logs raised above them.

Captain Simeon Ecuyer, a Swiss soldier in the service of
Great Britain and an officer of keen intelligence and
tried courage, was in charge of Fort Pitt. He knew the
Indians. He had quickly realized that danger threatened
his wilderness post, and had left nothing undone to make
it secure. On the fourth day of May, Ecuyer had written
to Colonel Henry Bouquet, who was stationed at Philadelphia,
saying that he had received word from Gladwyn that he
'was surrounded by rascals.' Ecuyer did not treat this
alarm lightly. He not only repaired the ramparts and made
them stronger, but also erected palisades within them to
surround the dwellings. Everything near the fort that
could give shelter to a lurking foe was levelled to the
ground. There were in Fort Pitt at this time about a
hundred women and their children--families of settlers
who had come to the fertile Ohio valley to take up homes.
These were provided with shelter in houses made shot-proof.
Small-pox had broken out in the garrison, and a hospital
was prepared under the drawbridge, where the patients in
time of siege would be in no danger from musket-balls or
arrows. But the best defence of Fort Pitt was the capacity
of Ecuyer--brave, humorous, foresighted; a host in
himself--giving courage to his men and making even the
women and children think lightly of the power of the
Indians.

It was nearly three weeks after the siege of Detroit had
begun that the savages appeared in force about Fort Pitt.
On May 27 a large band of Indians came down the Alleghany
bearing packs of furs, in payment for which they demanded
guns, knives, tomahawks, powder, and shot, and would take
nothing else. Soon after their departure word was brought
to Ecuyer of the murder of some traders and settlers not
far from the fort. From that time until the beginning of
August it was hazardous for any one to venture outside
the walls; but for nearly a month no attack was to be
made on the fort itself. However, as news of the capture
of the other forts reached the garrison, and as nearly
all the messengers sent to the east were either slain or
forced to return, it was evident that, in delaying the
attack on Fort Pitt, the Indians were merely gathering
strength for a supreme effort against the strongest
position in the Indian territory.

On June 22 a large body of Indians assembled in the forest
about the fort, and, creeping stealthily within range of
its walls, opened fire from every side. It was the
garrison's first experience of attack; some of the soldiers
proved a trifle overbold, and two of them were killed.
The firing, however, lasted but a short time. Ecuyer
selected a spot where the smoke of the muskets was
thickest, and threw shells from his howitzers into the
midst of the warriors, scattering them in hurried flight.
On the following day a party came within speaking distance,
and their leader, Turtle's Heart, a Delaware chief,
informed Ecuyer that all the western and northern forts
had been cut off, and that a host of warriors were coming
to destroy Fort Pitt and its garrison. He begged Ecuyer
to withdraw the inmates of the fort while there was yet
time. He would see to it that they were protected on
their way to the eastern settlements. He added that when
the Ottawas and their allies arrived, all hope for the
lives of the inhabitants of Fort Pitt would be at an end.
All this Turtle's Heart told Ecuyer out of 'love for the
British.' The British officer, with fine humour, thanked
him for his consideration for the garrison, but told him
that he could hold out against all the Indians in the
woods. He could be as generous as Turtle's Heart, and so
warned him that the British were coming to relieve Fort
Pitt with six thousand men; that an army of three thousand
was ascending the Great Lakes to punish the Ottawa
Confederacy; and that still another force of three thousand
had gone to the frontiers of Virginia. 'Therefore,' he
said, 'take pity on your women and children, and get out
of the way as soon as possible. We have told you this in
confidence, out of our great solicitude, lest any of you
should be hurt; and,' he added, 'we hope that you will
not tell the other Indians, lest they should escape from
our vengeance.' The howitzers and the story of the
approaching hosts had their effect, and the Indians
vanished into the surrounding forest. For another month
Fort Pitt had comparative peace, and the garrison patiently
but watchfully awaited a relieving force which Amherst
was sending. In the meantime news came of the destruction
of Presqu'isle, Le Boeuf, and Venango; and the fate of
the garrisons, particularly at the last post, warned the
inhabitants of Fort Pitt what they might expect if they
should fall into the hands of the Indians.

On July 26 some Indian ambassadors, among them Turtle's
Heart, came to the post with a flag of truce. They were
loud in their protestations of friendship, and once more
solicitous for the safety of the garrison. The Ottawas,
they said, were coming in a vast horde, to 'seize and
eat up everything' that came in their way. The garrison's
only hope of escape would be to vacate the fort speedily
and 'go home to their wives and children.' Ecuyer replied
that he would never abandon his position 'as long as a
white man lives in America.' He despised the Ottawas, he
said, and was 'very much surprised at our brothers the
Delawares for proposing to us to leave this place and go
home. This is our home.' His humour was once more in evidence
in the warning he gave the Indians against repeating their
attack on the fort: 'I will throw bomb-shells, which will
burst and blow you to atoms, and fire cannon among you,
loaded with a whole bagful of bullets. Therefore take care,
for I don't want to hurt you.'

The Indians now gave up all hope of capturing Fort Pitt
by deception, and prepared to take it by assault. That
very night they stole within range, dug shelter-pits in
the banks of the Alleghany and Monongahela, and at daybreak
began a vigorous attack on the garrison. Musket-balls
came whistling over the ramparts and smote every point
where a soldier showed himself. The shrieking balls and
the wild war-whoops of the assailants greatly alarmed
the women and children; but never for a moment was the
fort in real danger or did Ecuyer or his men fear disaster.
So carefully had the commandant seen to his defences,
that, although hundreds of missiles fell within the
confines of the fort, only one man was killed and only
seven were wounded. Ecuyer himself was among the wounded:
one of two arrows that fell within the fort had, to use
his own words, 'the insolence to make free' with his
'left leg.' From July 27 to August 1 this horde of
Delawares, Shawnees, Wyandots, and Mingoes kept up the
attack. Then, without apparent cause, as suddenly as they
had arrived, they all disappeared. To the garrison the
relief from constant vigil, anxious days, and sleepless
nights was most welcome.

The reason for this sudden relief was that the red men
had learned of a rich prize for them, now approaching
Fort Pitt. Bouquet, with a party of soldiers, was among
the defiles of the Alleghanies. The fort could wait; the
Indians would endeavour to annihilate Bouquet's force as
they had annihilated Braddock's army in the same region
eight years before; and if successful, they could then
at their leisure return to Fort Pitt and starve it out
or take it by assault.

In June, when Amherst had finally come to the conclusion
that he had a real war on his hands--and had, as we have
seen, dispatched Dalyell to Detroit--he had, at the same
time, sent orders to Colonel Bouquet to get ready a force
for the relief of Fort Pitt. Bouquet, like Ecuyer, was
a Swiss soldier, and the best man in America for this
particular task. After seven years' experience in border
warfare he was as skilled in woodcraft as the Indians
themselves. He had now to lead a force over the road,
two hundred odd miles long, which connected Fort Pitt
with Carlisle, his point of departure in Pennsylvania;
but every foot of the road was known to him. In 1758,
when serving under General Forbes, he had directed the
construction of this road, and knew the strength of every
fort and block-house on the way; even the rivers and
creeks and morasses and defiles were familiar to him.
Best of all, he had a courage and a military knowledge
that inspired confidence in his men and officers. Cool,
calculating, foreseeing, dauntlessly brave--there was
not in the New World at this time a better soldier than
this heroic Swiss.

Amherst was in a bad way for troops. The only available
forces for the relief of Fort Pitt were 242 men of the
42nd Highlanders--the famous Black Watch--with 133 of
the 77th (Montgomery's) Highlanders, and some Royal
Americans. These, with a few volunteers, made up a
contingent 550 strong. It was a force all too small for
the task before it, and the majority of the soldiers had
but recently arrived from the West Indies and were in
wretched health.

Bouquet had sent instructions to Carlisle to have supplies
ready for him and sufficient wagons assembled there for
the expedition, but when he reached the place at the end
of June he found that nothing had been done. The frontier
was in a state of paralysis from panic. Over the entire
stretch of country from Fort Pitt the Indians were on
the war-path. Every day brought tragic stories of the
murder of settlers and the destruction of their homes.
There was no safety outside the precincts of the feeble
forts that dotted the Indian territory. Bouquet had hoped
for help from the settlers and government of Pennsylvania;
but the settlers thought only of immediate safety, and
the government was criminally negligent in leaving the
frontier of the state unprotected, and would vote neither
men nor money for defence. But they must be saved in
spite of themselves. By energetic efforts, in eighteen
days after his arrival at Carlisle, Bouquet was ready
for the march. He began his campaign with a wise precaution.
The last important fort on the road to Pitt was Ligonier,
about one hundred and fifty miles from Carlisle. It would
be necessary to use this post as a base; but it was beset
by Indians and in danger of being captured. Lieutenant
Archibald Blane in charge of it was making a gallant
defence against a horde of savages. Bouquet, while waiting
at Carlisle, engaged guides and sent in advance thirty
Highlanders, carefully selected men, to strengthen the
garrison under Blane. These, by keeping off the main
trail and using every precaution, succeeded in reaching
the fort without mishap.

Bouquet led his force westward. Sixty of his soldiers
were so ill that they were unable to march and had to be
carried in wagons. It was intended that the sick should
take the place of the men now in Forts Bedford and
Ligonier, and thus help to guard the rear. The road was
found to be in frightful condition. The spring freshets
had cut it up; deep gullies crossed the path; and the
bridges over the streams had been in most cases washed
away. As the little army advanced, panic-stricken settlers
by the way told stories of the destruction of homes and
the slaughter of friends. Fort Bedford, where Captain
Lewis Ourry was in command, was reached on the 25th. Here
three days were spent, and thirty more guides were secured
to serve as an advance-guard of scouts and give warning
of the presence of enemies. Bouquet had tried his
Highlanders at this work; but they were unfamiliar with
the forest, and, as they invariably got lost, were of no
value as scouts. Leaving his invalided officers and men
at Bedford, Bouquet, with horses rested and men refreshed,
pressed forward and arrived at Ligonier on August 2.
Preparations had now to be made for the final dash to
Fort Pitt, fifty odd miles away, over a path that was
beset by savages, who also occupied all the important
passes. It would be impossible to get through without a
battle--a wilderness battle--and the thought of the
Braddock disaster was in the minds of all. But Bouquet
was not a Braddock, and he was experienced in Indian
warfare. To attempt to pass ambuscades with a long train
of cumbersome wagons would be to invite disaster; so he
discarded his wagons and heavier stores, and having made
ready three hundred and forty pack-horses loaded with
flour, he decided to set out from Ligonier on the 4th of
August. It was planned to reach Bushy Creek--'Bushy Run,'
as Bouquet called it--on the following day, and there
rest and refresh horses and men. In the night a dash
would be made through the dangerous defile at Turtle
Creek; and, if the high broken country at this point
could be passed without mishap, the rest of the way could
be easily won.

At daylight the troops were up and off. It was an
oppressively hot August morning, and no breath of wind
stirred the forest. Over the rough road trudged the long
line of sweltering men. In advance were the scouts; then
followed several light companies of the Black Watch; then
the main body of the little army; and in the rear came
the toiling pack-horses. Until noon the soldiers marched,
panting and tortured by mosquitoes, but buoyed up by the
hope that at Bushy Run they would be able to quench their
burning thirst and rest until nightfall. By one o'clock
in the afternoon they had covered seventeen miles and
were within a mile and a half of their objective point.
Suddenly in their front they heard the sharp reports of
muskets; the firing grew in intensity: the advance-guard
was evidently in contact with a considerable body of
Indians. Two light companies were rushed forward to their
support, and with fixed bayonets cleared the path. This,
however, was but a temporary success. The Indians merely
changed their position and appeared on the flanks in
increased numbers. From the shelter of trees the foe were
creating havoc among the exposed troops, and a general
charge was necessary. Highlanders and Royal Americans,
acting under the directing eye of Bouquet, again drove
the Indians back with the bayonet. Scarcely had this been
accomplished when a fusillade was heard in the rear. The
convoy was attacked, and it was necessary to fall back
to its support. Until nightfall, around a bit of elevated
ground--called Edge Hill by Bouquet--on which the convoy
was drawn up, the battle was waged. About the pack-horses
and stores the soldiers valiantly fought for seven hours
against their invisible foe. At length darkness fell,
and the exhausted troops could take stock of their losses
and snatch a brief, broken rest. In this day of battle
two officers were killed and four wounded, and sixty of
the rank and file were killed or wounded.

Flour-bags were piled in a circle, and within this the
wounded were placed. Throughout the night a careful watch
was kept; but the enemy made no attack during the darkness,
merely firing an occasional shot and from time to time
uttering defiant yells. They were confident that Bouquet's
force would be an easy prey, and waited for daylight to
renew the battle.

The soldiers had played a heroic part. Though unused to
forest warfare, they had been cool as veterans in Indian
fighting, and not a man had fired a shot without orders.
But the bravest of them looked to the morning with dread.
They had barely been able to hold their own on this day,
and by morning the Indians would undoubtedly be greatly
strengthened. The cries and moans of the wounded vividly
reminded them of what had already happened. Besides, they
were worn out with marching and fighting; worse than
physical fatigue and more trying than the enemy's bullets
was torturing thirst; and not a drop of water could be
obtained at the place where they were hemmed in.

By the flickering light of a candle Bouquet penned one
of the noblest letters ever written by a soldier in time
of battle. He could hardly hope for success, and defeat
meant the most horrible of deaths; but he had no craven
spirit, and his report to Amherst was that of a true
soldier--a man 'whose business it is to die.' After giving
a detailed account of the occurrences leading up to this
attack and a calm statement of the events of the day,
and paying a tribute to his officers, whose conduct, he
said, 'is much above my praise,' he added: 'Whatever our
fate may be, I thought it necessary to give Your Excellency
this information... I fear unsurmountable difficulties
in protecting and transporting our provisions, being
already so much weakened by the loss in this day of men
and horses.' Sending a messenger back with this dispatch,
he set himself to plan for the morrow.

At daybreak from the surrounding wood the terrifying
war-cries of the Indians fell on the ears of the troops.
Slowly the shrill yells came nearer; the Indians were
endeavouring to strike terror into the hearts of their
foes before renewing the fight, knowing that troops in
dread of death are already half beaten. When within five
hundred yards of the centre of the camp the Indians began
firing. The troops replied with great steadiness. This
continued until ten in the morning. The wounded within
the barricade lay listening to the sounds of battle, ever
increasing in volume, and the fate of Braddock's men rose
before them. It seemed certain that their sufferings must
end in death--and what a death! The pack-horses, tethered
at a little distance from the barricade, offered an easy
target, against which the Indians soon directed their
fire, and the piteous cries of the wounded animals added
to the tumult of the battle. Some of the horses, maddened
by wounds, broke their fastenings and galloped into the
forest. But the kilted Highlanders and the red-coated
Royal Americans gallantly fought on. Their ranks were
being thinned; the fatiguing work of the previous day
was telling on them; their throats were parched and their
tongues swollen for want of water. Bouquet surveyed the
field. He saw his men weakening under the terrible strain,
and realized that something must be done promptly. The
Indians were each moment becoming bolder, pressing ever
nearer and nearer.

Then he conceived one of the most brilliant movements
known in Indian warfare. He ordered two companies, which
were in the most exposed part of the field, to fall back
as though retreating within the circle that defended the
hill. At the same time the troops on the right and left
opened their files, and, as if to cover the retreat,
occupied the space vacated in a thinly extended line.
The strategy worked even better than Bouquet had expected.
The yelling Indians, eager for slaughter and believing
that the entire command was at their mercy, rushed
pell-mell from their shelter, firing sharp volleys into
the protecting files. These were forced back, and the
savages dashed forward for the barricade which sheltered
the wounded. Meanwhile the two companies had taken position
on the right, and from a sheltering hill that concealed
them from the enemy they poured an effective fire into
the savages. The astonished Indians replied, but with
little effect, and before they could reload the Highlanders
were on them with the bayonet. The red men then saw that
they had fallen into a trap, and turned to flee. But
suddenly on their left two more companies rose from ambush
and sent a storm of bullets into the retreating savages,
while the Highlanders and Royal Americans dashed after
them with fixed bayonets. The Indians at other parts of
the circle, seeing their comrades in flight, scattered into
the forest. The defiant war-cries ceased and the muskets
were silent. The victory was complete: Bouquet had beaten
the Indians in their own woods and at their own game. About
sixty of the enemy lay dead and as many more wounded. In
the two days of battle the British had fifty killed, sixty
wounded, and five missing. It was a heavy price; but this
victory broke the back of the Indian war.

Many horses had been killed or had strayed away, and it
was impossible to transport all the stores to Fort Pitt.
What could not be carried with the force was destroyed,
and the victors moved on to Bushy Creek, at a slow pace
on account of the wounded. No sooner had they pitched
their tents at the creek than some of the enemy again
appeared; the Highlanders, however, without waiting for
the word of command, scattered them with the bayonet. On
the following day the march began for Fort Pitt. Three
days later, on August 10, the garrison of that fort heard
the skirl of the bagpipes and the beat of the drum, and
saw through the forest the plaids and plumes of the
Highlanders and the red coats of the Royal Americans.
The gate was thrown open, and the victors of Edge Hill
marched in to the welcome of the men and women who for
several months had had no news from their friends in the
east.

Bouquet had been instructed to invade the Ohio country
and teach the Shawnees and Delawares a lesson. But his
men were worn out, half of them were unfit for service,
and so deficient was he in horses and supplies that this
task had to be abandoned for the present year.

Pennsylvania and Virginia rejoiced. This triumph meant
much to them. Their borders would now be safe, but for
occasional scalping parties. Amherst was delighted, and
took to himself much of the credit of Bouquet's victory.
He congratulated the noble Swiss officer on his victory
over 'a band of savages that would have been very formidable
against any troops but such as you had with you.' But it
was not the troops that won the battle; it was Bouquet.
In the hands of a Braddock, a Loudoun, an Abercromby, these
war-worn veterans would have met a fate such as befell
Braddock's troops. But Bouquet animated every man with his
own spirit; he knew how to fight Indians; and at the critical
moment--'the fatal five minutes between victory and
defeat'--he proved himself the equal of any soldier who
ever battled against the red men in North America.




CHAPTER VII

DETROIT ONCE MORE

While Fort Pitt was holding out against the Ohio Indians
and Bouquet was forcing his way through the defiles of
the Alleghanies to its relief, Fort Detroit was still in
a state of siege. The defeat of Dalyell's force at Bloody
Run had given the Indians a greater degree of confidence.
They had not dared, however, to make a general assault,
but had merely kept the garrison aware of their presence
by desultory and irritating attacks.

Nothing of importance took place until September 3. On
this day the little _Gladwyn_, which had gone to the
Niagara with dispatches, entered the Detroit river on
her return trip. She was in charge of Captain Horst, who
was assisted by Jacobs as mate, and a crew of ten men.
There were likewise on board six Iroquois Indians. It
was a calm morning; and as the vessel lay with idly
flapping sails waiting for a wind, the Iroquois asked
permission to stretch their limbs on shore. Horst foolishly
granted their request, and as soon as they had made a
landing they disappeared into the forest, and no doubt
hurried to Pontiac's warriors to let them know how weakly
manned was the schooner. The weather continued calm, and
by nightfall the _Gladwyn_ was still nine miles below
the fort. As darkness fell on that moonless night the
captain, alarmed at the flight of the Iroquois, posted
a careful guard and had his cannon at bow and stern made
ready to resist attack. So dark was the night that it
was impossible to discern objects at any distance. Along
the black shore Indians were gathering, and soon a fleet
of canoes containing over three hundred warriors was
slowly and silently moving towards the becalmed _Gladwyn_.
So noiseless was their approach that they were within a
few yards of the vessel before a watchful sentry, the
boatswain, discerned them. At his warning cry the crew
leapt to their quarters. The bow gun thundered out, and
its flash gave the little band on the boat a momentary
glimpse of a horde of painted enemies. There was no time
to reload the gun. The canoes were all about the schooner,
and yelling warriors were clambering over the stern and
bow and swarming on the deck. The crew discharged their
muskets into the savages, and then seized spears and
hatchets and rushed madly at them, striking and stabbing
--determined at least to sell their lives dearly. For
a moment the Indians in the black darkness shrank back
from the fierce attack. But already Horst was killed and
several of the crew were down with mortal wounds. The
vessel seemed lost when Jacobs--a dare-devil seaman--now
in command, ordered his men to blow up the vessel. A
Wyandot brave with some knowledge of English caught the
words and shouted a warning to his comrades. In an instant
every warrior was over the side of the vessel, paddling
or swimming to get to safety. When morning broke not an
Indian was to be seen, and the little _Gladwyn_ sailed
in triumph to Fort Detroit. So greatly was the gallantry
of her crew appreciated that Amherst had a special medal
struck and given to each of the survivors.

Meanwhile, at Niagara, supplies were being conveyed over
the portage between the lower landing (now Lewiston) and
Fort Schlosser, in readiness for transport to the western
posts. The Senecas claimed the territory about Niagara,
and the invasion of their land had greatly irritated
them. They particularly resented the act of certain
squatters who, without their consent, had settled along
the Niagara portage. Fort Niagara was too strong to be
taken by assault; but the Senecas hoped, by biding their
time, to strike a deadly blow against parties conveying
goods over the portage. The opportunity came on September
14. On this day a sergeant and twenty-eight men were
engaged in escorting down to the landing a wagon-train
and pack-horses which had gone up to Fort Schlosser the
day before loaded with supplies. The journey up the river
had been successfully made, and the party were returning,
off their guard and without the slightest thought of
danger. But their every movement had been watched by
Indian scouts; and, at the Devil's Hole, a short distance
below the falls, five hundred warriors lay in ambush.
Slowly the returning provision-train wound its way along
the bank of the Niagara. On the right were high cliffs,
thickly wooded; on the left a precipice, whose base was
fretted by the furious river. In the ears of the soldiers
and drivers sounded the thunderous roar of the mighty
cataract. As men and horses threaded their way past the
Devil's Hole savage yells burst from the thick wood on
their right, and simultaneously a fusillade from a hundred
muskets. The terrified horses sprang over the cliffs,
dragging wagons and drivers with them. When the smoke
cleared and the savages rushed forward, not a living
member of the escort nor a driver was to be seen. The
leader of the escort, Philip Stedman, had grasped the
critical character of the situation at the first outcry,
and, putting spurs to his horse, had dashed into the
bushes. A warrior had seized his rein; but Stedman had
struck him down and galloped free for Fort Schlosser. A
drummer-boy, in terror of his life, had leapt over the
cliff. By good fortune his drum-strap caught on the branch
of a dense tree; here he remained suspended until the
Indians left the spot, when he extricated himself. One
of the teamsters also escaped. He was wounded, but managed
to roll into the bushes, and found concealment in the
thick undergrowth. The terrific musketry fire was heard
at the lower landing, where a body of troops of the 60th
and 80th regiments were encamped. The soldiers hastily
armed themselves and in great disorder rushed to the aid
of the convoy. But the Indians were not now at the Devil's
Hole. The murderous work completed there, they had taken
up a position in a thick wood half a mile farther down,
where they silently waited. They had chosen well their
place of concealment; and the soldiers in their excitement
walked into the trap set for them. Suddenly the ominous
war-cries broke out, and before the troops could turn to
face the foe a storm of bullets had swept their left
flank. Then the warriors dashed from their ambush,
tomahawking the living and scalping both dead and dying.
In a few minutes five officers and seventy-six of the
rank and file were killed and eight wounded, and out of
a force of over one hundred men only twenty escaped
unhurt. The news of this second disaster brought Major
Wilkins up from Fort Niagara, with every available man,
to chastise the Indians. But when Wilkins and his men
arrived at the gruesome scene of the massacre not a red
man was to be found. The Indians had disappeared into
the forest, after having stripped their victims even of
clothing. With a heavy heart the troops marched back to
Niagara, mourning the loss of many gallant comrades. This
was the greatest disaster, in loss of life, of the Pontiac
War; but, like the defeat of Dalyell, it had little effect
on the progress of the campaign. The Indians did not
follow it up; with scalps and plunder they returned to
their villages to exult in wild orgies over the victory.

Detroit was still besieged; but the Indians were beginning
to weaken, and for the most part had given up hope of
forcing the garrison to surrender. They had been depending
almost wholly on the settlement for sustenance, and
provisions were running low. Ammunition, too, was well-nigh
exhausted. They had replenished their supply during the
summer by the captures they had made, by the plundering
of traders, and by purchase or gift from the French of
the Mississippi. Now they had little hope of capturing
more supply-boats; the traders were holding aloof; and,
since the arrival of definite news of the surrender to
Great Britain by France of the region east of the
Mississippi, supplies from the French had been stopped.
If the Indians were to escape starvation they must scatter
to their hunting-grounds. There was another reason why
many of the chiefs deemed it wise to leave the vicinity
of Detroit. They had learned that Major Wilkins was on
his way from Niagara with a strong force and a fleet of
bateaux loaded with ammunition and supplies. So, early
in October, the Potawatomis, Wyandots, and Chippewas held
a council and concluded to bury the hatchet and make
peace with Gladwyn. On the 12th of the month a delegation
from these tribes came to the fort bearing a pipe of
peace. Gladwyn knew from experience how little they were
to be trusted, but he gave them a seemingly cordial
welcome. A chief named Wapocomoguth acted as spokesman,
and stated that the tribes represented regretted 'their
bad conduct' and were ready to enter into a treaty of
peace. Gladwyn replied that it was not in his power to
grant peace to Indians who without cause had attacked
the troops of their father the king of England; only the
commander-in-chief could do that; but he consented to a
cessation of hostilities. He did this the more willingly
as the fort was short of food, and the truce would give
him a chance to lay in a fresh stock of provisions.

As the autumn frosts were colouring the maples with
brilliant hues, the Potawatomis, Wyandots, and Chippewas
set out for fields where game was plentiful; but for a
time Pontiac with his Ottawas remained, threatening the
garrison, and still strong in his determination to continue
the siege. During the summer he had sent ambassadors to
Fort Chartres on the Mississippi asking aid in fighting
what he asserted to be the battle of the French traders.
Towards the end of July the messengers had returned with
word from Neyon de Villiers, the commandant of Fort
Chartres, saying that he must await more definite news
as to whether peace had been concluded between France
and England. Pontiac still hoped; and, after his allies
had deserted, he waited at his camp above Detroit for
further word from Neyon. On the last day of October Louis
Cesair Dequindre arrived at Detroit from Fort Chartres,
with the crushing answer that Neyon de Villiers could
give him no aid. England and France were at peace, and
Neyon advised the Ottawas--no doubt with reluctance, and
only because of the demand of Amherst--to bury the hatchet
and give up the useless contest. To continue the struggle
for the present would be vain. Pontiac, though enraged
by the desertion of his allies, and by what seemed to
him the cowardly conduct of the French, determined at
once to accept the situation, sue for peace, and lay
plans for future action. So far he had been fighting
ostensibly for the restoration of French rule. In future,
whatever scheme he might devise, his struggle must be
solely in the interests of the red man. Next day he sent
a letter to Gladwyn begging that the past might be
forgotten. His young men, he said, had buried their
hatchets, and he declared himself ready not only to make
peace, but also to 'send to all the nations concerned in
the war' telling them to cease hostilities. No trust
could Gladwyn put in Pontiac's words; yet he assumed a
friendly bearing towards the treacherous conspirator,
who for nearly six months had given him no rest. Gladwyn's
views of the situation at this time are well shown in a
report he made to Amherst. The Indians, he said, had lost
many of their best warriors, and would not be likely
again to show a united front. It was in this report that
he made the suggestion, unique in warfare, of destroying
the Indians by the free sale of rum to them. 'If your
Excellency,' he wrote, 'still intends to punish them
further for their barbarities, it may easily be done
without any expense to the Crown, by permitting a free
sale of rum, which will destroy them more effectually
than fire and sword.' He thought that the French had been
the real plotters of the Indian war: 'I don't imagine
there will be any danger of their [the Indians] breaking
out again, provided some examples are made of our good
friends, the French, who set them on.'

Pontiac and his band of savages paddled southward for
the Maumee, and spent the winter among the Indians along
its upper waters. Again he broke his plighted word and
plotted a new confederacy, greater than the Three Fires,
and sent messengers with wampum belts and red hatchets
to all the tribes as far south as the mouth of the
Mississippi and as far north as the Red River. But his
glory had departed. He could call; but the warriors would
not come when he summoned them.

Fort Detroit was freed from hostile Indians, and the
soldiers could go to rest without expecting to hear the
call to arms. But before the year closed it was to be
the witness of still another tragedy. Two or three weeks
after the massacre at the Devil's Hole, Major Wilkins
with some six hundred troops started from Fort Schlosser
with a fleet of bateaux for Detroit. No care seems to
have been taken to send out scouts to learn if the forest
bordering the river above the falls was free from Indians,
and, as the bateaux were slowly making their way against
the swift stream towards Lake Erie, they were savagely
attacked from the western bank by Indians in such force
that Wilkins was compelled to retreat to Fort Schlosser.
It was not until November that another attempt was made
to send troops and provisions to Detroit. Early in this
month Wilkins once more set out from Fort Schlosser, this
time with forty-six bateaux heavily laden with troops,
provisions, and ammunition. While they were in Lake Erie
there arose one of the sudden storms so prevalent on the
Great Lakes in autumn. Instead of creeping along the
shore, the bateaux were in mid-lake, and before a landing
could be made the gale was on them in all its fury. There
was a wild race for land; but the choppy, turbulent sea
beat upon the boats, of which some were swamped and the
crews plunged into the chilly waters. They were opposite
a forbidding shore, called by Wilkins Long Beach, but
there was no time to look for a harbour. An attempt was
made to land, with disastrous results. In all sixteen
boats were sunk; three officers, four sergeants, and
sixty-three privates were drowned. The thirty bateaux
brought ashore were in a sinking condition; half the
provisions were lost and the remainder water-soaked. The
journey to Detroit was out of the question. The few
provisions saved would not last the remnant of Wilkins's
own soldiers for a month, and the ammunition was almost
entirely lost. Even if they succeeded in arriving safely
at Detroit, they would only be an added burden to Gladwyn;
and so, sick at heart from failure and the loss of
comrades, the survivors beat their way back to the Niagara.

A week or two later a messenger arrived at Fort Detroit
bearing news of the disaster. The scarcity of provisions
at Detroit was such that Gladwyn decided to reduce his
garrison. Keeping about two hundred men in the fort, he
sent the rest to Niagara. Then the force remaining at
Detroit braced themselves to endure a hard, lonely winter.
Theirs was not a pleasant lot. Never was garrison duty
enjoyable during winter in the northern parts of North
America, but in previous winters at Detroit the friendly
intercourse between the soldiers and the settlers had made
the season not unbearable. Now, so many of the French had
been sympathizers with the besieging Indians, and, indeed,
active in aiding them, that the old relations could not be
resumed. So, during this winter of 1763-64, the garrison
for the most part held aloof from the French settlers, and
performed their weary round of military duties, longing
for spring and the sight of a relieving force.




CHAPTER VIII

WINDING UP THE INDIAN WAR

Amherst was weary of America. Early in the summer of 1763
he had asked to be relieved of his command; but it was
not until October that General Thomas Gage, then in charge
of the government of Montreal, was appointed to succeed
him, and not until November 17, the day after Gage arrived
in New York, that Amherst sailed for England.

The new commander-in-chief was not as great a general as
Amherst. It is doubtful if he could have planned and
brought to a successful conclusion such campaigns as the
siege of Louisbourg and the threefold march of 1760 on
Montreal, which have given his predecessor a high place
in the military history of North America. But Gage was
better suited for winding up the Indian war. He knew the
value of the officers familiar with the Indian tribes,
and was ready to act on their advice. Amherst had not done
this, and his best officers were now anxious to resign.
George Croghan had resigned as assistant superintendent
of Indian Affairs, but was later induced by Gage to remain
in office. Gladwyn was 'heartily wearied' of his command
and hoped to 'be relieved soon'; Blane and Ourry were
tired of their posts; and the brave Ecuyer was writing in
despair: 'For God's sake, let me go and raise cabbages.'
Bouquet; too, although determined to see the war to a
conclusion, was not satisfied with the situation.

Meanwhile, Sir William Johnson was not idle among the
tribes of the Six Nations. The failure of Pontiac to reduce
Fort Detroit and the victory of Bouquet at Edge Hill had
convinced the Iroquois that ultimately the British would
triumph, and, eager to be on the winning side, they
consented to take the field against the Shawnees and
Delawares. In the middle of February 1764, through Johnson's
influence and by his aid, two hundred Tuscaroras and
Oneidas, under a half-breed, Captain Montour, marched
westward. Near the main branch of the Susquehanna they
surprised forty Delawares, on a scalping expedition against
the British settlements, and made prisoners of the entire
party. A few weeks later a number of Mohawks led by Joseph
Brant (Thayendanegea) put another band of Delawares to
rout, killing their chief and taking three prisoners.
These attacks of the Iroquois disheartened the Shawnees
and Delawares and greatly alarmed the Senecas, who,
trembling lest their own country should be laid waste,
sent a deputation of four hundred of their chief men to
Johnson Hall--Sir William Johnson's residence on the
Mohawk--to sue for peace. It was agreed that the Senecas
should at once stop all hostilities, never again take up
arms against the British, deliver up all prisoners at
Johnson Hall, cede to His Majesty the Niagara carrying-place,
allow the free passage of troops through their country,
renounce all intercourse with the Delawares and Shawnees,
and assist the British in punishing them. Thus, early in
1764, through the energy and diplomacy of Sir William
Johnson, the powerful Senecas were brought to terms.

With the opening of spring preparations began in earnest
for a twofold invasion of the Indian country. One army
was to proceed to Detroit by way of Niagara and the Lakes,
and another from Fort Pitt was to take the field against
the Delawares and the Shawnees. To Colonel John Bradstreet,
who in 1758 had won distinction by his capture of Fort
Frontenac, was assigned the command of the contingent
that was to go to Detroit. Bradstreet was to punish the
Wyandots of Sandusky, and likewise the members of the
Ottawa Confederacy if he should find them hostile. He
was also to relieve Gladwyn and re-garrison the forts
captured by the Indians in 1763. Bradstreet left Albany
in June with a large force of colonial troops and regulars,
including three hundred French Canadians from the St
Lawrence, whom Gage had thought it wise to have enlisted,
in order to impress upon the Indians that they need no
longer expect assistance from the French in their wars
against the British.

To prepare the way for Bradstreet's arrival Sir William
Johnson had gone in advance to Niagara, where he had
called together ambassadors from all the tribes, not only
from those that had taken part in the war, but from all
within his jurisdiction. He had found a vast concourse
of Indians awaiting him. The wigwams of over a thousand
warriors dotted the low-lying land at the mouth of the
river. In a few days the number had grown to two thousand
--representatives of nations as far east as Nova Scotia,
as far west as the Mississippi, and as far north as Hudson
Bay. Pontiac was absent, nor were there any Delaware,
Shawnee, or Seneca ambassadors present. These were absent
through dread; but later the Senecas sent deputies to
ratify the treaty made with Johnson in April. When
Bradstreet and his troops arrived negotiations were in
full swing. For nearly a month councils were held, and
at length all the chiefs present had entered into an
alliance with the British. This accomplished, Johnson,
on August 6, left Niagara for his home, while Bradstreet
continued his journey towards Detroit.

Bradstreet halted at Presqu'isle. Here he was visited by
pretended deputies from the Shawnees and Delawares, who
ostensibly sought peace. He made a conditional treaty
with them and agreed to meet them twenty-five days later
at Sandusky, where they were to bring their British
prisoners. From Presqu'isle he wrote to Bouquet at Fort
Pitt, saying that it would be unnecessary to advance into
the Delaware country, as the Delawares were now at peace.
He also reported his success, as he considered it, to
Gage, but Gage was not impressed: he disavowed the treaty
and instructed Bouquet to continue his preparations.
Continuing his journey, Bradstreet rested at Sandusky,
where more Delawares waited on him and agreed to make
peace. It was at this juncture that he sent Captain Thomas
Morris on his ill-starred mission to the tribes of the
Mississippi. [Footnote: Morris and his companions got
no farther than the rapids of the Maumee, where they were
seized, stripped of clothing, and threatened with death.
Pontiac was now among the Miamis, still striving to get
together a following to continue the war. The prisoners
were taken to Pontiac's camp. But the Ottawa chief did
not deem it wise to murder a British officer on this
occasion, and Morris was released and forced to retrace
his steps. He arrived at Detroit after the middle of
September, only to find that Bradstreet had already
departed. The story will be found in more detail in
Parkman's _Conspiracy of Pontiac_.]

Bradstreet was at Detroit by August 26, and at last the
worn-out garrison of the fort could rest after fifteen
months of exacting duties. Calling the Indians to a
council, Bradstreet entered into treaties with a number
of chiefs, and pardoned several French settlers who had
taken an active part with the Indians in the siege of
Detroit. He then sent troops to occupy Michilimackinac;
Green Bay, and Sault Ste Marie; and sailed for Sandusky
to meet the Delawares and Shawnees, who had promised to
bring in their prisoners. But none awaited him: the
Indians had deliberately deceived him and were playing
for time while they continued their attacks on the border
settlers. Here he received a letter from Gage ordering
him to disregard the treaty he had made with the Delawares
and to join Bouquet at Fort Pitt, an order which Bradstreet
did not obey, making the excuse that the low state of
the water in the rivers made impossible an advance to
Fort Pitt. On October 18 he left Sandusky for Niagara,
having accomplished nothing except occupation of the
forts. Having already blundered hopelessly in dealing
with the Indians, he was to blunder still further. On
his way down Lake Erie he encamped one night, when storm
threatened, on an exposed shore, and a gale from the
north-east broke upon his camp and destroyed half his
boats. Two hundred and eighty of his soldiers had to
march overland to Niagara. Many of them perished; others,
starved, exhausted, frost-bitten, came staggering in by
twos and threes till near the end of December. The
expedition was a fiasco. It blasted Bradstreet's reputation,
and made the British name for a time contemptible among
the Indians.

The other expedition from Fort Pitt has a different
history. All through the summer Bouquet had been recruiting
troops for the invasion of the Delaware country. The
soldiers were slow in arriving, and it was not until the
end of September that all was ready. Early in October
Bouquet marched out of Fort Pitt with one thousand
provincials and five hundred regulars. Crossing the
Alleghany, he made his way in a north-westerly direction
until Beaver Creek was reached, and then turned westward
into the unbroken forest. The Indians of the Muskingum
valley felt secure in their wilderness fastness. No white
soldiers had ever penetrated to their country. To reach
their villages dense woods had to be penetrated, treacherous
marshes crossed, and numerous streams bridged or forded.
But by the middle of October Bouquet had led his army,
without the loss of a man, into the heart of the Muskingum
valley, and pitched his camp near an Indian village named
Tuscarawa, from which the inhabitants had fled at his
approach. The Delawares and Shawnees were terrified: the
victor of Edge Hill was among them with an army strong
enough to crush to atoms any war-party they could muster.
They sent deputies to Bouquet. These at first assumed a
haughty mien; but Bouquet sternly rebuked them and ordered
them to meet him at the forks of the Muskingum, forty
miles distant to the south-west, and to bring in all
their prisoners. By the beginning of November the troops
were at the appointed place, where they encamped. Bouquet
then sent messengers to all the tribes telling them to
bring thither all the captives without delay. Every white
man, woman, and child in their hands, French or British,
must be delivered up. After some hesitation the Indians
made haste to obey. About two hundred captives were
brought, and chiefs were left as hostages for the safe
delivery of others still in the hands of distant tribes.
So far Bouquet had been stern and unbending; he had
reminded the Indians of their murder of settlers and of
their black treachery regarding the garrisons, and hinted
that except for the kindness of their British father they
would be utterly destroyed. He now unbent and offered
them a generous treaty, which was to be drawn up and
arranged later by Sir William Johnson. Bouquet then
retraced his steps to Fort Pitt, and arrived there on
November 28 with his long train of released captives. He
had won a victory over the Indians greater than his
triumph at Edge Hill, and all the greater in that it was
achieved without striking a blow.

There was still, however, important work to be done before
any guarantee of permanent peace in the hinterland was
possible. On the eastern bank of the Mississippi, within
the country ceded to England by the Treaty of Paris, was
an important settlement over which the French flag still
flew, and to which no British troops or traders had
penetrated. It was a hotbed of conspiracy. Even while
Bouquet was making peace with the tribes between the Ohio
and Lake Erie, Pontiac and his agents were trying to make
trouble for the British among the Indians of the
Mississippi.

French settlement on the Mississippi began at the village
of Kaskaskia, eighty-four miles north of the mouth of
the Ohio. Six miles still farther north was Fort Chartres,
a strongly built stone fort capable of accommodating
three hundred men. From here, at some distance from the
river, ran a road to Cahokia, a village situated nearly
opposite the site of the present city of St Louis. The
intervening country was settled by prosperous traders
and planters who, including their four hundred negro
slaves, numbered not less than two thousand. But when it
was learned that all the territory east of the great
river had been ceded to Britain, the settlers began to
migrate to the opposite bank. The French here were hostile
to the incoming British, and feared lest they might now
lose the profitable trade with New Orleans. It was this
region that Gage was determined to occupy.

Already an effort had been made to reach Fort Chartres.
In February 1764 Major Arthur Loftus had set out from
New Orleans with four hundred men; but, when about two
hundred and forty miles north of his starting-point, his
two leading boats were fired upon by Indians. Six men
were killed and four wounded. To advance would mean the
destruction of his entire company. Loftus returned to
New Orleans, blaming the French officials for not supporting
his enterprise, and indeed hinting that they were
responsible for the attack. Some weeks later Captain
Philip Pittman arrived at New Orleans with the intention
of ascending the river; but reports of the enmity of the
Indians to the British made him abandon the undertaking.
So at the beginning of 1765 the French flag still flew
over Fort Chartres; and Saint-Ange, who had succeeded
Neyon de Villiers as commandant of the fort, was praying
that the British might soon arrive to relieve him from
a position where he was being daily importuned by Pontiac
or his emissaries for aid against what they called the
common foe.

But, if the route to Fort Chartres by way of New Orleans
was too dangerous, Bouquet had cleared the Ohio of enemies,
and the country which Gage sought to occupy was now
accessible by way of that river. As a preliminary step,
George Croghan was sent in advance with presents for the
Indians along the route. In May 1765 Croghan left Fort
Pitt accompanied by a few soldiers and a number of friendly
Shawnee and Delaware chiefs. Near the mouth of the Wabash
a prowling band of Kickapoos attacked the party, killing
several and making prisoners of the rest. Croghan and
his fellow-prisoners were taken to the French traders at
Vincennes, where they were liberated. They then went to
Ouiatanon, where Croghan held a council, and induced many
chiefs to swear fealty to the British. After leaving
Ouiatanon, Croghan had proceeded westward but a little
way when he was met by Pontiac with a number of chiefs
and warriors. At last the arch-conspirator was ready to
come to terms. The French on the Mississippi would give
him no assistance. He realized now that his people were
conquered, and before it was too late he must make peace
with his conquerors. Croghan had no further reason to
continue his journey; so, accompanied by Pontiac, he went
to Detroit. Arriving there on August 17, he at once called
a council of the tribes in the neighbourhood. At this
council sat Pontiac, among chiefs whom he had led during
the months of the siege of Detroit. But it was no longer
the same Pontiac: his haughty, domineering spirit was
broken; his hopes of an Indian empire were at an end.
'Father,' he said at this council, 'I declare to all
nations that I had made my peace with you before I came
here; and I now deliver my pipe to Sir William Johnson,
that he may know that I have made peace, and taken the
king of England to be my father in the presence of all
the nations now assembled.' He further agreed to visit
Oswego in the spring to conclude a treaty with Sir William
Johnson himself. The path was now clear for the advance
of the troops to Fort Chartres. As soon as news of
Croghan's success reached Fort Pitt, Captain Thomas
Sterling, with one hundred and twenty men of the Black
Watch, set out in boats for the Mississippi, arriving on
October 9 at Fort Chartres, the first British troops to
set foot in that country. Next day Saint-Ange handed the
keys of the fort to Sterling, and the Union Jack was
flung aloft. Thus, nearly three years after the signing
of the Treaty of Paris, the fleurs-de-lis disappeared
from the territory then known as Canada.

There is still to record the closing act in the public
career of Pontiac. Sir William Johnson, fearing that the
Ottawa chief might fail to keep his promise of visiting
Oswego to ratify the treaty made with Croghan at Detroit,
sent Hugh Crawford, in March 1766, with belts and messages
to the chiefs of the Ottawa Confederacy. But Pontiac was
already preparing for his journey eastward. Nothing in
his life was more creditable than his bold determination
to attend a council far from his hunting-ground, at which
he would be surrounded by soldiers who had suffered
treachery and cruelty at his hands--whose comrades he
had tortured and murdered.

On July 23 there began at Oswego the grand council at
which Sir William Johnson and Pontiac were the most
conspicuous figures. For three days the ceremonies and
speeches continued; and on the third day Pontiac rose in
the assembly and made a promise that he was faithfully
to keep: 'I take the Great Spirit to witness,' he said,
'that what I am going to say I am determined steadfastly
to perform... While I had the French king by the hand,
I kept a fast hold of it; and now having you, father, by
the hand, I shall do the same in conjunction with all
the western nations in my district.'

Before the council ended Johnson presented to each of
the chiefs a silver medal engraved with the words: 'A
pledge of peace and friendship with Great Britain,
confirmed in 1766.' He also loaded Pontiac and his brother
chiefs with presents; then, on the last day of July, the
Indians scattered to their homes.

For three years Pontiac, like a restless spirit, moved
from camp to camp and from hunting-ground to hunting-ground.
There were outbreaks of hostilities in the Indian country,
but in none of these did he take part. His name never
appears in the records of those three years. His days of
conspiracy were at an end. By many of the French and
Indians he was distrusted as a pensioner of the British,
and by the British traders and settlers he was hated for
his past deeds. In 1769 he visited the Mississippi, and
while at Cahokia he attended a drunken frolic held by
some Indians. When he left the feast, stupid from the
effects of rum, he was followed into the forest by a
Kaskaskia Indian, probably bribed by a British trader.
And as Pontiac lurched among the black shadows of the
trees, his pursuer crept up behind him, and with a swift
stroke of the tomahawk cleft his skull. Thus by a
treacherous blow ended the career of a warrior whose
chief weapon had been treachery.

For twelve years England, by means of military officers,
ruled the great hinterland east of the Mississippi--a
region vast and rich, which now teems with a population
immensely greater than that of the whole broad Dominion
of Canada--a region which is to-day dotted with such
magnificent cities as Chicago, Detroit, and Indianapolis.
Unhappily, England made no effort to colonize this
wilderness empire. Indeed, as Edmund Burke has said, she
made 'an attempt to keep as a lair of wild beasts that
earth which God, by an express charter, had given to the
children of men.' She forbade settlement in the hinterland.
She did this ostensibly for the Indians, but in reality
for the merchants in the mother country. In a report of
the Lords Commissioners for Trade and Plantations in 1772
are words which show that it was the intention of the
government to confine 'the western extent of settlements
to such a distance from the seaboard as that those
settlements should lie within easy reach of the trade
and commerce of this kingdom,... and also of the exercise
of that authority and jurisdiction... necessary for the
preservation of the colonies in a due subordination to,
and dependence upon, the mother country... It does appear
to us that the extension of the fur trade depends entirely
upon the Indians being undisturbed in the possession of
their hunting-grounds... Let the savages enjoy their
deserts in quiet. Were they driven from their forests
the peltry trade would decrease, and it is not impossible
that worse savages would take refuge in them.'

Much has been written about the stamp tax and the tea
tax as causes of the American revolution, but this
determination to confine the colonies to the Atlantic
seaboard 'rendered the revolution inevitable.' [Footnote:
Roosevelt's _The Winning of the West_, part i, p. 57.]
In 1778, three years after the sword was drawn, when an
American force under George Rogers Clark invaded the
Indian country, England's weakly garrisoned posts, then
by the Quebec Act under the government of Canada, were
easily captured; and, when accounts came to be settled
after the war, the entire hinterland south of the Great
Lakes, from the Alleghanies to the Mississippi, passed
to the United States.




BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

The main source of information regarding the siege of
Detroit is the 'Pontiac Manuscript.' This work has been
translated several times, the best and most recent
translation being that by R. Clyde Ford for the Journal
of _Pontiac's Conspiracy, 1763_, edited by C. M. Burton.
Unfortunately, the manuscript abruptly ends in the middle
of the description of the fight at Bloody Run.

The following works will be found of great assistance to
the student: Rogers's _Journals_; Cass's _Discourse before
the Michigan Historical Society_; Henry's _Travels and
Adventures in Canada and the Indian Territories_; Parkman's
_Conspiracy of Pontiac_ (the fullest and best treatment
of the subject); Ellis's _Life of Pontiac, the Conspirator_
(a digest of Parkman's work); _Historical Account of the
Expedition against the Ohio Indians, 1764_ (authorship
doubtful, but probably written by Dr William Smith of
Philadelphia); Stone's _The Life and Times of Sir William
Johnson_; Drake's _Indians of North America_; _Handbook
of American Indians North of Mexico_ and _Handbook of
Indians of Canada_; Ogg's _The Opening of the Mississippi_;
Roosevelt's _The Winning of the West_; Carter's _The
Illinois Country_; Beer's _British Colonial Policy,
1754-1765_; Adair's _The History of the American Indians_;
the _Annual Register_ for the years 1763, 1764, and 1774;
Harper's _Encyclopedia of United States History_; Pownall's
_The Administration of the Colonies_; Bancroft's _History
of the United States_; Kingsford's _History of Canada_;
Winsor's _Narrative and Critical History of America_ and
his _Mississippi Basin_; Gordon's _History of Pennsylvania_;
Lucas's _A History of Canada, 1763-1812_; Gayarre's
_History of Louisiana_; and McMaster's _History of the
People of the United States_.

In 1766 there was published in London a somewhat remarkable
drama entitled _Ponteach: or the Savages of America_. A
part of this will be found in the appendices to Parkman's
_Conspiracy of Pontiac_. Parkman suggests that Robert
Rogers may have had a hand in the composition of this
drama.


END