Famous Indian Chiefs / Their Battles, Treaties, Sieges, and Struggles with the Whites for the Possession of America

by Charles H. L. Johnston

When the sleepy sentinels on the ramparts saw the first red tinge of dawn tint the hazy east, next morn, a savage chorus of war whoops arose from every side of the fort. The men leaped to their posts on the bastion and behind the loopholes of the palisade, and, as they did so, a vast swarm of savage warriors—Wyandots, Pottawattamies, and Ojibwas—rushed furiously at the walls, discharging their guns incessantly, and screeching like so many wildcats. But, as they came near enough to be seen, suddenly they scampered behind barns and fences, skulked behind bushes, or lay flat upon their stomachs in hollows of the ground. Each—with a mouth filled with bullets—charged and fired recklessly, while uttering the most blood-curdling yells. They were naked, painted all colors of the rainbow, and with the agility of monkeys dodged the shot from the cannon of the fort. Every loophole was a target for their bullets, but they were poor shots and hardly ever hit the mark. The soldiers, on the other hand, took deliberate aim, and now and again a painted devil would leap high into the air with a fierce yell of pain, showing that some good, British lead had taken effect. A host of Indians found shelter behind a cluster of outbuildings, but a cannon, loaded with red-hot spikes, was aimed at the strategic point. The wooden houses were soon in flames, and the savages fled, howling dismally, while the soldiers peppered them with ball, as they decamped. Gladwyn walked continually among his men, encouraging them by word and gesture, while the stern features of Pontiac could be seen eagerly watching the turn of events from a hillock in the rear of his barbarous crew.

So the fight waged for six hours, but, as the sun grew hot overhead, the yelping masses of Indians became weary of their useless efforts. Gradually their rifle fire ceased, their war whoops died away, and their painted bodies began to disappear from the fence rails, bushes, and houses, which partly hid them from the eyes of the garrison. Few had been hit by bullets from the fort, for few had exposed themselves. Among the garrison only five men had been wounded and these not seriously. The first honor of the fight for the possession of Detroit had thus distinctly been with the British troops, and Major Gladwyn smiled with pleasure as he gazed out across the river at the clusters of Indian tepees which sheltered those who were thirsting for his lifeblood and for that of his men. Provisions were scarce, but the courage of his soldiers was not lacking, and he determined to fight to the last ditch rather than to capitulate to such an enemy.

Still under the impression that the whole affair was a sudden outbreak of no particular importance, and that the anger of the Indians would soon subside, Major Gladwyn, being in great want of provisions, opened negotiations with the savages, under cover of which he hoped to smuggle in necessary supplies from the French Canadians, whom the followers of Pontiac would not attack. Some of his officers advised him to embark the troops aboard the two sloops and depart for Niagara, but to this advice the gallant soldier would not listen. Three ambassadors were, therefore, sent to the Indian camp, among whom was a Major Campbell, a brave and hardy officer. Five or six of the French also went along.

Pontiac took the ambassadors by the hand and led them to his camp, where, after a long conference, Campbell appreciated his danger and asked to be allowed to retire. "My father," said the Ottawa chief to him, "you will sleep tonight in the lodges of your red children." Thus the gallant officer was betrayed into the hands of the enemy, nor did he ever live to again see the British garrison, as an Indian warrior murdered him shortly afterwards.

Word was then sent by Pontiac to the fort that the troops should immediately surrender, lay down their arms, as their fathers, the French, had been obliged to do, leave the cannon, magazines, and merchants' goods, and the two vessels, and be escorted in batteaux (long boats) by the Indians to Niagara. To this Major Gladwyn answered that his commanding officer had not sent him there to deliver up the fort to Indians or anybody else, and he would, therefore, defend it as long as a single man could stand at his side. So day after day the Indians continued their attacks until their shrill whoops and the rattle of their guns became familiar sounds. For weeks none of the soldiers lay down to sleep, except in their clothes, and their guns were always loaded and standing at their sides. The outbuildings, which gave shelter to the Indians, were burned down by volunteers from the palisades, while orchard trees and fences were leveled near the fort so that the savage enemy had no cover to shelter him. Still, worming themselves along in the grass, the savages would crawl close to the bastions, and shoot arrows, tipped with burning tow, upon the roofs of the houses. Tanks of water were everywhere provided for fire, and, although the thatched roofs were frequently alight, they were always extinguished before the blaze had any headway.

Pontiac was furious with anger at not reducing the fort, and begged the French inhabitants to teach him the foreign method of making ditches and trenches in order to approach a fortification, under cover. But the ignorant Canadians knew nothing of civilized warfare and could not aid him. One hundred and twenty Ojibwa warriors now joined the forces of Pontiac and assisted in the attack, while every man in the fort slept upon the ramparts, even in the stormiest of weather, and repelled every attempt of the savages to rush the defenses.

Pontiac had a friend, called Baby—a French Canadian—who lived near by, and, one evening, he entered his house, seated himself before the fire and looked steadily at the glowing embers for a long time. At length, raising his head, he said: "Friend, I have heard that the English have offered you a bushel of silver for my scalp. Is it true?" "The story is false," replied the Canadian. "I will never betray you, for an instant." The Chief of the Ottawas keenly studied the features of the white man for a number of minutes. "My brother has spoken the truth," he said, "and I will show that I believe him by spending the night at his house." So saying, he wrapped himself in his blanket, lay down upon a bench, and slept peacefully until the morning, with perfect confidence that no harm would be done him; which proves that, although cruel and vindictive, he had trust and confidence in his friends.

Another anecdote also shows that his trust in his friends was sincere and absolute. Shortly after the beginning of the siege a Captain Rogers came up to Detroit, with a detachment of troops, and on landing sent a bottle of brandy, by a friendly Indian, as a present to Pontiac—an old-time friend and acquaintance. The Ottawas were always suspicious that the English meant to poison them, and so those around the great chief endeavored to persuade him that the brandy was drugged. Pontiac quietly listened to what they had to say, and, as they ceased speaking, replied: "I have saved this man Rogers' life. No man whose life I have saved has the power to kill me, for when he and his men came, not many moons ago, to demand the surrender of Detroit from the French, I kept my Indians from attacking him. He knows this." So saying, he immediately drank the brandy, which, of course, was perfectly pure, and from which he suffered no evil effects.

Not long after his conversation with the Canadian, Pontiac discovered that a few of the young Wyandot braves were stealing his white friend's hogs and cattle, under cover of the darkness. He consequently decided to put an end to these depredations, and, arriving at the white man's home one evening, he walked to and fro, among the barns and enclosures, waiting for a sight of the marauders. Nothing occurred until late in the evening, when, looking keenly through the blackness, the great Sachem of the Ottawas saw the dark forms of the thieves stealing through the gloom. At this he walked up near to them, and thundered in fierce tones: "Go back to your village, you Wyandot dogs. If you tread again on this man's land you shall die!" The Wyandots trembled, and slunk away abashed, while, from then on, the Canadian's property was no longer molested. This well illustrates the power which Pontiac exercised over the minds of his followers.

While perils were thickening around the brave garrison at Detroit, the allied Indians had, meanwhile, not been idle. Late one afternoon the soldiers of the garrison were startled by seeing a naked line of warriors issuing from the woods near the fort, each painted black and with a scalp fluttering from the end of a pole. They dismally howled a death wail and shook their sticks at the fort, which made it only too clear that some new disaster had befallen the English. Such was the truth, for at nightfall a Canadian came to the gate with tidings that Fort Sandusky had been taken and that all the garrison there had either been slain or made captive.