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

by Charles H. L. Johnston

It seems that—on the sixteenth of May—the commandant of the Fort (Ensign Paully) had been informed that seven Indians were at the gate to speak to him, and, as several of them were known to him, he ordered them to be admitted. Arriving at his quarters, two of the visitors seated themselves on either side of him, while the rest dispersed themselves around the room. Pipes were lighted, and the conversation began, when an Indian near the doorway suddenly made a signal with his head. In a moment Paully was captured and bound, while the entire garrison was shot down. The savages, conducting him to a canoe, soon set fire to the fort and burned it to the ground. Paully was adopted by a widow of the tribe, but subsequently made his escape and joined the defenders of Detroit.

The port of St. Josephs lay at the mouth of the river of that name near the head of Lake Michigan, and the fort, recently abandoned by the French, was garrisoned by Ensign Schlosser, with a command of fourteen men—a mere handful in the heart of a wilderness swarming with enemies. Thus, when a large force of Pottawattamies of Detroit came to have a friendly "talk," Schlosser was on his guard, for he feared treachery. But this did him no good. The sentinel at the gate was tomahawked, the Indians rushed into the fort, eleven Englishmen were killed, and the rest were made prisoners. They were conducted to Detroit, where Schlosser and three soldiers were exchanged for an equal number of Indian captives who had fallen into the hands of the garrison. This news was followed by the announcement that Fort Miami had also capitulated to the Indians, while painted warriors passing along the opposite bank in great numbers—a short time afterwards—announced by their yells that Presqu' Isle had also succumbed to their treachery. Le Boeuf, Venango, and Michillimackinac likewise capitulated, and only Detroit and Fort Pitt, in Pennsylvania, held out against the fury of Chief Pontiac and his confederacy.

The fate of Michillimackinac was particularly depressing, as the garrison there had been a good one of about thirty-five men, with their officers. The Commandant—Captain Etherington—had been told by a Canadian trader that the Indian had formed a design to destroy, not only his garrison, but all the English on the lakes, but to this he not only turned a deaf ear, but also threatened to send prisoner to Detroit the next person who should disturb him with such tidings. Therefore, the fate which awaited him could possibly have been averted had he not shown the same contempt for danger that lured many an Englishman upon the frontier to his doom.

The fourth of June was a warm and sultry day, and, as it was the birthday of King George of England, the discipline of the garrison was relaxed. Many of the soldiers were allowed to go outside the palisade, leaving just enough behind to act as sentinels and patrols in the fort. Encamped in the woods, not far distant, were a large number of Ojibwas and Sacs, who, early in the morning, informed the soldiers that they were to play a game of baggattaway, or lacrosse. The British were invited to come out and view the game, and, in consequence, the fort was soon deserted. Captain Etherington stood near the gate talking to some Indian chiefs. The soldiers stood—for the most part unarmed—in the shadow of the palisades, while a number of Indian squaws, wrapped in blankets, lounged near the entrance to the fort. Hundreds of lithe warriors rushed about the plain, with bats in their hands, endeavoring to catch the ball and hurl it through their adversaries' goal, while their whoops and yells were mingled with the cheers of the eager spectators.

Thus the game continued, when suddenly, from the midst of the multitude, the ball soared into the air, and, descending in a wide curve, fell near the doorway of the fort. Immediately the entire mass of whooping savages had followed it, and, as they dashed to the doorway, their shrill cries were turned to the death-bringing war whoop. This was not a hasty assault. It was a preconceived stratagem to surprise and destroy the unsuspecting British troops. And, as the ball-players ran by their women, they snatched the hatchets which the latter had concealed beneath their blankets. The startled English had no time to run and seize their muskets. They were struck down by the infuriated warriors, butchered upon the spot, and soon the quiet parade ground was red with the blood of the defenseless garrison. Thus the fate of Michillimackinac was similar to that of every other fortification upon the Great Lakes.

Meanwhile the garrison at Detroit was eagerly awaiting the arrival of reinforcements from Fort Niagara. The siege was being so vigorously pushed that soldiers, merchants, and servants were upon the ramparts every night, no one sleeping in a house, except the sick and wounded in the hospital. Naturally, then, they were much overjoyed when—on May 30th—the English sentinel on duty announced that a fleet of boats was coming around the point, at a place called the Huron Church. The garrison flocked to the bastions, and, for a moment, hope shone upon the haggard countenances of all. But, as the boats drew nearer, the Indian death-cry sounded from them, and they were seen to be full of painted warriors instead of white troops. Then the fact dawned upon the defenders of Detroit—the detachment had been captured by the followers of Pontiac.

This was the truth, for, their approach having been ascertained by the great leader, he had stationed a body of warriors to intercept the progress of the relieving party at Point Pelée. Twenty small batteaux, manned with a considerable number of soldiers and laden with stores, landed here in the evening. The Indians watched their movements from the brush and fell upon them about daylight. One officer and thirty men escaped upon the lake, but the others were either killed or captured. The line of barges ascended the Detroit River near the opposite shore, escorted by the Indians on the bank and guarded by detachments in each boat, in full view of the garrison and of the French settlement near by.

In the foremost boat were four soldiers and only three savages, and, as the shallop came opposite the larger of the two sloops which lay anchored before the fort, the one who acted as steersman determined to escape. He called out in English to his companion, who was near one of the Indians, and told him to throw the Indian overboard. The soldier answered that he was not strong enough; whereupon the steersman directed him to change places with him, as if tired out from rowing, so that no suspicion would be excited in the minds of the guard. The soldier who had conceived the plot now slipped forward, as if to take his companion's oar, but, instead of doing so, he suddenly seized the Indian by the hair, and, gripping him by the waist with the other hand, lifted him from the seat and threw him into the river. As the savage shot out over the gunwale, he seized fast to the clothes of the soldier, and, drawing himself up out of the water, stabbed him again and again with his knife. This knocked the Englishman overboard, and, holding fast to the redskin, both went down the current, rising and sinking in the swift tide, and grappling in the embrace of death. Meanwhile the two other Indians had leaped out of the boat, while the soldiers turned about, and pulled for the neighboring vessel, crying aloud for assistance as they did so. But the Indians in the other canoes came after them in hot pursuit, while the followers of Pontiac on the bank kept up a rapid fire upon them with their muskets. It seemed as if they must be captured, for the bullets hissed about their heads and the birch-bark canoes gained upon them with every thrust of the paddle. Escape seemed impossible, when suddenly a cannon blazed from the side of the vessel, and a ball, flying past the boat, just escaped hitting the foremost canoe. This was enough for the Indians. They withdrew in fear and dismay; while a second ball, exploding among the warriors on the shore, made them take to the bushes. With a few lusty heaves the soldiers reached the side of the vessel where they were warmly greeted, as men coming from the jaws of death, and as a living monument to the old adage that "Fortune favors the brave." Lest the other prisoners might escape, they were immediately landed by the Indians, and were marched to a point well beyond the view of the garrison at Detroit. In the morning their scarred and mutilated bodies began to float by the fort, on the surface of the water, warning the soldiers what would be their fate, should they fail to hold out against the ferocious warriors of Pontiac's Confederacy.

During the month of June another attempt to relieve the garrison proved to be more successful than the last. One of the two vessels, anchored near the fort, had been sent to Niagara for men and for supplies. She had a safe passage, and, before long, arrived at the mouth of the river with about fifty soldiers on board, and a goodly supply of stores. The Indians saw her coming up the stream, realized that they must sink her if they could, and consequently surrounded her in their canoes and pumped lead at her sides, as if they hoped to scuttle her with bullet holes. But the vessel kept on, until it reached a very narrow part of the river where the wind died away, and so the anchor was dropped. Immediately above this place the Indians had made a breastwork of logs, carefully concealed in the bushes, and behind this they lay in force, waiting for the schooner to pass. This the crew were not aware of, but, from the moment the sun went down, they kept a keen watch upon the waters of the river.