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

by Charles H. L. Johnston

Hours passed, the rapid current gurgled about the bow of the trim little vessel, and on either side frogs croaked from the black shores of the stream. Occasionally a night heron squawked in the marshy land near by, but nothing else disturbed the peace and quiet of the night. Suddenly the sentry started to his feet, for dark forms were seen moving upon the surface of the stream. "Indians! Indians!" he whispered, and, in a moment, the decks were crowded with soldiers, armed to the teeth. Meanwhile hundreds of canoes crept towards the vessel, and were within a few rods of their fancied prize, when a blow from a hammer sounded upon the foremast of the British boat. It was the signal to fire. Immediately a dull roar sounded through the still night, the sides of the vessel burst into a blaze of sheeted flame, and grape and musket shot tore into the clustering line of canoes. Fierce yells of pain and chagrin welled into the air as canoe after canoe sank before the fusillade, and, with fourteen of their number dead and dying, the remaining braves turned about and fled precipitously. But their friends opened a brisk fire from their log breastwork, so the vessel weighed anchor and dropped down stream with the current. When it again threw out the chain and swivel, not an Indian was to be seen.

For six days the vessel had to remain where she was, until a wind sprang up which was sufficiently strong to blow her up stream. So sails were hoisted and she tacked between the shores until the fort was reached. As she passed the Wyandot village the guns were brought to bear upon the wigwams, a shower of grapeshot was fired among them, and, before the yelling savages were fully aware of the nearness of the schooner, many of them had been struck down. The rest ran off, yelping like a band of those cur-dogs which follow every Indian encampment, and quickly scurried to the protection of the forest, while the welcome vessel furled her sails abreast of the fort and came peacefully to anchor. She brought much-needed ammunition and supplies, and the tidings that peace had, at last, been declared between France and England. This was heartily cheered by the brave defenders of Detroit, for now, with fresh supplies, more soldiers, and the renewed confidence which these could bring, they looked more cheerfully into the future. They were still in grave peril, and brave Major Gladwyn still counselled his men to use every care in watching the savages, both by night and by day, for their death chants sounded from the edge of the forest most ominously.

As Pontiac watched the frowning palisades which he could not subdue, his heart was black with anger. "You must destroy those boats of the English," said he to his followers. "When they are gone, we can starve the white men out; but we must sink or burn them." So the Ottawas speedily constructed a raft formed of two boats, secured together with a rope and filled with pitch pine, birch bark, and other easily lighted wood. This they set on fire, on the night of the tenth of July, and shoving it well out into the current with their canoes, watched it as it floated down upon the schooners, anchored before the fort. The soldiers saw the blazing peril as it journeyed slowly towards them and prepared themselves with boat hooks, oars, and buckets, to meet it, but a fortunate gust of wind blew the burning pile out into the stream, and it sailed by the two vessels, well beyond their bowsprits. A cheer went up from those upon the decks as the sputtering, gleaming mass floated slowly out of harm's way, lighting up the shores with an ominous and sinister glare, plainly revealing the white houses of the Canadian settlers on the banks. Far down the stream the fire was extinguished with a dull and sickening hiss.

But this was not the only attempt which the Indians made to put an end to the two schooners, for, upon the morning of July twelfth, the sentinel on duty saw a glowing spark of fire on the surface of the river, and soon another blazing raft bore down upon the vessels and their startled crews. The men watched the oncoming blaze with no particular terror, as they knew that they could push aside the burning logs with sticks and boat hooks, but they had no necessity to do this, as the raft was driven over towards the fort by the swift current, and glided swiftly by, lighting up the dark shores as it did so, disclosing the dusky forms of many naked spectators who stood there, expectantly awaiting the burning of the hated vessels. A gunner trained one of the cannon upon them in the bright light. Suddenly, with a deep boom, an iron ball crashed among the followers of Pontiac, who, with wild yells of defiance, dashed into the brush. The soldiers laughed derisively as their forms retreated into the gloom and burst into a song of jollification as the raft burned to the water's edge and the last gleaming spark was extinguished by the black waters of the rushing stream.

Soon after the failure of this affair, the savages were busily seen constructing another raft of larger dimensions. The gallant Major in charge of Detroit was now determined to protect his vessels from further harm, and so procured a number of boats which he moored across the stream with hawsers, at some distance above the schooners, so that if any rafts should drop down the river they would lodge against these before they struck the sides of the two vessels. When the followers of Pontiac saw this they were very angry and it is said that they stood upon the shores and shook their clenched fists vindictively at the soldiers, for they now saw that their attempts to burn the vessels would be fruitless. Pontiac, himself, was somewhat disheartened at the turn which affairs were taking, but his heart was cheered, a few days later, by the appearance of an Abenaki brave from lower Canada who told him that the King of France—the Indians' Great Father—was advancing up the St. Lawrence River with a large and formidable army. This untruth was believed by the leader of the uprising, and, when a body of Wyandot warriors came in, not long afterwards, with the news that every English fortification, save that of Fort Du Quesne, had fallen before the onslaughts of the savages, the heart of Pontiac was glad, and he bitterly upbraided his own followers for not having sufficient courage to subdue the handful of Englishmen and trappers in Detroit.

Really the Indians had done well, for they had persisted in the siege for two full months, which was an extraordinarily long time for savages to remain constant to anything. Their usual method was to make a quick attack and to then retreat, if unsuccessful. Yet here—under guidance of the Great Pontiac—they had steadily persevered in hemming in the doughty garrison for a long and tedious period of from between two to three months. The only way in which they could possibly subdue the English would be by scaling the palisades, and, although they twice attempted this feat, none had the courage to complete the task after the garrison began to pour hot volleys into the ranks of the attackers. Pontiac, himself, should have led the advance, but even he did not have sufficient nerve to mount the log breastworks of Detroit.

What the spirit of the doughty Gladwyn was on this occasion is easily seen from the following letter. On July the ninth he wrote to a friend in the East, and his missive was carried past the Indians by a trusty scout.

"You have long ago heard of our pleasant situation. Was it not very agreeable to hear every day of the savages cutting, carving, boiling, and eating our companions? To see every day dead bodies floating down the river, mangled and disfigured? But Britons, you know, never shrink; we always appeared gay, to spite the rascals. They boiled and ate Sir Robert Deras, and we are informed by Mr. Paully, who escaped the other day from one of the stations—surprised at the breaking out of the war, and commanded by himself—that he had seen an Indian have the skin of Captain Robertson's arm for a tobacco pouch.

"Three days ago, a party of us went to demolish a breastwork they had made. We finished our work and were returning home, but the fort espying a party of Indians coming up, as if they intended to fight, we were ordered back, made our dispositions, and advanced briskly. Our front was fired upon warmly and we returned the fire for about five minutes. In the meantime, Captain Hobkins, with about twenty men, filed off to the left, and about twenty French volunteers filed off to the right, and got between them and their fires. The villains immediately fled, and we returned, as was prudent; for a sentry I had placed behind me informed me that he saw a body of them coming down the woods, and our party, being about eighty, was not able to cope with their united bands. In short, we beat them handsomely, and yet did not much hurt to them, for they ran extremely well. We only killed their leader and wounded three others. One of them fired at me at the distance of fifteen or twenty paces, but I suppose my terrible visage made him tremble. I think I shot him."