Tales, Traditions and Romance of Border and Revolutionary Times

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

Upon the breaking out of the Revolution, the year following, the British Government, through their agents, made the most strenuous efforts to induce the Indians to take up the tomahawk in behalf of the king, and were but too successful. Cornstalk, however, actuated by a high-toned feeling of repugnance at the idea of breaking his plighted faith, and foreseeing the inevitable issue of the struggle—being, moreover, a firm and consistent friend of the Americans—refused to take any part in the contest, and exerted the utmost of his influence to prevent his tribe from joining the coalition. His efforts proved futile, however, and the influence of British presents, and the example of the neighboring tribes, had the effect which he most dreaded. He did not live to see the result of the struggle, being killed on the spot where he had but a year before fought so bravely in defense of his home and the graves of his sires. After the truce between the tribes and Governor Dunmore had been agreed upon, a fort was erected at Point Pleasant to commemorate the battle and keep the Indians in check, and to this fort Cornstalk, after finding that his efforts to preserve that compact intact would be unavailing, repaired to explain the position of affairs to its commanding officer, Captain Arbuckle, and take his advice as to what course he should pursue. Red-hawk, the Delaware chief, who had also fought so bravely at Point Pleasant, and who was likewise opposed to resuming the hatchet, accompanied him in his visit. The chieftain explained in the fullest manner the state of affairs among the Indians, and informed Arbuckle that he should be unable to restrain his tribe, who seemed determined to dig up the hatchet, and once more commence an exterminating war against the settlers. Under these circumstances, Arbuckle felt himself justified in detaining the chief and his companion as hostages, supposing that the fact of their principal leader being in the hands of the Americans would have the effect of deterring his tribe from active hostilities. Thinking themselves that such a result might follow, and earnestly desirous of not taking part in the contest, which they knew must follow if they returned to their people, they remained willing captives in the hands of Arbuckle, little dreaming of the fate which awaited them, and giving all the information which they possessed regarding the anticipated movements of the various tribes, and of the British agents among them.

The young chief, Ellinipsico, becoming anxious at the protracted absence of his father, set out in search of him, and, having traced him to the fort, he made his appearance on the opposite side of the river, and, being recognized by the chieftain, permission was given him to enter the fort, where the meeting between them was of the most affecting nature. They entertained for each other the warmest feelings of affection, which the young man displayed on the present occasion, by the enthusiastic manner in which he embraced his parent, and sought to show his joy at meeting him.

The hostages had been quartered in one of the cabins within the pickets of the fort, which, from its position, afforded safety and security—although they were not confined thereto, but allowed the range of the inclosure, and thither they bent their steps, and father and son sat down to take counsel in the present state of affairs. Ellinipsico, in common with the young men of his tribe, was in favor of joining in the war, being anxious to distinguish himself, and win his way by feats of arms to the proud position which would be his own inheritance on the death of his father. From such a course, Cornstalk endeavored to dissuade him with all the eloquence for which he was distinguished—but with little effect. The young man felt the unconquerable enmity of his race toward the white men, and burned to wash out in their blood the many wrongs and injuries he had received at their hands. The afternoon and evening having been spent in conversation upon this subject, without any result, the chieftain and his son laid down to sleep on the floor of their cabin—the last sleep they were destined to take this side of eternity.

On the morning after the arrival of Ellinipsico, two men of the garrison, named Hamilton and Gillmore, started out to hunt on the opposite side of the Kanawha river, not dreaming of any danger to be apprehended from the Indians, hostilities not having as yet commenced. On their return about noon, they were fired upon by two Indians, who had come across the Ohio to reconnoiter the fort, and hidden themselves in the weeds and brush, and Gillmore was killed. Colonel Stewart and Captain Arbuckle were standing on the opposite shore when the firing was heard, and expressed their surprise to one another at the occurrence, as strict orders had been given against all firing in the immediate vicinity of the fort. While anxiously awaiting a solution to the mystery, they discovered Hamilton on the other bank, who called to them, told them that Gillmore had been killed, and entreated them to send a canoe across to his relief. Captain Hall was dispatched with several men to the relief of the fugitive, and in a few moments they stood by his side.

A careful search in the adjacent bushes discovered the body of their comrade, shot through the head, and scalped. Placing the bloody corpse in the canoe, they recrossed the river, and with feelings of dire revenge demanded the lives of the hostages in the fort. Pale with rage, and terribly excited at the murder of one of his companions, Captain Hall placed himself at the head of his men, and marched toward the fort, threatening death to the unarmed hostages. Captain Arbuckle and several of the officers threw themselves in their way, and endeavored to prevent the execution of their bloodthirsty purpose; but this only excited the passions of the soldiers to the most ungovernable pitch, and cocking their pieces, they threatened death to all who interfered between them and their victims. Arbuckle was forced to give way, and witness a scene he was unable to prevent, and the exasperated men rushed into the fort. The interpreter's wife, who had been a captive among the Indians, and felt an affection for them, rushed to the cabin to inform them that Captain Hall's men were advancing to put them to death, because they entertained the idea that the Indians who had killed their comrade had come with Ellinipsico the day previous. This Ellinipsico earnestly denied, averring that he had come alone, with the only purpose of meeting his father, and without dreaming of hostility. The clamor without announced the rapid approach of their executioners, and Ellinipsico, being highly excited at the idea of being put to death for a wrong he had not committed, showed considerable agitation. The veteran chief, however, had faced death on too many battle-fields to be alarmed at his approach now, and endeavored to reassure his son, and induce him to die as became the child of such a sire. "If the Great Spirit," said he, "has decided that I should die, my son, and has sent you here to die with me, you should submit to your fate as becomes a warrior and a chief." With courage revived by the exhortation of his father, Ellinipsico prepared to meet with composure the death which he saw was inevitable. Covering his face with his hands that he might not see his executioners, he calmly awaited the stroke which was to deprive him of life, and send him to the "happy hunting grounds" of his race. As the door of the cabin was burst open, Cornstalk rose with dignity, and presented his breast to the rifles of the infuriated soldiers. Seven bullets pierced his noble form, and he died without a struggle. His son was killed at the same instant, and both fell to the ground together. Red-hawk, who had endeavored to hide himself, was dragged from his place of concealment and killed, as was another Indian who was in the fort, and who was fearfully mangled in the struggle.

"Thus," says Withers, in his Indian chronicles, "perished the mighty Cornstalk, sachem of the Shawnees, and king of the Northern confederacy in 1774—a chief remarkable for many great and good qualities. He was disposed to be, at all times, the friend of the white men, as he was ever the advocate of honorable peace. But when his country's wrongs summoned him to the battle, he was the thunderbolt of war, and made his enemies feel the weight of his arm. His noble bearing, his generous and disinterested attachment to the colonies, his anxiety to preserve the frontiers of Virginia from desolation and death, all conspired to win for him the esteem and respect of others; while the untimely and perfidious manner of his death caused a deep and lasting feeling of regret to pervade the bosoms, even of those who were enemies to his nation, and excited the indignation of all toward his inhuman murderers."

We would not be thought the apologist for a deed like that which has been narrated; but, at the same time, cannot join the cry which is raised against it by those authors who stigmatize it is a "cruel, bloodthirsty, inhuman, fiendlike murder." All the harshest terms in our language have been hurled at the heads of those who were engaged in it, and with great injustice. Cruel and bloodthirsty it undoubtedly was, but it was the natural consequence of the war which was waged between the white and red-men, in which revenge for injuries inflicted was held to be a sacred duty. Stone, with great want of candor, omits to mention the fact that Hall and his companions entertained the idea that the Indians who had accompanied Ellinipsico had killed their fellow soldier; but, in language of the severest cast, would lead us to suppose their act a mean, cowardly, cold-blooded massacre. He says: "A party of ruffians assembled, under command of a Captain Hall—not to pursue or punish the perpetrators of the murder, but to fall upon the friendly and peaceable Indians in the fort." What would have been the conduct of the Indians under similar circumstances? The pages of his own work exhibit many instances of similar cruelty and revengeful practice on their part; and even Brant himself is not free from it.

True, in the present case, the perpetrators were white men, civilized and enlightened; but in the long and bloody wars of extermination which they had waged with the savages, they had learned their mode of warfare; in fact, they could not hope for success in any other way, and the long account of murders, massacres, burnings at the stake, and inhuman tortures, which, even at the present day, thrill the blood with horror, had exasperated the feelings of those men who were surrounded by the actual reality, and expected no better fate themselves at the hands of Indians, should they be so unfortunate as to be captured, and they lost sight of the dictates of justice in the all-powerful and blinding spirit of revenge.

The Women Defending the Wagon.—Page [8].