The space between the head of the ravines and the ford of the river a distance of more than a mile, suddenly became the scene of a hard and bloody race. As the whites fled, the Indians sprung after them, with whoops and yells that more resembled those of infuriated demons than human beings; and whenever an unfortunate Kentuckian was overtaken, he instantly fell a victim to the tomahawk and scalping knife. Those who were mounted generally escaped; but the foot suffered dreadfully; and the whole distance presented an appalling sight of bloody, mangled corses, strewing the ground in every direction. Girty, the renegade, was now at the height of his hellish enjoyment. With oaths and curses, and horrid laughter, his hands and weapons reeking with blood of the slain, he rushed on after new victims, braining and scalping all that came within his reach.
At the river the carnage was in no wise abated. Horsemen and footmen, victors and vanquished, rushed down the slope, pell-mell, and plunged into the stream—some striving for life and liberty, some for death and vengeance—and the dark rolling waters went sweeping on, colored with the blood of the slaughtered.
An act of heroic gallantry and presence of mind here occurred, which has often been mentioned in history, tending to check somewhat the blood-thirsty savages, and give many of the fugitives time to escape. Some twelve or fifteen horsemen had already passed the ford in safety, and were in the act of spurring forward, regardless of the fate of their unfortunate companions on foot, when one of their number, a man by the name of Netherland, who had previously been accused of cowardice, suddenly shouted, as if giving the word of command:
"Halt! Fire on the Indians, and protect the men in the river!"
The order was obeyed, in the same spirit it was given; and the sudden discharge of more than a dozen rifles, made the infuriated savages recoil in dismay, and thereby saved many a poor fellow's life. The reaction, however, speedily followed. Many of the savages now swam the river above and below the ford, and gave chase to the fugitives for fifteen and even twenty miles—though with but little success after crossing the stream—as the latter generally plunged into the neighboring thickets, and so eluded the vigilance of the former.
Such were the general features of the disastrous battle of Blue Licks—a battle of dreadful import to the pioneers of Kentucky—which threw the land into mourning, and made a most solemn and startling impression upon the minds of its inhabitants. Had we space to chronicle individual heroism, we might fill page after page with brave and noble achievements; but as it is, we shall confine ourself to those connected with our most prominent characters.
We have stated previously, that Algernon Reynolds fought in the left wing, under the command of Boone; where, for the few minutes which the action lasted, he sustained himself with great gallantry; and, by his undaunted courage, inspired those immediately around him with like ardor. On the retreat of the whites, he found himself cut off from the river by a large body of Indians, headed by his old foe, Simon Girty, who, having recognized him, was now pressing forward with several stalwart warriors, to again make him prisoner. For the first time since the commencement of the battle, he felt his heart sink. To be taken alive was a thousand times worse than death, and escape seemed impossible. However, there was no time for consideration; another moment might be fatal; his foes were upon him; it was now or never. Luckily he was mounted on a fiery steed—which had thus far escaped a scratch—and had one undischarged pistol in his holster. This he drew forth as his last hope; and, tightening the rein, wheeled his horse and spurred down upon his enemies with tremendous velocity.
"I have you now, by ——!" cried the renegade.
As he spoke, he sprung forward to grasp the bridle of Algernon's horse; but stumbled and fell, and the beast passed over him, unfortunately though without doing him any injury.
But Algernon had not yet got clear of his enemies; for on the fall of Girty, he found himself surrounded by a host of savages, whooping and yelling frightfully, and his direct course to the river cut off by a body of more than a hundred. There was only one point, and that a few yards to his left, where there appeared a possibility of his breaking through their lines. In the twinkling of an eye, and while his horse was yet under full headway, his decision was made. Rushing his steed hard to the right, in order to deceive his foes, he suddenly wheeled him again to the left; and the side of the beast striking against some three or four of the Indians, who were on the point of seizing his rein, staggered them back upon their companions, creating no little confusion. Taking advantage of this, our hero, with the speed of a flying arrow, bore down upon the weakest point; where, after shooting down a powerful savage, who had succeeded in grasping his bridle and was on the point of tomahawking his horse, he passed their lines, amid a volley of rifle balls, which cut his clothes in several places, but left himself and steed unharmed.