Elkswatawa

by James Strange French

It now wanted a quarter of four o'clock, and General Harrison had already risen, and was conversing with his aids, who, wrapped in their blankets, were reclining around him.

“How long before we shall turn out, general?” was asked by one of them.

“Ten minutes;”—was the reply.

The mist, which for some hours had been gathering over the land, was now condensed into a cold drizzling rain; thick clouds swept by ever and anon, obscuring the moon, and all was hushed in silence, when the report of a gun rang through the camp, and with it came the war-whoop of five or six hundred Indians. Then, in an instant, was heard the long roll of the drum, and there was hurrying to and fro, “and mounting in hot haste,” and swift winged messengers of death were flying in every direction. From one end of the camp to the other, there was heard the crash of arms, and the whites fired against an unseen enemy, and yet they saw themselves falling, fast and thick. It was now discovered that their camp fires only served to render them visible, while they tended more effectually to conceal the Indians. They were, therefore, hurriedly covered over, and then the doings of death were done in darkness, or by faint glimpses caught from the red glare of the discharging guns. On each side might be seen the impetuous onset, and the deadly struggle; and men fell grappling hand to hand, yet saw not the face of him who dealt the blow.

While thus the battle raged, the Prophet was stationed on an eminence at a comfortable distance, and though he fought not, he sang loud and long, and howled his war song until it reached the ears of his warriors. But now a messenger came from them with the tidings that, counter to his predictions, the balls of the whites came straight, and that his men were falling. “Fight on! fight on!” cried the Prophet, “it will soon be as I said;” and when his answer was borne to his warriors, they again rushed upon their enemies, and the tomahawk struggled for life or death with the musket. The bayonet was pushed aside and the soldier brained with the war-club, and hand to hand they fought, and yielded not. On each side would the combatants, with a recklessness of life scarcely ever before witnessed, approach the fires and mend them up, for the purpose of adjusting their firelocks. They then afforded a fair mark, and rarely, if ever, returned to their ranks. Thus they fought until morning dawned; but now that discipline and tactics were brought into play, valour could do no more. The half-armed Indians could no longer contend with deep lines of well armed soldiery. There was no longer hope, and they left the field, and were beaten; yet for the red men who had fallen many times their number of whites had found a sad and speedy death; and among them were several officers—noble spirits—who embodied in their own characters all that was ennobling in human nature, and during the short time of that struggle, won for themselves fame, which will perish only when the battle itself shall be forgotten.

The details of this battle prove it, on the part of the Indians, to have been the best contested engagement ever fought by them; and when we take into consideration the many disadvantages under which they laboured, when we reflect that they were fewer in number than their opponents, that they were badly armed, and not knowing the use of cartridges, were obliged to load by guess in the dark, while the whites possessed all the advantages belonging to a well disciplined and well equipped corps, we cannot but commend the bravery with which they commenced and sustained the attack. They fought with a desperation never before witnessed, and yielded only, when farther resistance was absolute madness. This was no doubt owing to the faith which they had in the declarations of the Prophet, who had often told them that success was certain; and likewise to the high state of excitement generated by the continual performance of his mysterious rites. When the Indians retreated, they re-entered their town, and the whites, content with their advantage, did not pursue them, but passed the day in burying their dead, taking care of the wounded, and fortifying their camp, lest the attack should be renewed. To them, the seventh of November was a sad day, for very many of their companions who had arrived the evening before, flushed with hope, were numbered among the slain.

The firing had long ceased, and morning was several hours advanced, when two persons were seen to emerge from the forest, and approach the American lines. Earthquake, who had reached the camp too late to warn the whites of their danger, but who had nevertheless succeeded in entering it and had borne himself gallantly in the conflict, was the first to discover them, and rushing forward he heartily congratulated them upon their safety.

“Well, Rolfe, what became of you?”

“Why, we took your advice, Earth; escaped to the woods and concealed ourselves until we discovered that the Indians were beaten. And pray what became of you after leaving us?”

“Ah! that will make half a dozen good yarns,” said Earth, “I'll spin 'em some of these times, when we have less to do. I had right smart fun, though I didn't get there quite soon enough. One of the sentinels saw an Ingen in the grass, crawling along, and cracked it into him, just as I was looking about to see where I could best get into the camp. Rolfe, I thought of you both when they all whooped. I tell you what, it was almost enough to turn a man gray:”—then, turning to Gay, “I suppose you were badly frightened.”