[303] Swearingen's statements in 1863, in Chicago Historical Society, Proceedings, 1856-64, 348.
The construction of the stockade and a shelter for the troops was the commander's first care. Mrs. Whistler relates that there were no horses or oxen at hand, so that the soldiers were compelled to perform the work of dragging the timbers to their required positions. It seems likely, however, that there were some animals, though their number was probably inadequate. The original order for the establishment of a fort contemplated the use of packhorses by the troops on their overland march, and Whistler, writing to Kingsbury in July, 1804, complains of the scarcity of corn.[304] The public oxen had had none all summer, and when he first came here he could obtain but eighteen bushels. Evidently, then, the commander had oxen before many months elapsed, if not from the beginning. There was, however, another source of annoyance. If the natives did not threaten to prevent the building of the fort, we may be sure they made life a burden to the troops by their begging and petty thievery. The Illinois Indians had an ancient reputation, dating back to the early French period, for being expert thieves. When the second Fort Dearborn was built a dozen years later, begging and stealing by the Indians became such an intolerable nuisance that if we are to credit the assertion of Moses Morgan, who aided in its construction, it required more men to mount guard by day to keep the squaws and papooses away than at night.[305]
[304] Kingsbury Papers, Whistler to Kingsbury, July 27, 1804.
[305] Moses Morgan's narrative, preserved by William R. Head, MS in Chicago Historical Society library. Head was, until his death in 1910, a worker in the local historical field. Most of his papers have been destroyed, but a few of them are in the Chicago Historical Society library, and a considerably larger number are owned by his widow. They will be cited henceforth as the Head Papers.
We have no such detailed account of the building of the first fort, but at least one characteristic incident has been preserved for us by Thomas G. Anderson. Anderson, who later fought on the British side in the War of 1812, was at this time a fur trader at Milwaukee. In his old age he prepared a long narrative of his life in the West.[306] It is vainglorious and unreliable in many respects, but with proper care one may glean much of interest and something of value from it. He relates that on learning of the coming of the troops to Chicago, he mounted his horse and went to pay a neighborly call.[307]' He found Captain Whistler's family ensconsed temporarily in one of the wretched log huts which belonged to the traders, while his officers and men were living under canvas. Anderson accepted an invitation to dine with Whistler. The table was spread and the guests were seated, when through the door strode a band of painted warriors. The women shrieked and fled, leaving the men to play the role of hosts alone. The leader of the savages, unperturbed by this reception, proceeded to help himself to the bread on the table and distribute it among his warriors. Anderson berated him for his conduct and succeeded in inducing the band to leave; whereupon the doughty trader assumed to himself the credit of having averted a massacre of the garrison. It may seem hazardous to attempt to extract the kernel of truth in this tale from the chaff which surrounds it; however, the opinion may be ventured that some such scene may have occurred, but that the element of danger, and therewith the credit which Anderson assumes for his action, was wholly lacking.
[306] For Anderson's narrative, together with a biographical sketch of the author, see Wisconsin Historical Collections, IX, 137 ff. The narrative is unreliable in many ways, and its statements should be used with caution.
[307] Wisconsin Historical Collections, IX, 154-55.
The work of construction progressed but slowly. Soon after their arrival the troops suffered much from bilious fevers.[308] These abated with the coming of cold weather, but in December the garrison was still sheltered in small, temporary huts, and the fort was described as "not much advanced." Fortunately the autumn persisted long. On December 9 the surgeon wrote to a friend in Detroit that there was neither snow nor ice, there had been but little rain or frost, and the season had been "remarkably fine."[309]
[308] Letter of Dr. William Smith to James May, December 9, 1803.
[309] Letter of Dr. William Smith to James May, December 9, 1803.