Chapter XXI.
How the Glory of His Race Figured in His Setting.
The following day was the fifth of October, 1813, whose sun beheld the memorable Battle of the Thames, when, for the last time in the regions of the North, the Lion and the Eagle met in fight.
The final retreat had begun at Fort Malden, a strongly fortified post on the shores of Lake St. Clair, at the mouth of the Thames, where an effectual stand might have been made against the farther advance of the now victorious Americans. Such was the opinion of Tecumseh, and on learning that his white ally had resolved to destroy and abandon the fort to the intent of withdrawing still farther, even to the central regions of Canada, he had boldly opposed the movement as unnecessary, and being unheeded, had scornfully denounced it to his ally's very face as unwarrior-like, dishonorable, contemptible. Had the civilized general hearkened to the savage leader, the result of the war in that quarter, if not more successful to the British cause, would certainly have been far less dishonorable to the British name. During the retreat, the heroic sachem had earnestly and repeatedly recommended a sudden and determined face-about on their pursuers, and only the night before the decisive battle he had urged a backward movement, that, under screen of the darkness, they might surprise the sleeping enemy in his camp, and overpower him before any combined resistance could be made. But all in vain. His white ally was but a fat poltroon—"a big, fat, cowardly dog," to use Tecumseh's own comparison, "that carries his tail curled fiercely over his back till danger threatens, then drops it between his legs and slinks away."
Throughout the war, this Proctor had displayed far more enterprise and address as a plunderer than as a fighter, and now his sole end and aim was the conveying of his precious booty and his precious body as speedily as possible to some place of security before he should be overtaken. But by means of this very booty with which in his greediness he had overloaded himself, and the keeping of which he had far more at heart than the maintaining of his own or his country's honor, he was fated in the end to overwhelm himself with ruin and disgrace, since, by the unwieldy clog thus laid upon his movements, he had doubled his risk of being overtaken; and, with such a general, to be overtaken is to be defeated; and to be defeated, ruined.
At last, after having pursued his heavy, blundering flight far up the Thames to a place called Willow Marsh, near Moravian Town, and finding that the American van was pressing close upon his rear, the British general was prevailed upon by Tecumseh and his own officers to face about and give the enemy battle. His ground was well chosen. Parallel with the river and separated from it by a narrow strip of firm land, over which ran the beaten route, there lay a swamp of considerable extent which, besides being densely covered with other wet land growth, was thickly sprinkled over with willows, whence its name, "Willow Marsh." Across this isthmus Proctor hastily threw his regiment of about nine hundred regulars, while Tecumseh, with his brigade of about two thousand warriors, ambushed himself in the fastness of the swamp. On this occasion, as had he, indeed, on every other occasion of the kind, the Indian leader displayed a degree of generalship which stands without parallel in the annals of savage warfare. Pivoting his brigade on the right of the English regiment, he stretched it out in a long line, inclined curvingly forward, with the intent of suddenly unmasking and swinging it round upon the enemy's flank, should he in a body attempt to force the passage of the isthmus.
About the middle of the afternoon the Americans came marching up in full force and in orderly array. Inferring at once, from the features of the ground and from the little that was visible of the enemy, what the English and Indian line of battle must be, General Harrison promptly determined upon his plan of attack. The Kentucky regiment of mounted riflemen, one thousand strong, commanded by Colonel Johnson, he ordered to open the engagement by falling upon the Indian brigade where he knew it must be lying concealed in the swamp. His two companies of United States regulars, with a regiment of volunteer infantry, he sent forward to make a charge on the British regulars where, with their muskets and bayonets gleaming in the yellow autumn sunlight, they were seen extended in a long scarlet line from river to swamp. The general himself would hold a reserve of fifteen hundred men with which to coöperate as occasion should direct.
The Americans advanced to the attack with great spirit, and were received with equal spirit by the Indian wing of the enemy, and with a steady concert of action unprecedented in Indian warfare. But hardly had the Kentuckians sent forth their first volley when Proctor, too tender of his precious body even to strike a single blow for his precious booty, to say nothing of his precious honor, turned his back square on the foe and, followed by a small escort of horse, galloped ingloriously from the field, never drawing bridle till he had gained the shelter of Fort Chatham, many miles farther up the Thames. Thus hastily deserted by their general, the regulars, who otherwise had doubtless behaved with the wonted gallantry of brave Englishmen, threw down their arms with scarcely a show of resistance and begged for quarter. The white wing of the enemy thus lopped off at the first blow, the two regiments—the only part of the American army actually engaged in the contest—now concentrated upon the red wing, where it still lay concealed within its swampy covert. Up to this moment the Kentucky regiment of mounted riflemen had made several ineffectual attempts to dislodge and drive the Indians from their stronghold, of whom nothing as yet had been seen but a long, curved line of rifle-smoke which, curling upward from among the willows and hovering in small blue clouds above the heads of the ambushed savages, served to trace their order of array.
Meanwhile, the clarion voice of the Indian leader had been heard, in tones of encouragement, exhortation, and command to his unseen warriors, rising high and clear above the din of battle. Now, on a sudden, it rang out stern, abrupt, imperious, like the voice of a trumpet sounding a desperate charge.