The following summer Shabbona was present at the second council at Vincennes, which ended as the former one, without any concessions on either side, and consequently without effecting a reconciliation.
The next day after the council Shabbona started on a journey South, with Tecumseh and two other Shawnee chiefs. They spent several months among the Creeks, Cherokees and Choctaws. Returning to the Wabash late in the fall, about two weeks after the battle of Tippecanoe, they saw the remains of soldiers which had been dug up by the Indians and scattered over the battlefield.
In the summer of 1812 messengers from Tecumseh visited many villages in northern Illinois, informing the tribes that war had been declared between the United States and England, and offering the warriors large sums of money to fight for the latter. These emissaries wished to capture Fort Dearborn before the garrison knew that war existed. Shabbona intended at first to remain at home and take no part in the war, but hearing that a number of warriors from other villages and a few from his own had left for Chicago, he mounted his pony and followed them.
Shabbona and a few warriors arrived at Chicago on the afternoon of the fatal day of the Fort Dearborn massacre. This was August 16, 1812, the same day of the cowardly surrender of General Hull at Detroit.
The chieftain and his young warriors were horrified at the sight of blood and carnage. The sand along the beach where the massacre had occurred was dyed and soaked with the blood of forty-two dead bodies of soldiers, women and children, all of whom were scalped and mutilated. The body of Capt. William Wells, for whom Wells street, Chicago, is named, lay in one place, his head in another, while his arms and legs were scattered about in different places.
The captain had been very friendly with Black Partridge, and that chief now gathered up his remains and gave them decent burial near where they were found, but the remains of the other victims of the massacre lay where they had fallen until the rebuilding of Fort Dearborn, in 1816, when they were collected and interred by order of Captain Bradley.
The prisoners who had been spared were taken to the Indian camp, which was near the present crossing of Jackson and State streets, and closely guarded.
John Kinzie, whose residence stood on the north bank of the river opposite the fort, had been the Indian trader at this place for eight years, and, of course, he had many friends among the savages. As a special favor he was permitted to return to his own house, accompanied by his family, including a step-daughter (the wife of Lieutenant Helm) now badly wounded.
The evening after the massacre the chiefs present held a council to decide the fate of the prisoners, and it was agreed to deliver them to the British commander at Detroit, according to the terms of surrender. This would have been done, but unfortunately many warriors from a distance came into camp after dark, who were thirsting for blood, and seemed determined to murder the prisoners, in spite of the decision of the chiefs in council and the stipulated terms of surrender.
Black Partridge and Shabbona, with a few of their warriors, determined to make an effort to protect the inmates of Kinzie's house from the tomahawks of the blood thirsty savages; accordingly they took a position on the porch with their rifles crossing the doorway. But the guard was overpowered by sheer numbers, as a large party of hostile savages, with their faces painted, rushed by them, forcing their way into the house. The parlor and sitting-room were quickly filled with Indians, who stood with scalping-knives and tomahawks in hand, waiting the signal from their leader to commence the bloody work. Mrs. Kinzie, with her children, and Mrs. Helm, sat in a back room weeping at the thought of the horrible death which awaited them in a moment. Even Black Partridge was in utter despair, and said to Mrs. Kinzie, "We have done everything in our power to save you, but now all is lost you and your friends, together with the prisoners at the camp, will be slain." But there was a chief in the camp who had more influence than either Black Partridge or Shabbona. At the instant Black Partridge spoke a loud whoop was heard at the river. He immediately ran to see what it meant, and in the darkness saw a canoe approaching, and shouted to its occupant, "Who are you, friend or foe?" The new comer leaped ashore exclaiming in reply, "I am Sauganash," His voice rang out like a trumpet on the still night air, reaching the ears of Mrs. Kinzie and her friends in the back room of her house, and a faint hope sprung up in her heart. She knew Sauganash, or Billy Caldwell, the halfbreed, could save them if he only reached the house in time. Black Partridge now shouted, "Hasten to the house, for our friends are in danger and you alone can save them!" The tall, manly-looking chief, with his head adorned with eagle feathers and rifle in hand, ran to the house, rushed into the parlor, which was still full of scowling savages with weapons drawn, and by entreaties, and threats of the dire vengeance of his friend and kinsman, the great Tecumseh, who never, when present, allowed a massacre of prisoners, he prevailed on them to abandon their murderous designs. Through his influence Kinzie's family and the prisoners at the camp were saved a horrible death.