When Governor Hamilton got word, by Indian runner, of all that had happened, he came down from Detroit to Vincennes on the Wabash with five hundred English and Indians in canoes. He easily retook Fort Sackville, for Clark had not been able to spare more than half a dozen men to hold it.
By that time winter had come on, and the Wabash began to rise and flood its banks. The river overflowed this part of the country so regularly that the region was called “the drowned lands.” The flood, of course, made it impossible for Hamilton to march his men to the Mississippi. He announced that he would wait until spring before retaking the other forts. So he sent away his Indian allies and ordered part of his troops back to winter quarters at Detroit.
When the young Kentucky colonel heard of this he saw a chance to spring another surprise. He started out with one hundred and seventy men to travel two hundred and fifty miles through, rather than over, trails almost impossible to pass because of snow, ice, and overflowing streams. The worst part of all the journey was at the last, near Vincennes, where the whole country looked like a large lake. Clark himself led the way, feeling out the path with his feet. He placed the tall, stalwart men among those who were smaller and weaker. Sometimes they had to wade in the icy waters up to their necks. Only the hardiest of the pioneers could endure long hours in such cold water. Some of the men became numb and unconscious. Their robust companions carried them in their arms or held them on floating logs until they came to a dry knoll like an oasis in the desert. There the active men would rub and warm the chilled bodies of the rest. Meantime a meal would be prepared of duck, venison, or other game, which Clark and his more able-bodied men had been able to shoot, dress, and cook in the ways best approved by hungry pioneers. After they had eaten and dried their clothes, they would make up lost sleep. Clark himself was a wonder of endurance, cheerfulness, and tact. He started his men singing the favorite songs of the frontier, like, “Keep Your Powder Dry,” and encouraged and animated them by every means in his power.
It took five days to wade the last nine miles. Washington’s crossing the Delaware in boats was a short and easy passage compared with this feat of George Rogers Clark. But the humor of the American pioneer, who made a joke of his hardest experiences, saved the day. Clark wrote of the “antic little drummer-boy” who floated across a river on his drum; but he did not tell how a tall soldier took that drummer on his shoulder and led the way through deep waters, while the boy beat a merry march for that shivering, laughing company.
Near Vincennes they met a man out shooting ducks. From him they learned that Hamilton and his garrison did not dream of being attacked. By this man Clark sent in to the people of the settlement this warning:
“To the Inhabitants of Post Vincennes:
“Gentlemen: Being now within two miles of your village with my army, determined to take your fort this night, and not willing to surprise you, I take this method to request such of you as are true citizens and willing to enjoy the liberty I bring you, to remain in your houses; and those, if any there be, that are friends to the king, will instantly repair to the fort, and join the hair-buyer general and fight like men! Those who are true friends of liberty may depend on being well treated; and I once more request them to keep out of the streets, for every one I find in arms on my arrival I shall treat as an enemy.
(Signed) G. R. Clark.”
As a result of this notice, the Indians took to the woods and the French villagers shut themselves in their homes. Clark and his men soon rushed into the town and surrounded Fort Sackville. The next day a party of “British” Indians came into town on their ponies, grinning and shaking the scalps they had taken from a number of Kentucky settlers. These Indians on the warpath did not know of the presence of the little American army until some wrathful Kentuckians fell upon and killed every one of them in plain view of Hamilton and his soldiers. The besieged garrison fought desperately for days, but the pioneer sharpshooters with their deadly aim forced them to surrender.
The British never attempted to take the little river fortresses again. And when the treaty of peace was signed between the young United States and old England, that vast Northwest Territory was safe in the hands of the new nation. But for the great thought so heroically carried out by George Rogers Clark and his men, that western empire—now occupied by the states of Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin—would at the end of the war have belonged to England. As Clark said to Governor Patrick Henry when he outlined his plan of capturing the three river forts and holding all that territory for the United States of America: “A country which is not worth defending is not worth claiming.”