Young Croghan responded promptly, traversing a dangerous country. Face to face with his general he explained that it was not braggadocio that inspired the language of his message. When it was written it was expected that it would fall into the hands of the enemy, then boastfully advancing to the attack. With the warlike eloquence that came as heritage from his Irish ancestors, Major Croghan showed his general that it was too late to retreat from the fort, and that it was a necessary military maneuver to hold it pending the execution of other movements. His tongue won for him what every great soul desires—opportunity. Restored to command, he returned to the fort and won a victory that will forever live in the annals of the early republic.
Not long ago the body of Major Croghan was interred at the base of the monument erected to the memory of the soldiers of Sandusky County. This imposing shaft marks the site of the old fort where the dead hero won his laurels and where the blow was struck that opened the way to ultimate victory over the British and Indian power in the northwestern country. Over his grave will stand as a silent witness the single cannon used in defense of the fort, an ancient six-pounder, which wears the affectionate feminine sobriquet of “Old Betsy.” It was a single belch from the iron jaws of this that decided the fate of the battle, and though inanimate, still it deserved a share of the glory that surrounded the interment of the gallant Croghan.
Since that eventful day in August many great events have occurred to fill the pages of history. General Harrison became greater and filled the president’s chair. Around the base of the old fort a city has sprung up named after Gen. John C. Fremont, the Pathfinder. In Croghan’s day the little settlement was known as Lower Sandusky, to distinguish it from the city in Wyandot County known as Upper Sandusky. So powerful a pleader as Rutherford B. Hayes, then a practising attorney at the Sandusky County bar, and afterward president of the United States, pleaded that the old name be permitted to stand.
There was pomp and ceremony to mark the final sepulture of the old commander’s dust in the ground that he hallowed with his victory, but no greater tribute could be paid to his soldier memory than to tell again the story of the battle. He came of fighting stock, this young American soldier. The blood of “Kelly, Burke and Shea” flowed in his veins and he smelled the battle from afar off. His father was William Croghan, an Irishman, born in Dublin in 1752, but who was well settled in this country when the War of the Revolution broke out. He fought at Monmouth, Brandywine and Germantown, and froze with the rest of the immortal band at Valley Forge.
Joining in the drift from the Virginias across the mountains, he reached the settlement at the falls of the Ohio, where Louisville now stands. In 1791 he married Lucy Clark, sister of George Rogers Clark, the mighty figure of the Vincennes campaign, who saved an empire to the American republic. Another brother, William, was the Clark who, with Captain Lewis, made the historic exploration tour across the then unknown continent. Of such a union was born the man whom a state and a nation afterward honored for bravery. The exact place of his birth was at Locust Grove, Ky., a few miles below Louisville. When but twenty years of age he gained distinction at the battle of Tippecanoe, and was promoted to a captaincy in March, 1812, being detailed as aide-de-camp to General Harrison, with the rank of major. This was his condition when the events that were to make him famous began to unfold themselves.
The Indians, under Tecumseh, and the British, under General Proctor, had raised the siege of Fort Meigs, in what is now Wood County, and were coming toward the post at Upper Sandusky and Seneca. The British sailed around into Sandusky Bay, while their Indian allies marched across through the swamps and marshes of the Portage River. They expected to meet and make a combined attack upon Lower Sandusky while Harrison was engaged in protecting Forts Winchester and Meigs. The work known as Fort Stephenson was in reality an old stockade used for storage purposes, and inclosed an acre of ground.
Examination by Harrison some days before the allies invested Fort Meigs showed that the stockade was commanded by a hill to the southeast. It was not strong enough to resist heavy artillery, and only 200 men could be accommodated as a garrison. Croghan was left in charge, with orders that if the British approached by water, which carried the presumption that if they had their heavy artillery, he was to retreat, if possible, destroying both the fort and the public stores. If only the Indians came he was to stand fast, as retreat through these wary hostiles was an impossibility and a defense was a certainty.
On July 29 Harrison received word that the siege of Fort Meigs had been raised and that it seemed the intention of the allies to descend upon either Sandusky or Seneca. At a council of war held that night it was decided that Fort Stephenson was untenable and orders were sent to Major Croghan to carry out his original instructions. This order did not reach Croghan until the next morning at eleven o’clock. A council of his officers reached the decision that it was too late to retreat and the famous note was sent and the meeting with Harrison arranged. On August 1 the advance guard of the enemy was seen on the hill over the river. They were the fleet-footed Indians who had been observed by a reconnoitering party from headquarters the day before. There was but one piece of artillery in the fort, “Old Betsey,” and it was promptly fired, causing the redskins to retire. Within a half hour the British gunboats, a part of Commodore Barclay’s fleet, hove into sight. A landing was effected a half mile below the fort and a howitzer disembarked and mounted.
A British officer, Major Chambers, with a flag of truce, was sent forward and was met by Ensign Shipp, of the Seventeenth Regiment. The visitor demanded in the name of General Proctor the immediate surrender of the fort. The Americans were warned that it would be almost impossible to restrain the Indians in case of success, and that the whole garrison would be slain. The gallant answer was returned that the Indians would find no one to massacre when the fort fell, for every man had sworn to die before surrender.
The battle then opened, the gunboats, the land battery, five hundred Wellington veterans and eight hundred Indians joining in the attack. Throughout the evening Croghan fired his six pounder in a desultory way, moving it from place to place to make it appear that he had more artillery. Ascertaining from the enemy’s fire that the northwestern angle of the fort was to be reached, he made preparation to checkmate his plans. During the night the gun was removed to a block house which commanded that angle and the embrasure was masked. The piece itself was loaded with grape and slugs. Croghan’s foresight was vindicated when the next day additional artillery was landed and the hammering of the doomed angle was renewed. The shaking wall was reinforced with bags of sand and even of flour, making it capable of resisting the pounding. On the evening of August 2 the grand assault was launched, Colonel Short leading the principal column.