Before we leave the retreating party, it may not be out of place to record two circumstances which show the estimate which the Indians set upon bravery, and also how they treat cowardice. The circumstances were related to me as follows: A young man after the Indians had taken him prisoner, and appeared inclined to save his life, showed great alarm, and at length told the Indians that he would tell them where they might find a great many white men, and might kill them all, &c. The Indians instantly took his life, although until then they had showed no hostility toward him. The other related to the narrator himself. He stated that after the Indians took him prisoner, they marched him very hard, until he became so much exhausted that he was no longer able to travel as fast as they wished him to go. They shook their tomahawks at him, and told him that he must march faster or die. He was starving and sick, but he kept on as fast and as far as he could, and when he could go no farther he laid down upon the ground and told them to kill him. They motioned with their weapons as if they intended to take his life, but when they saw his resolution they became attached to him, and aided him all they could to go on the journey, and were kind to him as long as he remained with them.
After the British had withdrawn their forces from our front, and the Indians had mostly disappeared, and the firing, save a few scattering guns from some scouting Indians, had ceased, the situation of the retreating party became a matter of anxious concern with Colonel Lewis' detachment, which was left within the picketing. Some were heard to express their fears that they were generally cut off, because of the firing heard in that direction. During all the time the troops within the pickets stood to their posts, and now in this critical moment fully sustained the character of brave Kentuckians. Majors Madison and Garrard, when the amunition grew short in the catridge boxes, were employed busily to furnish the men with a supply, carrying them around in their pocket handkerchiefs and strewing them upon the ground at the soldiers' feet, and at the same time exhorting them never to think of a surrender. Some of our brave men fell by a party of savages coming up under the north bank of the river. From the house containing the wounded, they were discovered. Information was given immediately, and by a detachment they were soon routed.
The firing now had ceased, except a shot as an Indian was seen passing about. The men had to keep a strict look out to prevent surprise, as the Indians were skulking about, and no one felt safe for a single moment. After the cannon, which had been placed down the river about two hundred yards, had ceased firing—the horse and driver which supplied the ammunition being killed—those of us who had received wounds in the battle (myself among the rest,) proceeded to take our breakfasts of a little light bread. This was all that we could now procure.
All the while we were at a loss to know why the British troops had been withdrawn to the woods, and the Indians left alone to contend by themselves; but we afterwards learned that they were waiting the return of the Indians who had pursued the retreating party. When they returned they brought General Winchester and Colonel Lewis with them.
As soon as General Proctor, the British commander, heard that General Winchester was taken, he basely determined to take advantage of it, and thereby procure the surrender of all those within the picketing. He represented to the General that nothing but an immediate surrender could save the Americans from an indiscriminate Indian massacre. It was not until the flag approached, borne by Major Overton, one of the Generals' aids, bringing orders from General Winchester to surrender, that we dreamed that the General, or Colonel Lewis, were prisoners. When this news reached the troops, that General Winchester had surrendered the whole as prisoners to the British, it was like a shock of lightning from one end of the lines to the other. A number declared that they never would submit, let the consequences be what they might. But when they found that Majors Madison and Garrard had consented to obey the orders of General Winchester, some of them, in great rage, threw down their guns with such force as: to shiver the stocks from the barrels.
When the flag above named was first discovered to advance, various conjectures were entertained of the design. The greater number supposed that the enemy was tired of the game and wished to quit, and desired permission to bury their dead, which were not few. There were also many badly wounded. It was plain to discover where their lines had been formed, by the number of killed and wounded still lying on the field.
When Major Madison approached the flag, Colonel Proctor, with great haughtiness, demanded an immediate surrender, or he would set the town on fire, and that the Indians should not be restrained from committing an indiscriminate massacre. Major Madison observed "that it had been customary for the Indians to massacre the wounded prisoners after a surrender," and "that he could not agree to any capitulation which General Winchester might direct, unless the safety and protection of his men were secured." Colonel Proctor then said, "Sir, do you mean to dictate for me?" "No," replied Madison, "I mean to dictate for myself—and we prefer to sell our lives as dearly as possible, rather than be massacred in cold blood." Proctor then agreed to receive a surrender upon the terms, that all private property should be respected—that sleds should be sent next morning to remove the sick and wounded to Amherstburg—and that in the mean time they should be protected by a guard, and the side arms should be restored to the officers at Malden.
But this unprincipled deceiver, bearing the title of General, suffered the savages to violate the treaty before his own eyes. Whilst the men were in parade to surrender their arms in order, the Indians began to tear up the tents and to plunder in every direction gathering up every thing in the shape of clothing, and every knapsack which they could find. I could not bear arms from my wound, and whilst the men were on parade, some time before they were marched off, I was passing about and noticing the movements and work of the Indians. They were striving who should get the most plunder. I passed around to the front of the house to take a look at the boys before they left us; they braved it off as well as might have been expected. Some looked a little dejected—others joked and laughed. One, who had not yet fallen into the ranks, was standing upon a stile-block, and said to the English: "Well, you have taken the greatest set of game cocks that ever came from Kentuck." I wish I could remember his name—he was calculated to remind one of a game cock.
John Locke and Jesse Fisher, of our company, were badly wounded; and as both Proctor and Elliott had promised to send sleds for us in the morning, and though able to walk myself, I resolved to risk it, and stay and assist those who were not able to help themselves. Captain Hart, of Lexington, Kentucky, expressed great anxiety to be taken with the prisoners to Malden. His men offered to carry him, and were reluctant to leave him behind; but Colonel Elliott, the commander of the Indians, being well acquainted with Hart and his family—having in former life received great favors from them in Kentucky—assured him that he need not be under the least apprehension of danger—that the Indians would not molest those that were left—and that, upon the honor of a soldier, he would send his own sleigh for him on the next morning and have him conveyed to Malden.
Some of the more discerning apprehended great danger in being left, and insisted on all that could go to do so. The brave Captain Hickman saw the danger, and desired all that could walk not to remain; for, said he to Mr. Holton, (now Captain Holton,) "there are more of us here now than will ever get away." This, from what I could afterwards learn, was the sentiment entertained and expressed by all the officers. But what could they do in their wounded and defenceless condition, being no doubt doomed to death by the infamous Proctor and Elliott.