Upon the approach of the soldiers, Johnson shouted to Sergeant Lockwood, who had been his life long playmate, “I know what you are after; but you won’t get me yet,” and immediately shut the door and turned the key. Lockwood, without hesitation, raised his musket, and with the butt knocked the door open, in time to see Bill escaping by the back door. A close chase ensued into a back enclosure, and Lockwood succeeded in catching him by the leg as he was passing through a window. Johnson then submitted, and was conveyed a prisoner to the guard house within the jail. After being confined for sometime he escaped by breaking the jail; probably aided by sympathizers, for a good many thought he was badly treated.
Whatever may have been Johnson’s feelings towards the British Government before, he now became a most determined enemy of his native country. He vowed he should “be a thorn in Great Britain’s side;” and his goods and some property at Bath, a few town lots, being confiscated, he declared he would get back all he lost. The foregoing occurence took place sometime during the fall of 1812. It would appear that Bill Johnson set to work in a systematic manner to carry out his threats.
Being well acquainted with the country and people, and, withal, a bold, determined and fearless man, he did not hesitate to visit the Canadian shore, and was even seen at Bath in day light. He built several small boats, light and trim, and he would at times unhesitatingly voyage upon the broad lake in bold undertakings. His operations consisted in privateering, in inducing American sympathizers to accompany him to the States, and in acting as a spy. During the war there were frequently boat loads of goods, consisting of liquors and other valuable articles passing up the bay, and across the Carrying Place, thence to York. On one occasion Thomas Parker, who was engaged in the business, left Kingston with a batteau laden with valuables for York. Johnson, who watched such events, saw Parker depart. While the latter made his way up the bay, Johnson proceeded in his craft around by the lake, and awaited Parker off Presqu’isle. In due time the batteau was seized by Johnson and his comrades, and taken to the other side. Parker being landed on Point Traverse, off Marysburgh.
Another exploit was the seizure of Government despatches near Brighton. A company of Dragoons, Captain Stinson, were on duty to carry despatches between the River Trent and Smith’s Creek, Port Hope. On a certain occasion when a dragoon, by the name of Gardner, was pursuing his way with despatches, he was suddenly seized by Johnson, who deliberately took him with his horse to the lake shore, where he shot the horse, placed the despatch bag in his boat, and then permitted the man to find his way on foot through the woods to report himself to his captain.
“Bill Johnson still lives at French Creek upon the American shore of the St. Lawrence. He was an active participant in the events of 1837, and it is supposed had much to do in recruiting for the army of sympathizers.” There is so much of fiction to be found respecting him in connection with that time, that it is difficult to say what part he did take. It has been generally supposed that he was one of the few who escaped from the Windmill, but while, no doubt, he was engaged at the time, there is nothing to rest a decided statement upon. We suspect that “Bill,” in his later days, was given to boasting a little, and took pleasure in catering to the taste of his Yankee friends, in relating what he and his daughter Kate did, (in imagination.)
Macaulay, “the father of the Honorable John, and the Rev. William Macaulay, settled during the Revolutionary war on Carleton Island, then a British station and fortification, where he supplied the commissariat and garrison, and carried on business. In 1794, Mr. Macaulay removed to Kingston, where he amassed considerable property. When he removed to Kingston, he had rafted over from Carleton Island his log dwelling house, and placed it where it now stands at the corner of Princess and Ontario Streets. It has since been clap-boarded over and added to, and having been kept painted and in good repair is still a very habitable building.”—(Cooper.)
Mr. Macaulay had come to New York shortly before the commencement of the Colonial troubles, and as a loyalist had his house pillaged and burnt, by the rebels, and became a refugee at the military post at Carleton Island. About 1785, he settled at Kingston, where he married, and remained until his death, in September, 1800, being fifty-six years old. He was at no time connected with the service, but engaged his time in commercial business, and was on most intimate terms with those in authority, being a particular friend of the Duke of Albano. His sons continued his business and in time were called to occupy honorable and responsible situations under Government, as Legislative Councilor, Surveyor General, Provincial Secretary, Inspector General, Chaplain to Legislative Assembly, and Commissioners on various important matters.
THE CAPTIVE CHRISTIAN MOORE.
Upon the 19th March, 1867, the writer was privileged, through the kindness of the Rev. Mr. Anderson, to visit an individual who, of all others, possesses historic interest. About half a mile north of the Indian Church upon the old York road, Tyendinaga, lives Christian Moore. Beside the stove, in a low Indian chair, sat a woman whose shrunken and bent appearance made her appear no larger than a girl of sixteen. But the face, with its parchment-like skin—the deeply wrinkled features, bespoke the burden of many winters. Yet, the eye still flashed looks of intelligence, as the face was upturned from her hands on which she almost incessantly rested her head, as if the shoulders had wearied in their long life duty. Christian is about a hundred years old, during eighty of which she has remained a captive with the Mohawks. Although a white woman, she knows not a word of English. Long, long years ago, in becoming the wife of an Indian, and the mother of Indians, she became to all purposes one of themselves. She is a living relic of the American Revolution, as well as of the customs of the Mohawk Indians a hundred years ago.
In the first days of the rebellion, in an encounter between the Indians and a party of rebels in the Mohawk valley, one of the Indians, by the name of Green, was killed. The custom among the several tribes, or families, when one of their number had been lost in war, was to take the first captive they could, and adopt him or her, into the tribe, to keep up the number. A party of Indians, under John Green, a chief and brother of the one killed, called in after days Captain Green, in the course of their foray, caught a little girl about ten years of age. That little girl is the old person of whom we are speaking. The old woman yet recollects the fact that her father’s family, on the approach of the Indians, made haste to escape; she by accident was left alone or behind. She remembers to have been running along the road, when she was taken. She says there were a good many Indians. After this there is a blank in her memory, until the period of the Indians leaving their homes to escape. This was the time when they buried their Communion Plate. Christian says she was carried upon an Indian’s back, as they fled to Lachine. She recollects that they were staying three years at Lachine, when the tribe set out to take possession of the land which Government was to give them. It was about a year from the time they started from Lachine, until they, under Brant, reached their destination, the Grand River. Captain Green was with this party, and stayed with them at Grand River for six years, when, becoming dissatisfied, he, with his family, came to the Bay Quinté. Christian remembers all this. She was living with Captain Green’s sister. They came in a batteau, down the north shore of the lake, and crossed at the Carrying Place at the head of the bay.