Unhappily, however, the British commander either could not or would not enforce the terms of the capitulation, which were to a great extent disregarded as well by the Tories as Indians. Instead of finding protection, the valley was again laid waste—the houses and improvements were destroyed by fire, and the country plundered. Families were broken up and dispersed, men and their wives separated, mothers torn from their children, and some of them carried into captivity, while far the greater number fled to the mountains, and wandered through the wilderness to the older settlements. Some died of their wounds, others from want and fatigue, while others still were lost in the wilderness, or were heard of no more. Several perished in a great swamp in the neighborhood, which from that circumstance acquired the name of "The Shades of Death," and retains it to this day. [FN]
[FN] Chapman's History.
These were painful scenes. But it does not appear that any thing like a massacre followed the capitulation. [FN-1] Nor, in the events of the preceding day, is there good evidence of the perpetration of any specific acts of cruelty, other than such as are usual in the general rout of a battle-field—save only the unexampled atrocities of the Tories, thirsting, probably, for revenge in regard to other questions than that of allegiance to the King. [FN-2]
[FN-1] It will be seen, a few pages forward, by a letter from Walter Butler, writing on behalf of his father, Col. John Butler, that a solemn denial is made of any massacre whatever, save the killing of men in arms in the open field. This letter, in vindication of the refugee Butlers, would have been introduced here, but for its connexion with the affair of Cherry Valley.
[FN-2] Indeed, for cold-blooded cruelty, which may be called murder outright, there was nothing at Wyoming, with the single exception of the fratricide soon to be related, at all comparable to the massacre of the Mexicans at San Jacinto by the soi-disant Texan heroes under Houston.
There seems, from the first, to have been an uncommonly large proportion of loyalists in the Wyoming settlements, whose notions of legal restraint, from the previous collisions of the inhabitants, were of course latitudinarian; nor were their antecedent asperities softened by the attempts of the Whigs to keep them within proper control, after hostilities had commenced. The greater number of these, as we have already seen, together with those who were arrested, had joined themselves to the enemy. But these were not all the defections. After the arrival of the enemy upon the confines of the settlement, and before the battle, a considerable number of the inhabitants joined his ranks, and exhibited instances of the most savage barbarity against their former neighbors and friends. [FN-1] Nor has it ever been denied, in regard to the battle of Wyoming, that none were more ferocious and cruel—more destitute of the unstrained quality of mercy, than those same loyalists or Tories. An example of the spirit by which they were actuated is found in the following occurrence, which, on account of its Cain-like barbarity, is worthy of repetition. Not far from the battleground was an island in the Susquehanna, called Monockonock, to which several of the fugitive militia-men fled for security throwing away their arms, and swimming the river. Here they concealed themselves as they could among the brush-wood. Their place of retreat being discovered, several Tories followed them; and, though obliged to swim, yet so intent were they upon the work of death, that they succeeded in taking their guns with them. Arriving upon the island, they deliberately wiped their gun-locks, recharged their pieces, and commenced searching for the fugitives. Two of these were concealed in sight of each other, but one of them escaped. But it was nevertheless his lot to behold a scene painful enough to make the most hardened offender weep, and "blush to own himself a man." One of the pursuers came upon his companion in partial concealment, who proved to be his own brother. His salutation was—"So, it is you, is it?" The unarmed and defenceless man, thus observed, came forward, and fell upon his knees before his brother, begging for mercy—promising to live with him, and serve him for ever, if he would but spare his life. "All this is mighty fine," replied the unrelenting traitor, "but you are a d—d rebel!"—saying which, he deliberately leveled his rifle, and shot him dead upon the spot. [FN-2] In a domestic war marked by such atrocity, even among those claiming to be civilized, it becomes us to pause before we brand the untutored savage, who fights according to the usages of his own people, with all that is revolting and cruel. [FN-3]
[FN-1] Chapman.