[FN-2] Letter of Washington.
No sooner had the fugitives from Minisink arrived at Goshen with the intelligence, than Dr. Tusten, the Colonel of the local militia, issued orders to the officers of his command to meet him at Minisink on the following day, with as many volunteers as they could raise. The order was promptly obeyed, and a body of one hundred and forty-nine men met their colonel at the designated rendezvous, at the time appointed—including many of the principal gentlemen of the county. A council of war was held, to determine upon the expediency of a pursuit. Colonel Tusten was himself opposed to the proposition, with so feeble a command, and with the certainty, if they overtook the enemy, of being obliged to encounter an officer combining, with his acknowledged prowess, so much of subtlety as characterized the movements of the Mohawk chief. His force, moreover, was believed to be greatly superior to their's in numbers, and to include many Tories as well acquainted with the country as themselves. The Colonel, therefore, preferred waiting for the reinforcements which would be sure soon to arrive, the more especially as the volunteers already with him were but ill provided with arms and ammunition. Others, however, were for immediate pursuit. They affected to hold the Indians in contempt, insisted that they would not fight, and maintained that a re-capture of the plunder they had taken would be an easy achievement. Town-meeting counsels, in the conduct of war, are not usually the wisest, as will appear in the sequel. The majority of Tusten's command were evidently determined to pursue the enemy; but their deliberations were cut short by Major Meeker, who mounted his horse, flourished his sword, and vauntingly called out—"Let the brave men follow me, the cowards may stay behind!" It may readily be supposed that such an appeal to an excited multitude would decide the question, as it did. The line of march was immediately taken up, and after proceeding seventeen miles the same evening, they encamped for the night. On the morning of the 22d they were joined by a small reinforcement under Colonel Hathorn, of the Warwick regiment, who, as the senior of Colonel Tusten, took the command. When they had advanced a few miles, to Halfway Brook, they came upon the Indian encampment of the preceding night, and another council was held there. Colonels Hathorn, Tusten, and others, whose valor was governed by prudence, were opposed to advancing farther, as the number of Indian fires, and the extent of ground they had occupied, removed all doubt as to the superiority of their numbers. A scene similar to that which had broken up the former council was acted at this place, and with the same result. The voice of prudence was compelled to yield to that of bravado.
Captain Tyler, who had some knowledge of the woods, was sent forward at the head of a small scouting party, to follow the trail of the Indians, and to ascertain, if possible, their movements; since it was evident that they could not be far in advance. The Captain had proceeded but a short distance before he fell from the fire of an unseen enemy. This circumstance occasioned considerable alarm; but the volunteers, nevertheless, pressed eagerly forward, and it was not long before they emerged upon the hills of the Delaware, in full view of that river, upon the eastern bank of which, at the distance of three-fourths of a mile, the Indians were seen deliberately marching in the direction of a fording-place near the mouth of the Lackawaxen. This discovery was made at about 9 o'clock in the morning. The intention of Brant to cross at the fording-place was evident; and it was afterward ascertained that his booty had already been sent thither in advance.
The determination was immediately formed by Colonel Hathorn, to intercept the enemy at the fording-place, for which purpose instant dispositions were made. But, owing to intervening woods and hills, the opposing bodies soon lost sight of each other, and an adroit movement on the part of Brant gave him an advantage which it was impossible for the Americans to regain. Anticipating the design of Hathorn, the moment the Americans were out of sight Brant wheeled to the right, and by threading a ravine across which Hathorn had passed, threw himself into his rear, by which means he was enabled deliberately to select his ground for a battle and form an ambuscade. Disappointed in not finding the enemy, the Americans were brought to a stand, when the enemy disclosed himself partially, in a quarter altogether unexpected. According to the American account, the first shot was fired upon an Indian, who was known, and who was mounted upon a horse stolen at Minisink. The Indian fell, and the firing soon became general—the enemy contriving, in the early part of the engagement, to cut off from the main body of Hathorn's troops a detachment comprising one third of his whole number. The conflict was long and obstinate. The number of the enemy being several times greater than that of the Goshen militia, the latter were surrounded, and ultimately hemmed within the circumference of an acre of ground. Being short of ammunition, Hathorn's orders, in imitation of those of Putnam at Bunker Hill, were strict that no man should fire until very sure that his powder would not be lost. [FN-1] The battle commenced about 11 o'clock in the morning, and was maintained until the going down of the sun; both parties fighting after the Indian fashion, every man for himself, and the whole keeping up an irregular fire from behind rocks and trees as best they could. About sunset the ammunition of the militia was expended, and the survivors attempted to retreat, but many of them were cut down. Doctor Tusten was engaged behind a cliff of rocks in dressing the wounded when the retreat commenced. There were seventeen disabled men under his care at the moment, whose cries for protection and mercy were of the most moving description. The Indians fell upon them, however, and they all, together with the Doctor, perished under the tomahawk. Among the slain were many of the first citizens of Goshen; and of the whole number that went forth, only about thirty returned to tell the melancholy story. [FN-2] Several of the fugitives were shot while attempting to escape by swimming the Delaware.
[FN-1] Putnam's order was—"Don't fire, boys, till you see the white of their eyes."
[FN-2] Among the slain were Jones, Little, Duncan, Wisner, Vail, Townsend, and Knapp. In 1822 the people of Orange County collected the bones, which until then had been left to bleach on the battle-field, and caused them to be buried. The funeral procession numbered twelve thousand people, among whom was Major Poppino, one of the survivors of the battle—then nearly one hundred years old. The author has to some extent drawn upon the discourse of the Rev. Dr. Wilson, delivered on that occasion, in writing this account of the battle.
Brant has been severely censured for the cruelties perpetrated, or alleged to have been perpetrated, in this battle. He always maintained that he had been unjustly blamed, and that his conduct had been the subject of unjust reproach. He stated that, having ascertained that the Goshen militia were in pursuit of him, determined to give him battle, he of course prepared himself for their reception. Still, having obtained the supplies he needed, his own object was accomplished. He also stated, that on the near approach of the Americans, he rose, and presenting himself openly and fairly to their view, addressed himself to their commanding officer, and demanded their surrender—promising at the same time to treat them kindly as prisoners of war. He assured them, frankly, that his force in ambush was sufficient to overpower and destroy them; that then, before any blood had been shed, he could control his warriors; but should the battle commence, he could not answer for the consequences. But, he said, while he was thus parleying with them, he was fired upon, and narrowly escaped being shot down—the ball piercing the outer fold of his belt. Immediately upon receiving the shot, he retired, and secreted himself among his warriors. The militia, emboldened by his disappearance, seeing no other enemy, and disbelieving what he had told them, rushed forward heedlessly until they were completely within his power. In crossing a creek they had broken their order, and before they could form again on the other side, Brant gave the well-known signal of the war-whoop. Quick as the lightning's flash, his dark cloud of warriors were upon their feet. Having fired once, they sprang forward, tomahawk in hand. The conflict was fierce and bloody. Few escaped, and several of the prisoners were killed. There was one who during the battle saved himself by means which Brant said were dishonorable. By some process or other, though not a Freemason, he had acquired a knowledge of the master mason's grand hailing signal of distress; and having been informed that Brant was a member of the brotherhood, he gave the mystic sign. Faithful to his pledge, the chieftain interposed and saved his life. Discovering the imposture afterward, he was very indignant. Still, he spared his life, and the prisoner ultimately returned to his friends after a long captivity. [FN]
[FN] This version of the battle, as given by Brant, has been derived by the author from the notes of conversations with the old chief, by Samuel Woodruff, Esq. heretofore cited. The prisoner referred to as having been saved by the erroneous supposition of Brant that he was a Freemason, was the late Major Wood of Orange County. The Rev. Doctor Wilson gives the following account of this incident:—"Major Wood of Orange County, (N. Y.) was made a prisoner at the battle of Minisink, because Brant, from an accidental sign, mistook him for a Freemason. On the evening after the battle, when the 'monster' was about to tie him, he remonstrated, said he was a gentleman, and promised not to escape. He was not tied, but laid between two Indians; and told, that should he attempt to escape he should be tomahawked. The blanket on which he lay took fire in the night, and he dared not move, lest the tomahawk might sink into his head, until the fire reached his feet, when he kicked it out. It was Brant's blanket. Brant treated him very harshly ever after; and when Major Wood asked him the reason, he replied, 'D—n you, you burnt my blanket.' Major Wood was, for many years after the peace, a resident of Orange County, and one of its most respectable citizens." Dr. Wilson supposes that the Masonic signal was made by mere accident. It may have been so; but the author has been told otherwise, and that one of the first acts of his life, after his return, was to become a Freemason. This he considered himself in honor bound to do. He also stated that he had always felt mortified at the deception he had practised, and that nothing could have been more withering than the scorn with which Brant ever looked upon him afterward.