[FN] Letter of Sir Frederick Haldimand to Lord George Germaine, New Annual Register 1781.
While General Van Rensselaer was pushing forward in pursuit of Sir John Johnson, an incident occurred at Fort Hunter, which speaks volumes in favor of the character of Joseph Brant. The plundered and distressed inhabitants of the Schoharie settlements, the day after the enemy had departed from Fort Hunter, crowded about the fort, each his tale of loss or grief to relate. Among them was a woman, whose husband and several other members of the family were missing. She was in an agony of grief, rendered more poignant by the loss of her infant, which had been snatched from the cradle. Early the next morning, while the officers at Van Rensselaer's head-quarters were at breakfast, a young Indian warrior came bounding into the room like a stag, bearing an infant in his arms, and also a letter from Brant, addressed "to the commanding officer of the rebel army." General Van Rensselaer not being present at the moment, the letter was opened by one of his suite, and read substantially as follows:—
"Sir: I send you by one of my runners, the child which he will deliver, that you may know that whatever others may do, I do not make war upon women and children. I am sorry to say that I have those engaged with me in the service, who are more savage than the savages themselves."
Among those thus referred to, he proceeded to name several of the leading Tories, including the two Butlers, and others whose names are not recollected. [FN-1] It was very speedily ascertained that the infant was none other than that of the disconsolate mother of whom mention has just been made. Her sensations on again clasping her infant to her bosom need not be described; nor could they be. [FN-2]
[FN] The bitter hostility of the Tories of the Mohawk country toward their former neighbors, was at times exhibited in acts of such fiend-like ferocity as to defy explanation and stagger belief. In a former chapter the case of an infant murdered in its cradle by a Tory, after the refusal of an Indian to kill it, has been stated. There was another like instance in the neighborhood of the Little Falls, marked, if possible, by still greater brutality. An Indian having refused to kill an infant as it lay smiling in the cradle, the more savage loyalist, rebuking the compassion of the red man, thrust it through with his bayonet as a fisherman would spear a salmon, and held it writhing in its agonies in triumph above his head. A gentleman of the Bar, late of Little Falls, has assured the author, that to his knowledge the wretch who committed that diabolical act had the effrontery a few years since to present himself as a candidate for a pension, under one of the acts of Congress for rewarding the surviving soldiers of the revolution. The fact just related was fortunately elicited before his papers were completed, and the result need not be stated.
[FN-2] The author has received the account of this interesting occurrence from General Morgan Lewis, who was present at the time, a spectator of all the particulars.
There was yet another adventure connected with this expedition, which was alike interesting and amusing. The Senecas, it has already been stated, were led by the Corn-Planter, whose father, as it has also been stated, was a white man named O'Bail. According to Mary Jemison, the residence of the Corn-Planter's father was in the vicinity of Fort Plank, and, of course, not far from the battle-ground of Klock's Field. He had formerly been in the habit of traveling back and forth from Albany through the Seneca country, to Niagara, as a trader. Becoming enamored of a pretty squaw among the Senecas, in process of time the Corn-Planter became one of the living evidences of his affection. Whether the father was aware that a chief of so much eminence was his own son, history does not tell; but the son was ignorant neither of his parentage, nor of the residence of his sire; and being now in his close vicinity, he took a novel method of bringing about an acquaintance with him. Repairing with a detachment of his warriors to his father's house, he made the old man a prisoner, and marched him off. Having proceeded ten or twelve miles, the chief stepped up before his sire, and addressed him in the following terms:—
"My name is John O'Bail, commonly called Corn-Planter. I am your son! You are my father! You are now my prisoner, and subject to the customs of Indian warfare. But you shall not be harmed. You need not fear. I am a warrior! Many are the scalps which I have taken! Many prisoners I have tortured to death! I am your son! I am a warrior! I was anxious to see you, and to greet you in friendship. I went to your cabin, and took you by force; but your life shall be spared. Indians love their friends and their kindred, and treat them with kindness. If now you choose to follow the fortunes, of your yellow son, and to live with our people, I will cherish your old age with plenty of venison, and you shall live easy. But if it is your choice to return to your fields, and live with your white children, I will send a party of my trusty young men to conduct you back in safety. I respect you, my father. You have been friendly to Indians; they are your friends." [FN]