Chapter IX: Part 9

The fort was invested on the 26th of April, and from that period up to the 5th of May, a constant fire had been kept up by the British batteries on the opposite side of the river, without serious injury to the works. General Clay, with a reinforcement of twelve hundred Kentucky militia, arrived in the neighborhood on the 4th, and received orders to detach eight hundred men to attack the British batteries while the remainder was to aid a sortie against the Indians, who had established themselves in the immediate vicinity of the fort, and who were a source of great annoyance to its garrison. Colonel Dudley was placed in command of the larger party, and, agreeably to his instructions, landed on the right bank, and completely succeeded in driving the enemy from his works, and in spiking the cannon. His orders were peremptory to return immediately to his boats on the accomplishment of this object, and repair to the fort; but his men had tasted the sweets of victory, and the rashness which follows success on the part of militia, proved their ruin. They allowed themselves to be amused by some faint attempt at resistance on the part of a small body of Indians in the woods, until the main body of the British, which was some distance in the rear, could be brought up, and a severe and bloody action soon followed. It can hardly be called an action, for the militia were in detached parties, pursuing the scattering troops, when they suddenly found themselves confronted and surrounded by a force double their number, and after a manly effort to retain the victory they had won, they attempted to retreat but found themselves cut off from the river by a force which had got into their rear, to whom they were obliged to surrender themselves prisoners of war. Out of the eight hundred who landed in the morning, only one hundred and fifty escaped massacre or captivity. Colonel Dudley was severely wounded, and afterward tomahawked and scalped. A large portion of the prisoners were marched to the British fort lower down the river, where they immediately became the sport and prey of the Indians, who commenced an indiscriminate slaughter of the unarmed men, until the entreaties of some of the more humane British officers checked it for a time. Another party were placed in charge of a Sergeant and fifty men for the purpose of being embarked in the gunboats, where it was supposed they would be safe from the attacks of the infuriated savages. Upon reaching the encampment, which at that time happened to be deserted by the troops, they were met by a band of Indians who had not been engaged in the contest at all, but, actuated by a brutal thirst for blood, and disappointed at not having a share of the plunder, to which they thought themselves entitled, they determined to satisfy their desires by murdering and stripping the prisoners before them. Perhaps they were actuated by a spirit of revenge for the loss which had been sustained by their friends in the action. Be this as it may, they each selected a victim from the ranks, and with fearful yells commenced the work of slaughter. With a magnanimity scarcely to be expected of men who had witnessed the cold-blooded murders at the river Raisin, the British guard threw themselves between the savages and their intended victims, and endeavored to dissuade, and then to coerce them from their horrid butchery. But in vain. Excited to the highest pitch of ferocity by the blood they had already shed, they were not to be deterred from their purpose; and the soldiers—after witnessing the death of one of their number, who was stabbed to the heart by a savage from whom he had snatched a prisoner—finding their interposition to be fruitless, withdrew and left the unfortunate men to their fate. Surrounded upon all sides by the savages, with no chance of escape, with none to interfere, the prisoners were huddled together; those in front striving to screen themselves behind their comrades; while those in the rear, with the love of life urging them with an equal force, endeavored to keep them from doing so, they surged to and fro, the tomahawk and scalping-knife doing its work, until forty of their number lay stiff in the embrace of death. The Sergeant in command of the guard, who had been forced to leave their charge to the tender mercies of the savages, sought for Tecumseh, and informed him of the horrid butchery which was being enacted. The eyes of the chieftain lit up with a consuming blaze, and his nostrils dilated and contracted as his breast heaved with the mighty passion which the soldier's story had roused within him. He stopped but a moment to hear the end, and then dashing his heels against his horse's sides, he darted off in the direction of the scene. Raising his voice as he approached, in thunder-tones he commanded the Indians to desist from their brutal work. A few, startled at the unexpected interference, drew back; but the majority, regardless of his authority, and drunk with passion, refused to obey. Precipitating himself between these and their prey, he forced them back, and, drawing his tomahawk, he whirled it over his head, while his face was wrought into an expression of the most fearful and scorching rage, as he threatened to cleave to the earth the first one who offered to disobey him. This was effectual with some, but there were still a few who continued their bloody work, and one after another the miserable prisoners were falling, like sheep in the shambles, before the unrelenting knives and hatchets of their executioners. None but a man destitute of fear would have dared to rush between these and their victims. It was tearing the carcass of his prey from the jaws of the lion to interfere between these ferocious fiends and their feast of blood. But, the chief knew no fear: he was wrought to such a fearful state of excitement as not to heed the dictates of prudence. Leaping from his horse and drawing his knife, he threw himself upon them with all the fury of a tigress divested of her young. Seizing one by the throat, and another by the breast, he hurled them to the ground, and thus, one after another, he beat them back with a strength which nothing could withstand. Taking his station in front of the remnant of the band which still remained alive, and raising his tomahawk high above his head, while his whole figure dilated to a greater height by the passions which raged within his bosom, he dared them, in tones which thrilled through them like electricity, to strike another blow. None were found so bold as to tempt his arm or disobey his command, and the prisoners were saved. Looking around for Proctor, he espied him as he approached, and demanded why he had not stopped the massacre. "Sir," said he, "your Indians are not to be commanded." "Begone!" replied Tecumseh, as a look of the greatest disdain and contempt swept over his swarthy visage, "you are unfit to command; go and _put on petticoats_!"

This Proctor, the British commander, had already branded himself with indelible infamy at the battle of the River Raisin, in January of the same year. In reference to this battle, we will briefly state the object of General Harrison's campaign was to take Detroit, and expel the British from the territory of the United States—and to protect the extensive frontier; also to furnish such protection as was possible to the settlers in Ohio, Indiana, etc., from the savages in the pay of the British. The points to be defended were scattered over a vast region of country; and though the care of it fell upon General Harrison, officers in the different sections were frequently obliged to act for themselves. It was thus that General Winchester, failing to receive counter-orders sent after him by Harrison, and unaware of the full force of the enemy, was induced to make an imprudent, though brave, movement against a body of English and Indians who were coming from Malden and the Raisin to attack his camp at the rapids.

He pressed forward and found the enemy prepared to meet him at Frenchtown; they were posted among the houses, but were soon dislodged and driven to the woods. Here a short, desperate engagement took place, and the English were driven two miles before the continual charge of the brave Kentuckians, though the latter had made that day a forced march of over eighteen miles over ice. In reporting the action, afterward, General Harrison said: "The troops amply sustained the double character of Americans and Kentuckians."

Thus far our heroes were successful; instead of retiring after this brilliant affair, they determined to maintain their position; they remained in Frenchtown two or three days, part of their forces being exposed in an open field, and a part sheltered by the garden pickets of the town. During the night of the 21st of January, the British came up, unobserved, and at daylight fired bombs, balls and grape-shot from heavy pieces of artillery, at a distance of only three hundred yards. The troops in the open field were sadly injured by this fire, and soon fled across the river in the utmost confusion. The Indians gained our flank and rear, butchering our soldiers shockingly. General Winchester was taken prisoner and marched to the British camp. Colonel Lewis still maintained his position in the town, frequently repulsing the enemy, until the Indians gained his flank, when a general and indiscriminate massacre ensued. Colonel Lewis was made a prisoner, had his coat stripped off, and was conducted to the enemy's camp. Colonel Allen, being badly wounded, surrendered to an Indian. Another assailed him, whom Allen struck dead at his feet, and was in turn shot down by a third savage. Garrett, with fifteen or twenty men, surrendered, and all but himself were butchered on the spot.

Two other officers, Graves and Madison, still maintained their position within the picketing, and with their troops, behaved most gallantly. The former being severely wounded, and as he sat down, wiping the blood from his wounds, cried: "Never mind me, my boys, fight on!" Proctor, with all his British regulars and savage allies, could not subdue this band—they gave not an inch to the foe.

A flag was at last sent to Madison, with an order from Winchester to surrender. Proctor accompanied the flag, and made the demand, but Major Madison replied that he would not surrender unless the safety of his men could be guaranteed. Proctor demanded:

"Sir, do you mean to dictate to _me_?"

"No," returned the intrepid Major, "I intend to dictate for myself; and we prefer selling our lives as dearly as possible, rather than be massacred in cold blood."

The surrender was made on express conditions, that the officers should retain their side arms, the sick and wounded to be carefully removed, private property to be respected, and the prisoners protected by a guard. Proctor disregarded all stipulations, and handed over the prisoners to the Indians, who butchered them without mercy. Some of their bodies were thrown into the flames of the burning village, while others, shockingly mangled, were left exposed in the streets. These awful deeds were continued for several days.

For the massacre of the River Raisin, in return for which any other civilized government would have dismissed, if not gibbeted, the commander, Colonel Proctor received the rank of Major-General in the British army. This infamous officer it was who shortly after commenced the siege of Fort Meigs, his mind filled with visions of conquest, personal glory and official promotion. He was assisted by Tecumseh, with fifteen hundred of his warriors; but even the Indian nature revolted at the more savage deeds of the English General. From this siege of Fort Meigs Proctor was obliged to retreat toward Malden in disgrace and confusion.

In the May following, however, Proctor, thinking to surprise Fort Meigs, made a second attack upon it with a large force of British regulars and Canadians, and several thousand Indians under Tecumseh, but was again obliged to retreat in disgrace.

On the first day of August, General Proctor appeared with five hundred regulars, and about eight hundred Indians of the most ferocious kind, before fort Stephenson, twenty miles above the mouth of the river Sandusky. There were not more than one hundred and thirty-three effective men in the garrison, and the works covered one acre of ground; it was a mere outpost of little importance; and General Harrison, acting with the unanimous advice of his council of war, had sent orders to Major Croghan, who commanded the garrison, to evacuate the fort, and make good his retreat to head-quarters, provided the enemy should approach the place with artillery, and a retreat be practicable. But the first step taken by Proctor was to isolate the fort by a cordon of Indians, thus leaving to Major Croghan no choice but between resistance and submission. A messenger was sent to demand the surrender of the fort. He was met by Ensign Shipp, to whom the messenger observed that General Proctor had a considerable body of regular troops, and a great many Indians, whom it was impossible to control, and if the fort was taken by force, he must expect that the mildest instruments made use of would be the tomahawk and scalping-knife! Shipp replied, that it was the commander's intention to defend the garrison or be buried in it, and that they might do their worst. The messenger, startled at the reply of Shipp, again addressed him: "You are a fine young man. I pity your situation. For God's sake surrender, and prevent the dreadful slaughter which must inevitably follow resistance." The gallant Shipp turned from him with indignation, and was immediately seized by a frightful-looking savage, who attempted to wrest his sword from him, but the Ensign was fortunately too quick for him, and buried the blade to the hilt in his body, and succeeded in reaching the fort in safety. The attack now commenced. About four P. M., all the enemy's guns were concentrated against the northwestern angle of the fort, for the purpose of making a breach. To counteract the effect of their fire, the commander caused that point to be strengthened by means of bags of flour, sand and other materials, in such a manner that the balls of the enemy did but little injury. But the enemy, supposing that their fire had sufficiently shattered the pickets, advanced, to the number of six hundred, to storm the place, the Indians shouting in their usual manner. As soon as the ditch was pretty well filled with the copper-colored assailants, the commander of the fort ordered a six-pounder, which had been masked in the block-house, to be discharged. It had been loaded with a double charge of musket-balls and slugs. The piece completely raked the ditch from end to end. The yell of the savages was at this instant horrible. The first fire leveled the one half in death; the second and third either killed or wounded all except eleven, who were covered by the dead bodies. The Americans had but one killed, and seven slightly wounded. Early the ensuing morning the few regulars and Indians that survived retreated down the river, abandoning all their baggage.

The time was now at hand when General Harrison and his army were to reach the full completion of all the contemplated objects of the expedition.

Among the earliest recommendations of General Harrison to the Government the year before, and immediately after he commenced operations, had been that of constructing and equipping a naval armament on the lakes. In one letter he says: "Admitting that Malden and Detroit are both taken, Mackinaw and St. Joseph will both remain in the hands of the enemy until we can create a force capable of contending with the vessels which the British have in Lake Michigan," etc. And again, in another letter: "Should any offensive operation be suspended until spring, it is my decided opinion that the cheapest and most effectual plan will be to obtain command of Lake Erie. This being once effected, every difficulty will be removed. An army of four thousand men, landed on the north side of the lake, below Malden, will reduce that place, retake Detroit, and, with the aid of the fleet, proceed down the lake to coöperate with the army from Niagara." These sagacious instructions, being repeatedly and strenuously urged by him, and reinforced also from other quarters, were adopted and acted upon by the Government. Commodore Perry was commissioned to build, equip and command the contemplated fleet; and, on the 10th of September, with an inferior force, he met the enemy, and gained the brilliant victory of Lake Erie.

Meanwhile, Colonel Richard M. Johnson, then a member of Congress from Kentucky, had devised the organization of two regiments of mounted militia, which he was authorized by the Government to raise, as well for service against the Indians, as to coöperate with Harrison. Colonel Johnson crossed the country of Lower Sandusky, where he received orders from the war department to proceed to Kaskaskia, to operate in that quarter; but, by the interference of Harrison, and at the urgent request of Colonel Johnson, who said, for himself and his men, that the first object of their hearts was to accompany Harrison to Detroit and Canada, and to partake in the danger and honor of that expedition, under an officer in whom they had confidence, and who had approved himself "to be wise, prudent, and brave,"—the orders of the department were countermanded, and Colonel Johnson attained his wish.

Tecumseh Saving the Prisoners.—_Page_ 19.
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General Harrison now prepared to strike the great blow. Aided by the energetic efforts of Governor Meigs, of Ohio, and Governor Shelby, of Kentucky, he had ready on the southern shore of Lake Erie, by the middle of September, a competent force, destined for the immediate invasion of Canada. Between the 16th and the 24th of September, the artillery, military stores, provisions, and troops, were gradually embarked, and on the 27th the whole army proceeded to the Canada shore. "Remember the river Raisin," said General Harrison, in his address to the troops, "but remember it only while victory is suspended. The revenge of a soldier can not be gratified on a fallen enemy." The army landed in high spirits; but the enemy had abandoned his stronghold, and retreated to Sandwich, after dismantling Malden, burning the barracks and navy-yard, and stripping the adjacent country of horses and cattle. General Harrison encamped that night on the ruins of Malden.

On the 2d of October, arrangements were made for pursuing the retreating enemy up the Thames. The army was put in motion on the morning of the 4th. General Harrison accompanied Colonel Johnson, and was followed by Governor Shelby with the infantry. Having passed the ground where the enemy had encamped the night before, the General directed the advance of Colonel Johnson's regiment to accelerate their march, for the purpose of ascertaining the distance of the enemy.

The troops had now advanced within three miles of the Moravian town, and within one mile of the enemy. Across a narrow strip of land, near an Indian village, the enemy were drawn up in line of battle, to prevent the advance of the American troops. The British troops amounted to six hundred, the Indians to more than twelve hundred. About one hundred and fifty regulars, under Colonel Ball, were ordered to advance and amuse the enemy, and, should a favorable opportunity present, to seize his cannon. A small party of friendly Indians were directed to move under the bank. The regiment of Colonel Johnson was drawn up in close column, with its right a few yards distant from the road. General Desha's division covered the left of Johnson's regiment. General Cass and Commodore Perry volunteered as aids to General Harrison.

On the 5th, the enemy was discovered in a position skillfully chosen, in relation as well to local circumstances as to the character of his troops. A narrow strip of dry land, flanked by the river Thames on the left and by a swamp on the right, was occupied by his regular infantry and artillery, while on the right flank lay Tecumseh and his followers, on the eastern margin of the swamp. But, notwithstanding the judicious choice of the ground, Proctor had committed the error of forming his infantry in open order. Availing himself of this fact, and aware that troops so disposed could not resist a charge of mounted men, he directed Colonel Johnson to dash through the enemy's line in column. The movement was made with brilliant success.

The mounted men charged with promptitude and vigor, broke through the line of the enemy, formed in the rear, and assailed the broken line with a success seldom equaled, for nearly the whole of the British regular force was either killed, wounded, or taken prisoners.

On the left the contest was much more serious. Colonel Johnson's regiment, being there stationed, received a galling fire from the Indians, who seemed not disposed to give ground. The Colonel gallantly led his men into the midst of them, and was personally attacked by a chief, whom he dispatched with his cutlass the moment the former was aiming a blow at him with his tomahawk. The savages, finding the fire of the troops too warm for them, fled across the hills and attempted to seek shelter in a piece of woods on the left, where they were closely pursued by the cavalry. At the margin of the wood Tecumseh stationed himself, armed with a spear, tomahawk, &c., endeavoring to rally and persuade his men to return to the attack. At this point a considerable body of Indians had collected; but this brave savage saw that the fortune of the day was against him, and the battle was lost. Proctor had cowardly fled from the field, and left him and his warriors alone to sustain themselves against a far superior force; and he knew that there was no chance of contending with any hope of success. He therefore stood, like a true hero, disdaining to fly, and was, with many of his bravest warriors around him, shot down by the Kentucky riflemen. It has been published to the world, and by many believed, that this distinguished warrior was killed by a pistol-shot from Colonel Johnson; but this is undoubtedly a mistake, which probably originated from the circumstance of the Colonel's having killed a chief by whom he was attacked, as has before been related. That he fell by a rifle-shot, there can be no doubt; but by whom fired, it was not certainly known, or probably never can be satisfactorily proved. No less than six of the riflemen and twenty-two Indians fell within twenty-five yards of the spot where Tecumseh was killed.

The Indians continued a brisk fire from the margin of the wood until a fresh regiment was called into action to oppose them. A company of cavalry having crossed the hills and gained the rear of the savages, the rout became general. They fought bravely, and sustained a heavy loss in killed and wounded. The death of their leader, Tecumseh, was an irreparable loss to them.

Tecumseh was the most extraordinary Indian that has ever appeared in history. He was by birth a Shawanese, and would have been a great man in any age or nation. Independent of the most consummate courage and skill as a warrior, and all the characteristic acuteness of his race, he was endowed by nature with the attributes of mind necessary for great political combinations. His acute understanding, very early in life, informed him that his countrymen had lost their importance; that they were gradually yielding to the whites, who were acquiring an imposing influence over them. Instigated by these considerations, and, perhaps, by his natural ferocity and attachment to war, he became a decided enemy to the whites, and imbibed an invincible determination (he surrendered it with his life) to regain for his country the proud independence which he supposed she had lost. For a number of years he was foremost in every act of hostility committed against those he conceived the oppressors of his countrymen, and was equally remarkable for intrepidity as skill, in many combats that took place under his banner. Aware, at length, of the extent, number, and power of the United States, he became fully convinced of the futility of any single nation of red-men attempting to cope with them. He formed, therefore, the grand scheme of uniting all the tribes east of the Mississippi into hostility against the United States. This was a field worthy of his great and enterprising genius. He commenced in the year 1809; and in the execution of his project he displayed an unequaled adroitness, eloquence, and courage. He insinuated himself into every tribe, from Michilimackinack to Georgia, and was invariably successful in his attempts to bring them over to his views.

The following characteristic circumstance occurred at one of the meetings at Vincennes. After Tecumseh had made a speech to General Harrison, and was about to seat himself in a chair, he observed that none had been placed for him. One was immediately ordered by the Governor, and, as the interpreter handed it to him, he said, "Your father requests you to take a chair." "_My father!_" said Tecumseh, with an indignant expression; "_the sun is my father, and the earth is my mother, and on her bosom will I repose_," and immediately seated himself, in the Indian fashion, upon the ground.

Tecumseh was born about 1770, and was supposed to be in his forty-fourth year at the time of his death. He received the commission of Brigadier-General in the British army; but aversion to civilization was a prominent trait in his character, and it is not supposed that he received the red sash and other badges of office, because he was fond of imitating the whites, but only as a means of inspiring respect and veneration among his own people, which was so necessary in the work he had undertaken. He was about five feet ten inches in height, of a noble appearance, and a perfectly symmetrical form. His carriage was erect and lofty, his motions quick, his eyes penetrating, his visage stern, with an air of _hauteur_ in his countenance, which arose from an elevated pride of soul. It did not leave him, even in death. Had he not possessed a certain austerity of manners, he could never have controlled the passions of those whom he had led to battle. The Indians are usually fond of gaudy decorations; but Tecumseh was an exception. Clothes and other valuable articles of spoil frequently fell into his possession; yet he invariably wore a deer-skin coat and pantaloons. He had frequently levied subsidies, to a comparatively large amount; yet he retained little or nothing for himself. It was not wealth, but glory, that was his ruling passion.

Previously to General Brock's crossing over to Detroit, he asked Tecumseh what sort of a country he should have to pass through in case of his proceeding further. Tecumseh, taking a roll of elm-bark, and extending it upon the ground, by means of four stones, drew forth his scalping-knife and with the point sketched upon the bark a plan of the country: its hills, woods, rivers, morasses and roads; a plan, which, if not as neat, was for the purpose fully as intelligible as if Arrowsmith himself had prepared it. Pleased with this unexpected talent in Tecumseh, as also with his having induced the Indians not of his immediate party to cross the Detroit, prior to the departure of the regulars and militia, General Brock, as soon as business was over, publicly took off his sash and placed it around the body of the chief. Tecumseh received the honor with evident gratification, but was, the next day, seen without his sash. General Brock, fearing something had displeased the Indian, sent his interpreter for an explanation; who soon returned with an account that Tecumseh, not wishing to wear such a mark of distinction, when an older, and, as he said, abler, warrior was present, had transferred the sash to the Wyandot chief, Roundhead.

HORSEWHIPPING A TYRANT.

General Prescott, the commander of the British troops in Rhode Island, was one of those mean-spirited, petty tyrants, who, when in power, exercise their ingenuity in devising means of harassing all who have the misfortune to be subject to their authority; but, when circumstances place them in the power of others, are the most contemptible sycophants and parasites. Narrow-minded in the extreme, with a heart which had not one benevolent impulse, he was far from being a fit officer to be placed in authority over the people of Rhode Island, who could be more easily conquered by lenient measures than by the use of unnecessary harshness. From the first day of his power he pursued a system of pitiless tyranny. Writhing under a sense of wrongs, maddened to desperation by the meanness and malignity of their oppressor, the people of the Island resolved to rid themselves of the cause, no matter at what risk or sacrifice. Various plans were suggested, and even assassination was hinted at. His harsh treatment of Colonel Ethan Allen, a prisoner in his hands, combined with his haughty and arrogant conduct toward all, increased the feeling against him. To add to all this, General Lee was a prisoner in the British jail, and confined in a cell under the pretense that he was a deserter, having once been an officer in the British army; Washington had no prisoner of equal rank to offer in exchange.

If the capture of Prescott could be effected, it would not only rid the Rhode Islanders of his hated rule, but would afford an officer to be exchanged for General Lee, whom Washington was most anxious to rescue. Under these circumstances, many enterprises were projected; but it was reserved for Lieutenant-Colonel Barton, of the Rhode Island line, to successfully plan and accomplish the much-desired object. He was stationed with a force of militia on the main-land, when he received word that Prescott was quartered at a country-house near the western shore of the Island, about four miles from Newport, totally unconscious of danger, though in a very exposed situation. Conceiving this to be the favorable opportunity, Barton began to prepare for the execution of his bold design. The enterprise proposed was bold and hazardous, and its failure would be sure to bring upon him the charge of being rash and foolhardy; but then, if successful, an honorable renown would be the reward of those concerned.

He communicated his design to Colonel Horton, his superior officer, who gave it his commendation, and permitted him to select from his regiment such men and officers as he desired to assist him in the plot. From an apprehension that his plans might become known to the enemy, he did not make a selection of the necessary number of men until the last moment, and then, with a desire that he might be accompanied only by volunteers, he ordered his whole company upon parade, and in a brief speech stated that he wished to obtain forty volunteers for an expedition of great hazard, and all that wished to accompany him, should signify it by stepping from the ranks. Without one exception, the whole regiment advanced. He now found it necessary to make the selection himself, and he did so, choosing those whose courage and fidelity were tested. Several officers had personally volunteered, but not one of the party besides Barton himself, knew of the object in view, but all trusted to the honor and courage of their leader.

Some delay was experienced in procuring boats, but on the 4th of July, 1777, they embarked from Tiverton for Bristol. In crossing Mount Hope Bay, they suffered from a severe storm, but they arrived at Bristol at midnight. On the morning of the 5th, the Major, with his officers, went over to Hog Island for the purpose of reconnoitering the position of the enemy. Here he revealed the object of the expedition, and his plan for its accomplishment.

It was not until the evening of the 5th, that the party again embarked. Crossing Narragansett Bay, they landed on Warwick Neck, but were here detained by a severe storm which retarded their plans considerably. On the 9th, however, it became clear, and they prepared once more to sail, with the intention of proceeding directly to Rhode Island. Some hours after the set of sun, all was still, and the darkness affording them a protection from observation, the little squadron shot out from the land, and proceeded noiselessly and cautiously on its course. This was a very hazardous part of the enterprise, as there was great danger of being discovered by some of the ships of war that lay near the shore. Cautiously gliding along between the islands of Prudence and Patience, by which means they were secured from observation from the enemy's shipping that lay off by Hope Island, they advanced rapidly to their destination. While passing the north end of Prudence Island, they could distinctly hear the sentinels from the ships, cry out, "All's well." The night was one of excessive darkness, and this fortunate circumstance, no doubt, contributed largely to the success of the plan.

The landing was effected without difficulty. In order to secure a rapid retreat, one man was commanded to remain in each boat, and instructed to be ready for departing at a moment's notice. When all were on shore, the requisite instructions were given, and the party advanced rapidly in the direction of General Prescott's head-quarters. The difficulties of Major Barton's situation will be readily appreciated. Even should he surprise General Prescott, a very few moments would suffice for an alarm to be carried to the enemy, and if so, the whole British army would be upon them before they could get to their forts. Or, even should they reach their boats, if an alarm was conveyed to the enemy's shipping, their retreat would, with certainty, be cut off. It was, therefore, necessary to proceed with the utmost caution and care; and to act with equal daring, prudence, and celerity.

The distance to the residence of the English General was about a mile. The party was divided into five divisions: one to approach the door on the south side, another one on the east, and a third on the west side, there being three doors to the house, while the fourth division was to guard the road, and the fifth to be ready to act on emergencies. They were obliged, in order to reach the house, to pass the guard-house of the enemy, on the left, and on their right a house occupied by a company of cavalry. On arriving at Prescott's head-quarters, they were challenged by a sentinel who was stationed at the gate of the front yard. The darkness of the night prevented him from determining the nature of the party approaching, but, as they continued to advance in silence, he again challenged them, demanding:

"Who goes there?"

"Friends," said Barton.

"Advance and give the countersign," was the rejoinder.

"Pho!" replied Barton, as he continued to advance close to the person of the sentinel, "we have no countersign—have you seen any rascals to-night?"

Almost simultaneous with this remark, Barton suddenly seized the musket of the sentinel, and charged him to make no noise on the penalty of instant death. So much had been accomplished in perfect silence. The divisions rapidly advanced to their respective positions, while Barton questioned the bewildered and terrified sentinel, as to whether the General was in the house, who replied that he was. The signal was now given, and in an instant the south door was burst open, and the division there stationed rushed into the building, followed by the Major.

The first person Barton met was Mr. Perwig, who denied that General Prescott was in the house, and his son also obstinately denied the presence of the English officer. Not being able to find him in their rapid search through the apartments, Barton now had resort to stratagem. In a loud voice, he declared his intention of capturing the General dead or alive, and ordered his soldiers immediately to set fire to the house. At this juncture, a voice which Barton suspected to belong to the General, inquired the cause of the disturbance. Barton rushed to the apartment from which came the voice he heard, and finding there an elderly gentleman, just rising from his bed, he accosted him as General Prescott. To this the gentleman assented, and declared he bore the name and title.

"Then you are my prisoner," replied Barton.

"I acknowledge I am," was the rejoinder.

He was only allowed time to partially dress himself, when he was hurried off by his captors.

Meanwhile a singular circumstance had occurred. At the very moment when Barton first gained admission into the house, one of the British soldiers managed to escape, and flew to the quarters of the main guard to give the alarm. This man, in the alarm of the moment, rushed forth with no other clothing than his shirt; and having hastily explained the matter to the sentinel on duty, he passed on to the quarters of the cavalry, which was much more remote from the head-quarters of the General. But when the sentinel came to explain the matter to the officer of the guard, it seemed so incredible, that he was laughed at, and was told that he had seen a ghost. He admitted that the messenger was clothed in white, and after being heartily laughed at for his credulity, was ordered back to his station, and the guard went back to their quarters. This was a most fortunate circumstance, for had the alarm of the soldier been believed, nothing could have preserved the gallant Major and his band from destruction.

The whole party, with the English General in their midst, marched rapidly toward the shore. When they arrived at the boat, their prisoner, who had been hurried away half-dressed, was permitted to complete his toilet. They re-embarked with all possible haste, and had not got far from the island, when the discharge of cannon and three sky-rockets gave the signal of alarm. But, for some cause, the signal was not understood by those on the ships, and, by this fortunate circumstance, the gallant band was preserved, for it would have been easy for their enemy to have cut off their retreat. Although full of anxiety and apprehension, they bent every nerve to reach their port of destination, happily succeeding without meeting an obstacle. When they landed, General Prescott said to Lieutenant-Colonel Barton:

"Sir, you have made an amazing bold push to-night."

"We have been fortunate," was the modest reply.

Before morning the prisoner was in Providence, where he was delivered into the custody of General Spencer, who treated him with consideration far above his deserts. After a few days' stay in Providence, Prescott was sent, under an escort, to the head-quarters of Washington on the Hudson. On reaching Lebanon, the party stopped at the tavern of a Captain Alden, who was an ardent Whig, and hated the very name of Prescott. Nothing could have afforded him greater gratification than an opportunity to inflict condign punishment upon the tyrant, and the General unwittingly gave him that opportunity.

At the table Mrs. Alden waited upon the General; among the dishes presented for his acceptance, was some "succotash," or corn-and-beans, a favorite dish with the New England people, but which seemed to excite the wrath and resentment of the little-great General, whose temper was probably not improved by the events of the last few days.

Taking the dish in his hand, and forgetting that his position was that of prisoner not of master, he looked at it a moment, and exclaimed:

"What's this! what's this! are you going to treat me with the food of hogs?"

Saying which, he dashed the tureen upon the floor, breaking it, and strewing the contents in all directions. Mrs. Alden had too much spirit to brook such an insult to her cookery and table, and left the room to inform her husband of the occurrence. In a few moments, Captain Alden, bearing a large cart-whip in his hand, entered the room, demanding of the British General what he meant by such conduct in his house. Seeing vengeance written in every lineament of the Captain's face, the General appealed to the officers of his escort for protection.

"Protection!" said the landlord; "I'll show you the protection you deserve;" and seizing him by the collar, he dragged the whilom haughty dictator from his chair, when, with all the force of an arm nerved by the memory of the wrongs of good Americans, he rained down a shower of blows which made the victim writhe, and cry for that mercy which he had so often denied to others.

"I'll teach you manners," panted Alden, between the blows, "I'll teach you to insult those who are giving you better than you deserve, you tyrannical minion of English oppression!" While at every word the long lash of the whip descended upon the groveling shoulders of his enemy, until, from mere exhaustion, Alden ceased, remarking:

"There, if ever you want another lesson in good manners, come to me and I'll give it to you with pleasure."

The officers present made no serious attempt to relieve their prisoner from his predicament. They felt that he richly merited the castigation; while the crestfallen General was too well assured of their feelings toward him to reproach them—but he took a terrible revenge, when, after a time, being exchanged, he returned to his command at Newport, where he burned the towns and villages, turning the inhabitants houseless upon the world. He never forgot or forgave this infliction of personal punishment; and when, upon a subsequent occasion, three of the citizens of Newport waited upon him concerning the business of the town, he stormed and raved at one of them in such a manner that he was compelled to withdraw. After the others had announced their business, and the General had become somewhat calm, he inquired:

"Was not my treatment of Folger rather uncivil?"

Upon being assured that it certainly was, he explained it, by remarking:

"He looked so much like a —— Connecticut man, who horsewhipped me once, that I could not bear the sight of him."

The accounts which are given of General Prescott's treatment of Ethan Allen, are no more to the credit of his dignity than the story of the succotash.

Shortly after Ethan Allen's celebrated conquest of Ticonderoga, he joined the expedition into Canada, under Generals Schuyler and Montgomery. He had no commission from Congress, but was induced by the commanding officers to follow the army, under a promise that he should command certain detachments in the army, when occasion required. He was dispatched into Canada with letters to the Canadians, explaining the object of the expedition, which was not aimed against the inhabitants of the country, their liberties or religion, but against the British possessors. The Canadians were invited to make common cause with the Continentals, and expel the invader. His message was partially successful, and numbers of the Canadians joined the Congressional banner.

On a second expedition of a similar nature, he was induced to undertake the enterprise against Montreal. Matters promised him success, but at a critical moment many of his Canadian allies abandoned him. The result was a total defeat, which ended in the surrender of himself and party.

When he was brought before General Prescott, the commanding English officer, he was asked by him his name and title. The reply cast the Briton into a towering passion. He could not forget the loss of Ticonderoga, and time had not softened the bitterness of hatred he felt against the hero of that glorious adventure. The Englishman so far forgot his position as to threaten the person of Allen with his cane, and applied to him every offensive epithet he could command. Finding that Allen confronted him with an undaunted gaze, he looked around for something else on which to wreak his hatred. He ordered the Canadians who had been taken with Allen, to be brought forward, and executed. As they were brought forward, wringing their hands in consternation at the prospect of death, the heart of Allen was touched, as he could but feel their present position was brought about by his instrumentality. He therefore flung himself between the executioners and the intended victims, opened his coat, and told General Prescott to let his vengeance fall on him alone, as he was the sole cause of the Canadians taking up arms.

The guard paused, and looked toward their General, and, indeed, it was a moment of suspense and interest to all present. The General stood quiet a moment or two in hesitation, and then said:

"I will not execute you now; but you shall grace a halter at Tyburn," accompanying his speech with a series of emphatic oaths.

Allen was now removed on board the Gaspee schooner of war, loaded with irons of immense weight, and cast into the hold of the vessel. Here his sufferings were of the most acute nature. His only accommodations were a chest, on which he sat during the day and which served him as a couch at night. The irons upon his ankles were so tight, that he could scarcely lie down, and then only in one position. Here he was visited by many officers of the English army, some of whom treated him civilly, but others were abusive and insulting.

At the expiration of six weeks, he was removed to a vessel off Quebec, where he received kind and courteous treatment. Here he remained until his removal on board of the vessel which was to carry him to England. Here all of the prisoners, thirty-four, were thrust into a small apartment, each heavily ironed. They were compelled during the whole voyage to remain in their confinement, and were subjected to every indignity that cruelty could invent.

When first ordered to enter into their filthy apartment, Allen refused, and endeavored to argue their brutal keeper out of his inhuman purpose, but all in vain. The reply to his appeal was insults of the grossest kind, and an officer of the vessel insulting him by spitting in his face. Handcuffed as he was, the intrepid American sprung upon the dastard, and knocked him at length upon the floor. The fellow hastily scrambled out of the reach of Allen, and placed himself under the protection of the guard. Allen challenged him to fight, offering to meet him even with irons upon his wrists, but the Briton, trembling with fear, contented himself with the protection afforded him by British bayonets, and did not venture to oppose the intrepid American. The prisoners were now forced into their den at the point of the bayonet.

The sufferings of the captives during the voyage were intense. Their privations soon brought on diarrhœa and fevers. But, notwithstanding their sickness, they received no attention from their jailers, and even those who were crazed with raging thirst, were denied the simple boon of fresh water.

On arriving at Falmouth, the prisoners were all marched through the town, to Pendennis Castle, about a mile distant. The fame of Allen had preceded him, and multitudes of people were gathered along the route to gaze upon him, and the other prisoners. The throng was so great, that the guard were compelled to force a passage through the crowd. Allen appeared conspicuous among his fellow prisoners, by his eccentric dress. When captured, he was taken in a Canadian dress, consisting of a red shirt, a red worsted cap, a short fawn-skin jacket, and breeches of sagathy; and in this dress he was escorted through the wondering crowd at Falmouth. Ticonderoga was a place of notoriety, in England, and the hero who had so signally conquered it was an object of interest and wonder to the people.

Allen was now visited by a great number of people, some of whom were attracted from great distances, in order to see and converse with the American celebrity. Discussion ran high as to his eventual disposal. Some declared that he would be hung, and argued the justice of the act. But others defended and supported the Americans. Even in parliament the merits of the question were discussed.

From their prison in Pendennis Castle they were removed to the Solebay Frigate, to be conveyed to America, stopping at Cork for provisions and water. The commanding officer was harsh and cruel, and, on the first day, ordered the prisoners from the deck, declaring that it was a place for gentlemen only to walk. A few days after, Allen shaved and dressed, and proceeded to the deck. The Captain addressed him in great rage, and said:

"Did I not order you not to come on deck?"

Allen replied that he had said that it was a place for gentlemen to walk, and that he was Colonel Allen, a gentleman and soldier, who had been properly introduced to him.

His reply was characteristic of his brutal despotism: "Don't walk on the same side of the deck that I do," with an oath.

The sufferings of the prisoners continued, but when at Cork, their situation received the attention of several benevolent gentlemen, who exerted themselves to relieve them. Ample stores and clothing were sent on board, but the Captain refused privilege to the prisoners to enjoy them.

The vessels proceeded to America, first casting anchor in the harbor of Cape Fear, North Carolina. From this place Allen was removed to Halifax. Here his treatment continued of the same kind, that, from the first, had characterized his captivity. He received here some kind attentions from Captain Smith, which he afterward had occasion to return in a signal manner. After a confinement of two months he was removed to a man-of-war, to be conveyed to New York, for the purpose of effecting an exchange. When arrived on board of the vessel, he was delighted to find that he was under the command of Captain Smith, who had before served him.

Horsewhipping a Tyrant.—_Page_ 37.
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When Colonel Allen met Captain Smith on board the vessel, he greeted him with thanks for his kindness. The noble Captain disclaimed all merit, and said: "This is a mutable world, and one gentleman never knows but that it may be in his power to help another." This sentiment was strikingly verified in the course of the voyage.

One night, as they were sailing along the coast of Rhode Island, Captain Burke and a few other prisoners came to Allen with a plan for destroying the British officers, seizing the vessel, and carrying her into some friendly port. A large quantity of cash on board was held up as an inducement for the enterprise. But Captain Smith had generously distinguished the prisoners, and for this reason Allen strongly condemned the plan. He declared that if the attempt was made, he would assist in the defense of the Briton, with all his skill and strength. Finding the conspiracy so strenuously opposed by the most influential of the prisoners, it was abandoned, upon the assurance that they should not be betrayed.

Upon arriving in New York, Colonel Allen was released on parole, but restricted to the limits of New York. An attempt was made soon after to induce him to join the British ranks. He was offered a heavy sum of money, and large tracts of land, either in New Hampshire or Connecticut, when the country was conquered. The integrity of the man, however, was unassailable. His reply to the proposition was characteristic. He said that the offer reminded him of a certain incident in Scripture. The devil, he said, took Christ to a high hill, and showing him the kingdoms of earth, offered him their possession, if he would fall down and worship him, "when all the while the damned soul had not one foot of land upon earth!" It may be believed that those sent to negotiate with him did not fail to understand the illustration.

Colonel Allen, in a narrative of his captivity, written by himself, gives a fearful account of the condition of the American prisoners in New York. Before he was exchanged he was arrested on the absurd charge of breaking his parole, and thrown into the Provost jail. Here he remained from August to May, during which time he witnessed instances of suffering of the most agonizing kind, and was himself compelled again to feel the barbarous treatment of British officials. At the expiration of the above period he was exchanged, and once more tasted of the sweets of freedom.

It may not be out of place here, since we have given an account of Barton's brilliant exploit in the capture of General Prescott, to relate the story of General Wadsworth's abduction, who fell into the hands of the British in a manner somewhat similar, though the affair was characterized by no such daring on the part of the enemy as our own young officer showed, in venturing into the lines of the English, since General Wadsworth was known to be almost wholly unprotected at the time it was resolved to take him.