<h3 class="p6">CHAPTER IV<br/> RED MAN AGAINST WHITE MAN</h3>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The borderers in the Valley of Virginia
and on the western highlands of the Carolinas
were largely engaged in raising horses,
cattle, sheep, and hogs, which grazed at will
upon the broad slopes of the eastern foot-hills
of the Alleghanies, most of them being
in as wild a state as the great roving herds
now to be seen upon the semi-arid plains
of the far West. Indeed, there are some
strong points of resemblance between the life
of the frontier herdsman of the middle of the
eighteenth century and that of the "cow"
ranchers of our own day, although the most
primitive conditions now existing would have
seemed princely to Daniel Boone. The annual
round-up, the branding of young stock,
the sometimes deadly disputes between
herdsmen, and the autumnal drive to market,
are features in common.</p>
<p>With the settlement of the valleys and the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</SPAN></span>
steady increase in the herds, it was necessary
each season to find new pastures. Thus
the herdsmen pushed farther and farther
into the wilderness to the south and west,
and actually crossed the mountains at many
points. Even before the arrival of the
Boones, the Bryans had frequently, toward
the end of summer, as the lower pastures
thinned, driven their stock to a distance of
sixty and seventy miles to green valleys lying
between the western buttresses of the mountain
wall.</p>
<p>This gradual pressure upon the hunting-grounds
of the Cherokees and the Catawbas
was not unnoticed by the tribesmen. There
had long been heard deep mutterings, especially
by the former, who were well-disposed
toward the ever-meddling French; but
until the year of Daniel Boone's wedding
the southern frontiers had not known an Indian
uprising.</p>
<p>The year previous (1755) the Cherokees
had given reluctant permission to the whites
to build two posts in their country for the
protection of the frontiers against the
French, who, with their Indian allies, were
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</SPAN></span>
continually active against the New York,
Pennsylvania, and Virginia frontiers, and
were known to be attempting the corruption
of the Southern Indians. Fort Prince
George was accordingly erected upon the Savannah
River, and Fort Loudon upon the
Tennessee. In 1756 Fort Dobbs was constructed
a short distance south of the South
Fork of the Yadkin. These three centers of
refuge were upon the extreme southwestern
borders of the English colonies.</p>
<p>These "forts" of the American border
would have proved slight defenses in the
presence of an enemy armed with even the
lightest artillery, but were generally sufficient
to withstand a foe possessing only muskets
and rifles. Fort Dobbs was an oblong
space forty-three by fifty-three feet, girt by
walls about twelve feet high, consisting of
double rows of logs standing on end; earth
dug from the ditch which surrounded the fort
was piled against the feet of these palisades,
inside and out, to steady them; they were
fastened to one another by wooden pins, and
their tops were sharpened so as to impede
those who might seek to climb over. At the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</SPAN></span>
angles of the stockade were blockhouses
three stories high, each story projecting
about eighteen inches beyond the one beneath;
there were openings in the floors of
the two upper stories to enable the defenders
to fire down upon an enemy which sought
to enter below. Along the inside of one, or
perhaps two, of the four walls of the stockade
was a range of cabins—or rather, one long
cabin with log partitions—with the slope of
the roof turned inward to the square; this
furnished a platform for the garrison, who,
protected by the rampart of pointed logs,
could fire into the attacking party. Other
platforms were bracketed against the walls
not backed by cabins. There was a large
double gate made of thick slabs and so situated
as to be guarded by the blockhouses on
either corner; this was the main entrance,
but another and smaller gate furnished a
rear exit to and entrance from the spring
hard by. Blockhouses, cabins, and walls
were all amply provided with port-holes;
Fort Dobbs had capacity for a hundred men-at-arms
to fire at one volley. Destructive
fusillades could be maintained from within,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</SPAN></span>
and everywhere the walls were bullet-proof;
but good marksmen in the attacking force
could work great havoc by firing through the
port-holes, and thus quietly picking off those
who chanced to be in range. Fortunately for
the whites few Indians became so expert as
this.</p>
<p>Upon the arrival of breathless messengers
bringing news of the approach of hostile Indians,
the men, women, and children of a
wide district would flock into such a fort as
this. "I well remember," says Dr. Doddridge
in his Notes on Virginia, "that when
a little boy the family were sometimes waked
up in the dead of night by an express with
a report that the Indians were at hand. The
express came softly to the door or back window,
and by gentle tapping waked the family;
this was easily done, as an habitual fear
made us ever watchful and sensible to the
slightest alarm. The whole family were instantly
in motion: my father seized his gun
and other implements of war; my stepmother
waked up and dressed the children as well
as she could; and being myself the oldest of
the children, I had to take my share of the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</SPAN></span>
burthens to be carried to the fort. There
was no possibility of getting a horse in the
night to aid us in removing to the fort; besides
the little children, we caught up what
articles of clothing and provisions we could
get hold of in the dark, for we durst not
light a candle or even stir the fire. All this
was done with the utmost despatch and the
silence of death; the greatest care was taken
not to awaken the youngest child; to the rest
it was enough to say <i>Indian</i>, and not a
whimper was heard afterwards. Thus it
often happened that the whole number of
families belonging to a fort, who were in the
evening at their homes, were all in their little
fortress before the dawn of the next morning.
In the course of the succeeding day
their household furniture was brought in by
parties of the men under arms."</p>
<p>The large public frontier forts, such as
we have described, did not house all of the
backwoodsmen. There were some who,
either because of great distance or other
reasons, erected their own private defenses;
or, in many cases, several isolated families
united in such a structure. Often these were
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</SPAN></span>
but single blockhouses, with a few outlying
cabins. It was difficult to induce some of
the more venturesome folk to enter the forts
unless Indians were actually in the settlement;
they took great risks in order to care
for their crops and stock until the last moment;
and, soon tiring of the monotony of
life within the fort cabins, would often leave
the refuge before the danger was really over.
"Such families," reports Doddridge, "gave
no small amount of trouble by creating frequent
necessities of sending runners to warn
them of their danger, and sometimes parties
of our men to protect them during their removal."</p>
<p>For the first few years Fort Dobbs was
but little used. There was, however, much
uneasiness. The year 1757 had, all along the
line, been disastrous to English arms in the
North, and the Cherokees became increasingly
insolent. The next year they committed
several deadly assaults in the Valley
of Virginia, but themselves suffered greatly
in return. The French, at last driven from
Fort Duquesne (Pittsburg), had retreated
down the Ohio River to Fort Massac, in
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</SPAN></span>
southern Illinois, and sent their emissaries
far and near to stir up the Indians west of
the mountains. The following April (1759)
the Yadkin and Catawba Valleys were raided
by the Cherokees, with the usual results of
ruined crops, burned farm-buildings, and
murdered households; not a few of the borderers
being carried off as prisoners into the
Indian country, there generally to suffer
either slavery or slow death from the most
horrid forms of torture. The Catawbas,
meanwhile, remained faithful to their white
friends.</p>
<p>Until this outbreak the Carolinas had
prospered greatly. Hundreds of settlers
had poured in from the more exposed northern
valleys, and the western uplands were
now rapidly being dotted over with clearings
and log cabins. The Indian forays at once
created a general panic throughout this region,
heretofore considered safe. Most of
the Yadkin families, together with English
fur-traders who hurried in from the woods,
huddled within the walls either of Fort
Dobbs or of small neighborhood forts hastily
constructed; but many others, in their fright,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</SPAN></span>
fled with all their possessions to settlements
on or near the Atlantic coast.</p>
<p>Among the latter were old Squire Boone
and his wife, Daniel and Rebecca, with their
two sons,<SPAN name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</SPAN> and several other families of
Bryans and Boones, although some of both
names preferred to remain at Fort Dobbs.
The fugitives scattered to various parts of
Virginia and Maryland—Squire going to
Georgetown, now in the District of Columbia,
where he lived for three years and then returned
to the Yadkin; while Daniel's family
went in their two-horse wagon to Culpeper
County, in eastern Virginia. The
settlers there employed him with his wagon
in hauling tobacco to Fredericksburg, the
nearest market-town.</p>
<p>The April forays created almost as much
consternation at Charleston as on the Yadkin.
Governor Lyttleton, of South Carolina,
sent out fifteen hundred men to overcome the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</SPAN></span>
Cherokees, who now pretended to be grieved
at the acts of their young hot-bloods and
patched up a peace. Fur-traders, eager to
renew their profitable barter, hastened back
into the western forests. But very soon their
confidence was shattered, for the Indians
again dug up the tomahawk. Their war-parties
infested every road and trail; most of
the traders, with trains of packhorses to
carry their goods and furs, fell an easy prey
to their forest customers; and Forts Loudon,
Dobbs, and Prince George were besieged.
By January (1760) the entire southwest
border was once more a scene of carnage.</p>
<p>Captain Waddell, our old friend of Braddock's
campaign, commanded at Fort Dobbs,
with several Bryans and Boones in his little
garrison. Here the Cherokees were repulsed
with great loss. At Fort Prince George the
country round about was sadly harried by
the enemy, who finally withdrew. Fort
Loudon, however, had one of the saddest experiences
in the thrilling annals of the
frontier.</p>
<p>In April General Amherst, of the British
Army, sent Colonel Montgomery against the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</SPAN></span>
Cherokees with a formidable column composed
of twelve hundred regular troops—among
them six hundred kilted Highlanders—to
whom were attached seven hundred
Carolina backwoods rangers under Waddell,
with some Catawba allies. They laid waste
with fire and sword all the Cherokee villages
on the Keowee and Tennessee Rivers, including
the growing crops and magazines of corn.
The soldiers killed seventy Indians, captured
forty prisoners, and reduced the greater part
of the tribe to the verge of starvation.</p>
<p>The Cherokees were good fighters, and
soon had their revenge. On the morning of
the twenty-seventh of June the army was
proceeding along a rough road on the southern
bank of the Little Tennessee, where on
one side is a sheer descent to the stream, on
the other a lofty cliff. Here it was ambuscaded
by over six hundred savage warriors
under the noted chief Silouee. In the course
of an engagement lasting several hours the
whites lost twenty killed and sixty wounded,
and the Cherokee casualties were perhaps
greater. Montgomery desperately beat his
way to a level tract, but in the night hastily
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</SPAN></span>
withdrew, and did not stop until he reached
Charleston. Despite the entreaties of the
Assembly, he at once retired to the North
with his little army, and left the frontiers
of Carolina open to the assaults of the merciless
foe.</p>
<p>The siege of Fort Loudon was now pushed
by the Cherokees with vigor. It had already
withstood several desperate and protracted
assaults. But the garrison contrived to exist
for several months, almost wholly upon the
active sympathy of several Indian women
who were married to frontiersmen shut up
within the walls. The dusky wives frequently
contrived to smuggle food into the
fort despite the protests of the Indian leaders.
Women, however, despite popular notions
to the contrary, have a powerful influence
in Indian camps; and they but laughed
the chiefs to scorn, saying that they would
suffer death rather than refuse assistance to
their white husbands.</p>
<p>This relief, however, furnished but a precarious
existence. Receiving no help from
the settlements, which were cut off from communication
with them, and weak from irregular
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</SPAN></span>
food, the garrison finally surrendered on
promise of a safe-conduct to their fellows in
the East. Early in the morning of August
ninth they marched out—men, women, and
children to the number of several hundred—leaving
behind them their cannon, ammunition,
and spare arms. The next day, upon
their sorry march, they were set upon by a
bloodthirsty mob of seven hundred Cherokees.
Many were killed outright, others surrendered
merely to meet torture and death.
Finally, after several hours of horror, a
friendly chief succeeded, by browbeating his
people and by subterfuge, in saving the lives
of about two hundred persons, who in due
time and after great suffering, reached the
relief party which had for several months
been making its way thither from Virginia;
but it had been delayed by storms and high
water in the mountain streams, and was now
seeking needed rest in a camp at the head
of the Holston. It is recorded that during
the heartrending mêlée several other Indians
risked their lives for white friends, performing
deeds of heroism which deserve to be
remembered.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Although New France was now tottering
to its fall, the French officers at Fort Massac
still continued, with their limited resources,
to keep alive the Cherokee war spirit.
French outrages occurred throughout the autumn
and early winter of 1760. At nearly
all of the forts, large and small, skirmishes
took place, some of these giving occasion for
exhibitions of rare enterprise and courage
on the part of the garrisons, women and men
alike.</p>
<p>During the winter, the governors of Virginia,
North Carolina, and South Carolina
agreed upon a joint campaign against the
hostiles. The southern column, comprising
twenty-six hundred men, chiefly Highlanders,
was under Lieutenant-Colonel James Grant.
Starting early in June, they carried with
them seven hundred packhorses, four hundred
head of cattle, and a large train of baggage
and supplies. Their route from Fort
Prince George to the lower and middle
Cherokee towns on the Little Tennessee lay
through a rough, mountainous country; high
water, storms, intensely warm weather, the
lack of tents, and bruises from rocks and
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</SPAN></span>
briers, caused the troops to suffer greatly.
After heavy losses from ambuscades in narrow
defiles, they finally reached their destination,
and spent a month in burning and
ravaging fifteen or more large villages and
fourteen hundred acres of growing corn, and
in driving five thousand men, women, and
children into the hills to starve. Wrote one
of the pious participators in this terrible
work of devastation: "Heaven has blest us
with the greatest success; we have finished
our business as completely as the most sanguine
of us could have wished." The Cherokees,
completely crushed, humbly begged for
peace, which was granted upon liberal terms
and proved to be permanent.</p>
<p>The northern column was composed of
backwoodsmen from Virginia and North
Carolina, under Colonel William Byrd, an
experienced campaigner. Byrd was much
hampered for both men and supplies, and
accomplished little. He appears to have
largely spent his time in making roads and
building blockhouses—laborious methods ill-fitted
for Indian warfare, and loudly criticized
by Waddell, who joined him with a
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</SPAN></span>
regiment of five hundred North Carolinians,
among whom was Daniel Boone, now returned
to the Yadkin. Waddell and Boone
had experienced the folly of this sort of
thing in Braddock's ill-fated campaign. As
a result of dissatisfaction, Byrd resigned, and
Colonel Stephen succeeded him. The force,
now composed of about twelve hundred men,
pushed on to the Long Island of Holston
River, where they were met by four hundred
Cherokees, who, brought to their knees by
Grant, likewise sought peace from Stephen.
Articles were accordingly signed on the nineteenth
of November. The North Carolina
men returned home; but a portion of the Virginia
regiment remained as a winter garrison
for Fort Robinson, as the new fort at
Long Island was called.</p>
<p>Now that the Yadkin region has, after its
sad experience, been blessed with a promise
of peace, we may well pause, briefly to consider
the ethics of border warfare. This life-history
will, to its close, have much to do
with Indian forays and white reprisals, and
it is well that we should consider them dispassionately.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The Cherokees were conducting a warfare
in defense of their villages, fields, and hunting-grounds,
which were being rapidly destroyed
by the inrush of white settlers, who
seemed to think that the Indians had no
rights worth consideration. Encouraged by
the French, who deemed the English intruders
on lands which they had first explored, the
American aborigines seriously thought that
they might stem the tide of English settlement.
It was impossible that they should
win, for civilization has in such cases ever
triumphed over savagery; but that they
should make the attempt was to be expected
from a high-spirited race trained to war.
We can but sympathize with and honor them
for making their several stout stands against
the European wave which was ultimately to
sweep them from their native land.<SPAN name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</SPAN> King
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</SPAN></span>
Philip, Opecancano, Pontiac, Tecumseh, Red
Jacket, Sitting Bull, Captain Jack, were
types of successive leaders who, at various
stages of our growth westward, have stood
as bravely as any Spartan hero to contest
our all-conquering advance.</p>
<p>It is the time-honored custom of historians
of the frontier to consider Indians as
all wrong and whites as all right; and that,
of course, was the opinion of the borderers
themselves—of Daniel Boone and all the men
of his day. But we are now far enough removed
from these events, and the fierce passions
they engendered, to see them more
clearly. The Indian was a savage and
fought like a savage—cruel, bloodthirsty, unrelenting,
treacherous, seldom a respecter of
childhood, of age, or of women. But one
can not read closely the chronicles of border
warfare without discovering that civilized
men at times could, in fighting savages, descend
quite as low in the scale as they, in
bloodthirstiness and treachery. Some of the
most atrocious acts in the pioneer history of
Kentucky and the Middle West were performed
by whites; and some of the most
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</SPAN></span>
Christianlike deeds—there were many such
on both sides—were those of painted savages.</p>
<p>It is needless to blame either of the contending
races; their conflict was inevitable.
The frontiersman was generally unlettered,
and used, without ceremony, to overcoming
the obstacles which nature set in his path;
one more patient could not have tamed the
wilderness as quickly as he. His children
often rose to high positions as scholars,
statesmen, and diplomats. But he himself
was a diamond in the rough, and not accustomed
to nice ethical distinctions. To his
mind the Indian was an inferior being, if
not a child of Satan; he was not making the
best use of the soil; his customs and habits
of thought were such as to repel the British
mind, however much they may have attracted
the French. The tribesmen, whom the pioneer
could not and would not understand,
stood in his way, hence must be made to go or
to die in his tracks. When the savage, quick
to resentment, struck back, the turbulent passions
of the overbearing white were aroused,
and with compound interest he repaid the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</SPAN></span>
blow. Upon the theory that the devil must
be fought with fire, the borderer not seldom
adopted methods of reprisal that outdid the
savage in brutality.</p>
<p>The red man fighting, after his own wild
standards, for all that he held most dear, and
the white man, who brooks no opposition
from an inferior race, hitting back with a
fury sometimes increased by fear—such, in
brief, is the blood-stained history of the
American border.</p>
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