Washington County, Ohio - Chapter 10: The Indian War - Continued, 1881 (part 2 of 2)

Early in June another atrocity was perpetrated within the limits of the Ohio company's purchase. Abel Sherman, of Olive Green, taking his rifle, went out to search for the cows which had been missing for several days, and which his fellow inmates of the new garrison feared had been detained by the Indians to draw them out Thinking that possibly they might have joined the cattle belonging at Fort Frye, or that the rangers there might have seen them in the woods, he directed his steps down the Muskingum to that garrison. He did not arrive there until towards sundown, and some of the more prudent settlers tried to persuade him to remain with them until morning, suggesting that the absence of the cows was a sure indication that Indians were in the vicinity; but the old man, regardless of danger, started upon his return. An hour later the inmates of the Olive Greer block-house heard the report of two guns, and Ezra Sherman, sure that one of them was his father's, and that he had been attacked by the dreaded enemy, took down his rifle from the wall and ran as fast as possible in the direction from which the sound of the firing had come. He soon reached the spot - only a quarter of a mile away - upon which the encounter had taken place, and found his father dead and scalped. The body lay in a little patch of May apples or mandrakes, and it was evident that the kind and thoughtful old man had been surprised while gathering some of them to take to the children at the garrison which he was nearing, for the bosom of his hunting shirt was filled with them. The next morning a party of men went up from Fort Frye and buried him near the mouth of the run by which he had fallen, and which to this day is known as "Dead Man's run." The utmost consternation and grief were caused at Olive Green when young Sherman came in with the news of his father's death. The settlers had all seen much of the horrors of Indian warfare, but this sudden taking off of one of their own small circle, produced a deeper impression than any prior event, and made them more keenly alive to the danger. During the few subsequent months they lived in constant fear of attack or the waylaying of some of their members.

There is a sequel to the story of the murder of Abel Sherman. In the summer of 1798, when the prosperity of peace was beginning to bless the country, and industrial pursuits had replaced the savage employment of hunting men and beasts, a company of salt makers at work on Salt creek, in Muskingum county, was visited by an Indian known as Silverheels, who lived in the vicinity and was generally regarded as a well-disposed, goodnatured child of the forest, and half-pitied as a lingering, lone, and melancholy individual of the vanquished race. He had been drinking when he came to the salt-makers' camp, and was there given more of the crazing firewater, under the influence of which, emerging from his habitual sombre taciturnity, he became loquacious and _ boastful. His tongue ran on fast and excitedly in narration of achievements in the chase, and presently of deeds of prowess and adventure in the war with the whites. The men for the most part listened with idle interest to what they considered the vaporings of vanity, but there was one among them who was strangely thrilled by the narration of an encounter which took place on the Muskingum in the summer of 1794. The narrative fitted in nearly all of its details the killing of Abel Sherman, and the man who was so deeply moved was his son, Josiah. As one circumstance after another was mentioned, which the young man knew to be true of the murder of his father, his fury arose almost to the pitch of frenzy. He could with difficulty restrain himself from springing upon the drunken Indian, exultingly dwelling upon his father's death, and slaying him upon the spot, but he reflected that possibly the savage had only known of the circumstance he so graphically detailed from hearing them told by others, and he controlled his passion, not even making the slightest remark upon the story which had aroused it. But he was filled with a determination to satisfy his doubts in the matter. He did not relax his stern intention to be executioner should he become sure of Silverheel's guilt, but he resolved first to investigate. The Indian, with tongue loosed by liquor, had told how the old man had been shot down while gathering May apples, that his hunting shirt bosom was filled with them; remarked upon the peculiar formation of his head (a kind of a double crown), which had enabled his slayer to secure a very large scalp, which he said he had divided in two, and obtained fifty dollars for at the British post at Detroit, and in conclusion said that the gun of the murdered man had been placed in a hollow log near the scene of the tragedy. Young Sherman anxious to gain the corroborating testimony which the firing of the gun would afford, soon after went to the spot where his father had fallen. There, sure enough, in a hollow log where the murderer had placed it four years previously, was the large, peculiar musket his father had owned. The iron barrel and the lock which still contained the carefully prepared flint, were thickly encrusted with red rust, and the stock was so rotten that it broke as it was lifted from its hiding-place. The finding of the gun had a strong effect upon Josiah Sherman. He regarded it as proof positive of the truth of the drunken Indian's words, and no longer doubted that the savage had indeed committed the act of which he boasted. Not many days later two hunters traversing the woods came upon the dead body of Silverheels, bearing the mark of a rifle ball over the heart.

The narrative of the incident forms a digression from the account of the war, but we give it in this connection as it was a direct outgrowth of an event of 1794. Another digression is now in order. Turning from the recital of local occurrences we see that while they have heen the exciting topics of the settlers' conversation in Washington county, General Wayne had been carrying terror into the Indian country along the Miamis, the Whitewater, the Wabash, the Auglaize and Maumee.

In the autumn of 1793 and the following winter and spring, peace negotiations having proved unavailing, he had built Fort Recovery, near the field on which St. Clair's army had been defeated in November, 1791; Fort Wayne, where the Indiana town of that name now stands, and Fort Defiance, at the confluence of the Auglaize and Maumee; and now preparatory to striking a blow which should compel peace, he was awaiting an answer to his last amicable offer, "actuated by the purest principles of humanity and urged by pity for the errors in which bad and designing men" had led the confederated tribes. But the Indians were for war. Little Turtle (Michikinaqua), of the Miamis, alone in the council, was for peace. 'We have beaten the enemy," said he, "twice, under separate commanders. We cannot expect the same good fortune always to attend us. The Americans are now led by a chief who never sleeps. The night and the day are alike to him; and during all the time that he has been marching upon our villages, notwithstanding the watchfulness of our young men, we have never been able to surprise him. Think well of it. There is something whispers to me, it would be prudent to listen to his offers of peace."

The decisive "battle of Fallen Timbers," or as it is sometimes called the battle of the rapids of the Miami (Maumee), occurred upon the twentieth of August, 1794.

It was followed by a vigorous campaign, which secured the results already gained by Wayne's great victory, and practically terminated the Indian war, and tranquilized the whole border country. Still some Indian depredations were committed until nearly a year later, or August 3, 1795, when peace was formally declared, and the old treaties of purchase ratified by the treaty of Greenville.

An attempt was made to keep up strict discipline in the Ohio company's garrisons during the period intervening between Wayne's victory and his treaty, but the settlers generally felt so secure after the former event that they could not be restrained and often took great risks. Belpre, which all through the war seemed a fated post, had yet to suffer one more loss. Jonas Davis, a young man, resident at Stone's garrison (the upper settlement), one day in February, 1795, while on his way back from Marietta, where he had gone on some errand, discovered an old skiff among some driftwood by the Ohio river, and on the following morning went up a distance of three miles to break it up and get the nails out of it. Nails were very scarce and hard to get at that time, and Davis had especial need for some as he was preparing a little cabin which he intended to occupy with his bride expectant, a- daughter of Isaac Barker, as soon as their marriage should take place, and the time set for that ceremony was so near that both of the young people had provided themselves with their wedding garments. The young man on reaching the boat had begun to pull it to pieces, and it was supposed was so intently engaged that he did not hear the approach of an enemy, and was shot down without a moment's warning. He was missed from the garrison at evening and his betrothed was thrown into great distress as the night passed away and he did not return. In the morning a party of men who went out to look for him, led by the rangers, discovered his body lying by the wrecked boat, a small axe which he had been using, still in the tight grip of his dead hand. He had been scalped and stripped of his clothing. The death of Davis made a deep impression upon the Belpre settlers, and four young men from Stone's gartison, who had been among his warmest friends, determined to avenge him if possible. As soon as they heard the particulars of the murder they started in pursuit of the Indians, led by John James, one of the bravest and most alert of the men at their settlement. At Gallipolis they were joined by four volunteers and from that point they scouted up Raccoon creek. One of their men was taken sick the first day out, and as another was obliged to return with him, but six were left in the party. They pushed on, however, and on the following day reached the headwaters of Symmes' creek, where the Gallipolis rangers had said a party of Indians were engaged in hunting. A beaver skin cap was found © which had been left by an Indian to mark the place where he had set a trap. This discovery corroborating the rangers' assertion, the men knew they were in the immediate vicinity of an Indian camp and supposed it to be that of a band to which the murderers of Davis belonged. They accordingly concealed themselves and holding a whispered council decided to fall upon the Indians under cover of night. Fortunately they were baffled in their design. An Indian returning from a hunt found their trail and was following it toward their hiding-place, when he was seen by Joseph Miller, one of the party, who quickly raised his rifle and fired at him. The Indian fell, evidently badly hurt, and John James rushed toward him tomahawk in hand, intending to dispatch him. As he did so the wounded Indian partly raised himself from the ground and uttered a ringing warwhoop, which was quickly answered from the camp only two or three hundred yards away, and by so many voices that the party of whites were much alarmed. They had snpposed the camp to contain not more than their own strength, but fully a score of voices had been raised in response to the call of the wounded Indian, and almost immediately as many Indians came into view, rushing through the tangled undergrowth of the forest. James and his party seeing that the odds were so largely against them took to flight, and, assisted by the friendly darkness which had settled about them, soon put a considerable distance between them and their pursuers. The Indians, unable to follow their trail set their dogs on the retreating party, and followed oa, guided by the sound of their barking. Two or three of the animals were silenced either with musket balls or tomahawk, and thus deprived of their lead the Indians lost ground rapidly. Arriving at the east fork of Symmes' creek, a difficulty arose which threatened to so long delay the fugitives as to allow their foes to overtake them.

There had been heavy rains, and the stream, ordinarily small, was now swollen so that it covered the entire bottom in the little valley. A raft was quickly made (a common expedient among the borderers and Indians, but when they attempted to cross upon it it became entangled in the submerged bushes and no effort that could be made would dislodge it. Abandoning the raft the six men, now so wet ana cold that they were seriously hampered in their movements, made their way along the bank until they came to a place where it was possible to ford the stream. Taking their position upon a high bank which commanded this fording-place, they halted for rest and a chance to take advantage of their pursuers. They expected the Indians soon to make their appearance and intended to fire down upon them while they were in the water. After waiting an hour or more and hearing nothing of the Indians they pushed on to Raccoon creek, which they crossed upon a raft, and travelling rapidly all day reached Gallipolis just at evening, having been on foot twenty four hours with the exception of two or three very brief intervals of rest, and travelled about fifty miles. The Gallipolis rangers the next day discovered that the Indians had followed the young men until they were within two or three miles of the settlement. The young men returned more leisurely to Belpre. Their expedition had taken them one hundred miles from home into the midst of the forest. During their absence they were the subject of a great deal of solicitude at the garrison, and all felt much relieved when they returned.

The closing tragedy of the war in Washington county took place in the summer of this year - 1795 - and the scene of its enactment was the vicinity of Waterford which since the futile attack upon the garrison in 1791 had not only suffered less annoyance from petty depredations than the Marietta and Belpre settlements, but by some kind fate or dispensation of Providence, had - although several of its people were taken captives - lost. not a single man by death. [Abel Sherman, it must be remembered, was when killed a resident at Olive Green. ] Indians had frequently been in the vicinity of Fort Frye during the continuance of the war, but they did not seem to cherish any such malice against the settlers as they did against the Virginians, "the Long Knives," and they were known several times to have peacefully passed by the Waterford people only to fall on the settlements south of the Ohio with relentless fury. They had been longer at war with the Virginians and hating them most thoroughly, never letting an opportunity go by for inflicting injury upon them, and often made long expeditions for the express purpose of assailing their little stations. While they had a bitter and long continued feud with the latter and many old hostilities to avenge, they were actuated in the war upon the Ohio settlers by less intense hostility - a feeling which arose principally from their dislike of seeing what they considered an encroachment upon their lands. The frequency of murderous attacks at Belpre was probably owning very largely to the situation of the settlement, upon the Ohio directly in the way of war parties returning from Virginia, who often chagrined by lack of success there sought to satisfy their desire for murder or plunder at the newer settlement. It is probable that had there been during the latter part of the war period any general desire on the part of the Indians to destroy the Ohio company's settlements, Waterford would have been the first assailed, and by a large war party. As it was the few small depredations committed there were the work of bands numbering three or four or a half dozen Indians, and those probably renegades wandering through the forest, and in obedience to their savage instincts committing murder when they could but seeking principally for plunder, or prisoners from whom they could exact labor or money for ransom. Judge Gilbert Devol and his son, Wanton, had a narrow escape from a company of Indians encamped on the banks of the Muskingum one summer day in 1793; and it had most of the time during the war been taken for granted that there were Indians in the vicinity, and precautions accordingly adopted. Since Wayne's victory, however, the settlers had lived more carelessly, and the rangers been less vigilant than of old.

This was the condition of affairs in the summer of 1795, and still as the treaty had not yet been made the members of the colony retained in some degree their prudent method of conducting their affairs. A number of young men - William Ford, Jacob Proctor, William Hart, John and Sherman Waterman, who had drawn adjoining donation lots on the south branch of Wolf creek, about four miles distant from Fort Frye - agreed to assist each other in clearing the timber, and both because it was pleasant and also prudential adopted the plan of working together in rotation a day at a time upon the five lots. On the twenty-first of May they were engaged in clearing on John Waterman's land. A house, or cabin rather, had already been built here, and as the day was showery they remained near it that they might take refuge under its roof when driven from their work, An unusually hard rain having set in they resorted to the cabin, and Sherman Waterman; when the rain had partially abated, remembering that he needed.some fresh hemlock boughs for his sleeping berth, went out to cut them. He had not been gone long when the four men remaining in the cabin were startled by the report of a rifle. Silence and sombre gravity replaced the merriment of a moment before, and each man seizing his rifle sprang to a loop-hole to be ready incase of an attack. Presently Waterman came running toward the door pursued by several Indians. It was evident from his gait that he had been hurt, but he came onward at a fast run until near the door when he sank down groaning with pain. Terrified with fear that the Indians would now come up on him with their tomahawks he cried out to those within for assistance. To rush out and bring him into the cabin was to run a fearful risk of death, but among the pioneers when an emergency arose requiring self-sacrificing courage or prompt action there was always some man who could be relied upon to furnish these essentials. In this case it was William Hart. He was quickly at Waterman's side, lifted him from the ground, and amid a shower of bullets sprang back into the cabin door unharmed, though some of the rifle balls had narrowly missed him. A vigorous fire was kept up from the loopholes and the Indians soon retreated. Waterman was in a dying condition. William Hart volunteered to carry the news of the attack down to Waterford garrison, A number of men, led by the ranger McDuffey, came back with him, and took the wounded man in a canoe to a block-house below, owned by Dean Tyler, and there, after great agony endured with really heroic fortitude, Sherman Waterman passed away that night - the last victim of Indian war in Washington county.

Wayne's treaty, otherwise known as the treaty of Greenville, was concluded at Greenville, Darke county, Ohio, upon the tenth of August, 1795, and a permanent peace was secured in the northwest. The basis of the treaty was the one made at Fort Harmar in January, 1789.

The whole number of white persons killed during the period of hostility in the Ohio company's lands, or on the Virginia shore opposite, was thirty-eight. Ten were taken captive, and of these, two died of sickness or were killed. Only four Indians were known to have been killed, though twice as many were supposed to have fallen victims to the white man's rifle.

During the period represented in the foregoing pages, there were other terrors than those of Indian stealth and Indian attack to be endured by the settlers, and they were terrors before which bravery and strength were impotent. Disease and famine, the attendant evils of war, made their dread appearance in the little garrisons. The winter of 1788-89 was one of want to many of the settlers, but scarcely a foretaste of what they were to experience. While bread was not to be had, there was still a sufficient quantity of corn to sustain lite - and there was little besides in the way of food until the river opened in the spring, when those who had money could buy flour. There was no meat to be had except that which could be secured by the hunters, and they fared poorly, as the Indians had killed off all the larger game, the bears and deer, while waiting about Marietta to attend the treaty. The year 1790 brought a worse condition of things. The corn crop of the preceding fall had been so badly damaged by an early frost that it was unfit to be eaten, and produced sickness and vomiting similar to that caused by the "sick wheat" which appeared occasionally when the country was new. During the winter of 1789-90 corn fit for consumption rose to the enormous price, for those times, of one dollar per bushel, and by the last of spring following it brought two dollars. | With the scarcity of game, the failure of the corn crop, and the fact that there were no domestic animals which the owners could afford to kill, the fish, with which the rivers abounded, became the principal article of food, and the one which saved many people from absolute starvation. It was only with the practice of the most rigid economy that the people were able to hold out this year until a new crop could be raised. There was little money in the possession of the settlers, and they could only make small purchases in the spring, when the boats began running. The Ohio company made small loans to those who were most needy, and the few individuals who had more than enough food for their own use were very liberal with those who were worse off, sharing with them, perhaps to their own early disadvantage. Many articles were made use of as edibles which were not generally considered of any economic value, as potatoe tops, nettles, the tender buds and shoots of various shrubs and trees, and numerous roots. Sassafras and spice bush bark were brought into common use as a substitute for tea. Their scarcity made all staple articles very dear. Salt brought eight dollars per bushel and in smaller quantities much higher prices, as, for instance, fifty cents per quart. The settlers could therefore illy afford to salt down their fish or meat. In the spring the sap of the maples was secured in as large quantities as possible, and boiled down into syrup or sugar, and those articles, now esteemed as luxuries, were served as substantial food.

So nearly famished were the inhabitants at Belpre and Marietta when the new crop began to grow, that they could not wait for them to attain maturity, but plucked small and green vegetables, such as beans, peas, corn, and summer squashes, and boiling them with sparse handfulls of coarse corn meal from the last of their hoarded store, made a kind of vegetable soup which to their half-starved lips was an hundred-fold more grateful than is the most luxurious dish to the epicure in the midst of plenty. During the terrible season of famine, Isaac Williams, the Virginia frontiersman who had settled opposite the mouth of the Muskingum, exhibited the nobleness of his nature in many acts of generosity.

He had raised a very large quantity of corn, which, planted much earlier than that of the Belpre and Marietta settlers, who had first to clear and fence their lands, was so matured when frost came as to be uninjured. He was beset by speculators, who wished to buy his entire crop at the large price of one dollar and a quarter per bushel, but uniformly refused to have anything to do with them, and sold his corn to those who needed it for food, at the usual price in years of plenty, fifty cents per bushel. Nor would he sell to any man more than was necessary for the subsistence of his family. It was his usual custom to inquire of an applicant the number of persons in his household, and sell him a proportionate number of bushels. To those who had not money to buy even at his moderate price, he readily gave credit, and in not a few cases made actual donations. The settlers very generally availed themselves of his benevolence, and the good old man, denying himself riches, had the nobler satisfaction of having relieved distress, and perhaps warding off absolute starvation.

Pestilence made its appearance before famine. The small-pox was introduced among the Point settlers at Marietta in January, 1790 - and it must be borne in mind that Jenner's discovery of vaccination had not then been given as a boon to mankind, and the loathsome disease was much more dreaded than now. A sick man named Welch was put on shore by a Kentucky boat. He was taken to the house of James Owen and soon discovered to have the small-pox. Great consternation and excitement followed. A meeting of the inhabitants was called and it was decided to build a house for the sick man. This was accordingly done and he was taken to it and there died. Mrs. Owen contracted the disease but recovered. The pestilence spread fast and inoculation was resorted to as a preventive of the worst form of the disease. Houses were put up for the reception of the sick at a considerable distance from the other dwellings. Eight persons died; two of them of the number who had been inoculated.

Again in August, 1793, the settlers at the Point were alarmed by the appearance in epidemic form of the scarlet fever. It broke out among Captain Haskell's soldiers, and was probably caused by the malaria from the low ground around, and the streets within the Point garrison, which had been overflowed in March by a flood of the Ohio. The court of quarter sessions had the infected persons removed to Devol's island, but the. disease had already spread, and a number of deaths occurred. The small-pox broke out again, and so the people were assailed at once by two insidious foes within the defence they had raised to protect themselves from their enemies, the Indians.

Belpre had its share in the evils of pestilence as it did of the horrors of warfare. Scarlet fever broke out at Farmer's Castle in the summer of 1792, attended by putrid sore throat. The cause was unknown, though it was doubtless the unhealthful condition of life unavoidable in a crowded garrison. It was confined principally to the children, and about fifteen of them were its victims. After the scarlet fever had subsided, and during

That more dreaded scourge - small-pox - again made its appearance in the over-crowded garrison in September, 1793, being introduced by Benjamin Patterson, one of the rangers, who had been inoculated at Marietta. It was not strange that the people who were huddled together in close quarters, guarding themselves from the Indians, who had already surprised and killed several of their number; - who had suffered from famine, and who had just seen their loved little ones carried off by fever, should feel that they were doomed to destruction. They knew that the terrible pest must sweep through their cramped quarters, and so, after holding a council, resolved upon heroic measures, and sent for Dr. 'True, of Marietta, to inoculate them all in their own houses. Farmer's Castle was one great hospital. Under every roof there was some person suffering from the mild form which they had taken voluntarily to themselves from the more virulent. The fatality of the disease was confined by inoculation, so that of one hundred persons affected only five died. At Goodale's garrison there were two or three more deaths. But the terrible scourge had been prevented from doing its worst. Though sorely tried, the little settlement was destined neither to succumb to the Indian, to famine, to fever, nor to pestilence.