A Gallant Defence

The relations between the Indians and the European colonists

of America were, during nearly the whole colonial and much

of the subsequent period, what we now suggestively entitle

"strained." There were incessant aggressions of the

colonists, incessant reprisals by the aborigines, while the

warring whites of America never hesitated to use these

savage auxiliaries in their struggles for territory and

power. he history of this country is filled with details of

Indian assaults on forts and settlements, ambushes,

massacres, torturings, and acts of duplicity and ferocity

innumerable. Yet every instance of Indian hostility has

ended in the triumph of the whites, the advance of the army

of colonization a step further, and the gradual subjugation

of American savagery, animate and inanimate, to the

beneficent influences of civilization.



These Indian doings are frequently sickening in their

details. The story of America cannot be told without them.

Yet they are of one family, and largely of one species, and

an example or two will serve for the whole. In our next tale

the story of an Indian assault on the Daniel Boone

stronghold in Kentucky will be told. We purpose now to give

the interesting details of an attack on Fort Henry, a small

frontier work near where Wheeling now stands.



This attack was the work of Simon Girty, one of the most

detestable characters that the drama of American history

ever brought upon the stage. He was the offspring of crime,

his parents being irredeemably besotted and vicious. Of

their four sons, two, who were taken prisoner by the Indian

at Braddock's defeat, developed into monsters of wickedness.

James was adopted by the Delawares, and became the fiercest

savage of the tribe. Simon grew into a great hunter among

the Senecas,--unfortunately a hunter of helpless human

beings as much as of game,--and for twenty years his name

was a terror in every white household of the Ohio country.

He is spoken of as honest. It was his one virtue, the sole

redeeming leaven in a life of vice, savagery, and cruelty.






In the summer of 1777 this evil product of frontier life

collected a force of four hundred Indians for an assault on

the white. His place of rendezvous was Sandusky; his

ostensible purpose to cross the Ohio and attack the Kentucky

frontier settlements. On reaching the river, however, he

suddenly turned up its course, and made all haste towards

Fort Henry, then garrisoned by Colonel Sheppard, with about

forty men.



The movements of Girty were known, and alarm as to their

purpose was widely felt. Sheppard had his scouts out, but

the shrewd renegade managed to deceive them, and to appear

before Fort Henry almost unannounced. Happily, the coming of

this storm of savagery was discovered in time enough to

permit the inhabitants of Wheeling, then composed of some

twenty-five log huts, to fly for refuge to the fort.



A reconnoitring party had been sent out under Captain Mason.

These were ambushed by the cunning leader of the Indians,

and more than half of them fell victims to the rifle and the

tomahawk. Their perilous position being perceived, a party

of twelve more, under Captain Ogle, sallied to their rescue.

They found themselves overwhelmingly outnumbered, and eight

of the twelve fell. These untowards events frightfully

reduced the garrison. Of the original forty only twelve

remained, some of them little more than boys. Within the

fort were this little garrison and the women and children of

the settlement. Outside raged four hundred savage warriors,

under a skilful commander. It seemed absolute madness to

attempt a defence. Yet Colonel Sheppard was not one of the

men who lightly surrender. Death by the rifle was, in his

view, better than death at the stake. With him were two men,

Ebenezer and Silas Zane, of his own calibre, while the whole

garrison was made up of hearts of oak.



As for the women in the fort, though they were of little use

in the fight, they could lend their aid in casting bullets,

making cartridges, and loading rifles. Among them was one,

Elizabeth Zane, sister of the two men named, who was to

perform a far more important service. She had just returned

from school in Philadelphia, knew little of the horrors of

border warfare, but had in her the same indomitable spirit

that distinguished her brothers. A woman she was of heroic

mould, as the events will prove.



It was in the early morning of September 26 that Girty

appeared before the fort. A brief period sufficed, in the

manner related, to reduce the garrison to a mere handful.

Sure now of success, Girty advanced towards the palisades

with a white flag, and demanded an unconditional surrender.



Colonel Sheppard was ready with his answer. He had already

felt the pulse of his men, and found that it beat with the

same high spirit as his own. He mounted upon the ramparts,

stern and inflexible, and hurled back his reply,--



"This fort shall never be surrendered to you, nor to any

other man, while there is an American left to defend it."



"Are you mad, man?" cried Girty. "Do you know our force? Do

you know your own? Resistance is folly."



"I know you, Simon Girty. That is enough to know. You have

my answer."



In a rage, Girty hurled back a volley of dark threats, then

turned away, and ordered an instant attack. Unluckily for

the garrison, some of the deserted log-huts were

sufficiently near to shelter the Indians, and enable them to

assault the fort under cover. They swarmed into these

houses, and for six hours kept up an incessant fire on the

works, wasting their bullets, as it proved, for none of them

did harm to fort or man. As for the defenders, they had no

ammunition to waste. But most of them were sharp-shooters,

and they took good care that every bullet should tell.

Nearly every report from behind the walls told a story of

wound or death. As good fortune willed, the savages had no

artillery, and were little disposed to hazard their dusky

skins in an assault in force on the well-defended walls.



At midday the attack temporarily ceased. The Indians

withdrew to the base of Wheeling Hill, and the uproar of

yells and musketry was replaced by a short season of quiet.

It was a fortunate reprieve for the whites. Their powder was

almost exhausted. Had the assault continued for an hour

longer their rifles must have ceased to reply.



What was to be done? The Indians had withdrawn only for rest

and food. They would soon be at their threatening work

again. Answer to them could not long be continued. When the

fire from the fort ceased all would be over. The exultant

savages would swarm over the undefended walls, and torture

and outrage be the lot of all who were not fortunate enough

to die in the assault.



Ebenezer Zane looked wistfully at his house, sixty yards

away.



"There is a keg of powder within those walls," he said. "If

we only had it here it might mean the difference between

safety and death."



"A keg of powder!" cried Colonel Sheppard. "We must have it,

whatever the danger!" He looked out. The Indians were within

easy gunshot. Whoever went for the powder ran the most

imminent risk of death. The appearance of a man outside the

gates would be the signal for a fierce fusillade. "But we

must have it," he repeated. "And we can spare but one man

for the task. Who shall it be? I cannot order any one to

such a duty. What man is ready to volunteer?"



Every man, apparently; they all thronged forward, each eager

for the perilous effort. They struggled, indeed, so long for

the honor that there was danger of the Indians returning to

the assault before the powder was obtained.



At this interval a woman stepped forward. It was Elizabeth

Zane. The fire of a noble purpose shone on her earnest face.



"But one man can be spared to go, you say, Colonel

Sheppard," she remarked. "In my opinion no man can be spared

to go. Let me go for the powder. My life is of much less

importance to the garrison than that of a man."



Colonel Sheppard looked at her with eyes of admiration, and

then peremptorily refused her request. This was work for

men, he said, not for women. She should not sacrifice

herself.



It was every one's duty to do their share, she replied. All

were alike in danger. The walls were not half manned. If she

fell, the gap would be small; if a man fell, it would be

large.



So earnest were her solicitations, and so potent her

arguments, that Colonel Sheppard finally yielded a reluctant

consent. It was given none too soon. There was little time

to spare. The gate was opened and the brave woman walked

fearlessly out.



She had not gone a step beyond the shelter of the fort

before the Indians perceived her. Yet the suddenness of her

appearance seemed to paralyze them. They stood and watched

her movements, as she walked swiftly but steadily over the

space leading to her brothers' house, but not a gun was

lifted nor a voice was raised. So far the expedient of

sending a woman had proved unexpectedly successful. The

savages gazed at her in blank amazement, wondering at her

purpose.



She entered the house. An anxious minute or two passed. The

Indians still had not stirred. The eyes of the garrison were

fixed with feverish anxiety on the door of that small hut.

Then they were relieved by the reappearance of the devoted

girl, now clasping the precious keg of powder in her arms.



It was no time now to walk. As rapidly as she could run,

with the weight in her arms, she sped over the open space.

Speed was needed. The Indians had suddenly come to a

realizing sense of the woman's purpose, and a volley of

bullets swept the space over which she fled.



Not one touched her. In a minute she had reached the fort. A

shout of enthusiastic welcome went up. As the gate closed

behind her, and she let fall the valuable prize from her

unnerved arms, every hand was stretched to grasp hers, and a

chorus of praise and congratulation filled the air.



"We have a heroine among us; we will all be heroes, and

conquer or die," was the universal thought.



It was a true one; Elizabeth Zane's was one of those rare

souls which seem sent on earth to make man proud of his

race.



At half-past two the assailants returned to the attack,

availing themselves, as before, of the cover of the huts.

After a period spent in musketry, they made an assault in

force on the gate of the fort. They were met by the

concentrated fire of the garrison. Six of them fell. The

others fled back to their shelter.



Until dark the fusillade continued. After darkness had

fallen the assailants tried a new device. Lacking artillery,

they attempted to convert a hollow maple log into a cannon.

They bound this as firmly as possible with chains, then,

with a ludicrous ignorance of what they were about, they

loaded it to its muzzle with stones, pieces of iron, and

other missiles. This done, they conveyed the impromptu

cannon to a point within sixty yards of the fort, and

attempted to discharge it against the gates.



The result was what might have been anticipated. The log

burst into a thousand pieces, and sent splinters and

projectiles hurtling among the curious crowd of dusky

warriors. Several of them were killed, others were wounded,

but the gates remained unharmed. This was more than the

savages had counted on, and they ceased the assault for the

night, no little discouraged by their lack of success.



Meanwhile tidings of what Girty and his horde were about had

spread through the settlements, and relief parties were

hastily formed. At four o'clock in the morning fourteen men

arrived, under command of Colonel Swearingen, and fought

their way into the fort without losing a man. At dawn a

party of forty mounted men made their appearance, Major

McCullough at their head. The men managed to enter the fort

in safety, but the gallant major, being unluckily separated

from his band, was left alone outside.



His was a terribly critical situation. Fortunately, the

Indians knew him for one of their most daring and skillful

enemies, and hated him intensely. Fortunately, we say, for

to that he owed his life. They could easily have killed him,

but not a man of them would fire. Such a foeman must not die

so easily; he must end his life in flame and torture. Such

was their unspoken argument, and they dashed after him with

yells of exultation, satisfied that they had one of their

chief foes safely in their hands.



It seemed so, indeed. The major was well mounted, but the

swift Indian runners managed to surround him on three sides,

and force him towards the river bluffs, from which escape

seemed impossible.



With redoubled shouts they closed in upon him. The major,

somewhat ignorant of the situation, pushed onward till he

suddenly found himself on the brow of a precipice which

descended at an almost vertical inclination for a hundred

and fifty feet. Here was a frightful dilemma. To right and

left the Indian runners could be seen, their lines extending

to the verge of the cliff. What was to be done? surrender

to the Indians, attempt to dash through their line, or leap

the cliff? Each way promised death. But death by fall was

preferable to death by torture. And a forlorn hope of life

remained. The horse was a powerful one, and might make the

descent in safety. Gathering his reins tightly in his right

hand, while his left grasped his rifle, McCullough spurred

the noble animal forward, and in an instant was over the

brow of the cliff, and falling rather than dashing down its

steep declivity.



By unlooked-for good fortune the foot of the bluff was

reached in safety. Into the creek dashed horse and man, and

in a minute or two the daring fugitive was across and safe

from his savage pursuers.



The Indians returned disappointed to the vicinity of the

fort. Here they found that their leader had decided on

abandoning the assault. The reinforcements received, and the

probability that others were on the way, discouraged the

renegade, and Girty led his horde of savages away, first

doing all the harm in his power by burning the houses of the

settlement, and killing about three hundred cattle belonging

to the settlers.



The defence of Fort Henry was one of the most striking for

the courage displayed, and the success of the defenders, of

the many gallant contests with the Indian foe of that age of

stirring deeds. Aside from those killed in ambush, not a man

of the garrison had lost his life. Of the assailants, from

sixty to one hundred fell. Simon Girty and his Indians had

received a lesson they would not soon forget.