Daniel Boone: The Pioneer of Kentucky
possible diligence. They could never venture to move a step beyond the
grasp of their rifles. For nearly four weeks the salt-makers pursued
their work unassailed. The news of so strong and well armed a party
having left the fort, reached the ears of the Indians. They had a very
great dread of Boone, and knew very well he would not be found sleeping
or unprotected, at the springs. They shrewdly inferred that the
departure of so many men must greatly weaken the garrison, and that they
could never hope for a more favorable opportunity to attack
Boonesborough.
This formidable fortress was the great object of their dread. They
thought that if they could lay it in ashes, making it the funeral pyre
of all its inmates, the weaker forts would be immediately abandoned by
their garrisons in despair, or could easily be captured. An expedition
was formed, consisting of more than a hundred Indian warriors, and
accompanied it is said by two Frenchmen. Boone had sent three men back
to the garrison, loaded with salt, and to convey tidings of the good
condition of the party at the springs.
On the morning of the seventh of February, Boone, who was unequalled in
his skill as a hunter, and also in the sagacity by which he could avoid
the Indians, was out in search of game as food for the party. Emboldened
by the absence of all signs of the vicinity of the Indians, he had
wandered some distance from the springs, where he encountered this band
of warriors, attended by the two Frenchmen, on the march for the assault
on Boonesborough. Though exceedingly fleet of foot, his attempt to
escape was in vain. The young Indian runners overtook and captured him.
The Indians seem to have had great respect for Boone. Even with them he
had acquired the reputation of being a just and humane man, while his
extraordinary abilities, both as a hunter and a warrior, had won their
admiration. Boone was not heading a war party to assail them. He had not
robbed them of any of their horses. They were therefore not exasperated
against him personally. It is also not improbable that the Frenchmen who
were with them had influenced them not to treat their prisoner with
barbarity.
Boone, whose spirits seemed never to be perturbed, yielded so gracefully
to his captors as to awaken in their bosoms some emotions of kindness.
They promised that if the party at the springs would yield without
resistance--which resistance, though unavailing, they knew would cost
them the lives of many of their warriors--the lives of the captives
should be safe, and they should not be exposed to any inhuman treatment.
Boone was much perplexed. Had he been with his men, he would have
fought to the last extremity, and his presence not improbably might have
inspirited them, even to a successful defence. But deprived of their
leader, taken entirely by surprise, and outnumbered three or four to
one, their massacre was certain. And it was also certain that the
Indians, exasperated by the loss which they would have encountered,
would put every prisoner to death, through all the horrors of fiendlike
torture.
Under these circumstances, Colonel Boone very wisely decided upon
surrender. It would have been very impolitic and cruel to do otherwise.
He having thus given his word, the Indians placed implicit confidence in
it. They were also perfectly faithful to their own promises. Boone was
allowed to approach his men, and represent the necessity of a surrender,
which was immediately effected. The Indians were so elated by this great
victory, and were so well satisfied with the result of the campaign,
that instead of continuing their march for the attack of Boonesborough,
they returned with their illustrious captive and his twenty-seven
companions to their head-quarters on the Little Miami River.
The modest, unaffected account which Boone himself gives of these
transactions, is worthy of record here:
"On the seventh of February, as I was hunting to procure meat for the
company, I met a party of one hundred and two Indians, and two
Frenchmen, on their march against Boonesborough; that place being
particularly the object of the enemy. They pursued and took me, and
brought me the eighth day to the Licks, where twenty-seven of my party
were, three of them having previously returned home with the salt. I,
knowing it was impossible for them to escape, capitulated with the
enemy, and at a distance, in their view, gave notice to my men of their
situation with orders not to resist, but surrender themselves captives.
"The generous usage the Indians had promised before in my capitulation,
was afterwards fully complied with, and we proceeded with them as
prisoners to Old Chilicothe, the principal Indian town on Little Miami,
where we arrived, after an uncomfortable journey in very severe weather,
on the eighteenth of February, and received as good treatment as
prisoners could expect from savages. On the tenth of March following, I
and ten of my men were conducted by forty Indians to Detroit, where we
arrived the thirtieth day, and were treated by Governor Hamilton, the
British commander at that post, with great humanity.
"During our travels, the Indians entertained me well, and their
affection for me was so great, that they utterly refused to leave me
there with the others, although the Governor offered them one hundred
pounds sterling for me, on purpose to give me a parole to go home.
Several English gentlemen there, being sensible of my adverse fortune,
and touched with human sympathy, generously offered a friendly supply
for my wants, which I refused with many thanks for their kindness,
adding that I never expected it would be in my power to recompense such
unmerited generosity."
The British officers in Detroit could not venture to interfere in behalf
of Colonel Boone, in any way which would displease their savage allies,
for they relied much upon them in their warfare against the colonies.
There was much in the character of our hero to win the affection of the
savages. His silent, unboastful courage they admired. He was more than
their equal in his skill in traversing the pathless forest. His prowess
as a hunter they fully appreciated. It was their hope that he would
consent to be incorporated in their tribe, and they would gladly have
accepted him as one of their chiefs. The savages had almost universally
sufficient intelligence to appreciate the vast superiority of the white
man.
The Indians spent ten days at Detroit, and surrendered, for a ransom,
all their captives to the English, excepting Colonel Boone. Him they
took back on a long and fatiguing journey to Old Chilicothe on the
Little Miami. The country they traversed, now so full of wealth,
activity, and all the resources of individual and social happiness, was
then a vast wilderness, silent and lonely. Still in its solitude it was
very beautiful, embellished with fertile plains, magnificent groves, and
crystal streams. At Chilicothe, Colonel Boone was formally adopted,
according to an Indian custom, into the family of Blackfish, one of the
distinguished chiefs of the Shawanese tribe.
"At Chilicothe," writes Boone, "I spent my time as comfortably as I
could expect. I was adopted according to their custom, into a family
where I became a son, and had a great share in the affection of my new
parents, brothers, sisters and friends. I was exceedingly familiar and
friendly with them, always appearing as cheerful and satisfied as
possible, and they put great confidence in me. I often went hunting with
them, and frequently gained their applause for my activity, at our
shooting matches. I was careful not to excel them when shooting, for no
people are more envious than they in their sport. I could observe in
their countenances and gestures, the greatest expressions of joy when
they exceeded me, and when the reverse happened, of envy. The Shawanese
king took great notice of me, and treated me with profound respect and
entire friendship, often trusting me to hunt at my liberty. I frequently
returned with the spoils of the woods, and as often presented some of
what I had taken to him, expressive of my duty to my sovereign. My food
and lodging were in common with them. Not so good, indeed, as I could
desire, but necessity makes everything acceptable."
The spirit manifested by Boone under these circumstances, when he was
apparently a hopeless prisoner in the hands of the Indians, was not
influenced by artifice alone. He had real sympathy for the savages,
being fully conscious of the wrongs which were often inflicted upon
them, and which goaded their untamed natures to fearful barbarities. He
had always treated them not only kindly, but with fraternal respect. The
generous treatment he had received in return won his regards. His
peculiarly placid nature was not easily disturbed by any reverses. Let
what would happen, he never allowed himself to complain or to worry.
Thus making the best of circumstances, he always looked upon the
brightest side of things, and was reasonably happy, even in this direful
captivity. Still he could not forget his home, and was continually on
the alert to avail himself of whatever opportunity might be presented to
escape and return to his friends.
The ceremony of adoption was pretty severe and painful. All the hair of
the head was plucked out by a tedious operation, leaving simply a tuft
three or four inches in diameter on the crown. This was called the
scalp-lock. The hair was here allowed to grow long, and was dressed with
ribbons and feathers. It was to an individual warrior what the banner is
to an army. The victor tore it from the skull as his trophy. Having thus
denuded the head and dressed the scalp-lock, the candidate was taken to
the river and very thoroughly scrubbed, that all the white blood might
be washed out of him. His face was painted in the most approved style of
Indian taste, when he was led to the council lodge and addressed by the
chief in a long and formal speech, in which he expatiates upon the honor
conferred upon the adopted son, and upon the corresponding duties
expected of him.
Colonel Boone having passed through this transformation, with his Indian
dress and his painted cheeks, his tufted scalp-lock and his whole person
embrowned by constant exposure to the open air, could scarcely be
distinguished from any of his Indian associates. His wary captors
however, notwithstanding all the kindness with which they treated him,
seemed to be conscious that it must be his desire to return to his
friends. They therefore habitually, but without a remark suggestive of
any suspicions, adopted precautions to prevent his escape. So skilful a
hunter as Boone could, with his rifle and a supply of ammunition,
traverse the solitary expanse around for almost any length of time,
living in abundance. But deprived of his rifle or of ammunition, he
would soon almost inevitably perish of starvation. The Indians were
therefore very careful not to allow him to accumulate any ammunition,
which was so essential to sustain him in a journey through the
wilderness.
Though Boone was often allowed to go out alone to hunt, they always
counted his balls and the charges of powder. Thus they could judge
whether he had concealed any ammunition to aid him, should he attempt to
escape. He however, with equal sagacity, cut the balls in halves, and
used very small charges of powder. Thus he secretly laid aside quite a
little store of ammunition. As ever undismayed by misfortune, he
serenely gave the energies of his mind to the careful survey of the
country around.
"During the time that I hunted for them," he writes, "I found the land
for a great extent about this river to exceed the soil of Kentucky if
possible, and remarkably well watered."