The Black Hawk War Including a Review of Black Hawk's Life
urged that the troops were frenzied by excitement or dazed with the
thought that the 800 Indians were coming down upon them like an
avalanche, but such was not the case; it was part of the program of
“fun” which impelled it. The confusion which followed permitted the two
remaining Indians of the party of three to escape and join in the
massacre of the whites which followed soon after. Squads of two, three
and more continued to leave camp to join the chase, presenting in the
twilight a thin and irregular line, without order and without a head,
until nearly four miles were covered by these stragglers.
As had been adroitly arranged, no doubt, by the survivors of the party
of five, the foremost of the pursuers were suddenly plunged into Black
Hawk’s presence, behind a growth of chaparral at the mouth of the creek,
where this wily old savage had arranged his braves, few in number, but
many more than the first white arrivals, and the instant the whites
appeared the Indians sent up whoops, shrieks and howls calculated to
frighten even a brave man. As the savages dashed headlong into the
advance column, or rather squad, of the whites, with the spirit and
suddenness of an electric shock, the reckless pursuers realized their
awful temerity, and the futility of fighting, even under careful
protection and with the full strength of the battalions, what might be
the 800 warriors known to belong to Black Hawk’s command.
Stunned by the sudden and furious onslaught of Black Hawk, the troops
wheeled to retreat, yelling as they fled “Injuns! Injuns!” (like the
madmen they now truly became), that their approaching comrades might in
turn retreat to safety. In no time at all the cry had reached camp,
which became as panic-stricken as the returning troopers.[121]
At the foot of the hill on which the five Indians had rested James Doty
of Eads’ company was killed, and while many of the horses became mired
in the mud of the creek, Gideon Munson, a Government scout, was also
slain. As the troops came headlong on, Captain Adams,[122] than whom no
braver man ever lived, attempted to make a stand with a handful of
companions upon the brow of the hill which lies about half a mile to the
south of the creek, to cover the retreat of the fugitives. Darkness was
upon them and they had no reason to believe that less than the full
force of 800 was upon them, yet they stood their ground to sell their
lives as dearly as possible to save those who by the delay might reach
points of safety.
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The moonlight was only sufficient to confuse the panic-stricken troops
still more, and in that heroic fight unto death which Captain Adams and
his men made, he scarcely knew whether he was fighting friend or foe. In
the gloaming the conflict went on, and in the darkness of the night,
while the scattering forces were safely fleeing on to Dixon’s Ferry,
Captain Adams and his little band fell one by one, until the last man
bit the dust, and then a scene of malignant deviltry almost incredible
was perpetrated.[123] Mr. Oliver W. Hall of Carlinville, Illinois, who
was present on the field the following day, wrote a brief description of
it as follows:
“We were camped at Dixon’s Ferry at the time of Stillman’s defeat. Now
Stillman had about two hundred and seventy-five well-mounted men, with
baggage wagons, and he started out on his own accord, camping late in
the evening on the north side of that little creek. The ford was just
above, where the willows stood thick on each side of the creek. While
Stillman’s men were cooking supper, three or four Indians on their
ponies rode up on that high hill just north of Stillman’s camp, about
sundown, and five or six of Stillman’s men caught their horses and ran
them to where the Indians were in camp, in the timber, about a mile and
a half from Stillman’s camp, north. The Indians killed one of our men
and ran the balance of them into camp. The first that Stillman knew of
any danger was when the Indians came yelling over that high hill just
north of Stillman’s camp, and it was a perfect stampede with Stillman’s
men. Some of them got their horses, but lots of them got away on foot,
and after the Indians had killed eleven of our men they went back to
Stillman’s camp and cut the spokes out of the wagons and poured out a
barrel of whisky. Well, we lay on our arms the next night on the south
side of the creek, for we had left our tents at Dixon’s Ferry, as we had
to go back to meet the boat to get our rations. There were twenty-five
hundred of us with shotguns and rifles and muskets, all flintlocks, and
we were mounted, all but two or three companies. We picked up nine dead
men as we came up from Dixon’s Ferry on a forced march the next morning
after Stillman’s defeat. The last two that we found were Major Perkins
and Captain Adams,[124] with both their heads cut off and their heads
skinned all over and left by them. We found them on that descent as you
go down to the creek from the high land, about half way down, and we
buried nine men in one grave about two hundred yards southwest of those
willows, just below the ford and on sideling ground, not as far south as
the top of the hill. We buried one young man about three-quarters of a
mile north of Stillman’s camp (if true, this was James Doty), where he
was found, and another young man about one-half a mile east, where he
was found. (This was Gideon Munson.)
“Now the road crossed the creek just east of those willows, where there
were a few scattering, scrubby trees. The nine men were buried about two
hundred yards southwest of those willows and on the west side of the
road leading to Dixon’s Ferry. We never knew how many Indians there
were.”
If the statement concerning Doty and Munson is true, then but eight men
could have been buried in the common grave, because but twelve were
killed, and two were buried to the south. The fact is, Munson was buried
in this one grave.
The names of Captain Adams’ companions were David Kreeps, Zadock
Mendinall and Isaac (nicknamed Major) Perkins, of Captain Adams’
company; James Milton of Captain Pugh’s company; Tyrus M. Childs, Joseph
B. Farris and Corporal Bird W. Ellis of Captain David W. Barnes company,
and Sergeant John Walters of Captain Ball’s company.
Joseph Draper of Captain Covell’s company was also shot and his body
found five miles due south of the battlefield, on what is now known as
Mrs. George F. Smith’s farm, where it was buried.
Young Ellis, who was but a boy in years, was able to crawl two and a
half miles south of the battlefield, where his body was found beside a
strapping Indian, who had demanded his life, though it was then ebbing
away. In this enfeebled condition he fought and killed his antagonist,
sinking into death soon after. Ellis was buried on the spot, now the
farm of Mr. A.C. Brown.
The death of Private Joseph Draper was particularly pathetic, and is
narrated in the historical records of McLean County as follows:
“In the confusion resulting from Black Hawk’s attack, Draper lost his
horse. A comrade, John Lundy, took Draper onto his horse. While
retreating they found a stray horse which Draper insisted upon
mounting. It had no saddle or bridle, but it was supposed it would
follow the other horses; instead, it turned and ran toward the
Indians, who shot Draper. He fell from the horse, crawled off into the
underbrush, where his body was found by the burial party. He had
written on his canteen an account of his wounds. No copy of the
writing on his canteen has been preserved.”
It would scarcely seem credible that a man in full possession of his
faculties would remain on a horse running toward the enemy instead of
dropping off to seek the shelter of the bushes and secrete his sound
body, especially in the light of the fact that he was able securely to
hide himself when wounded, but so it must have been in that fearful
panic, because his comrade, Lundy, has vouched for the first part of the
story and the man’s canteen told the rest; and the words of a dying man
cannot be doubted, particularly when alone in the night, miles away from
friends and ministering care, with the raw and desolate prairie for a
bed, howling wolves and Indians prowling near and the rough winds of
spring about to blow his spirit into eternity.
After five miles’ pursuit, the Indians abandoned it to return to
mutilate the bodies, as described by Mr. Hall, but the whites continued
their flight, running, riding, yelling, crying, hopelessly crazed, until
Dixon’s Ferry was reached in the early hours of the morning of the 15th.
Others who became confused in the darkness, and deflected to the south,
never stopped until the Illinois River had been reached at a point near
the present city of Ottawa. From here they scattered (some forty) for
their homes.
It was a clear case of panic. Men were crazed. They who in a sober
moment would have walked straight to death without a protest; they who
would bend to no command of a superior officer; they who would not obey
or follow, were driven as easily as a flock of panic-stricken sheep. It
has been said and written that whisky was the cause of this unfortunate
rout, but this is hopelessly improbable in the face of the fact that but
two casks were taken with the baggage train to be consumed by 275 men,
who lived in a whisky drinking age, when five or ten drinks, more or
less, made little difference in a daily average. Mr. John E. Bristol, of
Eads’ company, who at ninety-one is alive and hearty to-day, vouches for
the truth of this assertion and the other one that but two small casks
were taken along. Mr. Hall specifically states that _one_ cask was
emptied by the Indians, and Black Hawk makes the same statement,
therefore it is certain that whisky cut no figure in the panic.
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In justice to Stillman, his version of the affair, published in “The
Missouri Republican” of July 10th, 1832, should be given:
“To the Editors of the Missouri Republican: Gentlemen–I have this day
discovered in your paper of the 22d ult. an account of the engagement
between the men under my command and the hostile Sac and other Indians
on the Rock River. Finding that statement altogether incorrect, I take
the liberty to give an outline of the transaction, which I am
compelled to do in the utmost haste.
“On the 12th I received orders from His Excellency, John Reynolds,
Commander-in-Chief, etc., to march immediately from Dixon’s Ferry to
what is commonly known as Old Man’s Creek, about 30 miles distant, and
coerce the said hostile Indians into subjection. We took up our march
on the 13th, and on the 14th, at 2 o’clock, one of our spies
discovered two Indians on our left. The Indians immediately fired on
him, and undertook to make their escape by swimming Rock River; this,
however, they did not succeed in; our spy brought his gun to bear on