The Black Hawk War Including a Review of Black Hawk's Life
us, but the war chief would not permit them to enter the apartment
where we were–knowing, from what his feelings would have been if
he had been placed in a similar situation, that we did not wish to
have a gaping crowd around us.”
Arriving safely at Jefferson Barracks,[250] the prisoners were
delivered to General Atkinson, who put them in irons and thus laid
the finishing stroke to Black Hawk’s pride. On this feature of his
captivity he had Colonel Patterson write: “We were now confined to
the barracks and forced to wear the ball and chain. This was
extremely mortifying and altogether useless. Was the White Beaver
(Atkinson) afraid I would break out of his barracks and run away? or
was he ordered to inflict this punishment upon me? If I had taken
him prisoner on the field of battle I would not have wounded his
feelings so much by such treatment, knowing that a brave war chief
would prefer death to dishonor. But I do not blame the White Beaver
for the course he pursued, as it is the custom among the white
soldiers, and I suppose was a part of his duty.”
The White Beaver probably had in mind the many previous breaches of
faith exhibited by the prisoner, after having made promises and
treaties to behave himself, when he applied the shackles, and Black
Hawk realized for the first time that the whites would suffer him to
disturb them no longer. In his lofty speech to General Street,
stating that “he can stand the torture,” one would expect to find
Black Hawk glorifying the pleasure of manacled martyrdom; but in the
contrast between the speech and the complaint, we find the true
Black Hawk, from young manhood to his capture. The inconvenience of
prison life made of him the poorest example of martyrdom that ever
posed.
-----
Footnote 244:
Made on the 19th.
Footnote 245:
He entirely forgot the many requests of Atkinson to move
peacefully.
Footnote 246:
Also copied in 43 Niles Reg. for Sept. 29, 1832, p. 69.
Footnote 247:
Fulton’s “Red Men of Iowa,” p. 210.
Footnote 248:
The Captain, prior to leaving, had pledged his passengers not to
stop at Ft. Armstrong, Mo. Rep., Sept. 11, 1832.
Footnote 249:
Autobiography 2d Ed., p. 111.
Footnote 250:
Mo. Republican of Sept. 11, 1832, contains statement that
steamboat Winnebago arrived in St. Louis en route for Jefferson
Barracks “ten miles below,” on Sept. 10. That the “boat left
Galena with Black Hawk, The Prophet, two sons of Black Hawk and
nine braves, together with about 50 warriors.” The latter were
landed south of the lower rapids on their pledge of neutrality.
Black Hawk, The Prophet, two sons and nine braves were taken to
Jefferson Barracks to remain as hostages. On the preceding
Thursday Ne-a-pope and six or seven warriors were taken there by
Lt. Cross and five men under his command.
-----
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CHAPTER XXXVI.
SCOTT’S EXPEDITION–TREATY.
Allusion to the presence of General Scott in this campaign has been
made, but for the purpose of receiving substantial treatment later
on was temporarily dropped.
He may not have participated in any of its pitched battles, but in
his conflict with an enemy more dreadful than bullets, he displayed
a genius and heroism seldom found in military annals.
For the first time in the history of this continent, Asiatic cholera
had appeared in Quebec and Montreal during the early days of warm
weather. Few knew its character and none its treatment.
Jackson, who had grown impatient at what he considered a policy of
procrastination and conduct which he is said to have characterized
as pusillanimous on the part of the volunteers, ordered Scott to
take nine companies from the Atlantic coast, proceed to the seat of
war and put an end to it.
On June 28th General Scott started from Fortress Monroe with them,
and with four of his nine companies made the trip to Chicago in the
incredibly short space of eighteen days. His departure was noticed
in Niles Register for June 30, 1832. The trip was prosperous enough
to Buffalo, where four steamboats, the Sheldon Thompson, Henry Clay,
Superior and William Penn, were chartered to carry the expedition
around the lakes to Chicago. Down Lake Erie all went well, but when
Detroit[251] was reached, two cases developed on board the Thompson
while moored to the wharf, which excited alarm. The victims died and
the boats all passed on up the St. Clair River to Fort Gratiot, some
forty miles distant, by which time the contagion had assumed such
proportions that it became necessary to land five companies of 280
men. Many had died; others died immediately after landing; others
fled, and later, when seized with the pest, were shunned and denied
assistance. Thus abandoned and exhausted, the miserable wretches
perished in woods and fields, only to be discovered when birds of
prey surrounded their bodies or the odor from decomposition became
apparent. Of the entire body of 280 men, we are told that but nine
survived.
Scott, in his autobiography, Vol. 1, p. 218, has stated that the
disease broke out on his boat and that the only surgeon aboard,
after drinking half a bottle of wine, was frightened into a sickness
which kept him to his bed. He further adds with some asperity that
the surgeon “ought to have died.”
Preparatory to departure, Scott, who was always forehanded, had
consulted Surgeon Mower of New York about the disease, and, adopting
all his suggestions, had laid in a supply of medicines to use if the
plague overtook him. These he supplied with his own hand to one and
all, from the moment of its appearance to the final eradication of
the scourge from the ranks of his army. In Niles Register for August
4th, Vol. 42, p. 402, we are told that Lieut. Gust. Brown and Second
Lieut. Franklin McDuffie had died July 15th,[252] and Col. W.J.
Worth, Capt. John Munroe and Lieut. William C. DeHart were ordered
east July 14th from Chicago, being too ill to travel. In the issue
of August 11th Captain Gath (probably meant for Galt), the other
member of “the staff,” is mentioned as being sent in the same party.
Decimation of the ranks of the men is noticed in Vol. 42, Niles, p.
423, for August 11th: “Of the 208 soldiers attached to the command
of Colonel Twiggs, 30 died and 155 deserted. Of three companies of
artillery under him, consisting of 152 men, 26 died and 20 deserted.
Of Colonel Cummings’ detachment of 80 men, 21 died and 4 deserted.
Of Colonel Crane’s artillery, 220 men, 55 died. Of the 850 men who
left Buffalo, not more than 200 were left fit for the field.”
While a slight discrepancy may be found to exist between items and
their totals, they are but natural to all statements, and do not
overestimate the awful mortality and the conditions, which can
readily be realized. The following letter, published in the same
issue of Niles and dated Fort Dearborn, July 12th, will probably
convey a better idea of those conditions than any deductions I may
make:
“We have got at last to our place of rendezvous, but in what a
condition! We have traveled 600 miles in a steamboat crowded
almost to suffocation and the Asiatic cholera raging amongst us.
The scenes on board the boat are not to be described. Men died in
six hours after being in perfect health. The steerage was crowded
with the dying and new cases were appearing on the deck, when the
demon entered the cabin. The first case occurred at Fort Gratiot;
the man attacked belonged to the company I commanded. I found that
the soldiers hesitated about attending him at first, so that I
went to the sick man, felt his pulse and stood by his bed, and in
a short time the soldiers became reconciled. This was only at
first, for when the disease came upon us with fury and the boat
became a moving pestilence, every soldier who was well became a
nurse for the sick. The disease was met with resolution, and never
did a body of men stand more firmly by each other than the
soldiers in our boat.
“To give you an idea of the disease: You remember Sergeant Heyl?
He was well at nine o’clock in the morning–he was at the bottom of
Lake Michigan at seven o’clock in the afternoon! I was officer of
the day when we arrived and had to move all the sick men to the
shore; I had scarcely got through my task when I was thrown down
on the deck almost as suddenly as if shot.
“As I was walking on the lower deck, I felt my legs growing stiff
from my knees down. I went on the upper deck and walked violently
to keep up a circulation of the blood. I felt suddenly a rush of
blood from my feet upwards, and as it rose my veins grew cold and
my blood curdled. I was seized with a nausea at the stomach and a
desire to vomit. My legs and hands were cramped with violent pain.
The doctor gave me eight grains of opium and made me rub my legs
as fast as I could; he also made me drink a tumbler and a half of
raw brandy, and told me if I did not throw up the opium I would
certainly be relieved; but not until I had had a violent spasm.
The pain is excruciating.”
Another letter, written by Capt. A. Walker to Capt. R.C. Bristol,
which first appeared in the Chicago Democrat, March 23d, 1861, was
afterward copied in “Fort Dearborn,” page 72, in an address
delivered by John Wentworth, May 21st, 1881, and published the same
year by the Chicago Historical Society, and is as follows:
“* * * It will also be remembered, as stated in my former
communication, that four steamers, the Henry Clay, Superior,
Sheldon Thompson and William Penn, were chartered by the United
States Government for the purpose of transporting troops,
equipments and provisions to Chicago during the Black Hawk war,
but owing to the fearful ravages made by the breaking out of the
Asiatic cholera among the troops and crews on board, two of those
boats were compelled to abandon their voyage, proceeding no
further than Fort Gratiot. The disease became so violent and
alarming on board the Henry Clay that nothing like discipline
could be observed; everything in the way of subordination ceased.
As soon as the steamer came to the dock each man sprang on shore,
hoping to escape from a scene so terrifying and appalling. Some
fled to the fields, some to the woods, while others lay down in
the streets, and under the cover of the river bank, where most of
them died unwept and alone.
“There were no cases of cholera causing death on board my boat
until we passed the Manitou Islands (Lake Michigan). The first
person attacked died about four o’clock in the afternoon, some
thirty hours before reaching Chicago. As soon as it was
ascertained by the surgeon that life was extinct, the deceased was
wrapped closely in his blanket, placing within some weights,
secured by lashing some small cordage around the ankles, knees,
waist and neck, and then committed, with but little ceremony, to
the deep.
“This unpleasant, though imperative duty, was performed by the
orderly sergeant, with a few privates detailed for that purpose.
In like manner twelve others, including this same noble sergeant,
who sickened and died in a few hours, were also thrown overboard
before the balance of the troops were landed at Chicago.
“The sudden and untimely death of this veteran sergeant and his
committal to a watery grave caused a deep sensation on board among
the soldiers and crews, which I will not here attempt to describe.
The effect produced upon General Scott and the other officers in
witnessing the scene was too visible to be misunderstood, for the
dead soldier had been a very valuable man, and evidently a