The hope of the British now centred in their fleet, which commanded Lake Erie. It was known that Harrison was anxious to regain Detroit and invade Canada, but he could do nothing until the control of the lake had been won. Towards this object the Americans now bent their energies, sparing no expense in their effort to equip a lake fleet superior to that of the British. Several new ships were building in the port of Presqu'isle (now Erie), Pennsylvania, under the direction of Captain Oliver Perry, the young officer in command on Lake Erie. At length nine American vessels were fitted out—Lawrence, twenty guns;Niagara, twenty guns;Caledonia, three guns;Ariel, four guns;Scorpion, two guns;Somers, two guns;Trippe, one gun;Porcupine, one gun;Tigress, one gun. These boats were commanded by able officers and were manned chiefly by experienced seamen taken from the crews of frigates which were blockaded in the seaports.
Opposed to this fleet Canada had on Lake Erie a squadron consisting of six vessels—Queen Charlotte, seventeen guns;Lady Prevost, thirteen guns;Hunter, ten guns;Little Belt, three guns;Chippewa, one gun;Detroit, still on the stocks at Amherstburg, nineteen guns. Captain Robert Barclay, one of Nelson's heroes at Trafalgar, was in command. Like the great admiral under whom he served, he had lost an arm in naval conflict, which gained for him the Indian title of 'our father with the one arm.'
The American ships had been in readiness since the early part of July, but were blockaded in Presqu'isle. There were but seven feet of water on the bar at the entrance to the harbour, which made it impossible for the larger ships to sail out with their heavy armament on board and in face of a fire from the British ships. Barclay, assured of his mastery of the situation, frequently visited places along the coast in search of provisions. The enemy, who maintained constant and careful watch, took advantage of his absence on one of these occasions and skilfully slipped their vessels over the bar. Barclay, on returning, saw with dismay that the American fleet had escaped from Presqu'isle, and, realizing that the control of the lake had passed from his hands, he directed his course towards Amherstburg to hasten the completion of theDetroit.
Starvation threatened the garrison at Amherstburg. Indians swarmed about the fort, their numbers seeming to increase as the food supply diminished. Barclay writes, 'There was not a day's flour in the store and the squadron was on half allowance of many things,' and 'it was necessary to fight the enemy to enable us to get supplies of every description.' Immediate battle was inevitable, and on the efforts of the navy hung a momentous issue. Should it fail, supplies from Niagara would be cut off and Harrison's forces, which were stationed in readiness for this opportunity, would march in and crush Procter's command.
From Bois Blanc Island Tecumseh and his warriors followed with interest the manoeuvres of the American ships. They watched with wonder the spreading sails, which in the morning sun looked like a flock of huge white sea-gulls. Naval warfare was new to many of the Indians, and they gazed in silent awe as the ships sailed towards Amherstburg. Tecumseh, who closely followed their movements, assured the Indians crowded about him on the beach that these vessels with their proud white sails would soon be destroyed by 'their father with the one arm.' But there were no signs of immediate battle, and Tecumseh grew impatient. Launching his canoe, he paddled over to Amherstburg to discover the reason of delay. 'A few days since you were boasting that you commanded the waters; why do you not go out and meet the Americans?' he demanded of Procter. 'See, yonder they are waiting for you and daring you to meet them.' Procter assured Tecumseh that the delay would not be long; the British were waiting for the completion of theDetroit. The chief returned to the island to inform his warriors that the big canoes of their great fathers were not yet ready and that the destruction of the American fleet must be delayed a few days.
Barclay remained in Amherstburg to hasten the completion of the Detroit, his largest vessel. But, at length, as further delay was dangerous, she had to be launched as she was, in a rough and imperfect condition. In default of other guns, she was armed with long battering pieces taken from the ramparts of the fort. Every calibre of gun was used, and so incomplete was her equipment that her cannon had to be discharged by flashing pistols at the touch-holes.
Long and vainly had Barclay waited for the arrival of the promised seamen from Lake Ontario, with whom he hoped to man his ships. His insistent appeal and final remonstrance were treated with indifference. There were but fifty experienced seamen in the British ships, the remainder of the crews consisting of two hundred and forty soldiers and eighty Canadian volunteer sailors, who had no proper training in seamanship and gunnery. While Barclay was obliged to enter the contest with his fleet thus wretchedly equipped, Perry had a force of over five hundred men, hardy frontiersmen and experienced soldiers, and a sufficiency of trained seamen to work his squadron in any weather or circumstance. On the night of September 9 the British commander ran up his flag, weighed anchor, and set sail, hoping to encounter early next morning the American fleet, which lay thirty or more miles distant at Put-in-Bay.
The grey curtain of morning mist rolled up from Lake Erie, where the British fleet stood out in battle array. A light breeze rippled the surface of the lake and filled the swelling sails. Barclay took advantage of the favourable wind and bore towards the American vessels, which were lying among a cluster of islands. He put forth every effort to reach them before they could sail clear of the islands to form their line. But the wind was so light that they had got away from their cramped quarters before Barclay could come near them.
The enemy's fleet now bore towards the British, Perry leading in his flagship theLawrence. From his mast-head flew a flag with the motto, 'Don't give up the ship'—the dying words of Captain James Lawrence of theChesapeake, after whom the vessel was named. The British fleet, compactly formed and under easy sail, awaited the enemy's approach. Captain Barclay in his flagshipDetroitheaded towards the south-west. TheChippewa,Hunter,Queen Charlotte,Lady Prevost, andLittle Belt, in close column, followed in his wake. The breeze, still light, veered to the north-east, giving the Americans the weather gauge.
About noon the action began. The roar of theDetroit'stwenty-four pounder, reverberating over the lake, told the anxious watchers on land that the battle had begun. The first shot fell short, but the second struck the decks of theLawrence, dealing death and destruction. Perry'sScorpionnow opened fire with her long thirty-two, and theLawrencewith her long twelves and her carronades. As soon as the two flagships were engaged, the battle was taken up by theScorpion,Ariel, andCaledoniaopposed to theChippewa,Queen Charlotte, andHunter.
For over two hours Barclay engaged Perry, until brace and bowline of theLawrencehad been shot away. The American flagship's hull was rent by shot and shell and every gun on her fighting side dismounted. The condition of the Detroit was equally perilous. Masts and rigging were cut to pieces and her decks torn and splintered from the heavy fire of theLawrence. Captain Barclay's remaining arm had been disabled in the early part of the action, and, weak from his wounds, he had been carried below. But the valiant crew, inspired by the courage and determination of their officers, stubbornly continued the fight.
Perry's ship being reduced to a wreck, that gallant young commander, still undaunted, determined to abandon her. Hauling down his flag, he bade four stout seamen row him to theNiagara. The little boat sped swiftly on her way; all about her the water was churned to foam by shot and shell. Those on the flagship anxiously watched the dangerous passage, and broke into cheers as their commander reached the Niagara's deck in safety and ran up his flag on that ship. TheLawrencenow struck to theDetroit, but the latter's small boats had been so damaged by the enemy's fire that they were not seaworthy, The British, therefore, were unable to take possession of their prize before the action recommenced.
A fresh breeze sprang up, and the fortunes of the fight changed. The Americans still had the advantage of the wind, for Perry was able to choose both position and distance, while Barclay's ships became unmanageable for lack of proper seamen. The American fleet was now drawn up in line. TheNiagarabore up to pierce the British line. Passing between theLady Prevost,Little Belt, andChippewaon the port side and theDetroit,Queen Charlotte, andHunterupon the starboard, she fired heavy broadsides both ways. The Detroit, anticipating the manoeuvre, attempted to wear, but in so doing ran foul of theQueen Charlotte. In this helpless condition the two British ships remained for some time. Perry, promptly availing himself of this accident, bore down upon the distressed vessels, pouring in broadside after broadside with deadly effect. TheDetroithad already received rough treatment in combat with theLawrence; and the smaller vessels now also made her a target, theSomers,Porcupine,Tigress, andCaledonia, which had closed up in the rear, keeping up a deadly fire astern.
Never in any naval action was the loss greater in proportion to the number of men engaged. The encounter had been so severe that every officer on theDetroitwas either killed or wounded. Barclay's thigh was badly shattered and he had also been severely wounded in the shoulder. So deadly had been the fire from the American guns that three-fourths of his men were disabled. Without officers to direct or men to fight, resistance was no longer possible. All that perseverance and courage could do had been done. The brave Barclay was compelled to yield at last to a superior force and to double the weight of metal. The two ships so helplessly entangled were the first to strike their colours, and their example was followed by theHunterandLady Prevost. TheLittle Beltand theChippewaendeavoured to escape, and led theTrippeandScorpiona lively chase before they were eventually captured.
Cooper in his naval history remarks:
Stress was laid at the time on the fact that a portion of the British crews were Provincials, but the history of this continent is filled with instances which went to increase the renown of the mother country without obtaining any credit for it. The hardy frontier men of the American lakes are as able to endure fatigue, as ready to engage and as constant in battle as the seamen of any marine in the world. They merely require good leaders, and this the English appear to have possessed in Captain Barclay and his assistants.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when the flag of theDetroitwas lowered, and Captain Barclay with his officers, amidst the dead and dying who cumbered her decks, gave up their swords to Perry on theNiagara. The American commander could not but feel the greatest admiration for his courageous opponent. Courteous as he was brave, Perry begged the British officers to retain their swords.
For three hours the cannon had thundered over Lake Erie on that fateful day, but, after the opening encounter, the manoeuvres of the ships were lost to those on shore in the heavy clouds of smoke that hung over the water. When these had cleared away, a scene was revealed that contrasted sadly with that disclosed by the lifting of the morning mist. Crippled and dismantled, the brave ships, whose sails had swelled so proudly in the morning breeze, now made their way towards Put-in-Bay.
The Indians, marvelling at the roar of the guns, watched intently the heavy smoke of battle drifting over the lake. When the thunder had ceased and the sky was clear they eagerly inquired as to the result of the fight; and Tecumseh demanded the reason for the vessels sailing in the direction of the American shore. Procter, fearing that the news of defeat might cause the chief and his warriors to desert, craftily explained that his vessels had beaten the Americans, but had gone to refit and would return in a few days. But Tecumseh's keen eyes soon detected signs on land which aroused his suspicions, for hasty preparations were being made for retreat. He was indignant at what seemed to him the cowardice of Procter, and demanded to be heard in the name of all his warriors. At a council of war held on September 18 the great orator delivered his last powerful speech. With flashing eye and rapid gesture he thundered forth to Procter:
Father, listen to your children! You have them now all before you.
The war before this, our British father gave the hatchet to his red children, when our old chiefs were alive. They are now dead. In that war our father was thrown on his back by the Americans; and our father took them by the hand without our knowledge; and we are afraid our father will do so again at this time.
Summer before last, when I came forward with my red brethren and was ready to take up the hatchet in favour of our British father, we were then told not to be in a hurry—that he had not yet determined to fight the Americans.
Listen! When war was declared our father stood up and gave us the tomahawk, and told us that he was then ready to strike the Americans; that he wanted our assistance, and that he certainly would get us back our lands, which the Americans had taken from us.
Listen! You told us at that time to bring forward our families to this place, and we did so, and you promised to take care of them and that they should want for nothing, while the men would go and fight the enemy; that we need not trouble ourselves about the enemy's garrisons; that we knew nothing about them and that our father would attend to that part of the business. You also told your red children that you would take good care of your garrison here, which made our hearts glad.
Listen! When you were last at the Rapids, it is true we gave you little assistance. It is hard to fight people who live like ground hogs.
Father, listen! Our fleet has gone out; we know they have fought; we have heard the great guns; but we know nothing of what has happened to 'our father with the one arm.' Our ships have gone one way, and we are much astonished to see our father tying up everything and preparing to run away the other, without letting his red children know what his intentions are. You always told us to remain here and take care of your lands; it made our hearts glad to hear that was your wish. Our great father, the king, is the head, and you represent him. You always told us you would never draw your foot off British ground; but now, father, we see that you are drawing back, and we are sorry to see our father doing so, without seeing the enemy. We must compare our father's conduct to a fat dog that carries its tail on its back, but when affrighted drops it between its legs and runs off.
Father, listen! The Americans have not yet defeated us by land, neither are we sure they have done so by water;we, therefore, wish to remain here and fight our enemy should they make their appearance. If they defeat us, we will then retreat with our father.
At the battle of the Rapids, last war, the Americans certainly defeated us; and when we returned to our father's fort at that place, the gates were shut against us. We were afraid it would again be the case, but instead of closing the gates we now see our British father preparing to march out of his garrison.
Father, you have the arms and ammunition which our great father sent for his red children. If you intend to retreat, give them to us, and you may go, and welcome, for us. Our lives are in the hands of the Great Spirit. We are determined to defend our lands, and if it be His will, we wish to leave our bones upon them.
This challenging, straightforward, and heroic speech failed to move Procter. He stubbornly refused to make a stand at Amherstburg, which, indeed, would have been fatal. Tecumseh, however, accused him of cowardice, contrasting his conduct with that of the courageous Barclay, and expressed his own fixed determination to remain and meet the enemy.
Tecumseh felt that the great purpose of his life was about to fail. He had been champion not only of the rights of the Indians, but of their very existence as a nation. Dear to his heart was the freedom of his people, and to achieve this had been his sole ambition. All the powers with which he had been endowed—his superb physical strength, his keen intellect, his powerful oratory—had been used to this one end. But now the cause for which he had fought so heroically in the face of frequent disaster seemed about to be overthrown by Procter's weakness and irresolution. Tecumseh was born to command, and his proud spirit, naturally intolerant of control, chafed at following the dictates of a leader who had deceived him. The Indians had lost faith in Procter. There were daily desertions, and Tecumseh bitterly meditated following the example of other chiefs. But his courageous spirit revolted at the thought of retreat: to fly before the enemy without striking a blow seemed to him the action not of warriors but of cowards.
Procter pointed out that the fort, which had been dismantled to equip theDetroit, was open to attack from the river; that the hospital was filled with sick soldiers; and that starvation stared the British in the face. But the argument which weighed most with Tecumseh was that they would be able to find along the river Thames a place much better suited for battle. And at last the Indian leader reconciled his mind to the thought of retreat.
The troops were soon busily engaged in loading the baggage. Part was stowed in boats to be sent inland by way of the Detroit river, Lake St Clair, and the Thames; the remainder was placed in heavy wagons to be taken overland. The women and children, among whom were the general's wife and his sick daughter, were sent on ahead, the squaws trudging along bearing their papooses on their backs. The troops set fire to the shipyards, fortifications, and public buildings on September 24, and marched out leaving Amherstburg a mass of flames. Tecumseh seemed sad and oppressed; and as he gazed at the rolling clouds of smoke he said to Blue Jacket: 'We are now going to follow the British, and I feel well assured we shall never return.'
Procter halted at Sandwich, where he was joined by the garrison of Detroit, now also abandoned by the British, its fortifications and public buildings having been destroyed. On the morning of the 27th the column moved out of Sandwich. The lumbering wagons, encumbered with much heavy and unnecessary baggage, made slow progress. Procter's energy had vanished, and he displayed none of the forethought that a commander should have in the performance of his duty. He took no precaution to guard the supply-boats; his men were indifferently fed, and no care was taken for their safety. Even the bridges, which should have been cut down to hamper the progress of the enemy in pursuit, were left standing.
Three days after Procter's flight from Amherstburg Harrison landed below the town from Perry's vessels an army about five thousand strong. Finding Fort Malden a smoking ruin, and no enemy there, he pressed on to Sandwich, with his bands playingYankee Doodle, and encamped. Two days later he was joined by Colonel Johnson with fifteen hundred cavalry, and on the same day (September 29) a flotilla under Perry sailed up the river and stood off Detroit. After taking possession of Detroit, Harrison resolved to hasten in pursuit of the British. On October 2 he left Sandwich with four thousand men, sending his baggage by water under the protection of three gunboats which Perry had provided. Thus unencumbered, his troops marched rapidly. On the morning of the 3rd they overtook and captured a small cavalry picket of the British; and keeping in motion throughout the day, they encamped that night not far below the place known as Dolsen's, on the south side of the Thames river, about six miles below Chatham.
The main body of the British had left Dolsen's just a day in advance of the enemy, having travelled only forty-five miles in five days. All along the route Tecumseh had persistently urged that a stand should be made. Procter had promised that this should be done, first at one place, then at another; but each time he had made some excuse. At length, when they came to the site of the present city of Chatham, where McGregor's Creek falls into the Thames, Tecumseh pointed out to Procter the natural advantages of the ground and appealed to him to prepare for battle. The general approved of making a stand at this point, and declared that the British would either defeat Harrison here or leave their bones on the field of conflict. After the leaders had completed their survey of the proposed battle-ground, Tecumseh gazed musingly at the swiftly flowing waters. 'When I look at those two streams,' he said, 'they remind me of the Wabash and the Tippecanoe.' A gentler light shone in the warrior's eyes; his thoughts were far away among the scenes of his Indian village—the village that he had hoped to make the centre of a great confederacy of red men.
Meanwhile the main body of the British troops were at Dolsen's, where they had arrived on the 1st of October. Leaving his troops at their camp, and Tecumseh and his Indians at Chatham, Procter set out with a guard to escort his wife and daughter to Moraviantown, a village of the Delaware Indians, twenty odd miles farther up the river. He was still absent on October 3, when scouts returned with news of the capture of the cavalry picket. Procter had left no orders; and Warburton, the officer in command, was at a loss what action to take. After consulting with Tecumseh, who had come down from Chatham, he ordered a retreat for two miles up the river; there the troops formed up, fully expecting attack. But as the enemy failed to appear, they proceeded to Chatham. Tecumseh desired the troops to halt and encamp with his Indians on the opposite side of the river. Warburton, however, desired to continue the retreat. But Tecumseh would not yield, and Warburton ordered his men across the stream, where the entire force camped for the night. Next morning, before the troops had breakfasted, scouts rushed into the camp bringing word of the rapid advance of the enemy. Immediately Warburton ordered his men to march, not allowing them time even to take food. About six miles up from Chatham Procter joined the army and took command. The retreat continued until nightfall, when the troops encamped about five miles below Moraviantown, on the north bank of the Thames, where the village of Thamesville now stands.
But Tecumseh and his band had not accompanied the retreating party; and when Harrison reached McGregor's Creek at Chatham, he found his progress checked. The bridge there had been destroyed, and Tecumseh with his warriors disputed the passage. Harrison, thinking he was opposed by the whole British force, marshalled his army and brought up his artillery. After a slight skirmish, in which Tecumseh was wounded in the arm, the Indians were forced to fall back. A second bridge was similarly contested, with a like result. Then Tecumseh and his Indians retreated and joined Procter's forces near Moraviantown, while the Americans pushed eagerly forward. Drifting down-stream were seen several British boats, which had been deserted by their occupants and set on fire.
The morning of the 5th found Harrison near Arnold's Mills, where he overtook and captured two gunboats and some bateaux laden with supplies and ammunition. A few of the occupants escaped and fled overland towards the British camp. Harrison's men then crossed the Thames, some of them in boats and canoes and others on horseback. By noon the entire American army had reached the opposite shore, where, farther up, the British were bivouacked, only a short march distant.
On the morning of the same day, while the soldiers were waiting for their rations to be meted out, the fugitives from Arnold's Mills arrived at Procter's camp and informed him of the capture of the gunboats and of Harrison's near approach. Tecumseh was sitting on a moss-covered log, smoking and discussing the situation with Shaubena and a few of his chief warriors, when a messenger summoned the Indian leader to the general's headquarters. He returned after a short absence, with clouded brow and thoughtful mien, and silently resumed his pipe. One of the chiefs finally asked, 'Father, what are we to do? shall we fight the Americans?' 'Yes, my son,' slowly replied Tecumseh. 'We will be in their smoke before sunset.'
The dark shadow of his fate stole across Tecumseh's consciousness. He had the same strange presentiment of death as his brother Cheeseekau, but he entered upon his last battle just as fearlessly. 'Brother warriors,' he said to those about him, 'we are now about to enter into an engagement from which I shall never come out. My body will remain upon the field of battle.' His followers gazed at their leader in superstitious awe, as if they were listening to a prediction that must inevitably be fulfilled. He removed his sword, and presented it to the Potawatomi chief Shaubena, saying, 'When my son becomes a noted warrior, give him this.'
Again the troops, tired and hungry, were ordered to march without being permitted to eat their morning meal. They now numbered less than four hundred, without counting the Indians. Many were sick; all were worn out with marching and much disheartened. Retreat has a depressing effect upon the best of soldiers, but in this instance the troops, in addition, had lost faith in their leader and entertained only slight hope of victory. The boats that carried their ammunition had been taken—all they had left was what their pouches contained. Five of their cannon were at a ford behind Moraviantown, and the one remaining gun—a six-pounder—was useless for lack of ammunition.
The British took up their position about two miles below the village of Moraviantown, across the travelled road which lay along the Thames some two hundred yards from its banks. Their left flank was protected by the river and their right by a cedar swamp. By about one o'clock the troops were drawn up in order of battle between the swamp and the river. A double line was formed extending across the road into the heart of a beech wood, the second line about two hundred yards to the rear of the first. The six-pounder mounted guard on the road, threatening, but useless. Procter, on a fleet charger and surrounded by his staff, had taken up his position far back on the road, as if prepared for flight.
Tecumseh had sagaciously disposed his thousand warriors behind the swamp on the right of the British lines; and, when all was in readiness, the Indian leader visited Procter and, expressing his approval of the arrangement of the forces, passed down the British line. All eyes followed admiringly the familiar figure in its tanned buckskin. In his belt was his silver-mounted tomahawk, and his knife in its leathern case. About his head a handkerchief was rolled like a turban, and surmounted by a white feather. He addressed each officer in Shawnee, accompanying his speech with expressive gestures. Whatever doubts were in his mind, he maintained the dignity of a warrior to the end, and endeavoured to instil courage into the hearts of those about him. 'Father, have a big heart,' were his last words to Procter. He then joined his warriors and awaited the attack.
Clear and distinct sounded the American bugles through the autumn wood, and in a few moments the enemy came into view. As soon as Harrison caught sight of the British formation he halted his troops, and spurred his horse forward to consult with Colonel Johnson, one of his cavalry leaders. It was quickly decided to break through the British line with cavalry. Only one cavalry battalion, however, could manoeuvre between the river and the swamp; but Johnson was to lead another in person across the swamp against the Indians. The order to charge was given, and the American horsemen swept towards the British position. A loud musketry volley rang out along the first scarlet line, and the cavalry advance was checked for the moment. Horses reared and plunged, and many of the riders were thrown from their saddles. The British delivered a second volley before the Americans recovered from their confusion. But then, through the white, whirling smoke, sounded the thunder of trampling hoofs. With resistless force the American horsemen dashed against the opposing ranks and fired their pistols with telling effect. The first line of the British scattered in headlong flight, seeking shelter behind the reserves. The second line stood firm and delivered a steady fire; but the men of the first line were thrown into such disorder by the sudden attack that they could not be rallied. The Americans followed up their first charge and pressed hard upon the exhausted British, for whom there was now no alternative but to surrender. Those not killed were taken prisoners, with the exception of about fifty who effected their escape through the woods. Procter and his staff had taken flight at the first sight of the enemy.
Behind the swamp, where the Indians were posted, the battle went no more favourably. Tecumseh and his warriors had lain silent in their covert until Johnson's cavalry had advanced well within range. Then the leader's loud war-cry rang out as the signal for battle. The enemy shouted a derisive challenge, and the Indians replied with a well-directed volley. So destructive was the fire of the Indians that the front line of the Americans was annihilated. The horses were struggling in the swamp, and Johnson, himself wounded, ordered some of the horsemen to dismount, hoping to draw their foe out of cover, while he and a few of the boldest soldiers led the attack. Tecumseh's keen eye singled out the American leader. He rushed through his warriors to strike him down. Johnson levelled his pistol. Like lightning Tecumseh's tomahawk gleamed above his head. But before it could whirl on its deadly flight, there was a flash and a report. Johnson, weakened by the wound he had already received, but still clutching the smoking weapon, reeled from his saddle. Tecumseh's tomahawk dropped harmless to the earth, and the noblest of red patriots, the greatest and truest of Indian allies, fell shot through the breast. The Indians lost heart and fled into the depths of the forest, leaving many of their bravest warriors dead on the field.
Sunset faded into darkness. The body of Tecumseh lay on the battlefield in the light of the American camp-fires. Like spectres his faithful followers stole swiftly through the wood and bore it away. On the dead face still lingered the impress of the proud spirit which had animated it in life. But silent was the war-cry that had urged his followers to battle; stilled was the silver eloquence that had won them to his purpose.
Tecumseh was no more; but his memory was cherished by the race for whose freedom he had so valiantly fought. In the light of the camp-fire his courageous deeds were long extolled by warriors and handed down by the sachems of his people. Many an ambitious brave felt his heart leap as he listened—like Tecumseh when as a boy he drank in the stories of the heroic deeds of his ancestors.
The white men respected Tecumseh as the Indians revered Brock. But how different the obsequies of the two heroes! For Brock flags floated at half-mast. He was borne to the grave to the sound of martial music, followed by a sorrowing multitude. His valour was the theme of orators. A stately monument perpetuates his memory and attracts pilgrims to his burial-place. The red hero fell fighting for the same flag-fighting on, though deserted by a British general in the hour of direst need. But no flag drooped her crimson folds for him. A few followers buried him stealthily by the light of a flickering torch. No funeral oration was uttered as he was lowered to his last resting-place. Night silently spread her pall; softly the autumn leaves covered the spot, and the wind chanted a mournful requiem over his lonely grave. No towering column directs the traveller to Tecumseh's burial-place; not even an Indian totem-post marks the spot. The red man's secret is jealously guarded and to no white man has it ever been revealed.
The principal books dealing with Tecumseh are Drake'sLife of Tecumseh, Eggleston'sTecumseh and the ShawneeProphet, andThe Story of Tecumseh, by Norman S. Gurd.The last mentioned is a vividly written, interesting book.
The following general books on the Indians contain short sketches of, or reference to, the subject of this story: Thatcher'sIndian Biography; Drake'sIndians of North America; Hodge'sHandbook of American Indians; White'sHandbook of Indians of Canada(based on Hodge); Roosevelt'sWinning of the West; Trumbull'sIndian Wars; Brownell'sThe Indian Races of North and South America; and Tupper'sLife and Correspondence of Sir Isaac Brock.
All works dealing with the War of 1812 contain matter essential to the student of the career of Tecumseh. Chief among these are: David Thompson'sWar of 1812; Richardson'sWar of 1812(the edition edited by A. C. Casselman (1902) contains many valuable notes); Coffin's1812: The War end its Moral; a Canadian Chronicle; Auchinleck'sHistory of the War; Hannay'sWar of 1812; Lucas'sCanadian War of 1812; Roosevelt'sNaval War of 1812; and Adams'sHistory of the United States during the Administration of Jefferson and Madison.
The life and character of Tecumseh have formed the subject of three somewhat ambitious poems: Richardson'sTecumseh; Jones'sTecumseh, a tragedy in five acts; and Mair'sTecumseh, a drama.