Indian oratory, like that of most savage races, is poetical and picturesque in thought and expression. It abounds in imagery and is not without touches of pathos and humour. The unlettered Indian has no rich store of written history from which to draw his illustrations. He takes them from Nature's ever-open book—the sheltered lake, the winding stream, the storm-swept forest—and from the legendary lore of his tribe. Tecumseh was one of the most renowned of a race of orators. The stately Algonquian language displayed its greatest beauty when spoken by him. His eloquence flowed as freely as a mighty river, or again, thundering like a cataract, it swept everything along on its tempestuous tide. Tecumseh's speech can never reach our ears; we cannot see the light flash from his hazel eye or the smile play upon his bronzed cheek. We cannot watch his graceful gestures. His personal presence we may not feel; but behind his recorded words we are still aware of living force and power. We can picture his manly form in its simple attire, as he paces up and down, dominating his hearers by his persuasive speech, convincing their reason, controlling their judgement, compelling their action. None knew the untaught and unteachable art of oratory better than Tecumseh. Throughout his life it ever played an important part, from his first outburst, which was in defence of a helpless captive, until his last appeal to the courage of a British general. Tecumseh acquitted himself gallantly upon the field of battle, where he was always conspicuous for his courage; but in the council-chamber there were also battles to be fought, in which words were weapons, and there Tecumseh was no less conspicuous and successful.
After the arrival of the commissioners and Indian chiefs at Chillicothe the governor summoned them to a great council. Tecumseh was to speak on behalf of the red men. Upon him was centred the attention of all. He spoke for three hours, during which he held his listeners spellbound. He assured them that it was far from his intention to take up the hatchet against the pale-face, but that he would sternly resist any trespass upon his people's rights. Rapidly reviewing all the treaties between the western tribes and the whites, he boldly denied the validity of the Treaty of Greenville. At the same time, he pleaded for conciliation and peace. His speech made a great impression. The governor's fear of an uprising at Greenville was allayed, and the militia, which had been hastily summoned, were dismissed.
Tecumseh's oratory was called into play again in the autumn of 1807, when the Americans were thrown into a state of terror by the murder of a white man near the site of the present town of Urbana. This deed of violence, coupled with the constant increase of the Prophet's band at Greenville, caused the wildest alarm among the settlers. Tecumseh and his brother disclaimed all knowledge of the murder, which had been committed by some wandering Indians, and they agreed to attend a council at Springfield to reassure the whites. The Indians who attended the council were asked to lay aside their arms. Tecumseh haughtily refused, thinking it unbecoming the dignity of a warrior chief. When the request was repeated, the wily Indian replied that his tomahawk was also his pipe and that he might wish to smoke. Thereupon a gaunt American advanced and offered Tecumseh his own pipe. Taking the earthen bowl with its long stern into his fingers, Tecumseh eyed it curiously; his gaze then travelled to the owner, who stood half fearful of the result of this offer. Then with an indignant gesture the chief tossed the pipe into the bushes behind him. Nothing more was said about the tomahawk.
The council was held in the shade of spreading maples. The chiefs and their warriors ranged themselves in a semicircle on the grass. The pipe of peace slowly made its round in token of goodwill. Several chiefs spoke in turn, expressing the pacific intentions of the Indians. Tecumseh referred to the recent murder, and denied that it had been the act of any of the tribes under his influence. He explained that the motive for the gathering of so many red men at Greenville was purely religious, and that all were friendly towards the whites. His wards and manner again carried conviction, and the council terminated peacefully.
The Americans, however, still continued to regard the Prophet's settlement at Greenville as a real menace. During the same autumn came another message to all the tribes under the Prophet's influence from the governor of the territory of Indiana, William Henry Harrison, afterwards president of the United States, and an active and successful leader of the Americans in the War of 1812. The message closed with these words:
My children, I have heard bad news. The sacred spot where the great council fire was kindled, around which the Seventeen Fires and ten tribes of their children smoked the pipe of peace—that very spot, where the Great Spirit saw His red and white children encircle themselves with the chain of friendship,—that place has been selected for dark and bloody councils. My children, this business must be stopped. You have called in a number of men from the most distant tribes, to listen to a fool, who speaks not the words of the Great Spirit, but those of the devil and of the British agents. My children, your conduct has much alarmed the white settlers near you. They desire that you will send away those people, and if they desire to have the impostor with them, they may carry him. Let him go to the lakes; he can hear the British more distinctly.
Tecumseh was absent from Greenville when this message was received, and it fell to the Prophet to make a reply. He was sorry, he said, that his father listened to the advice of bad birds. He denied that the Indians had any intercourse with the British, or that they desired anything but peace and to hear the words of the Great Spirit.
Early in the spring of 1808 Tecumseh and the Prophet, with their band of followers, left Greenville and set out in a westerly direction, across what is now the state of Indiana. Land had been granted to them by the Potawatomis and Kickapoos on the banks of the Tippecanoe, near its junction with the Wabash, and here they intended to make a new town, which should be the headquarters of their proposed confederacy. No more desirable spot could have been chosen. It was almost central in relation to the tribes they were endeavouring to bring together, and it had convenient communication with Lake Erie by means of the Wabash and Maumee rivers, and with Lake Michigan and the Illinois country by way of the Tippecanoe and other connecting waters. On one side an almost impenetrable stretch of wilderness formed a natural defence. From this position, also, Tecumseh was able to watch carefully the country from which he wished to exclude white settlers.
The Prophet's influence soon extended Among the neighbouring tribes, and the American authorities again became alarmed, the more so as they learned that among his followers warlike sports were now being practised along with religious rites. To counteract the effect of such reports the Prophet sent a message to Governor Harrison to say that he had been misrepresented, and followed it up by a personal visit along with a number of his followers, to explain his attitude towards the Americans. The visit lasted for a fortnight and frequent conferences took place between Harrison and the Prophet. The governor also questioned many of the Indians, but could learn nothing from them derogatory to their leader. Desiring to know to what extent the Prophet's teachings controlled his followers, he tempted them with liquor, but they remained true to their vow of total abstinence.
Before taking his leave Tenskwatawa thus addressed himself to the governor:
I told all the redskins, that the way they were in was not good, and that they ought to abandon it. That we ought to consider ourselves as one man; but we ought to live agreeably to our several customs, the red people after their mode, and the white people after theirs; particularly that they should not drink whisky; … do not take up the tomahawk should it be offered by the British, or by the Long Knives; do not meddle with anything that does not belong to you, but mind your own business and cultivate the ground, that your women and your children may have enough to live on.
I now inform you, that it is our intention to live in peace with our father and his people for ever.
This harangue ended with the customary begging for presents, after which the Prophet and his company took their departure.
Meanwhile Governor Harrison was planning to take more territory from the Indians and add it to the United States. By a treaty with some of the tribes made at Fort Wayne on September 30, 1809, he obtained a tract of about three million acres, extending nearly one hundred miles on each side of the Wabash. By this treaty the Indians found that they were deprived of much of their best hunting-ground. Their indignation rose to fighting pitch, and many who had been holding back now accepted Tecumseh's scheme of a great confederation by means of which they might, with some hope of success, battle for their rights. The powerful Wyandots, keepers of the great wampum belt of tribal union, turned to the Prophet. Many of the lesser tribes followed their example, and refused to recognize the American claims to this newly ceded territory. For lands acquired under various treaties, the Indians were receiving from the Americans certain annuities in goods. That year, when their annual portion of salt arrived at Tippecanoe, the Indians refused to take it and drove the boatmen away. They accused the Americans of deception, demanding that the land should be given back, and that no more should be taken without the unanimous consent of all the tribes.
War between the British and the Americans now seemed inevitable, and everything pointed to an alliance between the British and the Indians of Tecumseh's confederacy. British interests required that the confederacy should not be weakened by premature outbreaks. Gifts of clothing, food, and weapons were lavishly bestowed upon Tecumseh, who was encouraged to unite the tribes, but not to declare war until word came from Canada. 'My son,' said a British agent, 'keep your eyes fixed on me; my tomahawk is now up; be you ready, but do not strike until I give the signal.'
The governor of Indiana, desiring to learn the Prophet's strength and, if possible, to avert war, sent the following message to Tippecanoe:
There is yet but little harm done, which may be easily repaired. The chain of friendship, which united the whites with the Indians, may be renewed and be as strong as ever. A great deal of that work depends on you—the destiny of those who are under your direction depends upon the choice you may make of the two roads which are before you. The one is large, open and pleasant, and leads to peace, security, and happiness; the other, on the contrary, is narrow and crooked, and leads to misery and ruin. Do not deceive yourselves; do not believe that all the nations of Indians united are able to resist the force of the Seventeen Fires. I know your warriors are brave, but ours are not less so; and what can a few brave warriors do against the innumerable warriors of the Seventeen Fires? Our blue coats are more numerous than you can count; our hunters are like the leaves of the forest, or the grains of sand on the Wabash.
Do not think the red coats can protect you; they are not able to protect themselves. They do not think of going to war with us. If they did, you would in a few moons see our flag wave over all the forts of Canada.
To this the Prophet made no direct reply, but said that Tecumseh, as his representative, would visit the governor shortly.
True to this promise, early in August 1810, Tecumseh, with four hundred warriors grotesquely painted for the occasion, swept down the Wabash in canoes. Captain Lloyd, then at Fort Knox, writes of their passing:
The Shawanoe Indians have come; they passed this garrison, which is three miles above Vincennes, on Sunday last, in eighty canoes. They were all painted in the most terrific manner. They were stopped at the garrison by me, for a short time. I examined their canoes and found them well prepared for war, in case of an attack. They were headed by the brother of the Prophet (Tecumseh), who, perhaps, is one of the finest-looking men I ever saw—about six feet high, straight, with large, fine features, and altogether a daring, bold-looking fellow. The governor's council with them will commence to-morrow morning.
Tecumseh and his warriors encamped at Vincennes, the capital at that time of the territory of Indiana, where many had assembled for the council, which was fixed for August 12. At the hour appointed Tecumseh, attended by forty followers, proceeded to the governor's house. Seated in state on the portico was the governor, surrounded by judges of the Supreme Court, officers, and citizens. About forty yards from the house Tecumseh halted abruptly. An interpreter advanced with the request that the chief and his warriors should take seats on the portico. To this Tecumseh signified strong disapproval, saying that he preferred a neighbouring grove. The governor objected that there were no chairs there. 'The earth is my mother, and on her bosom will I repose,' was the rejoinder. The chief carried his point, and chairs for the governor and his suite were removed to the grove.
Tecumseh put forth all the powers of his eloquence. He traced the course of relations between the two races from the time when only the moccasined foot of the red man trod the wilderness. He depicted vividly the evils suffered by his race since their first contact with the whites. The ruthless destruction of his birthplace, the sufferings of his childhood, the conflicts of his early manhood—all these he passed over in rapid review. And he closed his address by contending that the Treaty of Fort Wayne was illegal, since it had not been agreed to by all the tribes, who constituted a single nation and who had joint ownership in the land. Governor Harrison in his reply disputed Tecumseh's statement that all the Indians were as one nation, using as his main argument the fact that they spoke different tongues. He contended that if the Miamis desired to sell their land, the Shawnees had no right to interfere. On the following day he inquired whether Tecumseh intended to prevent a survey of the disputed land. The chief replied that it was the intention of the united tribes to recognize the old boundary only, and that, while he had no desire to provoke war, he would oppose further aggression. If the Americans gave up this land, he would serve them faithfully; if not, he would cast in his lot with the British. The governor promised to notify the president of Tecumseh's views, without holding out much prospect of a decision to surrender the land to its former owners.
'Well,' returned Tecumseh, 'as the great chief is to decide the matter, I hope the Great Spirit will put enough sense into his head to induce him to direct you to give up this land. It is true he is so far off he will not be injured by the war; he may sit still in his town and drink his wine, while you and I shall have to fight it out.'
In the following spring (1811), when the Americans were distributing the annuity of salt to the Kickapoos and Shawnees, the Prophet's Indians at Tippecanoe, on being offered their share of five barrels, forcibly seized the whole boat-load. This angered the Americans, who were further incensed by the murder on the Missouri of four white men by two Indians of the Potawatomi tribe. Tecumseh, who was absent at the time either on a hunting expedition or for the purpose of strengthening his confederation, was summoned to Vincennes shortly after his return. He arrived on July 27, attended by a party of three hundred warriors. The governor referred to the recent seizure of the salt by the Prophet's warriors and demanded an explanation. Tecumseh replied that it was indeed difficult to please the governor, since he seemed equally annoyed if the salt were taken or rejected. When asked to deliver up the Indians guilty of the murder, he replied that he had no jurisdiction over them, since they were not of his town. The white people, he said, were needlessly alarmed at his active measures in uniting the northern tribes; for he was but following the example which the Seventeen Fires had set him when they joined the Fires in one confederacy, and he boldly declared that he would endeavour also to unite the various tribes of the south with those of the north. The land question he hoped would be left in abeyance until his return in the spring.
Tecumseh was soon on his southern journey, with twenty warriors to aid in the work which was now apparently nearing completion. Inspired by patriotic zeal, he passed from tribe to tribe, incessantly active. Through dismal swamps and across wide plains he made his way, and in his light canoe shot many a dangerous rapid. He laboured diligently among the Indians to make them sensible of their wrongs and induce them to sink their petty tribal jealousies in a grand and noble patriotism. He braved the dangers and difficulties of winter travel over the crusted snow and through the white forests. From sunrise to sunset he journeyed, passing from camp-fire to camp-fire, binding together the scattered tribes by the fire and force of his eloquence.
In Tecumseh's absence the Prophet reigned at Tippecanoe, performing his mysterious rites, seeing visions, and dreaming dreams. Indians from the most remote tribes were drawn by tales of his miraculous deeds to this chosen seat of the Great Spirit, the centre from which radiated the Prophet's influence. The ever-increasing number of red men there assembling was evidence also of the success of Tecumseh's mission. The Americans had heard with uneasiness his bold avowal before starting on his southern journey, and their alarm was increased by the reports from Harrison's spies, posted near the Prophet's town.
On August 7, 1811, the United States government demanded the surrender of all Indians who were in any way connected with the murder of American citizens, and threatened to exterminate those tribes which raised the hatchet. In response the Prophet promised to comply with the president's demands, and reiterated his earnest desire to avert war. But, in spite of such pacific protesting, the Indians continued their acts of hostility. Some horses were stolen, and the thieves were tracked to Tippecanoe. The owners hastened thither to reclaim their property, and on nearing the town were fired upon by Indians. Similar incidents were common.
Harrison was well aware of the important and extensive nature of the work in which Tecumseh was engaged, and viewing with alarm the rapid growth of the confederation on the western frontier, he resolved on action. The destruction of Tippecanoe would be of the utmost strategic importance, but, if such a drastic measure were determined upon, it would have to be accomplished before Tecumseh's return. On the other hand, the president's commands had been to maintain peace. The governor reconciled the two opposing courses of action by the thought that a large army advancing upon the Indians might intimidate them into submission. Failing that, the alternative war became inevitable.
On October 5 Harrison set out from Vincennes with over one thousand men. This army encamped for a brief period on the Wabash, where the city of Terre Haute now stands, and erected a fort which, in honour of the leader, was named Fort Harrison. Leaving about one hundred men as a guard, Harrison, with the remaining nine hundred, set out for Tippecanoe on October 29. Two well-worn trails made by the Prophet's disciples led along the Wabash, one on either side of the river. Harrison chose that along the eastern side, then forded the river and struck the other trail. He safely crossed the dangerous pass at Pine Creek, where fatal havoc had been wrought upon the troops of General Harmar. Worn out by their tedious and difficult march, the soldiers encamped on the evening of November 5 within ten miles of the Prophet's headquarters. Next morning they were early on the march; and, after having gone about five miles, they sighted a party of reconnoitring Indians, with whom they endeavoured to communicate, but the red men ignored their advances and assumed an unfriendly attitude. Within a mile and a half of the town several of the officers impatiently urged an immediate attack; but as the president's commands were to keep peace as long as possible, Harrison decided to send an officer with a small guard to arrange for a conference. This overture, however, did not succeed; the Indians were hostile, and even made an attempt to capture the officer and his men. And Harrison then ordered his army to advance upon the town.
Suddenly three Indians appeared, making their way directly towards the army. The Prophet's chief counsellor, with two interpreters, had come to demand the reason of this warlike advance. Peace, they declared, was their one desire. With much gesticulation they explained that messages to that effect had been sent by certain chiefs, who must have taken the other trail and so missed the general of the Seventeen Fires. The governor agreed to suspend hostilities in order that terms of peace might be arranged in council on the following day, and then set his men in motion towards Tippecanoe. This unlooked-for action startled the Indians, who immediately assumed the defensive. The governor, however, assured them that he had no hostile intentions, and asked whether there was a near-by stream by the side of which his troops might encamp. He was directed to a creek about a mile distant which ran through the prairie to the north of the town. Thither the Americans at once proceeded, and finding it a most desirable camping-ground, the soldiers were soon busily engaged in pitching their tents and gathering brushwood to make fires, for the November air was chill. Although no attack was anticipated, Harrison arranged his camp as if expecting battle, and posted around it a thin line of sentries.
Darkness fell upon the two encampments. The weary soldiers were sleeping on their arms; the Prophet and his counsellors sat about their council fire, eager and alert, earnestly discussing the situation. Tecumseh's parting injunction had been to maintain peace at all hazards until his return. But the Prophet saw himself surrounded by intrepid warriors who would dare anything at his command, and his ambition was sorely tempted. In point of numbers his force was equal to that of the Americans, and the latter, moreover, were without the protection of fortifications. Visions of certain victory passed before his mind. He was still smarting from Harrison's stinging message to the tribes five years before, and not too well pleased with Tecumseh's rising fame, which threatened to eclipse his own. Moved by these thoughts, the Prophet yielded to the counsel of his boldest warriors and decided upon battle.
Hurried preparations were then made to take the enemy by surprise. There was no moon and the sky was clouded. Nature herself apparently was aiding the Prophet's plans. All being ready, he concocted some charmed fluid, over which he muttered curious incantations. He assured his credulous followers that half the enemy were mad and the remainder dead; and he solemnly promised them that bullets would glance harmlessly from their own bodies. The superstitious Indians, thus excited to an intense pitch of religious fanaticism, were prepared to dare anything.
Shortly before daylight on November 7 the whole Indian force crept stealthily through the grass towards the fires of Harrison's camp. The hush that precedes the dawn was broken only by the soft patter of rain. A watchful sentinel discerned in the dawning light the spectre-like form of the foremost savage. He fired at once, and the shot roused the sleeping camp. It told the Indians that they were discovered, and with wild war-whoops they rushed against the American position. The line of sentries was quickly broken through; but the soldiers sprang to arms; camp-fires were trodden out; and Indians and whites fought furiously in the darkness. Perched on a safe eminence, the Prophet looked down upon the fight, chanting his war-song further to excite the savages, and rattling deers' hoofs as signals for advance or retreat. Under the influence of their fierce fanaticism the Indians abandoned their usual practice of fighting from behind cover, and braved the enemy in open conflict. In spite of Tenskwatawa's prophecies, the American bullets wrought deadly havoc among the warriors, who, seeing that they had been deceived, began to waver. Finally, the Indians gave way before a terrific charge and fled to the woods, while the soldiers applied the torch to their village.
On the head of the Prophet fell the blame for this disastrous reverse. 'You are a liar,' said a Winnebago chief to his former spiritual adviser, 'for you told us that the white people were all dead or crazy, when they were in their right mind and fought like the devil.' The Prophet vainly endeavoured to give reasons for the failure of his prophecy; it was, he declared, all due to some error in compounding his concoction; but the wizard's rod was broken, his mysterious influence shattered. His radiant visions of power had vanished in the smoke of battle, and he slipped back into the oblivion from which he had so suddenly sprung.
Meanwhile Tecumseh was pursuing his mission with determination and vigour. After travelling many weary miles, he turned again homeward, pleased with his success, his thoughts soaring hopefully as he neared the little town which owed its existence to him. But he arrived there to find his headquarters demolished, his followers disbanded, his brother humiliated. Hardest of all to bear was the knowledge that his own brother, on whose co-operation he had so firmly relied, had caused this great disaster to his people. The Prophet's miserable excuses so enraged him that he seized him by the hair and shook him violently. Tecumseh mused upon his years of patient and careful organization, and thought sorrowfully of his town, so laboriously fortified, and peopled at the cost of so many dangers risked and privations endured. It was a blow almost too great to be borne. Should he accept it as a total defeat and abandon his purpose? No! The courageous chief, as he stood amid the charred remains of Tippecanoe, resolved to persevere in his struggle for the freedom of his race.
Tecumseh now informed the governor of his return and expressed his willingness to visit the president of the United States. Permission was granted him to go to Washington, but it was stipulated that he must do so unattended. This offended Tecumseh's pride and dignity. He was the most powerful American Indian living, with five thousand warriors at his command; holding in one hand an alliance with Great Britain, and in the other an alliance with the Indians of the south-west. Such was the position he had reached, and he intended to maintain it. Was so great a chief, ruler over a confederacy similar to that of the white man, to visit the chief of the Seventeen Fires without a retinue! No! He haughtily refused to go to Washington under such conditions.
In the early spring of 1812 two settlers were put to death near Fort Dearborn, several others near Fort Madison, and a whole family was murdered near Vincennes. These acts of violence threw the settlers into a panic. A general Indian rising was feared; but at this critical moment Tecumseh attended a grand council at Mississinewa, on the Wabash, between Tippecanoe and Fort Wayne, and succeeded in calming the excited fears of the Americans. He was not yet prepared for open war. On this occasion, in the course of his address, he said:
Governor Harrison made war on my people in my absence; it was the will of the Great Spirit that he should do so. We hope it will please the Great Spirit that the white people may let us live in peace; we will not disturb them, neither have we done it, except when they came to our village with the intention of destroying us. We are happy to state to your brothers present, that the unfortunate transaction that took place between the white people and a few of our men at our village has been settled between us and Governor Harrison; and I will further state, had I been at home, there would have been no blood shed at the time.
In speaking of the recent murders, Tecumseh said he greatly regretted that the ill-will of the Americans should be exercised upon his followers, when the Potawatomis, over whom he had no power, alone were guilty.
To a message from the British agent Tecumseh replied:
You tell us to retreat or turn to one side should the Long Knives come against us. Had I been at home in the late unfortunate affair [the attack on Tippecanoe] I should have done so, but those I left at home were (I cannot call them men) a poor set of people, and their scuffle with the Long Knives I compare to a struggle between little children, who only scratch each other's faces. The Kickapoos and Winnebagoes have since been at Post Vincennes and settled the matter amicably.
If Tecumseh regarded the Tippecanoe battle lightly, the Americans considered it a serious event. It was magnified into an important victory, and cited to rouse feelings of enmity against Great Britain, whose agents were held to be responsible for the conduct of the Indians. Occurring at a crisis of affairs, it was made a strong argument for a declaration of war against England.
When June came Tecumseh demanded ammunition from the Indian agent at Fort Wayne. The agent presented many reasons why the chief should now become friendly to the Seventeen Fires. Tecumseh listened with indifference. He then bitterly expressed his resentment at Governor Harrison's advance in his absence, and maintained his right to the lands the Americans had invaded, but he still declared that he had no intention of taking up arms against the United States. The agent refused the ammunition. 'My British father will not deny me; to him will I go,' retorted Tecumseh.
We now leave the Wabash for the Detroit, and the interior of Indiana for the frontiers of Canada. Early in June 1812 Tecumseh, with a small band of chosen warriors, left his wigwam and set out through the forest for the British post at Amherstburg on the Canadian side of the Detroit river, solemnly vowing not to bury the tomahawk until the Long Knives were humbled. At Amherstburg he sought out Colonel Matthew Elliott, the Canadian superintendent of Indian Affairs, and formally pledged his allegiance to the king of Great Britain. In front of Fort Malden at Amherstburg, near the mouth of the Detroit river, lay Bois Blanc Island, upon which several blockhouses had been erected. This island was fixed upon as the headquarters of the Indians, and here Tecumseh and his warriors encamped.
The fidelity of the great chief was put to the test even before active hostilities began. A band of neutral Indians, encamped at Brownstown, on the American side, opposite Amherstburg, invited him to a council they were about to hold. His decision was quickly made. He had cast in his lot with the British and would not falter in his allegiance. 'No,' he replied to the runner that awaited his answer; 'I will suffer my bones to bleach upon this shore before I engage in any council of neutrality.' He soon gave proof of his sincerity by leading his intrepid little band in one of the initial engagements of the war, an engagement, as we shall learn, of the greatest importance in this early stage of the conflict.
Tecumseh had taken his stand for the coming war: the flag of Britain should be his flag, and her soldiers his comrades-in-arms. To him, indeed, it was that Britain owed her Indian allies in the War of 1812. Canadians and Indians stood side by side in face of a common peril and were inspired by a common purpose. To Canada defeat meant absorption in the United States and the loss of national life; to the red men it meant expulsion from their homes and hunting-grounds and the ultimate extinction of their race.
Long before the formal declaration of was by the United States (June 18, 1812) the inevitable conflict had been foreseen. The Democrats, then in power in the United States, were determined to have it. To many Americans it appeared as a necessary sequel to the Revolution, a second War of Independence; to others it seemed a short and easy means of adding to the United States that northern territory, the inhabitants of which had refused the opportunity to join the Thirteen Colonies in the War of the Revolution. But the causes of this unhappy war are too complex and manifold to be discussed here. [Footnote: SeeThe War with the United Statesin this Series.]
Canada's position at the opening of hostilities was far from reassuring. The population of all British North America was only half a million of whites at most, as compared with about eight million in the United States. Great Britain was engaged elsewhere in a life-and-death struggle and could spare but few troops to support the Canadian militia. Indeed, there were not fifteen hundred British soldiers along the whole Canadian frontier; while, even before the declaration of war, to Detroit alone had been dispatched more than two thousand American troops. The Americans had, therefore, reasonable grounds for confidence in the ultimate result, notwithstanding a somewhat depleted treasury and the opposition of a considerable party in the northern, especially the New England, States. Canadians, however, loyally answered the call to arms, and proved the truth of the words that 'a country defended by free men enthusiastically devoted to the cause of their king and constitution can never be conquered.' Canada, too, had a tower of strength in Isaac Brock, a distinguished British soldier, who had seen active service in the West Indies and in Holland, and had been with Nelson at Copenhagen.
On July 11, 1812, General William Hull, commander of the American army of the north-west, invaded Canada and occupied Sandwich, a small town almost directly opposite Detroit. On the following day he issued a proclamation with the intent of detaching Canadians from their allegiance. In this proclamation he protested against the employment of Indians as combatants, although the persistent endeavours of the Americans to win the Indians over to their cause must have been known to him. The words of the proclamation are as follows:
If the barbarous and savage policy of Great Britain be pursued, and the savages let loose to murder our citizens, and butcher our women and children, this war will be a war of extermination. The first stroke of the tomahawk, the first attempt with the scalping-knife, will be the signal for one indiscriminate scene of desolation! No white man found fighting by the side of an Indian will be taken prisoner; instant destruction will be his lot.
To this Brock replied:
This inconsistent and unjustifiable threat of refusing quarter, for such a cause as being found in arms with a brother sufferer in defence of invaded rights, must be exercised with the certain assurance of retaliation, not only in the limited operation of war in this part of the King's Dominions, but in every quarter of the globe. For the national character of Britain is not less distinguished for humanity than strict retributive justice, which will consider the execution of this inhuman threat as deliberate murder, for which every subject of the offending power must make expiation.
Tecumseh, with the aid of the British agents, had assembled six hundred warriors on Bois Blanc Island, and his scouts were soon out watching the movements of the enemy in the surrounding country. The only way of communication open to the Americans who were advancing towards Detroit was along the west side of the Detroit river by a road which passed through Brownstown from the river Raisin. This road was kept under the strictest surveillance by the Indians. On August 5 the scouts reported that Major Van Horne, with two hundred cavalry of Hull's army, was on his way from Detroit to meet Captain Brush, who was near the Raisin with a company of Ohio volunteers, bringing official dispatches and provisions for Hull at Sandwich. On receiving this news Tecumseh mustered seventy of his boldest warriors at Brownstown and started through the woods towards Detroit to meet Van Horne. About three miles out he secreted his men on each side of the road and awaited the enemy. Apparently Van Horne, little dreaming that a trap would be set for him, had not sent out scouts; and as he marched down the road the quiet forest gave no indication of the foe lurking on his flanks, until Tecumseh and his band, suddenly springing from their ambuscade and sounding the war-whoop, leaped upon his horsemen. The terrified Americans thought the woods alive with Indians. Officers tried in vain to rally their men, who turned and sought safety in flight, while Tecumseh and his warriors followed in pursuit. A Parthian shot from one of the Americans killed a young chief; this was Tecumseh's only loss. The enemy lost about a hundred in killed, wounded, and missing; and, what was of the greatest importance, a packet, containing official dispatches from Hull to the secretary of War and other papers, was captured. This was Tecumseh's first engagement in the British cause.
The Indian leader knew that the majority of Indians would incline towards the side which was first victorious. When, therefore, the encouraging news was now received that the American fort on Mackinaw Island had been captured, Tecumseh sent runners in all directions to tell the Indians of his recent victory and of the fall of Fort Mackinaw. He announced that British success was assured, and adroitly added that, if they desired to share the plunder, they must immediately join the conquerors. One of these light-footed messengers reached the famous chief of the Potawatomis, Shaubena, as he was about to start on a hunting expedition. The runner distributed presents of bright-coloured beads and other ornaments among the women of the tribe, and to Shaubena he delivered a belt of wampum with Tecumseh's message. The hunting expedition was abandoned, Shaubena with his warriors set out at once for Amherstburg, and became Tecumseh's trusty aide, fighting henceforth by his side until the hour of the great Shawnee's death.
Meanwhile General Hull had come to the conclusion that he could not maintain his position on the soil of Canada. On the night of August 7 he withdrew his troops from Sandwich and crossed the river to Detroit. It was of the utmost importance, however, that he should make a juncture with Captain Brush and reopen his communications with the country beyond Lake Erie. To effect this object he sent out a force of six hundred men under Colonel James Miller, with cavalry and artillery. At this time Tecumseh was at Brownstown with about two hundred warriors, and Major Muir of the British Army, in command of about one hundred and sixty regulars and militia, was also stationed there. On the morning of August 9 some Indians emerged from the forest and reported that the American troops under Miller were about eight miles distant, and, on account of the difficulty of transporting the guns over the heavy roads, were making but slow progress. It was evident that they could not reach Brownstown before night, and Major Muir, after a hasty consultation with Tecumseh, decided to meet the enemy at Maguaga, a small Indian village between Brownstown and Detroit. The Indians in their scant habiliments of war, their dark bodies grotesquely painted in varied colours, strode silently by the side of the British soldiers. The allies rapidly pushed their way along the muddy road, past the scene of the recent attack, where carcasses of men and horses still lay by the roadside. A halt was called within a quarter of a mile of Maguaga, at a place favourable for an ambuscade, and preparations were made for battle. The British took up a position behind a slightly rising bit of ground. Tecumseh disposed his men in a meadow, about six hundred yards in extent, which bordered the road along which the Americans were advancing. The wild grass grew rank and high and afforded sufficient concealment. The Indians threw themselves down to await the enemy, and their example was followed by the British. Tecumseh and his men, peering from their covert, soon distinguished the main body of the enemy marching in two lines, slowly and steadily. As they came within range a single shot rang out—the signal for battle. The Indians fired one deadly volley, and, with the blood-curdling cry that the Americans had learned to dread, burst wildly from their hiding-place. The enemy replied with a crackling fire and, as Tecumseh and his men sprang bravely forward, followed it up with a bayonet charge.
The bright uniforms of the British now revealed their position, and the action became general. Unknown to the regulars, a body of Indians had been posted at the extremity of a neighbouring wood, and; being subjected to a hot fire and unable to endure the hail of bullets, they endeavoured to gain the British rear. Appearing in this unexpected quarter they were mistaken for the foe, and as they emerged from the wood were fired upon by their comrades-in-arms. The red men in turn mistook the British for Americans and promptly returned the fire, and for some time disorder and confusion reigned. The loud remonstrances of the officers were lost in the din and confusion of battle. Hard pressed in front and, as he imagined, attacked in the rear, Major Muir ordered a retreat; he then reformed his men on the crest of a hill to await the appearance of the enemy. This position commanded a small bridge over which the American artillery would have to pass. Here, about a quarter of a mile distant from their former position, the British waited for a quarter of an hour, after which, as the enemy did not reappear, Muir again ordered a retreat. His communication with Tecumseh had been broken, and, hearing sounds of firing from the woods to his left, he inferred that the Americans were driving the Indians in that direction with the object of reaching the road to cut him off from his boats. He gained the shore of the river, however, without interference from the enemy, found his boats intact, and pulled swiftly towards Amherstburg.
Tecumseh and his warriors had borne the brunt of the battle and displayed magnificent courage. After the firing of Muir's men had ceased, they still fought stubbornly, in spite of the vast numerical superiority of the enemy, and retreated slowly through the woods in a westerly direction. Then, turning about, they succeeded in regaining their canoes, and followed in the wake of the British. The Americans were unaware of the extent of their success, and fearing a renewed attack, they abandoned their march and retreated to Detroit. And it was not until several days after this lively encounter that they again attempted to reopen communications with their army to the south.
Four uneventful days followed. The night of the 13th was calm and cloudless. About Fort Malden sentries paced their ceaseless round. Camp-fires glowed about the wigwams and blockhouses of Bois Blanc. Tecumseh lay in the open, surrounded by his sleeping warriors. Although it was past midnight, his sleepless eyes scanned the heavens. The moon cast a shimmering path upon the water, in whose depths myriads of stars were reflected. Even as Tecumseh gazed a bright star sped like a golden arrow across the sky. He marked its flight until it fell afar and seemed to cleave the dark depths of the river. What did this fiery messenger portend? Again a youth, he threaded his way through the gloom of the forest, seeking the guiding spirit of his manhood, until a bright star fell across his path. Then, in vivid memory, came the tortures of initiation. A man, he journeyed in strange lands beneath a scorching sun, or felt the biting winter blasts. Again his heart beat high with hope, only to be cast down by the crushing defeat of his plans. But still, upborne by almost superhuman strength, urged by some strange, impelling power, he must battle for his race. The restless river, as it fretted the sides of the little island placed so protectingly against the Canadian shore, sang of battle, whose outcome none might guess. Suddenly he was aroused from his waking dream by shouts of joy and the booming of cannon from the decks of theGeneral Hunter, which lay at anchor in the river. It was a salute in honour of the arrival of General Brock. A vigorous cheer announced his appearance at Fort Malden. The Indians joined in the welcome and fired off their muskets. A boat made its way towards the island, and the warriors crowded about it as Colonel Elliott stepped ashore. He gave them official information of Brock's arrival, and warned the Indians to save their scanty ammunition. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, Tecumseh with his attendant chiefs accompanied Elliott back to the fort to meet the commander in whose hands he had placed the fate of his people. Arrived at Amherstburg, Elliott replied to the sentry's challenge, and they entered the fort. On reaching the room in which Brock sat, they found him deeply engrossed in the contents of the captured mail packets, which were strewn on the table before him, for these told him that General Hull had lost the confidence of his garrison at Detroit, and that dissensions had destroyed all unity of purpose among the officers. The candlelight streamed on his red-brown hair and shone on the gold-fringed epaulets of his scarlet uniform. Elliott at once presented Tecumseh to Brock. The latter raised his eyes to behold 'the king of the woods,' whose very presence seemed to exhale the freedom of the forest.
One of the best pen-portraits extant of Tecumseh is by Captain Glegg, who thus describes him upon this occasion of his presentation to Brock:
Tecumseh was very prepossessing, his figure light and finely proportioned, his age I imagined to be about five-and-thirty, his height five feet nine or ten inches, his complexion light copper, his countenance oval, with bright hazel eyes beaming cheerfulness, energy and decision. Three small crowns or coronets were suspended from the lower cartilage of his aquiline nose, and a large silver medallion of George the Third, which I believe his ancestor had received from Lord Dorchester when governor-general of Canada, was attached to a mixed coloured wampum string which hung round his neck. His dress consisted of a plain, neat uniform, a tanned deer-skin jacket with long trousers of the same material, the seams of both being covered with neatly cut fringe, and he had on his feet leather moccasins much ornamented with work made from the dyed quills of the porcupine.
Tecumseh regarded Brock calmly, noting with admiration the athletic form as it towered to its full height. Thus stood the two commanding figures, both born to lead, alike bold in purpose and ready in resource. With the same intuitive perception each trusted the other. They were akin—both of the 'brotherhood that binds the brave of all the earth.' The brown hand of Tecumseh met the strong white hand of Brock in a warm clasp, the seal of a firm friendship. Brock thanked Tecumseh for his salute of welcome, and like Colonel Elliott mentioned the shortage of ammunition. With warm words of praise he referred to the work of the warriors in the recent engagements, commending Tecumseh's leadership and courage in the highest terms. The chief listened with characteristic calm. Brock continued: 'I have fought against the enemies of our great father, the king beyond the great lake, and they have never seen my back. I am come here to fight his enemies on this side the great lake, and now desire with my soldiers to take lessons from you and your warriors, that I may learn how to make war in these great forests.' After a pause Tecumseh, turning round to his attendant chiefs, stretched out his hand and exclaimed, 'Ho-o-o-e; this is a man!'
Brock was particularly pleased with the contents of the mail taken at Brownstown. In striking contrast to Hull's high-sounding proclamation, it revealed that general's real attitude of dejection. Communication from the rear had been cut off; he feared starvation and despaired of being able to withstand attack. The contents of these dispatches prompted Brock to invade American territory without delay. Rapidly he unfolded a daring plan against Fort Detroit, but his officers shook their heads and strongly dissented. Not so Tecumseh, who, as Brock sketched his scheme, had listened with gleaming eye, and who now enthusiastically supported it. The commander inquired as to the character of the country through which they must pass to reach Detroit. For answer the chief unrolled a piece of elm bark, which he held flat with four stones; and, drawing his scalping-knife from its sheath, he traced with its point the roads, ravines, groves, and streams. Brock intently followed the blade of Tecumseh, beneath whose hand a fine military map rapidly took shape. Was ever before Indian scalping-knife put to so good a use! This unexpected skill surprised and delighted Brock. When the map was completed, clear in outline, intelligent in detail, any misgivings he may have had vanished. In the face of all opposition and dissent Brock resolved to attempt the capture of Detroit. Thanking Tecumseh for his invaluable aid and promising to address his followers at noon the next day, the commander retired for a few hours of much-needed rest. Accompanied by his chiefs, the Indian leader made his way back over the water to the little island. It was now almost morning, and as he scanned the brightening sky he wondered within himself whether it heralded a hopeful dawn for his unhappy people.
At noon of that day one thousand Indians of various tribes assembled beneath the trees about Fort Malden. After the customary opening ceremonies Brock addressed them, telling them he had come across the great salt lake (the Atlantic ocean), at the request of their great father, to help them, and that with their assistance he would drive the Americans from Fort Detroit. His words were greeted with noisy approval. Tecumseh then replied that he was pleased that 'their father beyond the great salt lake had at last consented to let his warriors come to the assistance of his red children, who had never ceased to remain steadfast in their friendship and were now all ready to shed their last drop of blood in their great father's service.'
Seeing Tecumseh surrounded by his warriors, who, fiery and indomitable, but unstable as water, were united by his leadership alone, Brock realized the powerful personality of his new and valuable ally. Here is an extract from one of Brock's letters written soon afterwards:
Among the Indians whom I found at Amherstburg and who arrived from different parts of the country there were some extraordinary characters. He who most attracted my attention was a Shawnee chief—brother of the Prophet, who for the last two years has carried on, contrary to our remonstrance, an active war with the United States. A more sagacious or a more gallant warrior does not, I believe, exist. He was the admiration of every one who addressed him.
Preparations were rapidly made for a movement against Detroit, and on the morning of the next day, August 15, the British and Indians marched towards Sandwich. Brock sent Lieutenant-Colonel Macdonell and Captain Glegg to General Hull, under a flag of truce; demanding the surrender of Detroit. Adroitly embodied in his dispatch were the following words: 'You must be aware that the numerous bodies of Indians who have attached themselves to my troops will be beyond my control the moment the contest commences.' Hull replied that he was prepared to meet any force at Brock's command; whereupon the British batteries at Sandwich opened fire, which continued until evening. Under cover of darkness Colonel Elliott and Tecumseh led six hundred Indian warriors to the shore of the river on the night of the 15th, where they silently launched their canoes and gained the American side, prepared to protect the crossing of the main army in the morning.
In the quiet early dawn 320 British regulars and 400 Canadian militia were in readiness to embark; and, as sunrise coloured the sky, a motley fleet pushed off from the Canadian shore. The war vesselQueen Charlotteand the batteries at Sandwich opened fire, while the wooded shores re-echoed to the savage yells of 600 painted braves. Brock stood erect in the foremost boat, which steered towards Springwells, about four miles below Detroit, where Tecumseh awaited his landing. Scarcely had Brock stepped ashore when a scout rushed up with the news that a large body of American troops, who had left the fort two days before for another attempt to reach the army at the Raisin, were approaching from the rear, and were now but a few miles distant. The attack must, therefore, be made at once. The forces were rapidly formed in two columns, an advance was sounded, and the allies pressed forward towards Fort Detroit.
That formidable stronghold bristled with cannon, which could be trained on any part of the advancing army. Yet steadily forward marched the British, while the Indians shouted their wild war-cry, which doubtless struck terror to the heart of Hull. The gunners in Detroit stood at their posts with lighted fuses, but the British and Indians dauntlessly advanced till they could see the black, yawning mouths of the guns, whose thunder each moment they thought to hear.
At some distance from the fort Brock and Tecumseh ascended an elevated bit of ground to reconnoitre. Scarcely had they done so when a messenger was seen speeding from the fort with a white flag. Colonel Macdonell and Captain Glegg were sent to meet him. The news they brought back was that Hull was prepared to surrender. The fire from the batteries at Sandwich and from theQueen Charlotte, with the bold advance of the British and the Indian war-cry, had done their work. The commanders rode forward and took possession of the fort. Hull's twenty-five hundred men became prisoners of war, and all the armaments and stores, along with the territory of Michigan, passed into the hands of the British. The Stars and Stripes were lowered, and the Union Jack streamed out upon the breeze.
Tecumseh was elated and amazed at this bloodless victory over the Long Knives. Shortly after the surrender of Detroit, he is reported to have said to Brock:
I have heard much of your fame and am happy again to shake by the hand a brave brother warrior. The Americans endeavoured to give us a mean opinion of British generals, but we have been witnesses of your valour. In crossing the river to attack the enemy, we observed you from a distance standing the whole time in an erect position, and when the boats reached the shore you were among the first who jumped on land. Your bold and sudden movements alarmed the enemy and compelled them to surrender to less than half their own force.
Brock, realizing the value of Tecumseh's services, honoured him publicly. Removing his silken sash, he fastened it about the chief's shoulders, presenting him at the same time with a pair of pistols. Stoic though Tecumseh was, he could not conceal his pride and gratification at Brock's gift. Next day, however, he appeared without the sash; and when the British general sent to inquire the reason, he explained that he had given it to Roundhead of the Wyandots, an older and more valiant chief than himself.
In his general order from Detroit, August 17, Brock wrote:
The conduct of the Indians, joined to that of the gallant and brave chiefs of their respective tribes, has since the commencement of the war been marked with acts of true heroism, and in nothing can they testify more strongly their love to the king, their great father, than by following the dictates of honour and humanity by which they have been hitherto actuated. Two fortifications have already been captured from the enemy without a drop of blood being shed by the hands of Indians. The instant the enemy submitted, his life became sacred.
That such was the case at Detroit was almost entirely due to the dominating influence of Tecumseh over his followers.
After Brock had accomplished his work at Detroit, he hastily returned to the seat of government at York to make preparations for guarding the Niagara frontier; and here we must take our leave of the great soldier, for another writer in these Chronicles is to tell of his subsequent movements, and of his glorious death on Queenston Heights. Colonel Procter was left in command of the western forts, to which Tecumseh was attached. Owing to an unfortunate armistice arranged between the belligerent nations, the energetic Indian chief could do nothing more than exert his powers in persuading many undecided warriors to become Britain's allies. In this business he moved through the Indian country between Lake Michigan and the Wabash, daily increasing his forces.
In the meantime General Harrison, of whom we learned something in a preceding chapter, was given command of the north-western army of the United States. He was invested with wide authority, and instructed, first of all, to provide for the defence of the western frontiers and then to 'retake Detroit, with a view to the conquest of Canada.' The first part of these instructions he proceeded to carry out by raiding Indian villages and burning their cornfields. Next he arranged his autumn campaign, which had in view the recapture of Detroit and, if possible, the capture of Fort Malden and the invasion of Canada. His troops occupied Fort Defiance, on the Maumee, as a base of supplies, and Sandusky, on the south shore of Lake Erie, as an observation post. Before much could be done, however, the autumn waned, and Harrison, with seventeen hundred men, encamped for the winter on the right bank of the Maumee, at the foot of the rapids, near the place where Wayne had fought the battle of the Fallen Timbers sixteen years before.
In January 1813 Major Reynolds, of the British forces on the Detroit, marched into Frenchtown with fifty soldiers and two hundred Indians. Frenchtown stood on the site of the present city of Monroe (Mich.) on the river Raisin, about midway between Detroit and Harrison's camp on the Maumee. On the 18th scouts reported the approach of an American force of some five hundred and fifty regulars and Kentucky volunteers. Reynolds made a judicious disposition of his men to meet this superior force, but the enemy fell suddenly upon him, driving him back about a mile. When the British had gained the shelter of a wood their three-pounder did effective work, causing the enemy considerable loss, and a continuous fire from militia and Indians held the Americans in check for a time. But the contest was hopeless, and Reynolds retreated to Brownstown, about eighteen miles distant, having lost one militiaman and three Indians, and having killed twelve Americans and wounded fifty-five. The American captain made no attempt to pursue the British, but established himself at Frenchtown, and two days later General Winchester marched in with a large body of American troops.
During the night of the 18th word of Reynolds's repulse was brought to Procter, who, with unaccustomed alacrity, hastened from Amherstburg with all his available force, leaving but a few men to guard the fort. Early on the morning of the 20th he led five hundred militia and regulars and eight hundred Indians across the frozen waters of the Detroit river. The troops were soon winding their way along the road on the western shore. At nightfall they encamped in the open about five miles from the enemy, and lighted huge fires to protect themselves from the bitter winter cold. Before daybreak of the 21st they were again on the march and sighted the American camp while all was darkness and silence. No outpost guarded the slumbering encampment, and the British approached unchallenged. They had brought three three-pounders with them, and these were swiftly but silently placed in commanding positions. The line for attack was being formed when the musket-shot of a sentinel rang out through the crisp air, and was immediately followed by the roar from a three-pounder, which startled the sleeping camp into activity. Thus the British lost some of the advantage of a surprise attack. Instead of making a rapid advance and bayonet charge, or an attack upon the surrounding parapet, from which the enemy wrought such havoc later, Procter ordered the three-pounders to be brought into action, and while this was being done, the Americans had seized their arms and prepared for a stubborn defence.
Procter attacked with the regulars in the centre and the militia and Indians on the flanks. The American centre fought from behind defences, and their fire caused great havoc in the ranks of the regulars, where the fire was hottest and the loss most severe. After the fight had continued for upwards of an hour, the Indians decided the issue. Outflanking the enemy on each side, they gained the rear, and fiercely assailed and drove in the enemy's right, which gave way and fled in terror to the farther side of the river Raisin, seeking shelter in the woods. The Indians followed across the ice in swift pursuit, eager for slaughter. The blood-stained snow and the bodies of those overtaken marked the direction of their flight for almost two miles. Only a few prisoners were captured, but among them were Colonel Lewis, General Winchester, and his son, a lad of sixteen years of age. So complete had been the surprise of the American camp that when Winchester was led into the British lines he was clothed only in his night-shirt.
The American left and centre, however, still held out stubbornly, fighting desperately through fear of falling into the hands of the Indians and sharing a fate similar to that of their comrades. On learning that the conflict was still in progress, Winchester pencilled an order to the commanding officer to surrender, in order to prevent further loss of life. The command was immediately obeyed, and the action ceased. A number of the Americans made good their escape to Harrison's camp on the Maumee, where Fort Meigs was erected immediately afterwards. 'The zeal and courage of the Indian department were never more conspicuous than on this occasion,' wrote Procter, 'and the Indian warriors fought with great bravery.' Tecumseh himself was not present at the battle of Frenchtown, as he was busy seeking recruits among the Indian allies of the British. The leader of the Indians on that occasion was Roundhead of the Wyandots.
Learning that Harrison had reorganized his army and brought up artillery and stores to strengthen his position at Fort Meigs, Procter decided to attack the American general in force. Harrison, as we have seen, had about 1700 men and expected an equal reinforcement under General Green Clay. Procter, now a brigadier-general, embarked at Amherstburg with 1,000 white troops and all available artillery. Tecumseh, who had returned to headquarters, led his Indians overland. The result of his mission among the tribes now manifested itself. As he advanced, his force was greatly augmented, many warriors joining him at the mouth of the Maumee, until at last he commanded not fewer than 1,200 men. The British forces reached the vicinity of Fort Meigs on April 28, and went into camp opposite the fort; but heavy rains delayed operations until the 1st of May. Procter erected a battery a short distance above his camp; another battery was soon added: but the fire from both proving ineffective, a third was established across the river just below Fort Meigs.
The expected American reinforcements reached the head of the rapids, and on the night of May 4 a messenger from Harrison made his way through the British lines to Clay, instructing him to land eight hundred men on the left bank of the Maumee to carry the British batteries there, and spike the guns, afterwards crossing to the fort. The remainder of the troops were to land on the right side of the river and make their way through the Indians to the fort. According to orders, Colonel Dudley landed with the specified force, rushed the batteries, which were manned only by a few gunners, and spiked the guns. The main body of British were at the camp a mile and a half distant. But, contrary to orders, Dudley did not return immediately to his boats and cross to the fort; instead, he left the greater part of his men at the batteries under Major Shelby and set off with the rest in pursuit of some Indians.
The routed artillerymen, reaching the British camp, made known the loss of guns, and Tecumseh led his warriors to retake them through a downpour of rain. Dudley and the smaller body that accompanied him were drawn into an ambuscade and annihilated, Dudley himself falling beneath the tomahawk; while the larger force left in possession of the captured batteries was assailed by Major Muir, with fewer than two hundred men, and put to rout. The Americans fled for refuge to the woods, only to be confronted there by the Indians. Thus caught between two fires, they were utterly destroyed.
Clay's force of 450 men had landed on the opposite side of the river, where they were attacked by the Indians. But they were soon reinforced by a detachment sent from the fort to meet them, whereupon they turned upon the British position, captured one gun, and took prisoner forty of the 41st regiment. The remainder of the British at this point, strengthened by a small detachment of militia and Indians, advanced and retook the battery, and the Americans were driven back into the fort.
A white flag now fluttered from the walls of Fort Meigs. Harrison proposed an exchange of prisoners, in the hope that during the delay caused by these proceedings he would be able to get much-needed baggage, stores, and ammunition into the fort. But the boats containing his supplies were captured by the Indians, who took childish pleasure in their rich plunder. When the prisoners had been exchanged Harrison again opened fire, and the contest continued until the 9th with little result.
Unaccustomed to this prolonged warfare and weary of fighting, the greater part of the Indians now returned to their villages to celebrate their recent victory; but Tecumseh, although his force, so laboriously brought together, had dwindled to fewer than twenty warriors, remained with the British. The militia also grew restless and discontented and desired to return to their homes, to attend to the spring seeding of their fields. Under these conditions Procter was obliged to abandon the siege of Fort Meigs and withdraw his forces.
During this affair an event occurred which illustrates the marvellous power of Tecumseh's personality. While some of the American prisoners were being conducted to the boats, they were savagely attacked by a band of strange Indians. These warriors, who had taken no part in the engagement, greatly outnumbered the guard. Forty of the prisoners had already been put to death before a messenger set off at full speed to Tecumseh with news of this horrible outrage. The Indian leader rode rapidly towards the scene of the massacre, which was then at its height. Throwing himself from his horse, he grasped the two nearest savages and hurled them violently to the ground. Brandishing his tomahawk, he rushed among the Indians, and in a voice of thunder forbade them to touch another prisoner. The massacre ceased instantly, and, awed by Tecumseh's presence and threatening manner, the savages disappeared into the woods.
Towards the latter part of July Tecumseh persuaded Procter to make another attempt to take Fort Meigs. After much deliberation the British general finally started up the Maumee with a force of four hundred white soldiers and about three hundred Indians. He took with him also several six-pounders. The troops disembarked on the right bank not far from the fort. Tecumseh, fertile in strategy, had devised a plan by which he hoped to lure the garrison from the fort. His scouts had apprised him that Harrison with a large force was at Sandusky, about sixty miles distant. The chief proposed that the Indians should gain the road which led from Sandusky to Fort Meigs and that a sham battle should be enacted there to deceive the garrison, who would naturally suppose that some of Harrison's force, coming to the fort, were being attacked. They would hasten to the assistance of their comrades, and the British would fall upon them in the rear, while a strong force assailed the fort. The plan met with Procter's approval, and the Indians proceeded to carry it out. Heavy firing was soon heard, and it became so animated that even some of Procter's men believed that a real engagement was in progress. But the garrison made no response, and the mock battle, which lasted about an hour, was finally terminated by a heavy downpour of rain.
Tecumseh's plan for the capture of Fort Meigs had miscarried, but he still hoped for victory. He induced Procter to make an attack upon Fort Stephenson (now Fremont in the state of Ohio), about ten miles from the mouth of the Sandusky river. On July 28 the British troops embarked with artillery and stores and entered Sandusky Bay. Most of the Indians marched through the woods between the Sandusky and the Maumee. On August 1 Procter, having ascended the river, demanded the surrender of Fort Stephenson from Major Croghan, the officer in command. The garrison consisted of only one hundred and sixty men, and they had but one gun; yet Croghan refused to surrender. Procter then landed his men and opened fire on the north-west angle of the fort; but his guns were light, and the cannonade, which continued for thirty hours, had but little effect.
Fort Stephenson was built on the edge of a deep ravine filled with brushwood. Before the main building was a ditch, the sides of which were crowned with palisades. About four o'clock in the afternoon Procter ordered an assault. He divided his men into two parties, one to attack the fort from the north-west, the other to assail the southern side. Armed with axes, which, however, were so blunt as to be almost useless, the men of the first party broke through the outer palisades and gained the ditch. Here they found further advance impossible, as they had no scaling-ladders. In this position they were raked by a deadly fire of musketry from the fort. The men at the southern side were not so severely pressed; but after two hours' hard fighting the British were forced to withdraw, having suffered a loss of about one hundred killed and wounded. Under cover of darkness Procter and his men regained their boats and returned to Amherstburg. Greatly disheartened at these repeated failures, Tecumseh and his warriors marched overland to the head of Lake Erie and again went into camp on Bois Blanc Island.