CHAPTER XII DALZELL'S DISASTER-END OF THE SIEGE Siege ON ONTIAC sent word to Gladwin of the capture of the other western posts and added that 900 additional warriors would soon be in front of the fort in Detroit, making between 2,500 and 3,000 Indians to confront a force of 124 men, 300 miles from outside support. In preparation for a possible assault the battery of the fort fired red-hot cannon shot into the houses close to the walls and burned them, so they would offer no shelter for the attacking parties. A demand for the surrender of Capt. Campbell and Lieut. McDougall brought the reply from Pontiac that he had kettles already heating to boil the inmates of the fort, and if these men were surrendered their fate would be the same. One of the ships brought a copy of the treaty of surrender to the fort. Gladwin called in the French residents on July 4 and read it to them. It was the first definite information the French residents. had received of the treaty of peace, and they abandoned hope of a recovery of the country. A sortie was made to secure some ammunition hidden in the house of M. Baby, who made known the fact on hearing the treaty read. In the rush to the house a young Chippewa warrior, son of Chief Mackinac or Turtle, was killed. Lieut. Hays scalped him and waved his bloody trophy toward the Indians, who had retired to a distance. This foolish barbarity brought immediate reprisals. The old chief, to avenge his son, rushed into the lodge where Capt. Campbell was held prisoner and killed him with his hatchet. Then he tore off the scalp, cut out the heart and ate it raw. The body was then cut up and cooked and the Indians, who were very short of provisions, ate it in their village. Gladwin tells of a fight in which two Indians were killed and scalped and then cut to pieces by his soldiers, who were not driven to the necessity of eating their victims. Blazing rafts, piled high with burning bark and pitch, were sent down the river to destroy the two ships, but they were easily pushed aside. On July 29 Capt. Dalzell arrived from Niagara with 260 men to raise the siege. He was not an Indian fighter, and Gladwin could hardly dissuade him from making an immediate attack on the Indian camp. Next morning Dalzell planned to surprise and utterly rout the Indians by a sudden attack. An hour before daybreak he led 250 men from the fort and out the Jefferson Avenue trail. There was not a sound to be heard except the jingle of the soldiers' accoutrements and the first notes of the awakening birds in the trees along the route. Not an Indian sentinel or scout was to be seen when they arrived at the log bridge at the ravine, which was not more than 500 feet from the great camp of the Indians. The column of soldiers was narrowed to two abreast and ordered across the bridge. The soldiers marched as quietly as possible, and about half of them had crossed when, from both sides of the ravine and from behind every tree and every stump and clump of brush came flashes from the guns of the Indians. The men on the bridge were instantly shot down. Those who had crossed rushed back over the bridge, and many of them dropped and rolled to the bottom of the ravine. Those who had not crossed fell into a panic, and Dalzell rushed about shouting, "Steady, men, steady," while he beat them with the flat of his sword to make them hold together for defense. Fortunately, he had with him Maj. Rogers, who had received the surrender of Detroit. Rogers noticed shots coming from a house near by and charged it with a number of men, who burst in the door and drove out the Indians. This, then, became their fort. Another little group broke into the house of Jacques Campau. Capt. Gray fell riddled with bullets and an Indian scalped him and cut out his heart. The action of Maj. Rogers gave the example to others. But for the invasion of these French farm houses as temporary forts not a man would have lived to reach the fort alive. Presently news of the disaster reached the fort. Gladwin sent several large boats armed with swivel guns to bring back the survivors from their temporary refuges. Only 90 men came back of the 250 who had left, while the Indians lost only about 20 men all told. From that dreadful day, July 30, 1763, Parent's Creek has been known to Detroiters as "Bloody Run." At some distance from the scene of it, on the fort side of the old ravine, stood an old tree which for many years bore a placard announcing that it had been a silent witness of Dalzell's defeat. The tree, which stood in the yard of the Michigan Stove Works, fell in 1893, and the site is now occupied by a mammoth stove, which is at once an emblem of peaceful industry and civilized living, which has long dominated the scene of barbaric warfare. While Dalzel's disastrous defeat put new heart and hope in the Indians and was followed by a feast on human flesh in the great camp, Pontiac was able to see but one hope of victory. That lay in a complete cutting of communications between the garrison of Detroit and the East. But the two ships which maintained communication were well guarded under the guns of the fort while at anchor. Opportunity came, however, on the evening of September 4, when the Gladwin, becalmed off Fighting Island, nine miles down the river, drifted close to the shore before her anchor was dropped. The crew of 12 men dared not sleep and their vigilance saved their lives. Soon after midnight a fleet of canoes came stealing down upon her. They came so swiftly and silently in the darkness that there was time for but one volley of musketry in defense and then the Indians came swarming aboard. Her commander, Horst, had fallen at the first fire of the Indians. Five other men were killed in the first rush. The mate, named Jacobs, saw but one chance of saving the vessel and the lives of the seven men who remained alive. "Fire the magazine," he roared in his biggest deep-sea voice. The Indians heard the order and understood it. In an instant they turned and dived over the side of the schooner, some boarding the canoes and others striking out for the shore. The Indian is quite as susceptible to panic as his white brother and he is a little slower in his recovery. The Gladwin lay there almost helpless for several hours with seven men ready with their muskets to repel any renewal of the attack. As day began to break the danger lessened and presently a very grateful and welcome morning breeze came up from the lake and the schooner, with its decks blood-stained and the bodies of five whites and several Indians heaped near the starboard quarter, came to anchor before the fort and under protection of its cannon. Gov. Amherst had reason to believe that the Indians had been acting with the knowledge and collusion of the French settlers of Detroit. This was probably true in a few individual cases, but it was not true altogether, as the information and acts of M. Guoin and Angelique Beaubien clearly prove. Gen. Amherst sent a message to M. Neyons, commandant of the French post at St. Louis, saying that such evil councils between the French and Indians must stop. Neyons sent a message to the French at Detroit which led to a prompt acknowledgment of the right of the English garrison to govern here. The siege was maintained until October 12, when Pontiac, sued for peace, but Gladwin would only grant an armistice until he could hear from Gen. Amherst. There was nothing to be gained by punishing the Indians, for this would drive them away and put an end to the fur trade at Detroit. Gladwin wrote Amherst to that effect; said the Indians had lost about 90 of their ablest warriors, and if the survivors must be punished it would be easier to punish them through a sale or free distribution of rum, which would kill as surely as bullets and prove effective over a wider range of territory. He advised that Sir William Johnson be sent again to settle matters. The Siege of Detroit had lasted 153 days. At times the provisions had been very short. It was therefore a great relief to the beleaguered garrison, the civilian residents and the sojourners who had been caught by the siege to be able to throw open the gates once more with a feeling of security and hold a grand celebration on the green of the public common with none to molest or make them afraid. |