Rodney, the Ranger, with Daniel Morgan on Trail and Battlefield

by John V. Lane

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE BEGINNING OF WAR

  From the history of those days one learns that there were whitesavages who compared unfavourably with the red ones.

  Of such were those border ruffians who, tempting the family of afriendly Indian with liquor till they were stupefied with drink,murdered them.

  The Indian chief returned to find them weltering in blood. He was anIroquois who had moved his family from New York to the Ohio River.

  His Indian name was Tahgahjute, but he was commonly called Logan fromthe fact that he had in early life lived with a white family of thatname. Ever after he had been a staunch friend of the whites. Now hebecame almost insane in his natural anger, and went about among thevarious tribes calling on them to avenge his wrongs.

  Had those border ruffians desired to bring on an Indian war they couldnot have so quickly done it in any other way. Soon, tales of pioneerfamilies murdered by the Indians were brought over the mountains intoVirginia. Logan's friends were seeking vengeance.

  Undoubtedly the war would have broken out later had not Logan's familybeen murdered. The Indians believed they must fight or be overrun bythe white immigrants pouring into the western country.

  The royal governor appointed by the king over the colony of Virginiawas, at this time, Lord Dunmore. He was an ardent loyalist, but healso is said to have been interested financially in some of the landventures, concerning which there was much interest in the colony, alsomuch speculation. Though Governor Dunmore knew that the policy of theEnglish ministry at the time was conciliatory, he did not hesitate toprepare for a war which should bring the savages to submission.

  Just why the English ministry tried to discourage immigration into thewestern country is not definitely known. Doubtless there were variousreasons. England wanted peace with the savages. Only a few yearsbefore, her representative, Sir William Johnson, had made a treaty atFort Stanwix with them and given them many presents. They had beentold they should have, as their own, the country north of the Ohio.The laws which governed the province of Quebec, recently captured fromthe French, were to be applied to the western country, a plan whichdid not meet with the approval of the colonists who wanted laws of anEnglish character.

  There were influential men in England who were interested in the furtrade with the Indians, which would be seriously injured if thecountry were opened up to settlers. Besides, the colonies of Virginiaand Pennsylvania made conflicting claims to the new land and each hadfriends in England.

  Many of the colonists declared that England feared to have thepowerful colonies increase in power with new territory, and wished toconfine them to the seaboard. Be that as it may, Dunmore resolved onestablishing Virginia's claims by prompt and effectual warfare.Perhaps he thought to divert the colonists' minds from the increasinghostility to England. Instead he was to take the first step towardsecuring that rich land to the United States of America.

  This is but one of many instances when the plans of supposed wise menresult in the opposite to that intended.

  The assembling for this war might be likened to a swarming of bees andhornets, the one for the sweets of fertile lands and adventure, theother for vengeance on account of wrongs received at the hands of theIndians.

  There came a British officer, pompous and resplendent in scarlet andgold; the British soldier for his first experience in border warfare;the trapper with his long rifle and frontier garb; the sturdy settlerin homespun. Nor were the camp followers altogether absent, those whohang about for pickings and have little intention of fighting.

  One heard the polite accent of culture, the soft spoken Southerner,the dialects of Scotch and Irish and the gutturals of the German.About them were the green woods and filtering through the leavesoverhead the hot sunshine of summer.

  Early in the season that already famous frontiersman, Daniel Boone,had been sent to the Falls of the Ohio to lead back to the settlementsa party of surveyors. He did it, for in the ways of the wilderness nosavage was his equal.

  Governor Dunmore, on July 12, 1774, ordered General Andrew Lewis, whotwenty years before had been with Washington at Fort Necessity, toraise four regiments of volunteers and, going down the Great KanawhaRiver, to cross the Ohio River and march against the Shawnees on theScioto. In this expedition was David Allison.

  Another expedition was to meet near Wheeling to assist General Lewis.For this purpose Major Angus McDonald marched seven hundred militiaand frontiersmen over the mountains in the latter part of June. DanielMorgan assisted in raising a part of this little army from among hisneighbours and acquaintances, which were many, for he had served inthe two previous wars with French and Indians and was a natural leaderof men.

  Under the supervision of George Rogers Clark, none other than "Cap'n"Clark who had induced David Allison to try his fortunes on theKanawha, Fort Fincastle was built. In the latter part of July thesetroops moved down the Ohio River to Fish Creek and started on a raidagainst the Indian villages on the Muskingum River, which is fed bythe creeks that flow through the country where Rodney Allison had beenpassing his months of captivity, one of them the creek overlookingwhich stood the lodge of Ahneota.

  Of this motley army some were in canoes, some in pirogues and othersin batteaux. In a large canoe, third back from the prow, sat afine-looking man, distinguishable from his associates in more waysthan may be easily described. His clothes were such as one would seeon the well-dressed man about the streets of Philadelphia; hiscompanions were in the garb of the frontier. He was broad of shoulderwith erect, military figure; while they were lithe and sinewy. Hisfeatures bore marks of good breeding and his voice and language werethose of a man of the world.

  His companions had discovered that he knew nothing of woodcraft, butmuch of military matters. Just where Morgan found him or he Morgandoes not yet appear. On the day the militia assembled Ezekiel Holdenof Boston had given him a name. Ezekiel was a character, Yankee to thebackbone. He had found his way to Norfolk on a coasting vessel a fewmonths before and was "lookin' araoun a leetle." "Zeke" was fond ofargument and delighted in arguing with Virginians about what heconsidered the superiority of New Englanders. He was for liberty and"pop'lar rights," "first, last an' all the time," and the richVirginians he looked upon as part of the English aristocracy,descendants of those who had fought for King Charles, while "Zeke"wished it understood his forebears fought under Cromwell.

  When he saw this man he was in the midst of his pet argument andexclaimed: "There's one o' them chevaliers naow," meaning cavalier,but pronouncing it "Shiverleer." From that moment the ratherdistinguished looking recruit was known among his fellows as"Chevalier," and in truth the name fitted his manner excellently.Furthermore he appeared to like the nickname and to take delight inletting his companions know that he considered himself their superior,though, be it said, this was in a spirit of humour rather than ofconceit, and he was ready to share toil or rations with his mates. Yetthis air did not please them and there was consequently muchchaffing.

  The afternoon was hot and the men tired, just the moment when a littleinspiration was needed. One of the men said to his fellow in the prowof the canoe, "Nick, ah reckon it's about time fer you to lead offwith a tune, one we kin hit the paddles to," and this was Nick'sresponse:

  "The only good Injun, he died long ago. Shove her along, boy, shove her along. An' thar's nary one left on the O-hi-o. Push her along, boy, push her along."

  "Bravo, my worthy companion in toil. Verily thou makest the bendingash to glide through the water like a swan's wing. Another verse andwe bid adieu to work."

  "If it affects the Chevalier that ar way, better give him another,Nick," said one of the men.

  "The trees do grow tall where the corn ought to grow, Push her along, boys, push her along. Virginny's a-comin' an' she don' move slow. Shove her along, boys, shove her along."

  "I would applaud, but my paddle is now going of itself and I dare notlet go.
Methinks we'll find around the next bend Pan with his flocksof aborigines assembled and kneeling in adoration. I'm not sure buthe'll have the moon goddess with him."

  Now the Chevalier's three companions knew nothing of Pan or the moongoddess, with the possible exception of Nick, whose knowledge ofmythology, if he possessed it, had not as yet appeared. Not knowing,they resented this intrusion of classical subjects and one remarked,"Your talk has a sweet sound; 'sposin' you sing us a verse."

  "Oh, melody is a wayward minx and vouchsafes her treasures of song tofew. Were it springtime and had I the gift I would sing:

  "'When the red is on the maple and the dogwood is in bloom.'"

  "Keep right on, you'll bloom right soon," said Nick with a laugh inwhich all joined.

  "Keep her goin', Chevalier," said another.

  "Forsooth, my merry men, Puritans, Roundheads, I'll try:

  "When cavalier doth draw his steel The ranks fall back and yeomen kneel, For that is as they should.

  The pikes may gleam in thousands strong, But men who ride shall right the wrong. For throne and home they stood."

  "Sure they stood not on the order o' goin', or I've misread mehistory," laughed Nick.

  "Ho, ho! my merry figure-head at the prow, this from you, _et tuBrute_! I feared the lines would not scan, but it's not expected thatevery man in the crew must be an Adonis because the figure-head of thecraft is a thing of beauty. One failure begets another, 'tis said, soperhaps you'll like this no better:

  "Oh, the paddle, the knife and the trusty gun, And a land in which to roam; The stars at night for my beacon light, Wildwood for my home; What care I for the gay cavalier, His plumes and his flashing steel? He rides not here in the grassy mere. In grateful shade of the forest glade We laugh at those who kneel."

  "Ah! but that's worse than the first. I yield the palm of song to himwho goes before me."

  This bantering was interrupted by a stalwart man sitting in the prowof a canoe which overtook them at this point. He was as fine aspecimen of rugged manhood as all the border could produce, being oversix feet in height, of commanding figure and boundless energy andcourage. He was Daniel Morgan and, laughing as he spoke, he said:"I've heard of hunting Indians with fife and drum, but charmin' 'emwith song is something new, I reckon."