Fort Miamis, Menominee and Kohkohmah

20 Sept.

Dearest Ones,

The time hath nearly flown by since our last letters. The weeks past have been mightily hot and dry, the dust of the trail fills our nose and leaves a bitter taste. Though truth told, the bitterness may better be accounted for by the devastating losses suffered upon the field of battle. Indeed this bitter truth leaves a vile taste which is barely choked down and roils the guts. Aye, a season of death hath descended mercilessly upon us.

An evil adversary and an ever changing band of red and black painted men seemingly chase us day and night from fort to station, settlement to rendezvous and back. Lying in wait behind trees, crawling between rocks and slipping from shadow to sun; dogs they be! Greatly tired we are of their iniquitous ways!

Since last posting letters, our travels have been north to Fort Miamis, further north to rendezvous with the Menominee, south to the Painted Stone Settlement and of most recent time we have returned to our home territory to fight the French and their allies at Kohkohmah.

A brief interlude during the Menominee rendezvous, granted us a small bit of pleasure and time with those loved best of all. Indeed!! those very most beloved; my dearest Katie Rose, Netha, Roundman, Charlie, Reggie (who left us too soon for home upon hearing of the birth of a wee grandson!) The dear Reeves family, the Shinnabargers, Mr. Rogers, the Collins girls, the Spooners and others too numerous to name, made our time pass too quickly.

However, t'is with the very most sincere regret we must report massive losses, with few exceptions. Further, that which troubles us most, are those dear ones lost not in valor to death upon the field, but lost to us by thieves of children and women! I fear most for those poor little ones; snatched, plucked, and yes, taken from mother's stretched hands whilst their beleaguered fathers fight to the last breath!

Most of these dear lost babes are never to be seen again...it tears my very soul to have born witness to such treachery committed by those who are but mere children themselves. Indeed, even the women of these clans take part in the theft of our dear ones. The only consolation in this wickedness is the possibility a few chosen captives will be well treated, though one can hardly imagine!

And lo! those once chosen to act as children, may one day be struck down for the crime of attempting with their last breath to return to those who love them most. Such tyranny!!

But fear not reader, we fought against the evil at every opportunity!

Nay, we did not run from the fight! nor did we behave as ladies once set upon!

But all was lost time and again...

Dearest reader, we wish with all of our hearts for good tidings, we beg for a time of calm and happiness to once more reign. With fervor we recall days gone by when all was sunshine, with no fear in our hearts, the breeze in our hair and lightness in our steps!

Until such time as these savages turn tail, duck and run to the holes from whence they came, we will recall such things with a spark in our hearts that ignites the will in us to continue the fight!

And Lo! there are those like us who have that spark in their heart, the heat in their bellies and the means by which to fight! It is with great pleasure we join company with Captain Wulff's Ranger Company.

Dearest, we leave you with this tiny flame of hope for the future, as we join this company of rangers in the battles along the frontier.

your humble servant

A

Post Script:

We wish to offer sincere thanks to the DeEsche's, Shanna Hayes, Michael Yarberry, Bill Bower, Matt Wulff, Gloria Dockery and Sandy Fike for the use of their sketchings, previously published within the book of faces. And to our good friends at Pioneer Times, Graphic Enterprises for all that they do to support those of us who wait eagerly each week to see the front page of their "paper." http://www.graphicenterprises.net/index.html

A

Post Post Script:

Further, we hold a tremendous debt of gratitude to those noble savage adversaries who allow us to speak so hideously of them, kill them and who kill us on a weekly basis. We sincerely value the skill, talent and time spent pursuing the best possible portrayals. We'll not begin to name names herein, as there are too many and too great the likelihood of neglecting even a single one. You, my dear friends of red paint, red coat and blue coat; I honor and respect each of you and your "uncommon genius," to borrow the words of William Henry Harrison's compliment to his great adversary, Tecumseh.

Blue Licks

Aug. 31
Quickly we shall dash off a word or two afore they leave our mind, as they have such a wont to do! Fondly, we recall a recent eve spent with dear friends the Parson, his indentured servant Maggie, Mr. Privott, Mr. Fourman, and my dearest Mr. Mains, at the home of Mr. vonDieligen. T'was surely a good time lasting late into the night, full of laughter, merriment and the sharing of stories and foodstuffs. Mr. Mains was quite pleased with the fine strap made for him in the Fourman household and it made a perfect compliment to his accouterments.

We were greatly disheartened to be drawn away from such a convivial gathering with the bad news that Mr. Mains horse had gone off missing! Knowing a rogue band of painted Shawnee warriors bent on trouble was nearby; we set off with great fear and anger in our hearts. Quietly we crept through the pasturelands searching, aware at all times of the danger! Hours went past and still no sign of horse or moccasin track. The brightness of the moon as she rose high above gave us just enough light to slip through the trees with relative speed. Shadows filled the forest, every sound held double meaning; the yip of coyotes, a passing breeze, everything caused our eyes and ears to strain. Time passed and sorrow began to overcome my thoughts.

Suddenly Mr. M gave a whoop, which was quickly answered by the soft nickering of a small brown horse. Found, safe and sound! Ah, such a sight to behold; Cheyna quietly chewing clover. So content was she, the entire Shawnee nation could have passed her by without the slightest notice. After much petting and soft talk Mr. Mains returned the mare to her pasture insuring she was well secured for the night. Nigh on four of the morning, we returned to the dark and quiet house, our friends long since gone to sleep. A scant few hours later, the smell of much needed coffee filled our senses and the day began. All were pleased to hear of our success in returning Cheyna to her pasture.


A journey to Lexington allowed us to see many fine artisans, friends, gun builders and craftsmen. Mr. Fourman was successful in making some trades for his fine hides; we acquired a few flints for our fine riflegun, and made many sketches of items soon to be made with our own hands. Our small company split with promises to meet at Blue Licks.










Upon arrival at Blue Licks we were graced to finally make acquaintance with Mr. Dave Barno, who is a great and dear friend of Mr. Mains. T’was no surprise we quickly found ourselves well acquainted with much in common. Further, our friends Mr. Jay Kell and Luke MacGillie were well ensconced in their lodgings. Together with Mr. Jeff McIntire we waxed poetic of times gone passed, stories of collections, mysteries to be solved and libraries to be raided, a true meeting of kindred spirits! Late into the night, the sounds of our arguments, laughter and collective sighs over fascinating relics filled the night air.

Mr. Mains finally gave in to my pleas to return to our camp and together we watched the moon rise and shadows fill the trees. Safely we slept through the night, rifles at the ready knowing full well the Shawnee were but a short distance away.

As the sun rose hot in the sky, a sweltering and pervasive heat filled us with dread of the coming fight. Our companions returned to our camp and began their various tasks. Mr. Mains and Mr. vonDielingen and Mr. Barno scrapped a buffalo hide, whilst Mr. MacGillie made a new pair of moccasins. Mac, Mr. Kell and I spent most of our time conversing, while Mr. Barno introduced the settlers in the area to our odd seeming ways. Mr. Kell, who had a large collection of powderhorns with him, lightened his load of wares by gifting us with a buffalo horn and serving spoon. Possessions I surely delight in and shall guard jealously!


The day passed quietly enough for our small company of hunters, though a battle did rage close by with dire and horrid result for the men lost in less than half the hour’s time. Sickened were we to find ourselves too late to join in or assist in any manner.

Though we did take a jug of water to the few men able to partake, most were lost, their wounds far too grievous. Another day there will be retribution for these losses so dear! Fear not, we shall not be weak or too late for the next fight! We have seen the image of these fearsome devils and have marked them in our hearts as targets, should our sights fall upon them!

Be certain my enemy, we shall see each other down the trail!

Be well and safe my friends, for we are set off for fighting the savages who attack at Fort Miamis!

Piracy!

August 26.
'Tis with great pleasure we finally settle in with pen at hand, a deep well of ink and fond memories to share. The soft strain of beautiful music fills our heart, our head and indeed our very soul, at least in memory. A dear friend, Mr. Carroll Ross who is "Among Good Company" hath graced us with "Music for a Convivial Gathering." Aye, ‘tis truly the very music one hears in the places convivial folks gather. We recall well the tune, Bring in the Punch Ladle, played by Mr. R’s companions Mr. & Mrs. Duffy and their friends. Aye, it assuredly does reckon back to many a most hospitable eve such as Martins Station some months back and other nights, some more memorable than others!

So ‘tis while these soft strains sounding in our heart, we open an odd and much stained and torn letter.

“My Dearest Cousin,

One can only pray this missive find you well though I dare not sign my full signature. You’ll know this humble writer by a shared recollection of a daring eve we shared as girls on the Mersey Docks. Together we huddled giggling behind a hogshead of Rum whilst soul drivers scoured the docks for children no one would miss. Foolish girls were we, who’d run off from our mums for but a peek at the massive ships and their hideous cargos. Were it not for you dear Anne and your wildness we’d for sure have been aboard that hateful descendant of the ship “Blessing,” full to swellin with her human cargo. Never in my dreams before that night would I have dared your brave ways, and as you recall the dire events of that fateful night, you’ll know dear cousin, from whom I took the inspiration which hath lead me down this treacherous and dangerous path.”

(this last bit is scratched through with pen knife and we were barely able to discern her words)

Dearest Cousin, I beg ye not take to heart any concern of which you could be responsible for the wickedness of which I am now accused. For this life I chose for myownself. Had I been but half as daring and strong as you, perhaps I’d not fallen for the silver tongue, silk fashions, and cruel lies of a sailor on leave.For sure and weren’t you always tellin me to stand up for myself, well now dearest cousin ‘tis for that very thing I’m now standin trial upon the new Governors own graces. But my story didn’t start in this dank hole, ‘twas only a short time past whence a bonny lad with his honey words and promises did convince me to hie away my locks, aye wrap them entirely within a turban, not to be seen, but nights alone with the witless man to whom I’d sold my very soul.
Upon his tender words and promises stowed away I did, within the good ship Wespe, only to find myself hoodwinked into dare I say the word… Piracy!
And not alone in such deceit was he, for many a poor lad (and lass!) were brought upon these ships by hook and by crook, forced in cases, bribed in others to throw their lot in with the bilge rats!

T'was not long afore I was discovered a hidin, and brought topside from the hold, I presented myself as though I were any other lad brought on to run the lines and rigging. Made myself quite useful too, aye, fetch, carry, tote, I did as instructed without question. Time passed and amongst the men I passed as but another.

T'was only but a fortnight since these very words I write whence the trouble came upon us. For little did I know the good ship Wespe was but one of many on the sea with intent to take plunder from the ships and shore of Paynetown. Indeed fair cousin, timidity was never my course, yet I can hardly account for the very wickedness which took hold once challenged! For, t’was during a raging storm whence the captain launched the attack, Ack, good cousin you cannot imagine the very sickness which did fill my soul once realizing t’was a fight for my very life.

A pistol was produced, but was of no use, what with the rain pouring upon us! Captain Dollinger commanded the vessel with mastery, yet aground she became set. Once my toes hit sand I began to run with all my might toward the assembled troops of the Kings own.

Dearest Cousin, I beg your forgiveness for as reached these men, I did not surrender myself and reveal my womanly status. Nay, cousin it was with vigor I joined the shrieks and shouts of the pirate lads with whom I’d served. Moments into the fray that silly boy, that one who offered much in word, yet none in deed was lying face up in the sand, blood pouring from gaping wounds.

This scene seemed to invigorate my attack and quickly I grabbed up the only useful implement; an oar and charging into the Kings men, dearest Anne, I must confess only to you, I believe I killed one!

Yes, indeed, his musket drawn he took aim, and blessings from above, the foul thing refused to discharge, which I consider God’s divine provenance. Yes, cousin, indeed, if God saw fit to spare me, who does this new Governor think himself, I ask you! Once passed this man and his failed attempt to reign in my wildness, other men stepped forward. To them I did surely show a wretched and hateful side of myself!

But blast if one of them did not injure me and I was forced to take treatment. Ah yes dear cousin, as you imagined, the Good Doctor made quite a discovery! A woman! Yes, indeed a woman! Hid amongst the vicious scourge of the sea! Taking full advantage of the Good Doctor’s befuddled state I quickly scampered away and hid myself until much after dark. At which time a swim in the luxurious waters was too much to withstand and I joined the crew in my nearly natural state with but few clothes to lend decency.

The Captain, much distressed but willing to allow that I had performed as well or better than the lads of the crew granted me the right to continue on with his protection, provided I clad myself properly. As the new dawn broke clear over the water I found myself once more cinched into shift and stays as befitting a proper lady. The bearing of a lady provided just the disguise needed to once more join the captains and their crews as we took the town! Aye and take it we did, though the Kings men did not give in so easily!

Indeed, a man known as Jack Salt did think to assault your dear cousin, but I assure you cousin, his attempt was met with intent of my own. I’d not back down so easily as he had thought, nay neither he, nor his fine knife making friend, were prepared for the ferocity with which your own dear cousin did attack!
My fellows and I had much success that very day, taking the town, the old Governor was captured and killed by Captain Henderson of the Tantrum. The spoils split and shared betwixt us! The item of which I was most assuredly proud was the Governor’s own velvet coat, aye indeed dear cousin a fine prize t’was! And further Lieutenant Garland and Captain Henderson let loose of a large rum jug for my use. Though its use now is much in jeopardy. Dearest cousin, I beg you to know, I but wish I could confess sorrow for the acts and deeds of which I now stand accused. But lo! Dearest Cousin, oft rumours I’ve heard of your own madness. I beg pardon to give form to that which is said, perhaps out of your hearing, but cousin, no fool are you, you know well that of which they say.
Perhaps t’is madness, what comes upon us. Perhaps t’is the screams of many sisters held deep within us which when provoked rise up and take hold. Dear Cousin I know not what it is, nor from whence it comes, but surely you know that of which I speak. I’ll stand my trial and throw myself upon the new Governor’s mercy. Perhaps I’ll beg the belly as I suppose such a guise hath done it's trick in time past! Perhaps, given my delicate state the Kings man will take pity upon me…whether such a babe exists... or not!
My dear Anne I dare not write one single word more for fear this reach the very wrong hands, but do please know I have lived well and with daring. The spoils were worth every possible tomorrow!
Your loving cousin,

Z"

Ach! My heart cries out for this dear cousin of mine! The daring times on the docks of Liverpool, fair times within the warmth of our mum's hearth, the sweet curve of her cheek, and the spark in her hazel eye remains fixed in my memory as well with her wrathful tongue, her quick anger and vengeful spirit. Ah, this dearest cousin of mine, we are truly cut of the same cloth! We dare not reveal this dear cousin's name! Indeed, the name of this darling letter writer shall remain forever unmentioned as it may reveal a good bit more of the dear writer than would be wise, for one so involved in deep and desperate intrigues!
And so, we close our journal this quiet eve with memories of our dear cousin now heavy upon our hearts, and yet... with further recollection of our cousin's previous exploits, we find ourselves hopeful! Yes, dear ones, rest easy for our cousin Z has been known to get into and out of scrapes of a deadly nature before. We'll trust divine provenance and if that should fail, Z's own providential spirit! Yes, our spirits are raised once more with hope.

http://www.outoftheordinarymusic.com/

enclosed within please find Mission's Pirate Surgeon's Journal

http://www.markck.com/pages/Piracy/Paynetown10/Paynetown_10_Prologue.htm

Because I know Anne Bailey as I do, I strongly suspect that she would never be so inclin'd to make a post such as this. Therefore I believe it up to me to do so upon her behalf.

In my recent readings I discover'd a posting in the journal of Mr. & Mrs. Cummings about our Anne, and wanted to take a few moments to share it with you, dear reader.

I would respectfully request that you see the journal entry for yourself, and know that if, in your affairs, I can render you any acceptable service, I beg you will use that freedom with which I wish you to command, my dear Friend,

Your most humble and obedient servant,

the Doctor

that of which I am made

July 18. perhaps 'tis the heat which has caused us to slow down for a few moments of quiet contemplation, for not much else can one do without fear of collapse on days such as these.

Thoughts of days past, family and dear friends fill my mind. Thankful am I to grandfathers who taught us well, grandmothers who loved us much, to aunts and uncles, and to friends; all those who choose us over others... For these fine things and more, we are mightily blessed.

My eyes linger over a map, a bit of silver, a black arm band worn in time of loss, flowers gathered by tiny hands, letters writ betwixt friends and loves. These small pieces of life have such meaning to one, yet nothing to another. For without knowing its story, each piece is but another bit of useless stuff. Yet 'tis this useless stuffing of which I am made.

Fort Harrod

June 18. Terrible rains pound my small cabin as clouds and light race cross moon lit sky. Darkness oft broken by long flashes of light, and my quiet solitude disrupted by rumble of thunder louder than that of cannon fire. Were it not for the white wash of these cabin walls and small candle, one could hardly see to move pen cross paper. Once more vicious rumours hath reached mine tender ear; friends sequestered in Harrod’s town live in desperate fear of attack. Quickly we gather up only those things most necessary and flee toward the danger. Tis far late in the night when we arrive, Mistress Storey and I, to find all rumours quite true.

For with our very own eyes we have seen such nightmarish sights as can hardly be described; a giant of a red man barely clothed, shirt much stained and shorn nearly from his filthy red painted body, accompanied by many many more just as filth ridden, painted and jeweled as he. Indeed, another giant of a man with long flowing hair and much fearsome demeanor carrying a bow in bear skin the same length and stature as I! Never have mine eyes witnessed such beastly men bearing their teeth such as these! Fortune was much with us as we were able to pass through this hateful territory and slip unnoticed past these restless dogs and into the fort.

All danger and fear fled as mine eyes lit upon the face of our dear friend Mr. Mains, having traveled a great distance from the east to arrive just hours afore us. We were much delighted in each other’s company. A loft within a small cabin was found to stow our meager gear and we set about greeting our dear friends garrisoned within James Harrod’s fort. Mr. Godwin, known as Pit, and Mr. Webster were first to greet us, and quickly others too who had traveled far to lend hand, lead and rifle to the impending fight. Long into the night, nay early into the morn, we gathered to lay plans to overcome the pending siege.

Hardly able to remain wakeful, finally we returned to the small quarters granted us. Just as sleep had nearly taken us into her dream land, a sound the likes of which could not be immediately determined disturbed us greatly. Not but just sound, a feeling quite unusual? By light of moon through open window the source of this disturbance manifested; Bats! Indeed, many many of them, flying but scant inches over us in our repose. Nonetheless, sleep won out and carried us far from concerns over winged vermin.

June 19. Once more the pounding of rain and darkened black, grey and even green tinged skies greeted the morn, fierce winds blew through the fort and great sloughs of water ran from tentage and we were much gladdened to be stowed within our cabin. Friends not yet discovered the night last, made their way through the deluge to assemble with steaming mugs of coffee, tales of far off places, raids, and sad stories of losses so devastating as to make our tender heart break.

As the rains cleared and the hot sun sent steam rising, a few men, women and children ventured outside the fort gates. In fact, two lads feeling much restrained by walls, ventured further out toward the largest Osage tree mine eyes have ever taken in. Foolishly these two harassed each other into a game of shooting skills, but Lo! Just at the crack of the first shot, other shots were heard! My God, the boy was down, not just down, but shot full of lead, blood flying, bone breaking, helplessly jerking about with the agony!

Myself and Mistress Heasely were tending a fire and adding what bits of meat as we had to a meager stew when the multitude of shots rang through the valley. Gathering screaming children, we ran with all our might toward the safe haven of the fort. Blessed we were to make it inside just as the gates slammed shut behind our flying skirts! Quickly gathering my gun, lead and powder to the upper ramparts I ran, loading as my feet found purchase upon the rough ground.

Och! The sight before my eyes! T’was my own dear Mr. Mains flying toward the barred gate! The sheer terror which ran up my spine tightened my grip upon my gun and without conscious thought brought clear focus upon the black painted skull of the savage in my sights. “Dig, Dig!” was the scream from our lips as men began a hole for Mr. M to crawl under the fortifications. Lo! T’was the giant red man with long flowing hair running with a band of miscreants coming toward our most dear one! Tingling limbs worked without thought as we loaded time and again, our barrel so hot it blistered our skin. “Dig!” shouted Captain Curry until finally he was in!

Bold were they, these red dogs! One particularly stood out, perhaps his great height or the filthiness of his rags, but great was the burning anger in my soul to send this son of satan back, back to whence he came! Alas t’was not to be. His brethren, bold fighters were they! Long and hard did they fight, yet we of the fort were able to withstand their bloody assault. Ere long the shots rang out with less frequency, their yellow backs seen slipping into the trees, dragging off their wounded and dead, no doubt to recoup their losses as their own.

Finally, time passed without the hail of their snarls and shots and a great Huzzah was raised within the fort walls! Much celebrating commenced! Everyone gathered about the spring to dip neckcloth, bowl and cup to quench the heat from body and soul. Parson John gave blessings upon many and together we dined with much gladness in our hearts. Mr. Mains close by mine side, covered in more dirt than is usual, much the vermin upon that day! Having barely scratched and crawled through the hole dug small enough but a groundhog should pass. And yet, much thanks given, he had passed through unscathed. Once more late into the night our songs filled the air and wondrous time spent enjoying dear friends, Mistress Storey, the Heaselys, the Selters, our friend and oft times cook; Mr. K. Stambaugh, and so many others impossible to name. Huzzah, Huzzah, Huzzah! for our fortune this day!

June 20. Hot was the sun even upon rising, breezes unknown, nary cloud in the sky to grant even a moments respite and once more we fought! Evil dogs with snarling teeth and rankled hides came tearing through the trees and screams filled our ears. Smoke, thick from our musket and rifle fire, clung in the still air. All round us the fear, terror and fright, and yet we fight! Aye, indeed we fight, blistered skin from barrels blazed hot, split lips from lack of water mean nothing, t’is only powder, lead and shot that fills our minds. Rarely time to take proper aim, rather but a hail of lead we rained down upon those soulless beings with their black painted skin. Women run lead balls without ceasing, men load and hand up rifle and musket quick as can be done. Those of us of a true eye and aim never hesitating. Exhaustion, heat, and lead take our men and theirs. The hurled insults betwixt and between mean nothing against the blood stains of our souls, once more we fight. We fight until blooded and sickened by their losses they slip away once more into the woodlands and trackless forest, like shadows, evil shadows of the night, not but the smell of them left. Gone.

We seek out our loved ones, cry in the arms of those who have lost all, gather together with the Parson to pray and seek divine solace. Why, we wonder, why must life in this fair land be so hard, the losses so great? For land? For gardens and cabins and commerce? Nay, not those foolish things, but for our lives! Our very lives, and our children’s lives, for widows, orphans and those most beloved.

We carry on and we tarry not without rifle at hand, we press on in high hopes that our children will not carry burdens such as these, that they might have more than we. Indeed, that they know freedom from these murderous times. Yet, their eyes have seen, their tiny ears have heard, they’ll not forget what we’ve done. They will carry forth different burdens, different hurts and have other forces against them. Yet we pray we’ve done enough to prepare them, lest they be harmed. For as we fight; they too shall fight. They too shall hold the eye of their enemy in theirs. God grant them mercy to forgive themselves for what they shall do and what we have done. This small mercy we beg, in His name.