Siege of Boonesborough

September 1778,

In June our friend Mr. Boone returned from his forced captivity at Chillicothe with dire warnings of a coming Shawnee attack. The men of his fort are of differing thoughts, some believe without hesitation whilst others question his integrity. Months have passed since his return to the fort and no attack has been made. The men of Boonesborough have made small raids against the Shawnee, but have been unable to find Blackfish or his warriors.

The season for war is surely upon us, we shall garrison with Mr. Boone and be well prepared should the Shawnee leader Blackfish appear from the forest to make good upon his threats.

Our journey was most uneventful, though there were signs of recent savage activities. Indeed the half faced shelter outside the fort fairly stank of their presence.

Further, a pair of odd items; a box of sorts and bit of white toweling with the marks of the hideous paint used by savages, had been inexplicably left. Once Mr. Mains and his small niece, Savannah Rae were ensconced within the meager walls of the shelter, my companions and I passed a lovely evening, even with stench and threat of nearby savages, both of red skin and red coat! Mr. MacGillie and Mr. Kell as well as Mr. and Mistress Selter, the dear Heasleys and Mistress Reasoner were amongst those with whom we enjoyed the evening. The slight misting rain which occasionally turned a bit harder was nothing when compared with past visits to Mr. Boone's fort.

Upon the new day the sun burned a mist from the fields outside the fort gates. Many friends had gathered and the time passed quickly as children played, couples strolled the grounds, and many cups of warm coffee were enjoyed with friends.

Suddenly, with no warning, savage beasts sprang from the trees, causing the children, women and even men to scatter across the grounds racing for all they were worth to the safety of the fort. Quickly the gates were secured and guards posted in every possible position. It was Blackfish and contingent of British allies! Strangely, a young man of colour called Pompi, was sent forth bearing a white flag. He hailed the fort crying "Sheltowee, your father would speak to you!"

Mr. Boone, recognizing the lad, stepped out of the safety of the fort and approached his former captors. Blackfish and Boone spoke closely for a time, Blackfish reminded Mr. Boone of his promise to surrender the fort if the women and children were carried safely to Detroit. Boone replied other men had become responsible for the safety of the fort and those housed within, and they did not make the promise to give up without a fight. The two spoke heatedly, and each returned to his people upon several occasions. Little did Blackfish know Daniel was stalling for time, believing troops were well on their way to lend aid in the defense of the fort.

Blackfish demanded of Boone "By what right had the white people taken possession of this country?" Boone presented evidence to Blackfish the Cherokee people had sold him the land at Sycamore Shoals, and Blackfish's own ally from the Cherokee people verified this. Again the two departed company, only to return to talks with their people. Colonel Callaway, whose own daughters had been captured with Jemima Boone just two years ago, was most severely at odds with Mr. Boone. It was an intense time, both inside and outside the fort walls.

Guards remained posted in all positions even a few women wearing men's hunting shirts were stationed upon the roofs, giving the Shawnee the impression there were many far beyond the nearly forty souls garrisoned within the walls.

Blackfish and Boone once more returned to their negotiations, coming to the agreement the Shawnee would remain fast to the Ohio River Boundary if Boone and his men swore allegiance to the King. The treaties were made and upon the request of Blackfish a "long shake" was initiated, this entailed two indians shaking the hands of each white man. Fearing something may be afoot Mr. Boone had given the men warning that should he toss his hat, the guards would commence shooting whatever target their eye may fall upon. Surely a clearer premonition was never made, for once each man was taken in hand by two indians a commotion broke out and a bloody battle ensued.

The men fought bravely as the yellow dogs bit, kicked and used anything at hand, including a stump with which to beat down our men. Fires were set, and even a tunnel was commenced to being dug, but still we held them back.

The battle raged on for eleven long days. We witnessed the capture of one woman who, with a party of others had passed the rear flank of the savages. Sadly, her bravery was her undoing, as she was cut down and captured by a contingent of savages and damnable Britts. The savagery of these white men are oft overlooked, yet we saw with our own eyes, this woman savagely beaten, tied and carried toward a burning pole. Hope struck momentarily as she broke free of her bonds and nearly escaped, only to be caught up again and threatened to be tied with the length of rope she carried upon her belt. Amazingly the woman lifted the length of rope with quick slight of hand and dashed it into the fire, the fight continued, until she was swept off her feet and dealt a final blow with a belt ax. The man who had landed the blow went so far as to claim her blond scalp lifting a sizable portion, which was passed amongst the savages as if a token of their strength. Though hideously murdered, we had only one thought, she had fought so hard she had forced them to kill her upon the field rather than be taken alive back to their camps for ungodly tortures or burning upon the post.

Long did the fires burn, but as it was God's will a mighty storm came upon us and damped out the fire and the will of the savages to fight. Triumphant, the dawn did come and much rejoicing was had by all.

The coolness of the morning was warmed by strong coffee, good company and the Word given to us by Parson John. We departed sadly from the company of our dearest friends. The memory of their warmth, the laughter amongst us and thoughts of those who were no longer with us haunted the long journey home.

Our return to our little cabin brought a bit of good tidings, for a package had been delivered upon our doorstep whilst we were out. Indeed, a small package bearing a lovely gift was just the very thing to raise us from our sour spirits, as we had been mulling over thoughts of friends, and loved ones. The brightness of color, the perfection of it's stitching and every detail brought such cheer to our hearts! A fine pocketbook was enclosed within the tiny package.

Yes, a pocketbook made by the hands of our dear friend Amanda Webster, mother of the darling baby Grace, whom we remember most fondly from our visit to Mr. Martin's Station.

Once more our thoughts turn to friends and though our spirit is much brightened with fond memories, we long too for others to know we wish them well, whatever distances and time separate us.

Much thanks and image credits to Doc Muzzy and his Cannon.

Also, Mr. VonDieligen whose images were first seen by frontier folk. And finally Mr. Selter, who made them available first in the book of faces, and whose fine art may be enjoyed by many interested in the 18th Century.

Friends

Our thoughts this dark and cool morn lean heavily toward dear friends. The days most recently passed were filled with the warmth and laughter of many friends near and dear; those whom we see oft, and those whom we only cross paths with but few times a year.

Yet, we found it was those friends whom we did not see who were most oft upon our mind. One wonders what makes another man or woman a friend? Is it a similar spirit, common interests, or perhaps that each carries a spark from the same flame? These answers are far beyond this simple woman's understanding, yet surely there is an answer. For there are times when one merely crosses paths with another but briefly and suddenly a new friend for life is made. Yet, with others one sees time and again there is no connection.

Further, there are those who may not know the depth and breadth of feeling they have wrought upon the hearts of others. Travelers of this earth, believing themselves alone, who carry with them the love, concern and prayers of many. Perhaps not knowing, until burdens become too heavy to carry alone, there are those nearby who are ready to take up the load, to lend a hand, to offer comfort, and strength. We can only pray those friends in need know there are many who wish them well.

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