Part 45
Slander suits were the order of the day. That between Claes Cram and Hans Peters is interesting. Cram claimed Peters called him a thief, and two witnesses swore that they heard Peters say that Cram had stolen aboard a ship and in the same manner stole all his riches. The verdict was that since the defendant was not able to prove “what he hath said or any part thereof the Court ordered that ye defendant openly shall declare himself a liar and that he shall further declare ye plaintiff to be an honest man and pay twenty gilders to ye plaintiff for his loss of time, together with the cost of ye suite.”
Hans Jurian declared that Moens Staecket, during September, assaulted and beat him at his own door, followed him into his house, calling him a rogue and a dog and a thousand more names, and moreover threatened to kill Jurian whenever he met him.
One witness swore that he saw the defendant all bloody and he told him Jurian did it, that Staecket later appeared “on horseback and called for his sword, his gun, powder and shot and then rode before Hans Jurian’s door and, calling him, saying you dog, you rogue, come out, I will shoot you a bullet through your head.”
The Court bound both over to keep the peace for one year and six weeks, under penalty of £40 of lawful money of England, to be paid by him that shall first break ye peace. Staecket was also fined 200 gilders; the costs of the case were divided between the litigants.
Later in the same day the same Staecket was defendant in another action brought by the presiding justice, Otto Ernest Cock, complaining that Staecket maliciously defamed and slandered him by calling him a hog thief. The defendant protested that he never knew, heard or saw the plaintiff steal a hog, and that he to his knowledge never said any such thing but that he hath said it, as the witness doth affirm, that it must have been, when he was in his drink, and he humbly desired forgiveness, since he finds himself in a great fault. Staecket was ordered to openly declare that Justice Cock was not a hog thief, and he was fined 1000 gilders.
There were eleven cases tried this day, one, at least, before a jury. Nine petitions were disposed of and the Court issued a written direction for the overseers of the highways. Certainly a busy day in court.
The Court adjourned until second Tuesday of ye month of March next ensuing.
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Last Purchase from Indians Caused by Boundary Dispute, June 9, 1769
One important feature of the last treaty made with the Indians at Fort Stanwix, October, 1784, was the settlement of the difficulties which had existed for sixteen years among the white settlers over the disputed boundary line embraced by Tiadaghton.
It was contended by some that Lycoming Creek was this line, and by others that it was Pine Creek. The territory between these streams is that which lies between the present City of Williamsport and Jersey Shore, and includes nearly half of the present Lycoming County and all of Tioga.
Previous to the purchase of November 5, 1768, this part of the West Branch Valley was occupied by tribes of Shawnee and Munsee, and the way for its settlement by whites was not opened until the “New Purchase” was made at Fort Stanwix.
On June 9, 1769, a serious difference arose between the Provincial Government and the settlers whether the stream called Tiadaghton, mentioned in the treaty was Lycoming or Pine Creek when translated into English. This question remained in dispute until the last treaty, October, 1784.
This early settlement is made clear by the reference to Smith’s Laws, where is the following:
“There existed a great number of locations on the 3d of April, 1769, for the choicest lands on the West Branch of Susquehanna, between the mouths of Lycoming and Pine Creeks; but the Proprietaries from extreme caution, the result of that experience which had also produced the very penal laws of 1768 and 1769, and the proclamation already stated, had prohibited any surveys being made beyond the Lycoming. In the meantime, in violation of all laws, a set of hardy adventurers had from time to time seated themselves on this doubtful territory. They made improvements, and formed a very considerable population.
“It is true, so far as regarded the rights to real property, they were not under the protection of the laws of the country, and were we to adopt the visionary theories of some philosophers, who have drawn their arguments from a supposed state of nature, we might be led to believe that the state of these people would have been a state of continual warfare; and that in contests for property the weakest must give way to the strongest.
“To prevent the consequences, real or supposed, of this state of things, they formed a mutual compact among themselves. They annually elected a tribunal, in rotation, of three of their settlers, whom they called _fair-play men_, who were to decide all controversies, and settle disputed boundaries. From their decision there was no appeal. There could be no resistance. The decree was enforced by the whole body, who started up in mass, at the mandate of the court, and execution and eviction were as sudden and irresistible as the judgment. Every new comer was obliged to apply to this powerful tribunal, and upon his solemn engagement to submit in all respects to the law of the land he was permitted to take possession of some vacant spot. Their decrees were, however, just; and when their settlements were recognized by law, and fair play had ceased, their decisions were received in evidence, and confirmed by judgment of courts.”
In those early days, as later, the white man was pushing the Indian back, in spite of the proclamation of Governor Penn, which warned all persons not to settle on lands not purchased of the Indians and unsurveyed, and advised those that had settled to make haste and leave. But they did not vacate, and in the enforcement of their “fair-play” code, it became necessary to adopt rigid measures. Any person resisting the decrees was placed in a canoe, rowed to the mouth of Lycoming Creek, and there sent adrift. Subsequently a law was passed, allowing the settlers from Lycoming and Pine Creeks a preemption right to not over three hundred acres of land each, upon satisfactory proof being presented that they were actual settlers previous to 1780.
For seven years after the purchase of 1768, the pioneers swung the axe, felled the giant trees, builded their cabins, and tilled their fields unmolested; but just when they began to enjoy the comforts of their cabin homes, and reap the rewards of their industry, the cry of the Revolution was heard, and the hardy backwoodsmen trained to the vicissitudes of war during the frontier campaigns of 1755 to 1763, with true patriotism, seized their rifles and went forth to battle for liberty, leaving their families scantily provided for and exposed to the raids of the Indians.
All along the West Branch, wherever there was a white settlement, stockade forts were built, garrisoned by settlers or Provincial troops.
At the treaty of October 23, 1784, the Pennsylvania Commissioners were specially instructed to inquire of the Indians which stream was really Tiadaghton, and, also the Indian name of Burnetts’ Hills, left blank in deed of 1768. The Indians informed them Tiadaghton was what the whites call Pine Creek, being the largest stream flowing into the Otzinachson, or West Branch. They did not know the name of the hills. The authorities apprehended difficulty in settling disputes among the actual settlers.
The Commissioners at this treaty secured title from the Indians for the residue of the lands within the limits of Pennsylvania. This purchase was confirmed by the Wyandotte and Delaware nations at Fort McIntosh, January 21, 1785.
Thus in a period of 102 years was the whole right of the Indians to the soil of Pennsylvania extinguished.
The land office was opened for the new purchase in 1785 and settlers rapidly flocked to the West Branch Valley.
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Massacre at Lycoming Creek, Present Williamsport, June 10, 1778
As early as 1773 settlers had made improvements at the mouth of Lycoming Creek, where the city of Williamsport now stands. For the next three or four years there was no protection for settlers between there and Antes Fort, about thirteen miles west.
Some brave spirits, among whom were William King, Robert Covenhoven, and James Armstrong, built a stockade inclosure at the mouth of the Lycoming. This was located near what is now Fourth and Cemetery Streets, Williamsport.
The rumors of a descent by the Tories and Indians on the North Branch had reached the settlement at Northumberland, where William King, wife and two daughters lived. They thought the new stockade on the Lycoming would be safe and a hurried trip was made up the West Branch.
The driver of the team remarked, as they approached Loyalsock Creek: “Here is the last stream we will cross before reaching the fort, and we will stop for water.” The horses had no sooner halted than rifles cracked and the utmost confusion at once ensued.
A description of the terrible massacre that followed is given in a long letter by Colonel Hosterman to Colonel Winter from Fort Muncy, under date June 10, 1778.
Colonel Hosterman began his letter with the statement that nothing material had happened since he was stationed at Fort Muncy until that day. He was in command of a party, consisting of Captain Reynolds and thirteen men which set out for Antes Fort, carrying a supply of ammunition for the garrisons stationed there and at the Big Island.
The same day, remarks the Colonel, Peter Smith and his wife and six children; William King’s wife and two daughters, Ruth and Sarah; Michael Smith, Michael Campbell and David Chambers, the latter a member of Captain Reynolds’ company, and two men named Snodgrass and Hammond, a total of six men, two women and eight children, were going in wagons to Lycoming. When they arrived at Loyalsock Creek, John Harris (son of Samuel Harris) met them and told them that he had heard firing up the creek and advised that they return to Fort Muncy, that to advance farther was dangerous.
Peter Smith said that firing would not stop him. Harris proceeded to Fort Muncy, and the other party continued up the river. Soon as Harris reached the fort and told his story, a detail of fifteen soldiers started from the fort in the direction of where the firing had been heard.
When Smith and his party arrived within a half mile of Lycoming Creek, the Indians, lying in ambush, fired upon them, and at the first fire Snodgrass fell dead with a bullet through his forehead. The Indians gave a halloo and rushed toward the wagon. The men hurried toward trees and with these as a shelter returned the fire. A small lad and a girl escaped into the woods.
The Indians closed in on the party in an endeavor to surround them. This movement was discovered by the men, who fled as rapidly as possible, leaving only Campbell, who was fighting at too close quarters to join his companions in their flight. He was killed and scalped on the spot.
Before the men were out of sight of the wagon they saw the Indians attacking the women and children with their tomahawks. Chambers stated that he believed there were about twenty Indians in the party.
This bloody affair occurred just before sundown. The lad who escaped pushed on to the stockade on Lycoming Creek and informed the men there what had happened. They started immediately, but mistaking the intelligence the boy gave, hastened to the river to the place where they lived, thinking it was the canoe that was attacked instead of a wagon.
In the meantime Captain William Hepburn, with the detail which started from Fort Muncy, arrived at the scene of the massacre, and found the bodies of Snodgrass and Campbell. It was too dark to pursue the savages, but they pressed on toward Lycoming and met the party going out from there. They waited until the next day.
On the morning of June 11 they returned to the scene and found the bodies of Peter Smith’s wife shot through, stabbed, scalped and a knife by her side.
A little girl and a boy were killed and scalped. Snodgrass was found shot through the head and scalped, and a knife left sticking in his body. The rifles had been taken by the Indians, but nothing of value was removed from the wagon.
The lad who made his escape insisted that Mrs. King must be somewhere in the thicket, as he heard her scream and say she would not go along with the Indians when they were dragging her away. They made another search and found her near the stream where she had dragged herself and rested with her hand under her bleeding head. She had been tomahawked and scalped, but not dead. She was sitting up and greeted her husband when he approached her, but she expired almost instantly. She did not live long enough to speak of the affair.
William King was the picture of despair. He soon returned to Northumberland, and later moved up to Vincents Island. Many years later he learned that his daughter was still alive, and he started on foot with knapsack on his back, accompanied by an old Indian, for Niagara. He soon found Sarah, but had to travel far and suffered severe hardships before he succeeded in finding Ruth.
They reached their home on the island at Milton. They afterward lived at Jaysburg, the present Williamsport. Descendants of the sturdy people are now residents of that city.
Among those taken captive were Peter Wyckoff and son, Cornelius; Thomas Covenhoven and a Negro. The latter was burned in the presence of the other prisoners. Peter Wyckoff was fifty-four years old, and lived with the Indians two years before he and his son were given their freedom.
This affair occurred in the present city of Williamsport, where West Fourth Street crosses the stream which flows down Cemetery Street. There is a boulder erected near the spot which bears a bronze tablet telling of the event.
At the time this was a natural thicket of wild plum trees, which yielded fruit of remarkable size and flavor for nearly a century after the massacre. The road leading to this spot was the old Indian trail and formed a safe place for the concealment of lurking savages.
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Colonel William Crawford Captured by Indians June 11, 1782
During the spring of 1782 the Indians, who had removed the seat of their depredations and war to the western frontiers of Pennsylvania, and Eastern Ohio, assembled in large numbers at Upper Sandusky, Ohio, which they used as place of general rendezvous and from which they went out to the places they decided in council should be attacked and destroyed.
The principal places to which they made incursions were along the Ohio River, especially in Western Pennsylvania. So serious was the situation along the frontier, and so bold had the savages become that Congress directed a regiment of volunteers to be raised to subdue them.
General Washington commissioned Colonel William Crawford, of Westmoreland County, Pa., to command the regiment and David Williamson, Lieutenant Colonel. These men were seasoned soldiers and unusually well qualified to lead troops against the Indians.
In May, 1782, the command marched from Fort Pitt, well armed and provided with sufficient quantity of provisions. The command consisted of 462 officers and men. Each volunteer furnished his own horse, gun and a month’s provision. They were to be exempt from two tours of military duty, and in the event they captured any Indian towns, such plunder as fell into their hands should be returned to its former owner, if he could identify and prove his property, and all horses lost during the expedition by unavoidable accident were to be replaced by horses taken from the Indians.
After a fatiguing march of eleven days through the wilderness the command reached the site of Sandusky, but the inhabitants had moved eighteen miles farther down the stream. The officers decided there were no Indian towns nearer than forty miles, and while refreshing their horses the scouts advanced to search for Indian settlements. They had not gone far when the savages were discovered in great numbers and advancing toward them.
Colonel Crawford and his brave band advanced to meet the attack June 11, 1782, and when they had reached a point only a short distance from the town they were met by a white man bearing a flag of truce from the Indians, who proposed to Colonel Crawford that if he would surrender himself and his men to the Indians, who were of overwhelming force, their lives would be spared, but if they persisted further in their expedition and attacked the town they should all be massacred to the last man.
Crawford, while listening to the proposition, thought he recognized the bearer of it as one whose features were those of a former schoolmate and companion, one he knew by the name of Simon Girty, and with whom he had only recently served in the same regiment in the Continental Army.
Crawford sternly inquired of the traitor if his name was not Simon Girty. Answered in the affirmative, the colonel informed him that he despised the offer he had made; that he would not surrender his army unless he was compelled to do so by a superior force.
Girty returned and Colonel Crawford immediately commenced an engagement which lasted till darkness, without advantage to either side, when firing ceased. The troops encamped in the woods a half mile from the town. After refreshments they slept on their arms, so that they should not be caught unprepared in a surprise attack.
The sentinels reported during the night that they were surrounded by Indians upon every side, except a narrow space between them and the town. The officers consulted upon the best way of escape, for they realized to fight was useless and to surrender meant death.
Colonel Crawford proposed to retreat through the ranks of the enemy in an opposite direction from the town. Lieutenant Colonel Williamson thought the better plan would be to march directly through the town, where there appeared to be no Indians. It was no time for debate.
Colonel Crawford with sixty followers retreated on the route he had proposed by attempting to rush the enemy, but every man was killed or captured, the colonel and his surgeon, Dr. Knight, being among the prisoners. Lieutenant Colonel Williamson, with the remainder of the command and the wounded of the day’s battle, set out the same moment Colonel Crawford did, went through the town without losing a man, and by the aid of experienced guides arrived at their homes in safety.
The next day the Indians paraded their prisoners and disposed of all of them among the different tribes except Colonel Crawford and Surgeon Knight, who were reserved for a more cruel fate.
At the Indian council they were brought forward and seated in the center of the circle. The chiefs questioned Crawford on subjects relative to war. They inquired who conducted the operations of the American Army on the Ohio and Susquehanna Rivers the previous year; also who had led that army against them with so much skill and such uniform success.
Crawford very honestly and without suspecting any harm from his reply promptly stated that he was the man. Upon learning this, Chief Pipe, who had lost a son in battle where Colonel Crawford commanded, left his station in the council ring, stepped up to Crawford, blackened his face and at the same time told him he should be burned the next day.
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Death of Colonel Crawford and Escape of Dr. Knight June 12, 1782
The terrible disaster which occurred to the Pennsylvania militiamen under command of Colonel William Crawford, June 10, 1782, was one of the most unfortunate which is recorded in annals of border warfare.
The Indians under Captain Pipe and Chief Wyngenim, Delaware chieftains, and that white savage Simon Girty, the renegade, had surrounded the militiamen and captured or killed the entire command, except a small detachment under Lieutenant Colonel David Williamson, which made a miraculous escape through the Indian town during the progress of the battle.
The following day Colonel Crawford, his son, Captain John Crawford; son-in-law, Major Harrison; nephews, Major Rose and William Crawford, Dr. Knight and many other militiamen, who had been recruited in Westmoreland County, were being marched to the Indian towns, where they were tortured according to Indian savagery.
Dr. Knight was informed he would be sent to the Shawnee town, but he and the Colonel were to march to the place where the former was to be executed. During the march they saw five of their comrades in custody of the Indians. They were all required to sit down, when a number of squaws and boys tomahawked the five prisoners. An elderly soldier among the five, named John McKinley, from the Thirteenth Virginia, was killed, his head cut off and kicked about upon the ground. The scalps of the other four were slapped into the faces of Colonel Crawford and Surgeon Knight.
At this point Simon Girty came upon the scene in company with several Indians on horseback. Colonel Crawford engaged him in conversation and made every possible offer for relief from his perilous situation, offering Girty any price to deliver him from the savages and their torments. Girty heard his prayers with indifference.
Colonel Crawford was led to a post to which he was fastened. A pile of wood lay a few feet distant. The colonel was stripped naked and ordered to sit down on the fire which had been kindled, when the Indians began to beat him with sticks and their fists. They then bound the Colonel’s hands behind his back and fastened the rope with which he was tied to this ligature.
Girty stood and composedly looked on the preparations that were to be the death of one of his former playmates; a hero by whose side he had fought. Crawford again pleaded with Girty to save him, but he refused to procure him a moment’s respite or afford him the most trifling assistance. Crawford retorted that he would take it all patiently.
The rope was now pulled over the cross arm on the post so that the Colonel’s arms were extended above his head, with his feet just standing upon the ground. The wood was placed in a circle around him at a distance of a few feet, in order that his misery might be protracted and the fire then applied to the wood at several places in the circle.
As the flames rose and the scorching heat became unbearable he again prayed to Girty in all the anguish of his torment to rescue him from the fire, or shoot him dead. Girty, with a demoniac smile, calmly replied that he had no pity for his sufferings. Squaws took broad boards, heaped with burning embers and threw them on him, so that he had nothing but coals of fire to walk upon.