Eleven Soldiers Killed by Indians in Pennsylvania
The following is Colonel Piper's official report of the massacre, made to President Reed. It contains no particulars, and is also inaccurate; nevertheless, we deem it worthy of a place, as it bears an official stamp. We copy it from the Archives of 1780:—
Bedford County, August 6, 1780.
Sir:—Your favor of the third of June, with the blank commissions, have been duly received; since which we have been anxiously employed in raising our quota of Pennsylvania volunteers, and at the same time defending our frontiers. But, in our present shattered situation, a full company cannot be expected from this county, when a number of our militia companies are entirely broken up and whole townships laid waste, so that the communication betwixt our upper and lower districts is entirely broken, and our apprehensions of immediate danger are not lessened, but greatly aggravated by a most alarming stroke. Captain Phillips, an experienced, good woodman, had engaged a company of rangers for the space of two months, for the defence of our frontiers, was surprised at his fort on Sunday, the 16th of July, when the captain, with eleven of his company, were all taken and killed. When I received the intelligence, which was the day following, I marched, with only ten men, directly to the place, where we found the house burnt to ashes, with sundry Indian tomahawks that had been lost in the action, but found no person killed at that place; but, upon taking the Indian tracks, within about one half-mile we found ten of Captain Phillips's company, with their hands tied, and murdered in the most cruel manner.
This bold enterprise so alarmed the inhabitants that our whole frontiers were upon the point of giving way; but, upon application to the Lieutenant of Cumberland county, he hath sent to our assistance one company of the Pennsylvania volunteers, which, with the volunteers raised in our own county, hath so encouraged the inhabitants that they seem determined to stand it a little longer. We hope our conduct will receive your approbation; and you'll please to approve it by sending your special order to our county commissioner to furnish these men with provisions and other necessaries until such times as other provisions can be made for our defence. As Colonel Smith will deliver this, I beg leave to recommend you to him, as he is very capable to give full satisfaction to you, in every particular, of our present circumstances.
I have the honor to be,
With all due respect,
Your Excellency's most ob't
And very humble servant,
John Piper.
Overlooking the fact that Colonel Piper, in this semi-official statement, did not even condescend to mention the name of a single one of the brave men who fell by the hands of the ruthless savages, is it not a little strange that the whole report should be filled with gross inaccuracies, not the least of which is that Captain Phillips was killed, when it is notorious that he returned after the war—having been taken prisoner,—and people are still living in the valley who saw him many years after the massacre of his scout?
Captain Phillips, previous to the disaster, resided near what is now Williamsburg. He was a man of some energy, and a skilful and experienced woodman. He had made a temporary fortress of his house, to guard against savage incursions, and his usefulness in protecting the frontier was duly appreciated by the settlers. Through the influence of some of the most prominent men about Clover Creek, Colonel Piper was induced to give Mr. Phillips a captain's commission, with authority to raise a company of rangers to serve for two months, as it was known that there was a large body of savages somewhere in the valley, unmistakeable traces of their presence having been seen at many places along the river.
Captain Phillips commenced recruiting men immediately on the reception of his commission; but, owing to the fact that it was just the beginning of harvest, he met with very little success. By the 15th of July, 1780, he had but ten men collected; but with these he determined to scout through Woodcock Valley and the Cove, in order to protect the farmers in harvesting their grain. To this end he distributed ammunition and provisions, and the party marched from the Cove across the mountain. On entering the valley, they found most of the houses abandoned, but no signs of Indians. Late on Saturday evening they arrived at the house of one Frederick Heater, which had been abandoned by its owner. The house had been pierced with loopholes, to serve as a temporary fortress in case of necessity, but the proprietor, unable to find sufficient men to garrison it, had fled to Hartsock's Fort. At this house Captain Phillips determined to remain over Sunday. The entire force consisted of Captain Phillips, his son Elijah, aged fourteen years, Philip Skelly, Hugh Skelly, P. and T. Sanders, Richard Shirley, M. Davis, Thomas Gaitrell, Daniel Kelly, and two men whose names are no longer remembered. After partaking of their supper they all stretched themselves out on the floor and slept soundly until morning. While preparing their morning meal, one of the Skellys happened to open the door, when he discovered that the house was surrounded by Indians. A glance sufficed to show Captain Phillips how matters stood. There were not less than sixty Indians, and among them two white men, dressed, decorated, and painted, the same as the savages. The captain at first supposed they were marauders, and would probably not stop; but the hope was most delusive. A small shower of rain having fallen the day previous, this savage war-party had tracked Phillips and his men to the very door of Heater's house. Phillips commanded the utmost silence, and awaited with breathless anxiety the further movements of the enemy. Through the window he discovered the savages grouped upon an eminence—some ten of them armed with rifles, and the remainder with bows and arrows—in consultation. Directly one of the savages fired his rifle, which was evidently a ruse to draw the men from the house; but it did not succeed. At last one of the Indians ventured within rifle-range of the house, when Gaitrell, unable to resist the temptation, thrust the muzzle of his rifle through one of the loopholes, fired, and shot him through the left shoulder. The war-whoop was then raised, and the savages ran to and fro for a while, concealing themselves behind trees, some seventy yards from the house, under the impression probably that an immediate action would take place.
No further demonstrations being made by the rangers, the Indians waited but a short time until, at a preconcerted signal, they fired a volley at the door and window of the house, both of which were riddled by the bullets, but no person was injured. The scout, in this agony of suspense, surrounded by a large body of savages, with the greatest bravery stood at the loopholes, and whenever a savage showed himself within rifle-range he was shot at. In this manner two were killed and two wounded. The Indians, in the mean time, continued firing at the door and window; and in this way the fight continued until about the middle of the afternoon, when Philip Skelly shot the chief through the left cheek at a distance of nearly a hundred yards. This so exasperated the Indians that they raised the war-whoop a second time, loud and fierce, and appeared determined to have vengeance.
At this juncture an occurrence took place which seems almost incredible; yet Captain Phillips, whose statement we are giving, vouched for the truth of it, and he was unquestionably a man of veracity. Davis had the muzzle of his rifle out of a loop-hole, and was intently watching for a chance to shoot, when he felt a sudden jarring of the rifle. He withdrew it, and found a sharp-pointed, tapering hickory arrow driven into the muzzle so tight that it took the combined efforts of four men to withdraw it. Whether this new method of spiking a gun was intentional or not, it illustrated most forcibly the wonderful power of the Indian over the bow—whether he fired at the rifle or the loop-hole.
The Indians, finding it impossible to dislodge the rangers from what appeared a stronghold in every sense of the word, by all stratagems yet used, affixed dry leaves and other combustible matter to arrows, set fire to them, and lodged them upon the roof of the house, which soon was on fire in two or three places. The men carried up all the water in the house, and subdued the flames from the inside; but the water was soon exhausted, and a fresh volley of the fire-arrows set the roof in a blaze, and there were no longer means within their reach to quench the destructive element. Still the rangers stood at the loopholes, even when the upper part of the house was all on fire. Certain death stared them in the face; they dared not go out of the house, for they would expose the weakness of their force and meet instant destruction as soon as they passed over the threshold; on the other hand, the fire above them was raging, and they did not know what moment they would be buried beneath the burning timbers. And yet the men never flinched. But, at last, Captain Phillips, seeing the desperate strait to which they were reduced, cried for quarter, and told the savages that he would surrender, on condition that his men should be treated as prisoners and not injured. To this the Indians assented, and the men escaped from the house just in time to save their lives from fire, but only to meet a death equally shocking.
The spokesman for the Indians—one of the white renegades—demanded, in the first place, that all their arms should be delivered up. To this the men readily agreed; and they handed their rifles and knives to the savages. The next demand was that they should suffer themselves to be pinioned, in order that none might escape. This degrading proposition met no favor with the men; but they were compelled to submit, and their hands were secured behind their backs by strong thongs. In this condition they started—as the Indians said—for Kittaning; but, after getting half a mile from the house, some five or six of the Indians, who had Captain Phillips and his son in charge, continued on their route, while the remainder ordered a halt. The ten men were then tied to as many saplings, and two or three volleys of arrows were fired into them.
The fate of the scout was not known until Tuesday.
Some persons passing Heater's house on Monday morning, seeing it in ruins, carried the news to Hartsock's Fort. An express was sent to Colonel Piper, who arrived on the ground with a small force late on Tuesday. About the house they found a number of tomahawks, knives, and other articles, which indicated that an action had taken place; but the fate of the men could not be conjectured.
Finally, some one discovered the tracks, and proposed following them, which they did, and found the men at the place designated, each man with from three to five arrows sticking in him. Some of them had not been killed outright, and it was apparent that their struggles to get loose must have been most desperate. Kelly was one of these, who, in his efforts to free himself, had buried the thong in the flesh of his arm. All of the men were scalped. They were buried on the spot where they appeased the savage appetite for blood; and their mouldering bones still repose there, without even the rudest of stones to commemorate the sad event or perpetuate their memory.
Phillips, in consequence of his rank, was taken prisoner, as at that time officers brought to the British garrison commanded an excellent price. Himself and son were taken to Detroit, and from thence to Montreal, and did not reach their home until peace was declared.
Some of the friends of the persons massacred were disposed to find fault with Captain Phillips, especially as the massacre was so general and yet he and his son had escaped. Of course, Phillips not being present to defend himself, the talk was so much on one side that some went so far as to stigmatize him as a traitor and a coward. On his return, he gave the true version of the affair; and it must be admitted by all that, under the circumstances, he did all that a brave officer could do to save the lives of his men. Their fate weighed heavily on his mind for the balance of his life; and in the thought of their untimely end he forgot all the sufferings and privations he endured while a prisoner in the camp of the enemy.
