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The Baptism of Fire
The populous Indian village of Piqua on the Mad
River had prospered during six years of peace. The fertile plains
about it had been cultivated in the rude fashion of the Indian, and
the corn now stood ripening in the August sun with promise of an
abundant harvest. Amid such a scene Tecumseh and his young
companions, tired of their play, threw themselves down one evening
to listen to the exciting tales of the warriors who lounged smoking
in the cool shade. The women busied themselves about the camp-fires
cooking the game just brought in by the men. The voices of the
Indian girls rose and fell in monotonous song as with nimble fingers
they deftly wove the rushes into mats, while keeping a watchful eye
upon the little ones who played near by. The few years of peace had
given the inhabitants of Piqua a feeling of security, and they did
not know that the dark cloud of war even then overshadowed them.
The agents of the British commandant at Detroit had been busy among
the Indians seeking to enlist their aid against the revolutionists.
And in May of this year (1780) a party of six hundred warriors from
the country north of the Ohio, accompanied by a few Canadians, had
raided a number of villages in Kentucky, slain many settlers, and
carried off horses and prisoners. George Rogers Clark, now holding
the rank of colonel in the American army, was on a visit to
Kentucky. The frontiersmen rallied about him; and with a body of 970
crack riflemen he crossed the Ohio and advanced on the town of Old
Chillicothe. The Indians there had been warned and the town was
deserted. The Americans burnt it to the ground and continued their
march to Piqua.
At this time there were in Piqua about two hundred warriors and two
British agents, Simon Girty and his brother, who had fought under
Dunmore against the Shawnees in 1774, and who were now known to the
Kentuckians as 'the white renegades.' The appearance of Clark and
his raiders on the outskirts of the village took the inhabitants
completely by surprise. At the first note of alarm, the women, wild
with terror, snatched up their infants and fled shrieking to the
woods. Tecumseh and the older children followed, hastily gathering a
few treasured possessions. The warriors, awakening the forest echoes
with their defiant war-cries, took up their position in an old fort
which commanded the river. From the opposite side the Kentucky
rifle-men assailed the fort, which, in its decayed and ruinous
condition, offered but poor shelter. The Indians quickly evacuated
it, but not before several had been killed. While the defenders were
occupied by the attack from across the river, a detachment of the
enemy crept round through the wood and suddenly emerged at the rear
of the village. The red men rushed to the defense of their wigwams,
and kept the enemy at bay for some time; but the whites being vastly
superior in number, the Indians were defeated with great loss, and
the whites applied the torch to the village.
At length, when the cry of battle and the sound of firing had
ceased, the women and children ventured to creep forth from their
forest shelter. The enemy had gone, but had left a scene of
desolation behind. The village was a heap of smoking ruins, and the
corn in the fields was laid waste. Bodies of dead warriors strewed
the ground, many of them lying stretched before their own wigwams,
which they had defended so bravely. A scene of smiling peace had
indeed been turned into one of deepest mourning. Content and
happiness had fled before the ruthless destroyer, and he had gone
forward to the next Indian village on his mission of destruction.
The impression made by this scene upon Tecumseh's youthful mind was
enduring. The youth gazed with awe at the dead warriors and watched
with childish wonder the preparations for burial. The fallen
defenders of Piqua might not have the customary funeral dress, for
such things had been destroyed by the fire, but the survivors did
what their resources permitted. About the mat whereon each warrior
lay were placed his tomahawk, scalping-knife, and other weapons of
war. By his side lay his bow and arrow, wherewith to resume the
chase with phantom hunters in the Indian paradise. As darkness
descended upon the village the women stole out to mourn by the
new-made graves. During four nights they faithfully kept long vigil
until the lurid light of the funeral fires paled against the
brightening dawn. Then, after these last solemn tribal rites had
been performed, the Shawnees gathered together their few remaining
possessions and followed the trail, leading about thirty miles in a
north-westerly direction, to the Great Miami, where they rebuilt
their houses.1 A modern American city, with its great mills and costly
residences, preserves the Shawnee name of Piqua, and marks the site
where these poor Indian fugitives set up their wigwams in the autumn
of 1780.
The feud between the Indians and the whites continued with unabated
fury. Cheeseekau was now as noted a warrior as his father had been,
and became the leading spirit in many fierce frontier encounters. At
the camp-fire Tecumseh listened eagerly as his brother told his
thrilling tales. So persistent was Tecumseh's plea to be allowed to
go on the war-path that Cheeseekau promised to let him taste real
fighting in an attack on a party of whites encamped a few miles
south of Piqua. The youth, impatient for the fray, set out bravely
with Cheeseekau and his warriors, but when the actual horrors of
war, with its blood and confusion, burst upon him, he fled from the
field. It may be recalled that Frederick the Great, when first under
fire, did the same.
The time soon came when, according to Indian custom, Tecumseh must
undergo the solemn ordeal of initiation. He must establish his
personal relationship with the unseen world before taking rank as a
warrior in his tribe. For this purpose he must go into the solitary
woods or ascend some lonely mountain, where, by virtue of fasting,
he should receive supernatural help and a revelation of the unknown.
He entered alone into the green gloom of the forest. Wild things at
which he had been wont to draw his bow now peered at him from the
bushes and crossed his path unharmed. For many days he saw the
rising sun shine through the dewy woods and watched it sink in
splendor below the tree-tops. He slept the tired sleep of youth, and
woke refreshed to resume his sacred quest. One day, weary with
continual wandering and exhausted from persistent fasting, he threw
himself down where a little stream poured its waters into a rocky
basin. Lulled by the music of the waterfall, he fell asleep. Then in
a dream was revealed to him the unseen world. Suddenly, out of a
cluster of stars shot one, brighter than the rest, with shining
train. Its brilliance startled him from sleep. About him were the
familiar trees, and placid moonlight silvered the waterfall. Across
his passive mind flitted half-remembered tales of strange monsters
of the sky. The flaming meteor now assumed the crouching shape of a
panther about to spring on its prey; now that of a dragon taking its
flight across some midnight sky to seek the dark waters of a lake,
where it was condemned to dwell, lest it should set the world on
fire. Wooed by the slumberous music of the fall, sleep once more
closed the dreamer's heavy eyes. Scarcely had he crossed the
threshold of this unknown world when the bright symbol again traced
its path. So often did the strange messenger appear that he accepted
it as the radiant guardian of his destiny. When he returned to his
people they were filled with rejoicing that his dream had been of
things above, for this augured well. Henceforth they called him 'the
shooting star,' or, in their own soft tongue, 'Tecumtha.'
When the elaborate religious ceremonies customary to the initiation
of a warrior had been performed, Tecumseh's power of physical
endurance was put to a severe test. He presented himself for public
torture before the chiefs and warriors of his tribe. Sharp skewers
were thrust through the muscles of his back, and from these he was
suspended by thongs to a pole. Had he flinched or evinced any sign
of anguish during this painful ordeal, he would have been rejected
as unworthy to take his place among his tribesmen. With stoic
fortitude, however, he endured the torture, and when it was ended
took a warrior's rank among his people.
Tecumseh was not content with the narrow territory which satisfied
his tribesmen. He desired to explore regions far remote from the
hunting-grounds of the Shawnees. The same wandering instinct that
had led his father to the Ohio country awakened within him. His
fancy roamed beyond the familiar trails and peopled foreign regions
with strange tribes. By his eloquence he played upon the responsive
minds of his companions until they were fired with the same restless
spirit. A wandering life became the theme of general interest as
they smoked round the evening camp-fire. When finally fifty of the
boldest expressed a desire to go on such an expedition as Tecumseh
had planned, a party was organized. With due ceremony Cheeseekau was
appointed leader, to decide each day's journey and choose the
camping-ground; and he bore with him a tribal talisman to ensure
safety and success and to be consulted when they were uncertain as
to their course.
Along the well-worn trail Cheeseekau started forth, followed in
Indian file by his young adventurers, none more eager than Tecumseh.
The narrow path, worn smooth by the feet of runners, followed high
ground to avoid the dense brush, and led to points where the streams
were shallowest and most easily fordable. Every day soon after
sunrise the party was journeying through new regions which unfolded
beauties ever fresh. At sunset they pitched their tents, lighted
their fires, and gathered about them to discuss the day's
adventures. Thus they journeyed until they came to the waters of the
Mississinewa, in what is now northern Indiana. By its bank
Cheeseekau chose a favorable spot whereon to pitch the tents. Here
they remained until their interest in the surrounding country was
exhausted. Then they took a westward trail. Signs of Indian
occupation were everywhere visible. Where the path abruptly mounted
a steep ascent, a mound of pebbles would be heaped in the ravine.
Each passer-by had cast his tribute on the pile as an offering to
good spirits that they might lessen his fatigue in the toilsome
climb. At last they reached the broad Mississippi. By its waters the
adventurous band remained until the sun had made a complete course.
Then they took a southerly route through the Illinois country, where
the trail had been made by the countless hoofs of the bison, through
whose haunts it led. Presently the prairies stretched before them,
and they saw the skin-covered 'teepees' of the dwellers of the
plains. They joined a party of Mandans and soon were free to follow
with them the exciting chase of the buffalo. A hunting-party was
organized and a leader was chosen with due ceremony according to
tribal rites. Those engaging in this dangerous pastime were mounted.
They spread out so as to form a circle round the dense herd of
buffaloes. By this means an equal chance was ensured to each hunter.
Turn what way they would, the confused and struggling animals were
confronted by hunters with gun and bow. When the sport was at its
height misfortune befell Tecumseh. When an infuriated bull escaped
from the ring, Tecumseh rode after him in hot pursuit. But his horse
suddenly stumbled and threw him heavily to the ground. Those nearest
galloped to rescue him from the trampling hoofs of the following
herd, but they found him unable to rise, for his thigh had been
broken by the fall. He was borne back to camp, and there was
carefully tended. Everything known to the Indian doctor's art was
done to heal him, but owing to his mishap the band were forced to
prolong their stay at the hunting-place. When at last Tecumseh was
fit for the trail the party moved southward. After a time they saw
the smoke of distant camp-fires. Thereupon Cheeseekau halted his men
and dispatched two messengers with a packet of tobacco and a belt of
wampum to signify his friendly intent. The rest donned their gala
garments and painted their faces in readiness to receive visitors.
With the messengers came two Cherokees to conduct the Shawnees to
their settlement, where the chief warriors of the tribe welcomed
Cheeseekau and his braves. After the calumet had gone the rounds in
token of goodwill, the Cherokee chief explained that their hatchet
was raised against the white settlers, and that they were on the eve
of setting out on the war-path. This was good news for the Shawnees,
who promptly agreed to cast in their lot with the Cherokees.
While Tecumseh and his companions were making ready for war,
Cheeseekau withdrew to fast and thus to prepare himself to consult
worthily the sacred talisman of the tribe. The future was revealed
to him in a trance. He saw the Cherokees and his own band, brightly
painted for war, move forward to battle under the leadership of a
ghostly semblance of himself. Suddenly a musket rang out and a
bullet sped from the enemy's line. His wraith was struck full in the
forehead and fell to earth in the agony of death. On rejoining his
comrades he related his vision and foretold that in the battle about
to take place he should meet death. He said also, however, that, if
the Indians fought on, victory would crown their efforts.
Cheeseekau remained undaunted by his evil vision, and when the day
of battle arrived led his warriors forth as usual. Incited by the
Shawnees, the Cherokees fought stubbornly, and success seemed about
to be achieved. But at the hour foretold, in the thickest of the
fight, the fatal bullet found its mark, and Cheeseekau fell pierced
through the forehead. The second part of the prophecy was unheeded.
Deaf to Tecumseh's loud avenging cry, and heedless of his rallying
shout, the superstitious Indians fled in a panic.
Tecumseh felt keenly the death of his noble brother, who had guided
his youthful mind in all things, and deeply his followers mourned
the loss of their dauntless leader, who had directed them safely
through all their wanderings. Tecumseh was now chosen leader
unanimously. For nearly two years he and his comrades remained in
the south, taking an active part in many forays.
Exciting incidents were not lacking. For a time Tecumseh's band
dwelt near a cane thicket on the Tennessee, whither they had gone in
quest of booty. Here they were frequently attacked. On one occasion,
under cover of darkness, thirty whites stealthily surrounded the
Shawnees, thinking to take them by surprise. Tecumseh was occupied
in flaying the last of the day's quarry, when his quick ear caught
the sound of their approach. With a shrill war-cry he summoned his
sleeping band. Without pausing to consider the numbers of the foe,
he charged them fearlessly and his men followed him impetuously. The
enemy were routed by the furious attack, and the Indians bore two
scalps back to their camp in triumph. By such exploits Tecumseh won
great renown among the southern tribes as a warrior. Unlike his
followers, he cared little for plunder: his ruling passion was the
love of glory.
In the end the adventurers turned their faces homeward. They
travelled through West Virginia, crossed the Ohio near the mouth of
the Scioto, and visited the Indian villages scattered along that
river. And as the verdure of summer was changing into the tints of
autumn in the year 1790, they passed familiar scenes along the Great
Miami. Tecumseh, who had gone out as a follower of his brother but
was now leader, brought eight survivors back to Piqua, where he was
received with clamorous rejoicing.
Such apparently aimless wanderings were slowly but surely shaping
Tecumseh's life for future action. By his intercourse with the
various tribes, by learning their languages and customs, he had
gleaned knowledge which was later to be of the greatest use to him;
and his widespread reputation as a warrior was to count with telling
effect in that great plan and purpose of his life the formation of
his Indian confederacy.
Footnotes:
See Handbook of American Indians, vol. ii, p. 260.]
This site includes some historical materials that
may imply negative stereotypes reflecting the culture or language of
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Chronicles of Canada, Tecumseh, A Chronicle of
the Last Great Leader of his People, By Ethel T. Raymond, Toronto,
1915
Chronicles of Canada |