A journal containing an accurate and interesting account of the hardships, sufferings, battles, defeat, and captivity of those heroic Kentucky volunteers and regulars, commanded by General Winchester, in the year 1812-13: Also, two narratives, by men that were wounded in the battles on the River Raisin, and taken captive by the IndiansDarnell, Elias
History
A journal containing an accurate and interesting account of the hardships, sufferings, battles, defeat, and captivity of those heroic Kentucky volunteers and regulars, commanded by General Winchester, in the year 1812-13: Also, two narratives, by men that were wounded in the battles on the River Raisin, and taken captive by the Indians
Darnell, Elias
Kentucky. Militia; United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Personal narratives
We proceeded on until we came within three miles of Brownstown, where
we encamped for the night. The next day we proceeded on to their
encampment, seven or eight miles from Detroit, on the River Rouge,
which appeared to be head-quarters. They were furnished at this place
with bark wig-wams; here was a large number of squaws and children, I
suppose two thousand.
They here stripped off my clothes, and dressed me after the Indian
manner. They shaved off my hair, except a small quantity on the top
of my head, which they left for the purpose of rendering the task of
scalping more easy. They bored my ears, which they supplied plentifully
with ear-rings, frequently by hanging one in another, like the links of
a chain. They wanted to bore my nose, but I objected, and they did not
insist. They frequently painted my face one-half black and the other
red, and frequently with red and black streaks.
Shortly after our arrival at these encampments, I was adopted into a
Pottowatomie family that had lost a son in the battle at the River
Raisin.
I was presented to this family by an Indian whose name was
_Ke-wi-ex-kim_. He introduced me to my father and mother, brothers
and sisters, and instructed me to call them by these respective
appellations. My father’s name was _Asa Chipsaw_, after whom they call
me; they asked me if I had a squaw; I answered in the negative, at
which they appeared well pleased, and brought me a squaw, urging me to
marry her. I refused, and told them when I got well I would accede to
the proposals; this they took as a great offence. After having made
themselves acquainted with the situation of my wound, they made a tea
of sassafras and cherry-tree barks, which was the only drink I was
permitted to take for fifteen days.
They frequently took me to Detroit, for the purpose of helping them to
pack provisions from thence to their encampment. But they would not
suffer me to talk to the inhabitants of that place. Fifteen loaves of
bread, weighing three pounds each, ten pounds of pork or beef, and a
peck of corn, was what they drew for six days. This would not last
more than half that time; the remaining part they lived upon fragments
of dog or horse meat. They appeared indifferent whether they had
killed the animal that day themselves, or whether it had died by some
accidental cause seven or eight days prior to their eating it.
They appointed me cook. I then had to undergo much fatigue in getting
wood, &c., for they lent no assistance. Their customary way of cooking
is to boil the meat and make soup, which they immediately devour
without salt.
They have drunken frolics, whenever they can get any kind of spirits to
drink. When these frolics take place the squaws hid me, to prevent them
from murdering me. Once I was hid in some brush and deprived of food
for four days, during which time there was a continual uproar in the
camp, as though they had been killing each other.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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