Wau-nan-gee; Or, the Massacre at Chicago: A Romance of the American RevolutionRichardson, Major (John)
General
Wau-nan-gee; Or, the Massacre at Chicago: A Romance of the American Revolution
Richardson, Major (John)
Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Fort Dearborn Massacre, Chicago, Ill., 1812 -- Fiction; Massacres -- Fiction
Meanwhile, Captain Headley had kept his glass almost constantly
directed towards that part of the common adjoining the fort, where
the great body of the Indians had now collected, and appeared to
be in earnest deliberation. Among the number of those assembled
he could distinctly make out Winnebeg, Waubansee, and Tee-pee-no-bee,
the former of whom seemed to be addressing the younger Pottowatomies
in energetic terms, while he frequently pointed to the blanket
which contained the body of the slain Chippewa. At length,
when he had been succeeded by the two other chiefs just named, who
seemed to deliver themselves in a similar spirit, a yell apparently
of assent and approval came from the dark mass, and in a few minutes
a party of about a hundred detached themselves from the group, and
preceded by the same flag that had been raised by the immediate
followers of Pee-to-tum, slowly advanced towards the little square.
"Courage, men," said Captain Headley, "we have not fought our steady
battle for nothing; but let us give the credit of success where
most it is due, We owe our preservation, if we are preserved, wholly
to the gallantry of Ensign Ronayne. Had he not removed the spike
from that gun, and fired it at the eventual sacrifice of his own
life--nay more, had he not slain Pee-to-tum, our most bitter and
relentless enemy--we should all have slept upon this field--that
sight we should never have seen;" and he pointed to the rude flag
of which Winnebeg was the bearer, and which was then half way from
the point of departure of the band.
"Even so," observed Lieutenant Elmsley--"to poor Ronayne, if this
rag means anything pacific, and, from the fact of its being borne
by Winnebeg, I have no doubt it does, must be ascribed our exemption
from the fate of our unhappy comrades. Your ball was well aimed,
Captain Headley, and hastened the death of the loathsome and
vindictive savage; but never could he have survived that bayonet
wound. Life must have ebbed away with the blood that followed its
removal; yet," and this was said with a significance which his
commanding officer seemed to understand, "it must be not a little
satisfactory to you to know that your shot saved him from the
tomahawk that was already raised to dispatch him."
"Would that in doing so I had saved his life," returned Captain
Headley, seriously. "How doubly unfortunate is our position--without
a surgeon to attend the wounded. Von Voltenberg I have not seen
during the day--I greatly fear he has fallen also."
At this moment the Indians had come within about twenty paces of
the square, one face of which Captain Headley had ordered to be
opened to make a display of the gun behind which stood a man with
a lighted match. Here they halted, looking with mixed regret, awe,
and anxiety upon what they had so recently had in their own
possession, while Winnebeg advanced a few paces to the front.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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