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
The arrival of these strangers, small as their number was, had
evidently an effect upon the Pottowatomies, who for a moment looked
grave, and attempted no longer to molest Captain Headley. Mr.
McKenzie, who was still present and knew how to take advantage of
the occasion, profited by the surprise, and suggested to the
commanding officer, that as the conference was now over and
the presents all delivered, they should return to the fort to know
who the new-comers were. The friendly chiefs were, moreover, invited
to accompany them; and thus they returned leisurely, without further
interruption, into the stockade. Pee-to-tum, suffering severely,
had been led to his tent; and the threat bulk of the warriors,
freed from the excitement of his presence, busied themselves with
collecting together their individual shares of the presents they
had received. During the whole of the afternoon they were to be
seen wending their way leisurely, and in small and detached
groups--sometimes in single file--from the glacis to their own
encampment.
"Headley, my dear fellow," exclaimed the leader of the party--a
tall, powerful, sunburnt man, dressed like his companions, who now
stood dismounted, holding the bridle of his jaded horse and conversing
with the Doctor, for the other officers were still at their posts.
"Is what I hear then true--and have I only arrived in time to be
too late? Is all your ammunition then destroyed--all, all, all--none
left?" These questions were anxiously put as the stranger held the
hand of the commanding officer grasped in his own.
"It is even so," returned Captain Headley, impressed with deep
regret for the act, for in a moment he saw that this addition to
his little force would have enabled him to maintain his post until
the arrival of the British at least--"all that remains are twenty
rounds of cartridges for the pouches of the men, and a single keg
for use if necessary on the march--not six rounds of ammunition
remain for the guns."
"By G--, how unfortunate!" returned the stranger, striking his brow
with his palm; "had I been but eighteen hours sooner you were all
saved, for here are five-and-twenty as gallant and willing hearts
as ever wielded tomahawk or rifle. Hearing of your extremity I had
hastily collected them to afford you succor. Oh, I could eat my
heart up with disappointment!" he continued, "to think that all my
exertions, my speed, have been in vain. Headley, what could have
induced you to destroy the ammunition--your only hope of salvation?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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