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Daniel
Boone Settles Kentucky
by
Daniel Boone (1734-1820)
[Written many years after the founding of
Boonesborough, Kentucky]
It was on
the first of May, in the year 1769, that I resigned my domestic happiness
for a time, and left my family and peaceable habitation on the Yadkin
River, in North Carolina, to wander through the wilderness of America,
in quest of the country of Kentucky, in company with John Finley,
John Stewart, Joseph Holden, James Monay, and William Cool.
We proceeded
successfully, and after a long and tiresome journey through a mountainous
wilderness, in a westward direction, on the seventh day of June
following, we found ourselves on Red River, where John Finley had
formerly gone trading with the Indians; and, from the top of an
eminence, saw with pleasure the beautiful level of Kentucky.
We found
everywhere abundance of wild beasts of all sorts, through this vast
forest. The buffalo were more frequent than I have seen cattle in
the settlements, browsing on the leaves of the cane, or cropping
the herbage on those extensive plains, fearless, because ignorant
of the violence of man. Sometimes we saw hundreds in a drove, and
the numbers about the salt springs were amazing.
As we
ascended the brow of a small hill, near Kentucky River, a number
of Indians rushed out of a thick cane-brake upon us, and made us
prisoners. The time of our sorrow was now arrived, and the scene
fully opened. They plundered us of what we had, and kept us in confinement
seven days, treating us with common savage usage. During this time
we showed no uneasiness or desire to escape, which made them less
suspicious of us. But in the dead of night, as we lay in a thick
cane-brake by a large fire, when sleep had locked up their senses,
my situation not disposing me for rest, I touched my companion and
gently woke him.
We improved
this favorable opportunity, and departed, leaving them to take their
rest, and speedily directed our course toward our old camp, but
found it plundered, and the company dispersed and gone home.
Soon
after this my companion in captivity, John Stewart, was killed by
the savages, and the man that came with my brother returned home
by himself. We were then in a dangerous, helpless situation, exposed
daily to perils and death among savages and wild beasts, not a white
man in the country but ourselves.
One day
I undertook a tour through the country, and the diversity and beauties
of nature I met with in this charming season expelled every gloomy
and vexatious thought. I laid me down to sleep, and I awoke not
until the sun had chased away the night. I continued this tour,
and in a few days explored a considerable part of the country, each
day equally pleased as the first.
I returned
again to my old camp, which was not disturbed in my absence. I did
not confine my lodging to it, but often reposed in thick cane-brakes
to avoid the savages, who, I believe, often visited my camp, but
fortunately for me, in my absence. In this situation I was constantly
exposed to danger and death. How unhappy such a situation for a
man! Tormented with fear, which is vain if no danger comes. The
prowling wolves diverted my nocturnal hours with perpetual howlings.
In 1772
I returned safe to my old home, and found my family in happy circumstances.
I sold my farm on the Yadkin, and what goods we could not carry
with us; and on the twenty-fifth day of September, 1773, bade a
farewell to our friends and proceeded on our journey to Kentucky,
in company with five families more, and forty men that joined us
in Powel's Valley, which is one hundred and fifty miles from the
now settled parts of Kentucky.
This
promising beginning was soon overcast with a cloud of adversity;
for upon the tenth day of October the rear of our company was attacked
by a number of Indians, who killed six and wounded one man. Of these
my eldest son was one that fell in the action.
Though
we defended ourselves, and repulsed the enemy, yet this unhappy
affair scattered our cattle, brought us into extreme difficulty,
and so discouraged the whole company that we retreated forty miles
to the settlement on Clench River.
Within
fifteen miles of where Boonsborough now stands we were fired upon
by a party of Indians that killed two and wounded two of our number;
yet although surprised and taken at a disadvantage, we stood our
ground. This was on the twentieth of March, 1775.
Three
days after we were fired upon again, and had two men killed and
three wounded. Afterward we proceeded on to Kentucky River without
opposition; and on the first day of April began to erect the fort
of Boonsborough at a salt lick, about sixty yards from the river,
on the south side. On the fourth day the Indians killed one man.
In a
short time I proceeded to remove my family from Clench to this garrison,
where we arrived safe without any other difficulties than such as
are common to this passage, my wife and daughter being the first
white women that ever stood on the banks of Kentucky River. On the
twenty-fourth day of December following we had one man killed and
one wounded by the Indians, who seemed determined to persecute us
for erecting this fortification.
On the
fourteenth day of July, 1776, two of Colonel Calaway's daughters
and one of mine were taken prisoners near the fort. I immediately
pursued the Indians, with only eight men, and on the sixteenth overtook
them, killed two of the party and recovered the girls. The same
day on which this attempt was made the Indians divided themselves
into different parties and attacked several forts, which were shortly
before this time erected, doing a great deal of mischief. This was
extremely distressing to the new settlers. The innocent husbandman
was shot down while busy in cultivating the soil for his family's
supply. Most of the cattle around the stations were destroyed. They
continued their hostilities in this manner until the fifteenth of
April, 1777, when they attacked Boonsborough with a party of above
one hundred in number, killed one man and wounded four. Their loss
in this attack was not certainly known to us.
On the
fourth day of July following a party of about two hundred Indians
attacked Boonsborough, killed one man and wounded two. They besieged
us forty-eight hours; during which time seven of them were killed,
and finding themselves not likely to prevail, they raised the siege
and departed.
The Indians
had disposed their warriors in different parties at this time and
attacked the different garrisons to prevent their assisting each
other, and did much injury to the inhabitants.
On the
nineteenth day of this month Colonel Logan's fort was besieged by
a party of about two hundred Indians. During this dreadful siege
they did a great deal of mischief, distressed the garrison, in which
were only fifteen men, killed two and wounded one.
This
campaign in some measure damped the spirits of the Indians, and
made them sensible of our superiority. Their connections were dissolved,
their armies scattered, and a future invasion put entirely out of
their power; yet they continued to practise mischief secretly upon
the inhabitants, in the exposed parts of the country.
In October
following a party made an excursion into that district called the
Crab Orchard, and one of them, who was advanced some distance before
the others, boldly entered the house of a poor defenseless family,
in which was only a negro man, a woman and her children, terrified
with the apprehensions of immediate death. The savage, perceiving
their defenseless situation, without offering violence to the family,
attempted to captivate the negro, who happily proved an overmatch
for him, threw him on the ground, and, in the struggle, the mother
of the children drew an ax from a corner of the cottage and cut
his head off, while her little daughter shut the door. The savages
instantly appeared, and applied their tomahawks to the door. An
old rusty gun-barrel, without a lock, lay in a corner, which the
mother put through a small crevice, and the savages, perceiving
it, fled. In the mean time the alarm spread through the neighborhood;
the armed men collected immediately, and pursued the ravagers into
the wilderness. Thus Providence, by the means of this negro, saved
the whole of the poor family from destruction. From that time until
the happy return of peace between the United States and Great Britain
the Indians did us no mischief.
To conclude,
I can now say that I have verified the saying of an old Indian who
signed Colonel Henderson's deed. Taking me by the hand, at the delivery
thereof, "Brother," says he, "we have given you a
fine land, but I believe you will have much trouble in settling
it." My footsteps have often been marked with blood, and therefore
I can truly subscribe to its original name. Two darling sons, and
a brother, have I lost by savage hands, which have also taken from
me forty valuable horses and abundance of cattle. Many dark and
sleepless night have I been a companion for owls, separated from
the cheerful society of men, scorched by the summer's sun, and pinched
by the winter's cold, an instrument ordained to settle the wilderness.
But now the scene is changed: peace crowns the sylvan shade.
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