Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 February 1890 — CAPT. MICULLOCH'SLEAP [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

CAPT. MICULLOCH'SLEAP

An Incident of Border Life at Wheeling, West Virginia.

W ENT Y-F IV E log cabins comprised the hamWheeling, W. * n *’l ie y ear 1775. It was on the ’wSHSHi ai wes^eru border SfEffaSfep of colonial civilization, and, occupying an extremely isolated position, suffered severelv

from the attacks of the savages. To protect themselves the settlers had built Fort Henry, which was erected on the right bank of the Ohio, a short distance above Wheeling Creek. The entire fighting force of the village, indeluding the garrison of the fort, consisted of but forty-two men. Among that number, however, were many whose deeds of powess and skill with the rifle had made them terrors to the Indians. In the latter part of September the settlement w as attacked by four hundred warriors and the villagers were compelled to flee to the fort for protection. Driven to desperation by the sight of their homes, being destroyed by the savages, they made an ill-advised sortie, in which they were all but overcome, and only sixteen men lived to return to the fort and defend it and the helpless women and children within its walls against more than four hundred savage redskins. The history of those days within the fort is a record of deeds of daring and personal heroism, one of which is unparalleled in ancient or modem times; a feat beside which General Putnam’s performance at “Horse’s Neck” sinks insignificance, and which, had it occurred at a later day and been performed by a man of more prominent position in life, Would have furnished a theme for many a pen and pencil. . - ; : Tn their distress the garrison sent messengers to the nearest settlements, “The response was immediate, and four-

teen men from Cross Creek succeeded in fighting their way through the surrounding savages and triumphantly I entering the fort. Forty mounted men, under Captain Samuel McCulloch, followed this first detachment to the relief of the fort. Every preparation was made by their friends inside to assist them in their attempt to enter. The gates were opened, and a sortie was organized to cover their advance. After a desperate hand-to-hand conflict, in which many of the redskins were killed, they succeeded in forcing their way through without losing a single man. McCulloch, however, was less fortunate than the rest of his company. Toward him the savages cherished a bitter hatred. A fearless and daring woodsman, a dead shot, and a cunning scout, his name was known throughout the entire frontier, both to whites and Indians, and he had been one of the most prominent figures in the numerous bloody fights in which the two races had contended. Among the savages surrounding the fort there were few who had not lost either a friend or a relative by his unerring rifle. As he dashed forward in the rear of his troops, encouraging them by voice and example, his shouts of defiance were answered by yells of rage from his dusky foes, who strained every nerve to capture him in order that they might wipe out the bloody score by horrible tortures at the stake. A body of redskins blocking his way, he wheeled his horse and rode at the utmost speed toward Wheeling Hill. Again his course was stopped by a crowd of his enemies, who sprang up in front and began to close in upon him. As quick as light he turned again, only to find escape cut off by a third band of warriors. The only way now remaining open to him was toward the brow of a steep cliff, 150 feet in height, at the bottom of which flowed Wheeling Creek. No attempt had been made to shoot him, although he was in easy range of the fire of his pursuers, and his quick mind appreciated what this meant. They had devoted him to a lingering death by all the refinements of savage cruelty of which their hellish ingenuity was capable. His chance was a most desperate one, and as he momentarily reined in his horse and gazed upon the rapidly narrowing circle of his foes their yells rang in his ears as they saw him at bay, and, as they

thought, completely within their power. They stood gazing at him in wonder as he struck his heels against the sides of his horse and dashed toward the precipice, which they had thought would prevent his escape in that direction. It was a chance of life against a certainty of death in its most awful form at the hands of his enemies, and his decision was quickly made. Turning in the saddle he was encouraged by a cheer from his friends in the fort, and then shaking his rifle toward his rapidly advancing foe, he grasped the trusty weapon in his right hand, gathered his reins in his left, and urged his horse toward the brink of the chasm that seemed likely to be his grave. As he approached the edge the savages stopped spell-bound at the contemplation of his action. Bracing himself in his saddle and again dashing his heels against the sides of his noble beast, which seemed animated by his master’s spirit, they made the fearful leap outward. Down, down they plunged, without obstacle or impediment, fully fifty feet; then the horse’s feet struck the smooth shelving rock, and the remaining distance was slid and scrambled over until they reached the bottom alive, and without serious hurt. Pushing his horse into the stream he was soon half-way across, and by the time the savages had reached the edge of the cliff and were peering over, expecting to see the mangled remains of horse and rider at its base, he had reached the opposite shore, and, with a shout of defiance, had plunged into the woods and was out of their range. The numerous additions to the garrison of the fort and the hopelessness of overcoming th© defenders while inspired by such an action as they had just witnessed, disheartened the Indians, and, after first putting the torch to the remaining property of the settlers, they beat a hasty retreat the morning after the event just narrated.

Thebe’s nothing like fame, and even the children recognize it, as is illustrated in this dialogue: Bob—My dad’s a ’squire and gets his name in the paper every day. Tom (contemptuously ) —That’s nothin’. My dad took dink’s liver pills and got his picter in papers. 1 — • 1 '■ • Continued articles—Lifik- sausages.