by a British officer who was present. He states, that when
colonel Dudley landed his troops, Tecumseh, the brave but unfortunate
commander, was on the south side of the river, annoying the American
garrison with his Indians; and that Proctor, with a part of his troops
and a few Indians, remained on the opposite side at the batteries.
Dudley attacked him, and pursued him two miles. During this time,
Harrison had sent out a detachment to engage Tecumseh; and that the
contest with him continued a considerable length of time, before he was
informed of what was doing on the opposite side. He immediately
retreated, swam over the river and fell in the rear of Dudley, and
attacked him with great fury. Being thus surrounded and their commander
killed, the troops marched up to the British line and surrendered.
Shortly afterwards, commenced the scene of horrors which I dare say is
yet fresh in your memory; but I shall recall it to your recollection
for reasons I will hereafter state. They (the American troops) were
huddled together in an old British garrison, with the Indians around
them, selecting such as their fancy dictated, to glut their savage
thirst for murder. And although they had surrendered themselves
prisoners of war, yet, in violation of the customs of war, the inhuman
Proctor did not yield them the least protection, nor attempt to screen
them from the tomahawk of the Indians. Whilst this blood-thirsty
carnage was raging, a thundering voice was heard in the rear, in the
Indian tongue, when, turning round, he saw Tecumseh coming with all the
rapidity his horse could carry him, until he drew near to where two
Indians had an American, and were in the act of killing him. He sprang
from his horse, caught one by the throat and the other by the breast,
and threw them to the ground; drawing his tomahawk and scalping knife,
he ran in between the Americans and Indians, brandishing them with the
fury of a mad man, and daring any one of the hundreds that surrounded
him, to attempt to murder another American. They all appeared
confounded, and immediately desisted. His mind appeared rent with
passion, and he exclaimed almost with tears in his eyes, 'Oh! what will
become of my Indians.' He then demanded in an authoritative tone, where
Proctor was; but casting his eye upon him at a small distance, sternly
enquired why he had not put a stop to the inhuman massacre. 'Sir,' said
Proctor, 'your Indians cannot be commanded.' 'Begone' retort