I have written the following narrative, partly for my own amusement and satisfaction, and partly for the information of my children, as by it they may becomes acquainted with some of the things they would otherwise be ignorant of.
I have written briefly, stating every thing in as few words as possible, which will take less time writing and reading and will probably be better understood.
Spencer Records
October 8, 1842
Spencer Records,
son of Josiah and Susannah Tulley Records, was born on
the 11th day of December, 1762.
My parents were both of
English descent. I shall in the first place give a brief account of my
father, Josiah Records, son of John Records and Ann
Callaway Records, his wife, was born on the first day of May, 1741
A.D. in Sussex County, Delaware.
In 1765 my father with
his family, his mother, sister Susannah and his two
brothers-in-law, Quoturmus and James Finch, and others,
embarked on board sloop in the Nanticoke River, descended it to its mouth in the
Chesapeake Bay, thence to the mouth of the Potomac and up that river to
Georgetown, and having landed there proceeded to Antietam Creek, near Hagarstown,
Maryland and there wintered.
In the spring of 1766, my
father and his two brothers-in-law crossed the Alleghany Mountains and took up
land near the foot of Laurel Hill and near Dunbar's Creek, so called from the
circumstance of Col. Dunbar having encamped thereon with the rear of Braddock's
army in the time of his defeat. Braddock was mortally wounded, taken to
that camp, there died and was buried. That country at that time was known
as the Red-stone country, and so called from Red-stone Creek, running through a
part of that country, entered the Monongahela River, twelve miles from where
Uniontown, Penn. now stands, and near where the town of Brownsville is now
built.
After clearing ground,
planting corn, and working it, they returned and in the fall moved over the
mountains.
My father hired
Peter Melot with his cart and three horses to move him and took my
uncle Quoturmus's blacksmith tools in a cart, all but the anvil; it was heavy
and had to be left at home. They travelled on Braddock's old road.
At that time there were
not more than ten or twelve families in the settlement. A few above the
board ford Youghiogheny, some above Redstone old fort and a few above Fort Pitt,
perhaps not more than 100 in all. However, emigrants crossed the mountains
rapidly and settlements were soon extended to a considerable distance.
Perhaps it may not be
amiss to give a short sketch of the manner in which the first settlers of the
Redstone lived as they had to pack over the mountains on horseback they could
carry little more than their clothing, ed, and cooking utensils. Deer,
bear, and turkey were plentiful. They were supplied with meat by
hunting. Their clothing was home made. Some dressed deerskins; many
yeards[sic] of linen were made of nettles. Bread was made by pounding corn
in a hominy block. Coffee and tea were not used. At that time there
were no store goods used west of the Laurel Mills. All articles they could
not make themselves were packed over the mountains from Hagarstown, a distance
of 130 miles. Some made a business of buying bear and deer-skins and
ginseng etc, and packing them to Hagarstown, and fetching such articles as were
needed. My father being a good hunter, and killing many deer and bear,
made a trip to Hagarstown, every year after hunting time and got such articles
as he stood in need of.
The people there at that
time lived happier and better contented than the people do there at this time
with all of their luxuries, fine dress, pride, vanity, pomp and show.
About the year 1768
Philip Shoot built a tub mill on Dunbar's Creek. My father
did all of the mill-wright work, and my uncle Quoturmus did the blacksmith
work. It was built on a small scale and very imperfectly for want of
tools. I remember that my uncle made use of the pole of an axe for an
anvil. This mill would grind fifteen bushels of grain a day, which, being
sufficient for the neighborhood, was a great relief. This was the first
mill built west of Laurel Hill. About two years after his time Henry
Beason built a mill on Redstone Creek and some time after laid off a
town that went by the name of Redstonetown but now Uniontown, the capitol of
Fayette County, Pennsylvania.
When 1772 came, six years
of happy days had passed away. My father, having sold his plantation,
bought land fourteen miles from Fort Pitt on the north fork of Robertson's Run.
in 1774 the Indians broke
out. At that time the whites were the aggressors, caused chiefly be the
murder of Bald Eagle, a Delaware chief, by some villians[sic] on the Ohio while
he was in his canoe, and the murder of the family of Logan, the celebrated Mingo
chief, by Mitchell Cresap. We all had to fortify ourselves,
Dunmore, governor of Virginia, marched an army into the Indian country and as
the Indians had not done much mischief, soon returned home after patching up a
kind of peace with them, which was, however, of short duration. In the
intervale of peace, during the year 1776, my father built a mill on Raccoon
Creek on land which had had previously purchased ten miles north-west from home,
and hired Isaac Felty to keep it that winter. In the
spring of 1777 he moved to the mill. During the summer the Indians
recommenced hostilities. A few families forted at mill. The Indians
fired on John Stallions, shooting his mare through and
himself through the arm. She ran with him about one mile to Dallon's
Ford and fell dead. This was ll the mischief done near us but the frontier
in other parts suffered more of which I cannot given an account at this
time. In the fall my father returned home and as the Indians lived at some
distance, and the winter was cold, we were not troubled with them that season so
that we lived at home in safety. However, in the spring of 1778 all forted
again. My father at McDonald's Fort, two and one-half miles from
home. During the summer my father obtained a guard of men to be stationed
at his mill, and men would go in company and get grinding done. When
winter set in, the guard left the mill, but the miller staid until March 1779
and then moved away. When winter came my father was elected Captain and
received his commission from the Governor of Virginia which at that time claimed
jurisdiction over all that part of Penn. lying west of Laurel Hill, which claim
they held until 1782.
Sometime in March, the
Indians fell on a company of sugar-makers and killed five young men and took
five young men and one boy prisoners. This company was on Raccoon Creek,
two miles below father's mille. There was nother company camped on the
creek one mile below that. My cousin, John Finch, and I
were at the mill during the time when the murder was committed, having been sent
there by my father on an errand, and being detained a day or two on account of a
rise in the creek. The Indians had discovered the camp, and lay in ambush
all night and fell on them about daylight with their tomahawks. This was
known to be the case as their bodies all lay in and near the camp, except one,
who had run about forty yards and was there tomahawked and scalped. Two of
them were named Devers, and two named Turner
and one Fuller. One of the Devers lay in the camp with his
shoes on slip-shod. He was stabbed on the left side and was lying on his
right side with his finger and thumb standing on end over the wound.
The creek falling, we
returned home. The same morning a man from the lower camp went to this to
borrow a gimlet to tap sugar trees and found the men killed and the women and
boys gone. He gave the alarm to the friends at the settlement ten miles
away. The next day we went to bury them. Ephraim Ralph,
a cousin, of my father's, who was lieutenant in the U. S. service in Capt.
Laughery's company was then at home on a visit and went with us. When
a grave was dug, the men being backward to lay them in it, Ralph told them not
to hold back for they knew not how soon they might be in the same situation
themselves. So setting them an example, he helped lay them all in the
grave. These were the first that I had seen that had been killed by the
Indians and a dreadful sight it was to me, the more so as but a short time
before some of them had been my schoolmates. The grief and lamentations of
poor old William Turner is still fresh in my memory,
lamenting the loss of his children, his two sons, George and
William, that lay there tomahawked and scalped, and his beloved
child, Betsy, a beautiful daughter of fourteen years, taken
captive by the cruel savages, not knowing what she suffered or what she might
hereafter suffer. His grief can be better conceived of by loving parents
than described.
In the year 1782, as
Capt. Laughery was descending the Ohio in a boat wit his company in order
to join General Clark, he landed at the mouth of a creek below the mouth of the
Big Miami. He was there attacked by the Indians and defeated.
Laughery and Ralph were killed. In the spring of this year some forted and
some lived four or five families together. Four families lived with my
father.
About the first of
August, 1782, Alexander McCandless, who lived one and
one-half miles from father, in company with a few families, had occasion to get
for Mrs. Meek, an old lady about fifty years old, who lived
six miles off where a few families were gathered. After Mrs. Meek stayed
the time required he set off home with her. About one mile from her house
they were fired on by five or six Indians from behind a log situated about
twenty yards from the path. The shots missing both of them, and their horses,
McCandless turned around and took the path home and was soon out of
danger. They then turned to the old lady. One of them threw a
tomahawk and struck it in a tree near her head. She, however, stuck to the
saddle and her horse soon carried her home.
A few days after, Alexander
McNealy and his brother James, both bachelors, who
had gathered at Robert Shirers, went home by themselves to
work. Their dog beginning to bark in a hazel thicket, they became alarmed,
thinking there were Indians there, and so returned home. Alexander got six
men to go with him, leaving his brother James there as he was about sixty years
old. The Indians, seeing them go off, followed them and waylayed the path
behind a large log. When they came opposite them they fired on them,
killing McNealy and four others. One made his escape by running.
Shirer was not killed but in attempting to leap a muddy branch, he being old and
not able to reach the bank, fell in and was taken prisoner. Shortly after
two men who lived at my father's set off in the evening to hunt, taking a path
that led to a deserted plantation. They had not proceeded more than half a
mile before they were fired on by Indians and both killed. My father,
hearing the report of the guns, in company with another person took the path and
ran but soon returned, having found them both dead and scalped. Their
names were Bates Collins and Daniel Reardon.
Upon these events all
forted or made off. My father moved eight miles. When winter set in
all returned home. After the death of Alexander McNealy his brother James,
being heir to the plantation, and other property, went there and lived by
himself. One very cold morning, the snow being about half-leg deep,
one of the neighbors going to his house to borrow a bag, knocked and called at
the door but received no answer. He pushed the door in and discovered the
old man lying by the fire dead with his feet in the fire and much burned.
The fire had burned down, and how long he had been dead was unknown.
And it came to pass in
these days that the devil entered into Col. Williamson, who
lived about fifteen miles west of us, and stirred him up to raise a company of
men to go against the town of friendly Indians, chiefly of the Delaware tribe
and professing the Moravian religion and who had taken no part with the hostile
Indians and who lived on the waters of the Muskingum.
Having raised his
men, he crossed the Ohio and reached the town. As the Indians were
friendly they apprehended no danger, so neither took arms nor fled. He
told them he had come to take them over the Ohio, as he was apprehensive lest
the hostile Indians would slay them. Being agreed to this, that night the
women were busily engaged in preparing meal and in baking bread to take on the
journey with them.
In the morning, having in
his power, in cold blood he ordered them to go into two houses, the men in one
and the women and children in the other. He then gave orders for his men
to go in and fall upon them with their tomahawks. To that some of them
objected and called on God to witness that they were clear of the blood of these
innocent people. However, he found enough ready and willing to accomplish
his diabolic design.
They went in and fell
upon them. When the butchering commenced tow young men, brothers, sat down
together and began to sing a hymn and continued singing until they were
murdered. They were all murdered without distinction of sex. A piece
of butchery the Indians were never known to be guilty of, and most disgraceful
to any people professing Christianity. The number slain I have no
recollection of at this time. He then returned home in triumph. I
never heard any person speak of the circumstance without expressing his
abhorrence except one poor, old dirty Scotchman named James Greeler
who said, "Aa mon, that's a week thang, fur they supported the other Injuns
as they coom - coom and goad." And for this he got no applause from
his neighbors.
Although my father's mill
was deserted and the nearest was five miles yet the Indians never burned it, and
as mills were scarce people went to companies to get grinding done, and my
father went out and ground for them, notwithstanding every one moved off or
forted. They all raised corn at home, and those who had removed their
families turned themselves to the fort, and went in armed companies from field
to field there, while some worked others kept guard.
During the spring of 1780
my father moved seventeen miles and it was during the summer that Col.
Crawford's unfortunate expedition took place where my uncle, Joseph
Eshley, who had married my father's sister, Susannah, and
who was a lieutenant in Capt. Daiel's company, was slain with
others of my acquaintances.
In the early spring of
1781 my father moved ten miles. There was no mischief done by the Indians
this summer in our neighborhood. Soon after my father sold his
mill-stones, irons, and bolting cloth to Joseph Gammel,
who at that time was building a mill in the settlement at Chartier's
Creek, and the land on Raccoon Creek to James Crawford, a
Quaker, who was buying land on the frontier for the Quakers. After forting
and moving off from home for five years my father this springs, 1782, moved
twenty miles and bought a plantation of William Fry on Peter's
Creek, taking a final leave of his plantation on Raccoon Creek.
All, however, forted or
moved off except one man named Clock who lived one mile east
of my father's place. One day during the summer I was sent home on an
errand by my father and was accompanied by John Woods. We had
to pass Clock's house and when we reached it we saw blood in the yard but seeing
no one we pushed open the door and went in and found him and three of his
children tomahawked and scalped. One of the poor little children was not
quite dead but laying gasping and sighing. These children were about
three, five and seven years of age. The mother with a babe at the breast
and her eldest son, age eleven, had been taken prisoners. One little girl,
aged nine, was at the spring when the attack commenced and made her escape by
running down the spring branch and hiding in the weeds until she thought they
had gone when she ran to Turner's Fort some three miles off. The men from
the fort pursued the savages and after following them four miles found the
little child lying tomahawked and scalped with its mother's apron spread over
it. She had not been able to carry it any farther and keep up with
them. Perhaps she might of thought that by spreading her apron over it the
wolves would not devour it, that they would not be pursued and that probably her
child would be found and carried to the fort and buried. After pursuing
them some distance they found they could not overtake them, and on their return
home they carried the little child to the fort and buried it.
During this there were
seventeen killed, one wounded and nine taken prisoners belonging to our
neighborhood. The five years last passed were in the Revolutionary
War. The British had taken Indians for their allies and paid them for the
scalps of men, women, and children which was the cause of more murder being
committed there than would otherwise have been done.
The relations I have
given have been confined to our neighborhood but the frontier west of us and on
the east side of the Monongahela suffered much of which I cannot give an account
at this time.
In the spring of 1783 my
father bought land of John Kiser which lay in Kentucky.
Kiser intended to go down in the fall. My father and Uncle Finch built a
boat for myself and two cousins, John and Josiah,
to go down with him, take horses and cattle along and raise a crop of corn for
them as they intended removing themselves in the fall.
I shall now commence a
narrative of incidents connected with myself leaving for the present those
connected with my father.
About the 20th of
November 1783, we embarked on the Monongahela River in our boat in company with
Kiser. I had with me four head of horses and some cattle. We landed
at the mouth of Limestone Creek but there was no settlement there. We
searched for a road but found none. There was indeed a buffalo road that
crossed Limestone Creek a few miles above the mouth. Mang's Lick
about twelve miles from Limstone went on to the lower Blue Lick on Licking River
and thence to Bryant's Station, but as we knew nothing of it we
went on and landed at the mouth of Licking River on November 29th. The
next day we landed our piroque and canoe and set off up Licking, sometimes
wading and pulling our piroque and canoe over the shallow places. After
working hard for four days and making poor headway we landed, hid our property,
which was whisky and farming utensils in the woods and returned to the Ohio
where by this time had taken a rapid rise and back up Licking so that we took
Kiser's boat up as far as we had taken our property and unloaded her. We
left on the bank of Licking a new wagon and some kettles. Leaving our
property to help Kiser we packed up and set off up Licking and travelled some
days but making poor progress and snow beginning to fall and no cane in that
part of the country for our horses and cattle, we left Kiser and set off to hunt
for cane. He sent his stock with us in care of Henry Fry
who had come down with cattle for his father. When we came to the fork of
Licking we found a wagon road cut out that led up the south fork. This
road had been cut out by Col. Bird, a British officer who had
ascended Licking in Keel boats with six hundred Canadians and Indians.
They were several days in
cutting this road which led to Biddle's Fort that stood on
the east side of Licking Creek three miles below the junction of Henkson
and Stoner's Forks, yet the people knew nothing of it until they
were summoned to surrender. Upon their refusing to surrender, the fort was
attacked with cannons which their stockage not being able to stand they were
compelled to surrender. A few were killed and all of the rest taken
prisoners. They then receded to Martin's fort six miles up
the Stoner and succeeded in taking that also.
We took the road up and
went on, the snow being about half-leg deep. Early in the morning about
three miles from Biddle's Fort we came to where two families were camped.
They had landed at Limestone but finding no road they wandered through the
woods, crossed the Licking, and happened to find the road and took it. The
night before we came to them Mrs. Downey was brought to
bed. They were poor people and had not so much as a spare blanket to
spread over her, but were obliged to put up poles and place bushes there as a
kind of shelter. She had no necessities of any kind not even bread,
nothing but venison and turkey. They went to the same station we
did. She had several children, one of them a young woman. She said
she had never done better at any such time in her life. So we see that the
Lord is good and merciful, worthy of praise from all intelligent beings, fitting
the back to the burden.
I have mentioned these
circumstances for the encouragement of others. We should at all times of
trials or difficulties put our trust in the Lord who alone is able to save all
that put their trust in Him. The names of these families were Reeves,
DeWitt and Downey.
We went to the fork where
we found plenty of cane. The next morning, John Finch and myself set
off to find Lexington and left the care of the cattle and horses to Josiah Finch
and Henry Fry with orders if the snow went off or rain fell to be sure to take
them over the river. As there was no road we took up mill creek and toward
the head of it we met some hunters, who lived on the south side of the Kentucky
River who gave us directions how to find a hunting trail which led to Bryant's
Station. They gave each of us a wheat cake that had been ground in a hand
mill and sifted and as I was not well and had not seen bread for more than three
months, I thought it was the best bread I had ever tasted.
We went on and found the
trail and arrived at Bryant's Station. The next day we went to McCloud's
Station about one mile north of Lexington where there was a mill. We there
got the meal we had promised Kiser and the next morning set off back. It
rained almost all the whole day. At sunset we came to the river which was
very high. We expected to find the boys on our side of the river with a
good fire but, as they had not obeyed orders, we knew of no better way to
retaliate on them than to take a jonney cake, walk on the bank and hold it up
for them to see. We did so; they saw but they did not taste it.
By this time the rain was
over but we were wet and cold and as it began to get colder we made a fire and
camped there that night. Early the next morning we set off down the river
and at night camped on the bank of the Licking. It was very cold from
which we suffered much and the next evening after dark we arrived at Kiser's
camp. The next morning we set off on our return. When we got to
Biddle's Station the river had fallen so much that we could cross it. We
therefore went on to McCloud's Station.
Sometime in 1784,
January, four of us set out to hunt on Stoner. The buffaloes being all
gone off, we had to go twenty miles after them. The second night it began
to snow and get very cold. In the morning the snow was so deep we could
not track our horses. We hunted for them but being unable to find them, we
hung up our saddles and started for home, thinking that our horses had gone in
that direction. It snowed all day. At night when we came to Elkhorn
Creek the know was knee deep. We waded the creek and soon found ourselves
in a large cane-brake, where we could get no wood to make a fire. The cane
was all bending with now, and no broken wood was to be found. However, we
found one old hickory about fifteen feet high. We pushed it down and it,
being dry and rotten, we put fire to it. It was all the firs we had that
night. We scraped away the snow and lay by it. It burned slow all
night but we could not dry ourselves by it. The next morning we went on to
Bryant's Station. When we arrived, our leggins and moccasins were frozen
and some of our feet were frost-bitten.
Shortly after our arrival
at home, our horses were found by a hunter and brought in. The snow that
fell then was not off the ground until the 10th of March and then went off with
a rain. This was a very cold winter. My horses, with the exception
of one, and all my colts strayed off so that I could not find them.
The 10th of March
1784 John Finch and myself set off after our property we had left on
Licking and found all safe but had some trouble on account of high water and
were gone ten days.
In the course of this
spring people began to settle in the neighborhood of Lexington. Col.
Garrard settled a station on Stoner and Gen. Benjamin
Harrison settled a station on the same river. I think he was a
cousin of the much lamented and brave William Henry Harrison.
William McClelling settled a station on the road to Henkson's and
Stoner's Forts, and Simon Kenton settled a station one mile
north of where the town of Washington now stands, the capitol of Mason County,
Kentucky.
A clock-house and a
warehouse were also built at Limestone which was a great convenience to
emigrants as they came rapidly this spring down the river.
The land my father had
bought lay remote from any settlement and times being dangerous, we sould not go
on it; we therefore took a lease of Alexander McCloud. We put
up a cabin and four of us lived together; my cousins, John and Josiah Finch,
John Fry and myself. We had to get our meat by hunting deer and turkeys as
they buffalo were to far off.
[Begin top of page 21]
Contributed by Phyllis Miller Fleming, copied from a booklet at the Shelbyville-Shelby County Library, History and Genealogy Room.
Homepages Index Main Page
To contact the researcher listed above, use the Surname Index
Homepages Index