CHAPTER XXXVI.

SCOTT’S EXPEDITION–TREATY. Allusion to the presence of General Scott in this campaign has been made, but for the purpose of receiving substantial treatment later on was temporarily dropped. He may not have participated in any of its pitched battles, but in his conflict with an enemy more dreadful than bullets, he displayed a genius and heroism seldom found in military annals. For the first time in the history of this continent, Asiatic cholera had appeared in Quebec and Montreal during the early days of warm weather. Few knew its character and none its treatment. Jackson, who had grown impatient at what he considered a policy of procrastination and conduct which he is said to have characterized as pusillanimous on the part of the volunteers, ordered Scott to take nine companies from the Atlantic coast, proceed to the seat of war and put an end to it. On June 28th General Scott started from Fortress Monroe with them, and with four of his nine companies made the trip to Chicago in the incredibly short space of eighteen days. His departure was noticed in Niles Register for June 30, 1832. The trip was prosperous enough to Buffalo, where four steamboats, the Sheldon Thompson, Henry Clay, Superior and William Penn, were chartered to carry the expedition around the lakes to Chicago. Down Lake Erie all went well, but when Detroit[251] was reached, two cases developed on board the Thompson while moored to the wharf, which excited alarm. The victims died and the boats all passed on up the St. Clair River to Fort Gratiot, some forty miles distant, by which time the contagion had assumed such proportions that it became necessary to land five companies of 280 men. Many had died; others died immediately after landing; others fled, and later, when seized with the pest, were shunned and denied assistance. Thus abandoned and exhausted, the miserable wretches perished in woods and fields, only to be discovered when birds of prey surrounded their bodies or the odor from decomposition became apparent. Of the entire body of 280 men, we are told that but nine survived. Scott, in his autobiography, Vol. 1, p. 218, has stated that the disease broke out on his boat and that the only surgeon aboard, after drinking half a bottle of wine, was frightened into a sickness which kept him to his bed. He further adds with some asperity that the surgeon “ought to have died.” Preparatory to departure, Scott, who was always forehanded, had consulted Surgeon Mower of New York about the disease, and, adopting all his suggestions, had laid in a supply of medicines to use if the plague overtook him. These he supplied with his own hand to one and all, from the moment of its appearance to the final eradication of the scourge from the ranks of his army. In Niles Register for August 4th, Vol. 42, p. 402, we are told that Lieut. Gust. Brown and Second Lieut. Franklin McDuffie had died July 15th,[252] and Col. W.J. Worth, Capt. John Munroe and Lieut. William C. DeHart were ordered east July 14th from Chicago, being too ill to travel. In the issue of August 11th Captain Gath (probably meant for Galt), the other member of “the staff,” is mentioned as being sent in the same party. Decimation of the ranks of the men is noticed in Vol. 42, Niles, p. 423, for August 11th: “Of the 208 soldiers attached to the command of Colonel Twiggs, 30 died and 155 deserted. Of three companies of artillery under him, consisting of 152 men, 26 died and 20 deserted. Of Colonel Cummings’ detachment of 80 men, 21 died and 4 deserted. Of Colonel Crane’s artillery, 220 men, 55 died. Of the 850 men who left Buffalo, not more than 200 were left fit for the field.” While a slight discrepancy may be found to exist between items and their totals, they are but natural to all statements, and do not overestimate the awful mortality and the conditions, which can readily be realized. The following letter, published in the same issue of Niles and dated Fort Dearborn, July 12th, will probably convey a better idea of those conditions than any deductions I may make: “We have got at last to our place of rendezvous, but in what a condition! We have traveled 600 miles in a steamboat crowded almost to suffocation and the Asiatic cholera raging amongst us. The scenes on board the boat are not to be described. Men died in six hours after being in perfect health. The steerage was crowded with the dying and new cases were appearing on the deck, when the demon entered the cabin. The first case occurred at Fort Gratiot; the man attacked belonged to the company I commanded. I found that the soldiers hesitated about attending him at first, so that I went to the sick man, felt his pulse and stood by his bed, and in a short time the soldiers became reconciled. This was only at first, for when the disease came upon us with fury and the boat became a moving pestilence, every soldier who was well became a nurse for the sick. The disease was met with resolution, and never did a body of men stand more firmly by each other than the soldiers in our boat. “To give you an idea of the disease: You remember Sergeant Heyl? He was well at nine o’clock in the morning–he was at the bottom of Lake Michigan at seven o’clock in the afternoon! I was officer of the day when we arrived and had to move all the sick men to the shore; I had scarcely got through my task when I was thrown down on the deck almost as suddenly as if shot. “As I was walking on the lower deck, I felt my legs growing stiff from my knees down. I went on the upper deck and walked violently to keep up a circulation of the blood. I felt suddenly a rush of blood from my feet upwards, and as it rose my veins grew cold and my blood curdled. I was seized with a nausea at the stomach and a desire to vomit. My legs and hands were cramped with violent pain. The doctor gave me eight grains of opium and made me rub my legs as fast as I could; he also made me drink a tumbler and a half of raw brandy, and told me if I did not throw up the opium I would certainly be relieved; but not until I had had a violent spasm. The pain is excruciating.” Another letter, written by Capt. A. Walker to Capt. R.C. Bristol, which first appeared in the Chicago Democrat, March 23d, 1861, was afterward copied in “Fort Dearborn,” page 72, in an address delivered by John Wentworth, May 21st, 1881, and published the same year by the Chicago Historical Society, and is as follows: “* * * It will also be remembered, as stated in my former communication, that four steamers, the Henry Clay, Superior, Sheldon Thompson and William Penn, were chartered by the United States Government for the purpose of transporting troops, equipments and provisions to Chicago during the Black Hawk war, but owing to the fearful ravages made by the breaking out of the Asiatic cholera among the troops and crews on board, two of those boats were compelled to abandon their voyage, proceeding no further than Fort Gratiot. The disease became so violent and alarming on board the Henry Clay that nothing like discipline could be observed; everything in the way of subordination ceased. As soon as the steamer came to the dock each man sprang on shore, hoping to escape from a scene so terrifying and appalling. Some fled to the fields, some to the woods, while others lay down in the streets, and under the cover of the river bank, where most of them died unwept and alone. “There were no cases of cholera causing death on board my boat until we passed the Manitou Islands (Lake Michigan). The first person attacked died about four o’clock in the afternoon, some thirty hours before reaching Chicago. As soon as it was ascertained by the surgeon that life was extinct, the deceased was wrapped closely in his blanket, placing within some weights, secured by lashing some small cordage around the ankles, knees, waist and neck, and then committed, with but little ceremony, to the deep. “This unpleasant, though imperative duty, was performed by the orderly sergeant, with a few privates detailed for that purpose. In like manner twelve others, including this same noble sergeant, who sickened and died in a few hours, were also thrown overboard before the balance of the troops were landed at Chicago. “The sudden and untimely death of this veteran sergeant and his committal to a watery grave caused a deep sensation on board among the soldiers and crews, which I will not here attempt to describe. The effect produced upon General Scott and the other officers in witnessing the scene was too visible to be misunderstood, for the dead soldier had been a very valuable man, and evidently a favorite among the officers and soldiers of the regiment. “Some very interesting and appropriate memoranda were made by the steward of the boat at the time on one of the leaves of his account book (which is still in my possession) by quotations from one of the poets, such as ‘Sleep, soldier, sleep; thy warfare’s o’er,’ etc. “On another leaf is a graphic representation of a coffin, made by pen and ink, placed opposite the account on the credit side of one of the volunteer officers, who died after reaching Chicago, with this singular and concise device or inscription written upon the lid of the coffin: ‘Account settled by death.’ “‘H. BRADLEY, Clerk and Steward, Steamer Sheldon Thompson. “‘Chicago, Ill., July 11, 1832.’” “There was one singular fact–not one of the officers of the army was attacked by the disease while on board my boat with such violence as to result in death, or any of the officers belonging to the boat, though nearly one-fourth of the crew fell a prey to the disease on a subsequent trip while on the passage from Detroit to Buffalo. “We arrived in Chicago[253] on the evening of the 10th of July,