Part 8 (1/2)

”Where is Shaw-nee-aw-kee?” was the first question.

”There,” replied his wife, pointing across the river, ”in the hands of the redcoats, who are taking him away again.”

The Indians ran down to the river, seized some canoes they found there, and, crossing over to Sandwich, a second time compelled General Proctor to forego his intentions.

A third time this officer attempted to imprison Mr. Kinzie, and this time succeeded in conveying him heavily ironed to Fort Malden, in Canada, at the mouth of the Detroit River. Here he was at first treated with great severity, but after a time the rigor of his confinement was somewhat relaxed, and he was permitted to walk on the bank of the river for air and exercise.

On September 10, as he was taking his promenade under the close supervision of a guard of soldiers, the whole party were startled by the sound of guns upon Lake Erie, at no great distance below. What could it mean? It must be Commodore Barclay firing into some of the Yankees. The firing continued.

The hour allotted to the prisoner for his daily walk expired, but neither he nor his guard observed the lapse of time, so anxiously were they listening to what they now felt sure must be an engagement between s.h.i.+ps of war. At length Mr. Kinzie was reminded that he must return to confinement. He pet.i.tioned for another half hour.

”Let me stay,” said he, ”till we can learn how the battle has gone.”

Very soon a sloop appeared under press of sail, rounding the point, and presently two gunboats in pursuit of her.

”She is running--she bears the British colors!” cried Kinzie. ”Yes, yes, they are lowering--she is striking her flag! Now,” turning to the soldiers, ”I will go back to prison contented--I know how the battle has gone.”

The sloop was the ”Little Belt,” the last of the squadron captured by the gallant Perry on that memorable occasion which he announced in the immortal words:

”We have met the enemy, and they are ours.”

Matters were growing critical, and it was necessary to transfer all prisoners to a place of greater security than the frontier was now likely to be. It was resolved, therefore, to send Mr. Kinzie to the mother country.

Nothing has ever appeared which would in any way explain the course of General Proctor in regard to this gentleman. He had been taken from the bosom of his family, where he was living quietly under the parole he had received, protected by the stipulations of the surrender. For months he had been kept in confinement. Now he was placed on horseback under a strong guard, who announced that they had orders to shoot him through the head if he offered to speak to a person upon the road. He was tied upon the saddle to prevent his escape, and thus set out for Quebec. A little incident occurred which will ill.u.s.trate the course invariably pursued towards our citizens at this period by the British army on the Northwestern frontier.

The saddle on which Mr. Kinzie rode had not been properly fastened, and, owing to the rough motion of the animal it turned, bringing the rider into a most awkward and painful position. His limbs being fastened, he could not disengage himself, and in this manner he was compelled to ride until nearly exhausted, before those in charge had the humanity to release him.

Arrived at Quebec, he was put on board a small vessel to be sent to England. When a few days out at sea the vessel was chased by an American frigate and driven into Halifax. A second time she set sail, when she sprung a leak and was compelled to put back.

The attempt to send Mr. Kinzie across the ocean was now abandoned, and he was returned to Quebec. Another step, equally inexplicable with his arrest, was soon after taken.

Although the War of 1812 was not yet ended, Mr. Kinzie, together with a Mr. Macomb, of Detroit, who was also in confinement in Quebec, was released and given permission to return to his friends and family. It may possibly be imagined that in the treatment these gentlemen received, the British commander-in-chief sheltered himself under the plea of their being ”native born British subjects,” and that perhaps when it was ascertained that Mr. Kinzie was indeed a citizen of the United States it was thought safest to release him.

In the meantime, General Harrison at the head of his troops had reached Detroit. He landed September 29. All the citizens went forth to meet him. Mrs. Kinzie, leading her children, was of the number. The General accompanied her to her home, and took up his abode there. On his arrival he was introduced to Kee-po-tah, who happened to be on a visit to the family at that time. The General had seen the chief the preceding year, at the Council at Vincennes, and the meeting was one of great cordiality and interest.

Fort Dearborn was rebuilt in 1816, on a larger scale than before, and, on the return of the troops, the bones of the unfortunate Americans who had been ma.s.sacred four years previously were collected and buried.

In this same year Mr. Kinzie and his family again returned to Chicago, where he at once undertook to collect the scattered remnants of his property--a most disheartening task. He found his various trading-posts abandoned, his clerks scattered, and his valuable furs and goods lost or destroyed.

In real estate, however, he was rich--for he owned nearly all the land on the north side of the Chicago River, and many acres on the south and west sides, as well as all of what was known as ”Kinzie's Addition.”

At the present day the ”Kinzie School,” and the street which bears his name, are all that remain to remind this generation of the pioneer on whose land now stands the wonderful City of Chicago.

Mr. Kinzie, recognizing the importance of the geographical position of Chicago, and the vast fertility of the surrounding country, had always foretold its eventual prosperity. Unfortunately, he was not permitted to witness the fulfillment of his predictions.

On January 6, 1828, he was stricken with apoplexy, and in a few hours death closed his useful and energetic career.

He lies buried in Graceland Cemetery, Chicago. Loyal in life, death has mingled his ashes with the soil of the city whose future greatness he was perhaps the first to foresee.