The Plot of Pontiac
by Francis S. Drake
How Detroit was Saved in 1763
contest between England and France for the right to rule
over North America, which lasted seventy years, and
inflicted untold misery upon the hapless settlers on the
English frontier, was at last brought to an end. England
was victorious, and in 1763 a treaty was made by which
France gave up Canada and all her Western posts.
With the exception of the Six Nations, the Indian tribes had fought on the
side of the French, whose kind and generous course had won their affection. But
the claims to the country which they and their forefathers had always possessed
were utterly disregarded by both parties. Said an old chief on one occasion:
“The French claim all the land on one side of the Ohio, and the English claim
all the land on the other side. Where, then, are the lands of the Indian?”
The final overthrow of the French left the Indians to contend alone with the
English, who were steadily pushing them towards the setting sun. Seeing this,
and wishing to rid his country of the hated pale-faces, who had driven the red
men from their homes, Pontiac, the great leader of the Ottawas, determined—to
use his own words—“to drive the dogs in red clothing” (the English soldiers)
“into the sea.”
This renowned warrior, who had led the Ottawas at the defeat of General
Braddock, was courageous, intelligent, and eloquent, and was unmatched for
craftiness. Besides the kindred tribes of Ojibways, or Chippewas, and
Pottawattomies, whose villages were with his own in the immediate vicinity of
Detroit, a number of other warlike tribes agreed to join in the plot to
overthrow the English. Pontiac refused to believe that the French had given up
the contest, and relied upon their assistance also for the success of his plan.
All the English forts and garrisons beyond the Alleghanies were to be
destroyed on a given day, and the defenceless frontier settlements were also to
be swept away.
The capture of Detroit was to be the task of Pontiac himself. This terrible
plot came very near succeeding. Nine of the twelve military posts on the exposed
frontier were taken, and most of their defenders slaughtered, and the outlying
settlements of Pennsylvania and Virginia were mercilessly destroyed.
On the evening of May 6, 1763, Major Gladwin, the commander at Detroit,
received secret information that an attempt would be made next day to capture
the fort by treachery. The garrison was weak, the defences feeble. Fearing an
immediate attack, the sentinels were doubled, and an anxious watch was kept by
Gladwin all that night.
The next morning Pontiac entered the fort with sixty chosen warriors,
each of whom had concealed beneath his blanket a gun, the barrel of which had
been cut short. His plan was to demand that a council be held, and after
delivering his speech to offer a peace belt of wampum. This belt was worked on
one side with white and on the other side with green beads. The reversal of the
belt from the white to the green side was to be the signal of attack. The plot
was well laid, and would probably have succeeded had it not been revealed to
The savage throng, plumed and feathered and besmeared with paint to make
themselves appear as hideous as possible, as their custom is in time of war, had
no sooner passed the gateway than they saw that their plan had failed. Soldiers
and employés were all armed and ready for action. Pontiac and his warriors,
however, moved on, betraying no surprise, and entered the council-room, where
Gladwin and his officers, all well armed, awaited them.
“Why,” asked Pontiac, “do I see so many of my father’s young men standing in
the street with their guns?”
“To keep the young men to their duty, and prevent idleness,” was the reply.
The business of the council then began. Pontiac’s speech was bold and
threatening. As the critical moment approached, and just as he was on the point
of presenting the belt, and all was breathless expectation, Gladwin gave a
signal. The drums at the door of the council suddenly rolled the charge, the
clash of arms was heard, and the officers present drew their swords from their
scabbards. Pontiac was brave, but this decisive proof that his plot was
discovered completely disconcerted him. He delivered the belt in the usual
manner, and without giving the expected signal.
Stepping forward, Gladwin then drew the chief’s blanket aside, and disclosed
the proof of his treachery. The council then broke up. The gates of the fort
were again thrown open, and the baffled savages were permitted to depart.
Stratagem having failed, an open attack soon followed, but with no better
success. For months Pontiac tried every method in his power to capture the fort,
but as the hunting-season approached, the disheartened Indians gradually went
away, and he was compelled to give up the attempt.
In the campaign that followed, two armies were marched from different points
into the heart of the Indian country. Colonel Bradstreet, on the north, passed
up the lakes, and penetrated the region beyond Detroit, while on the south
Colonel Bouquet advanced from Fort Pitt into the Delaware and Shawnee
settlements of the Ohio Valley. The Indians were completely overawed. Bouquet
compelled them to sue for peace, and to restore all the captives that had been
taken from time to time during their wars with the whites.
The return of these captives, many of whom were supposed to be dead, and the
reunion of husbands and wives, parents and children, and brothers and sisters,
presented a scene of thrilling interest. Some were overjoyed at regaining their
lost ones; others were heartbroken on learning the sad fate of those dear to
them. What a pang pierced that mother’s breast who recognized her child only to
find it clinging the more closely to its Indian mother, her own claims wholly
Some of the children had lost all recollection of their former home, and
screamed and resisted when handed over to their relatives. Some of the young
women had married Indian husbands, and, with their children, were unwilling to
return to the settlements. Indeed, several of them had become so strongly
attached to their Indian homes and mode of life that after returning to their
homes they made their escape and returned to their husbands’ wigwams.
Even the Indians, who are educated to repress all outward signs of emotion,
could not wholly conceal their sorrow at parting with their adopted relatives
and friends. Cruel as the Indian is in his warfare, to his captives who have
been adopted into his tribe he is uniformly kind, making no distinction between
them and those of his own race. To those now restored they offered furs and
choice articles of food, and even begged leave to follow the army home, that
they might hunt for the captives, and supply them with better food than that
furnished to the soldiers. Indian women filled the camp with their wailing and
lamentation both night and day.
One old woman sought her daughter, who had been carried off nine years
before. She discovered her, but the girl, who had almost forgotten her native
tongue, did not recognize her, and the mother bitterly complained that the child
she had so often sung to sleep had forgotten her in her old age. Bouquet, whose
humane instincts had been deeply touched by this scene, suggested an experiment.
“Sing the song you used to sing to her when a child,” said he. The mother sang.
The girl’s attention was instantly fixed. A flood of tears proclaimed the
awakened memories, and the long-lost child was restored to the mother’s arms.