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Betty Zane 1765 ~ 1823
When Ebenezer Zane of Berkley County,
Virginia, pushed his way through the wilderness to the banks of
the Ohio River he took with him to a rough-hewn log cabin just
above Wheeling Creek not only his wife and family but a younger
sister, Betty Zane. This was in 1772, and Betty Zane was then
only sixteen years of age. It was a wild spot where the Zane
cabin stood and perhaps the little maiden was lonely now and
then, but restlessness and discontent were not among the
ailments of the girls of Revolutionary days. The fact of
surrounding danger and possibility of having to flee from their
homes at a moment's notice made them cling all the more closely
to the fireside and knit them all the more closely in the bands
of family love and life.
Now in the year 1764 the Six Nations of
the great Indian Confederacy in the American colonies had made a
treaty by the terms of which warfare for a time came to an end.
But English folly at last overtook the treaty after ten years of
blunder for which the colonists had to pay dearly. "Cornstalk"
the great Indian chief had been killed by the Whites who
suspected him unjustly, and the savages had begun a terrible war
on the Virginia border. To protect these frontier settlers, in
1774, under the superintendence of Ebenezer Zane, Fort Henry, at
first called Fort Fincastle, was built. The Fort was built in an
open space and its main entrance was through a gateway on its
eastern side, joining the struggling hamlet of Wheeling which
consisted of about twenty-five log houses. It was three years
before the Wheeling Creek pioneers had to use their Fort as a
place of refuge and defense.
Then one day in September, 1777,
Sheppard, who was the military commander of Fort Henry, noticed
scores of Indians in the neighborhood and felt sure that an
attack would be made on the garrison. He ordered the settlers to
shut themselves in the block houses within the fortification.
Next morning the savages approached, and from the little
garrison force of only forty-two fighting men thirteen were led
out by Captain Samuel Mason to repulse the Indian attack. From
the loopholes of the block house the besieged saw Mason's men
cut down one by one until not a white man of the little band of
fourteen was left. Reduced now to twenty-six defenders with a
force of from three to five hundred Indians hemming them in on
three sides, the garrison was in a desperate plight, yet they
fought on day after day, always hoping for the help that did not
come. And during this time little Betty Zane was running
bullets, as were the other women in the fort, and sometimes
firing the muskets to relieve the weary men. Then one day the
commander stood with white, tight-drawn lips before the
dauntless band. The horrible truth must at last come out. The
ammunition was nearly exhausted. In a few hours there would not
be a bullet for those brave hands to load with. What was to be
done?
Outside the palisades sixty feet from
the fort stood Ebenezer Zane's log house, and in it was a keg of
ammunition. Who would dare risk death from bullets, tomahawks or
by torture in the face of five hundred foes. Several men stepped
out and offered themselves. But every man's life possessed a
hundredfold value that day and it was a hard matter to decide.
While the volunteers stood in silence
before their leader, Betty Zane laid her hand on the commander's
arm. "I will go," she said simply.
"You!" he exclaimed in amazement, "Oh
no, you're not strong enough or fleet enough, besides"
"Sir," said the brave girl firmly, "it
is because of the danger that I offer, if I, a woman, should be
killed, 'twere not so great a loss as if one of these men should
fall. You cannot spare a man, sir. Let me go."
And so the matter was settled. The gate
was opened and swift as a deer sped the girl out beyond the
pickets towards the little log cabin. Courage was the thing most
admired by the North American Indians, and as five hundred
Wyandottes saw the fleeing figure of the daring girl pass
directly before them not a hand was raised to bow or musket. Not
a man of them fired at Betty Zane. She passed into the cabin,
seized up the keg of ammunition, wrapped her apron about it, and
then once more ran the gauntlet of the enemy's fire. And this
time there was need for desperate haste, for the Indians guessed
her burden and a shower of arrows and shot was sent after her
flying figure.
But the messengers of death fell
harmlessly about her or broke vainly against the walls of Fort
Henry as Betty gained the entrance. The great gateway flew open
and a dozen strong arms were stretched out to take the precious
keg. Women wept and men sobbed as they realized that Betty Zane
had saved the fort. The next morning at daybreak Colonel
McCulloch marched with a small force from Short Creek to the
relief of the garrison and completed the work of its salvation
begun by Betty Zane.
Women of
America
Source: The Part Taken by Women in
American History, By Mrs. John A. Logan, Published by The Perry-Nalle
Publishing Company, Wilmington, Delaware, 1912.
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