The Fight Of Osawatomie.
Early in the morning of the 30th of August the enemy's
scouts approached to within one mile and a half of the western boundary of the
town of Osawatomie. At this place my son Frederick (who was not attached to my
force) had lodged, with some four other young men from Lawrence, and a young
man named Garrison, from Middle Creek. The scouts, led by a proslavery preacher
named White, shot my son dead in the road, while he — as I have since
ascertained — supposed them to be friendly. At the same time they butchered Mr.
Garrison, and badly mangled one of the young men from Lawrence, who came with
my son, leaving him for dead. This was not far from sunrise. I had stopped
during the night about two and one half miles from them, and nearly one mile
from Osawatomie. I had no organized force, but only some twelve or fifteen new
recruits, who were ordered to leave their preparations for breakfast and follow
me into the town, as soon as this news was brought to me. As I had no means of
learning correctly the force of the enemy, I placed twelve of the recruits in a
log-house, hoping we might be able to defend the town. I then gathered some
fifteen more men together, whom we armed with guns; and we started in the
direction of the enemy. After going a few rods we could see them approaching
the town in line of battle, about half a mile off, upon a hill west of the
village. I then gave up all idea of doing more than to annoy, from the timber
near the town, into which we were all retreated, and which was filled with a
thick growth of underbrush; but I had no time to recall the twelve men in the
log-house, and so lost their assistance in the fight. At the point above named
I met with Captain Cline, a very active young man, who had with him some twelve
or fifteen mounted men, and persuaded him to go with us into the timber, on the
southern shore of the Osage, or Marais des Cygnes, a little to the northwest
from the village. Here the men, numbering not more than thirty in all, were
directed to scatter and secrete themselves as well as they could, and await the
approach of the enemy. This was done in full view of them (who must have seen
the whole movement), and had to be done in the utmost haste. I believe Captain
Cline and some of his men were not even dismounted in the fight, but cannot
assert positively. When the left wing of the enemy had approached to within
common rifle-shot, we commenced firing, and very soon threw the northern branch
of the enemy's line into disorder. This continued some fifteen or twenty
minutes, which gave us an uncommon opportunity to annoy them. Captain Cline and
his men soon got out of ammunition, and retired across the river. After the
enemy rallied we kept up our fire, until, by the leaving of one and another, we
had but six or seven left. We then retired across the river. We had one man
killed — a Mr. Powers, from Captain Cline's company — in the fight. One of my
men, a Mr. Partridge, was shot in crossing the river. Two or three of the party
who took part in the fight are yet missing, and may be lost or taken prisoners.
Two were wounded; namely, Dr. Updegraff and a Mr. Collis. I cannot speak in too
high terms of them, and of many others I have not now time to mention. One of
my best men, together with myself, was struck by a partially spent ball from
the enemy, in the commencement of the fight, but we were only bruised. The loss
I refer to is one of my missing men. The loss of the enemy, as we learn by the
different statements of our own as well as their people, was some thirty-one or
two killed, and from forty to fifty wounded. After burning the town to ashes
and killing a Mr. Williams they had taken, whom neither party claimed, they
took a hasty leave, carrying their dead and wounded with them. They did not
attempt to cross the river, nor to search for us, and have not since returned
to look over their work. I give this in great haste, in the midst of constant
interruptions. My second son was with me in the fight, and escaped unharmed.
This I mention for the benefit of his friends. Old Preacher White, I hear,
boasts of having killed my son. Of course he is a lion.
John Brown.
Lawrence, Kansas,
Sept. 7, 1856.
SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of
John Brown, p. 318-20
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