BEGINNING OF MY CAPTIVITY.
The facts related in the preceding chapter concerning matters occurring
in Mr. Kelly’s experience, and adventures after the attack upon our
train, were related to me after my restoration to freedom and my
husband, by him.
I now return to the narration of my own terrible experiences.
I was led a short distance from the wagon, with Mary, and told to
remain quiet, and tried to submit; but oh, what a yearning sprang up in
my heart to escape, as I hoped my husband had done! But many watchful
eyes were upon me, and enemies on every side, and I realized that any
effort then at escape would result in failure, and probably cause the
death of all the prisoners.
Mrs. Larimer, with her boy, came to us, trembling with fear, saying,
“The men have all escaped, and left us to the mercy of the savages.”
In reply, I said, “I do hope they have. What benefit would it be to us,
to have them here, to suffer this fear and danger with us? They would
be killed, and then all hope of rescue for us would be at an end.”
Her agitation was extreme. Her grief seemed to have reached its climax
when she saw the Indians destroying her property, which consisted
principally of such articles as belong to the Daguerrean art. She had
indulged in high hopes of fortune from the prosecution of this art
among the mining towns of Idaho. As she saw her chemicals, picture
cases, and other property pertaining to her calling, being destroyed,
she uttered such a wild despairing cry as brought the chief of the band
to us, who, with gleaming knife, threatened to end all her further
troubles in this world. The moment was a critical one for her. The
Indians were flushed with an easy-won victory over a weak party; they
had “tasted blood,” and it needed but slight provocation for them to
shed that even of defenseless women and children.
My own agony could be no less than that of my companion in misfortune.
The loss of our worldly possessions, which were not inconsiderable,
consisting of a large herd of cattle, and groceries, and goods of
particular value in the mining regions, I gave no thought to. The
possible fate of my husband; the dark, fearful future that loomed
before myself and little Mary, for whose possible future I had more
apprehension than for my own, were thoughts that flashed through my
mind to the exclusion of all mere pecuniary considerations.
But my poor companion was in great danger, and perhaps it was a selfish
thought of future loneliness in captivity which induced me to intercede
that her life might be spared. I went to the side of the chief, and,
assuming a cheerfulness I was very far from feeling, plead successfully
for her life.
I endeavored in every way to propitiate our savage captor, but received
no evidences of kindness or relenting that I could then understand. He
did present me, however, a wreath of gay feathers from his own head,
which I took, regarding it merely as an ornament, when in reality, as I
afterward learned, it was a token of his favor and protection.
He then left us, to secure his own share of plunder, but we saw that
we were surrounded by a special guard of armed men, and so gave up all
struggle against what seemed an inevitable doom, and sat down upon the
ground in despair.
I know now that night had come upon us while we sat there, and that
darkness was closing the scene of desolation and death before their
arrangements for departure were completed.
The first intimation we had that our immediate massacre was not
intended, was a few articles of clothing presented by a young Indian,
whose name was Wechela, who intimated that we would have need for them.
It was a pitiable sight to see the terrified looks of our helpless
children, who clung to us for the protection we could not give. Mrs.
Larimer was unconscious of the death of any of our party. I did not
tell her what my eyes had seen, fearing that she could not endure it,
but strove to encourage and enliven her, lest her excitement would
hasten her death or excite the anger of our captors.
We both feared that when the Indians made their arrangements for
departure we would be quickly disposed of by the scalping knife; or
even should we escape for the time, we saw no prospect of release
from bondage. Terror of the most appalling nature for the fate of the
children possessed me, and all the horrors of Indian captivity that we
had ever heard crowded on our minds with a new and fearful meaning—the
slow fires, the pitiless knife, the poisoned arrows, the torture of
famine, and a thousand nameless phantoms of agony passed before our
troubled souls, filling us with fears so harrowing that the pangs of
dissolution compared to them must have been relief.
It may be thought almost impossible in such a chaos of dread to collect
the soul in prayer, but
When woe is come, the soul is dumb
That crieth not to God,
and the only respite we could claim from despair was the lifting of our
trembling hearts upward to the God of mercy.
Those hours of misery can never be forgotten. We were oppressed by
terrors we could not explain or realize. The sudden separation from
those we loved and relied on; our own helplessness and the gloom of
uncertainty that hung over the future—surely none can better testify
to the worth of trust in God than those whose hope on earth seemed
ended; and, faint and weak as our faith was, it saved us from utter
desolation and the blackness of despair.
From among the confused mass of material of all kinds scattered about,
the same young Indian, Wechela, brought me a pair of shoes; also a pair
of little Mary’s. He looked kindly as he laid these articles before me,
intimating by his gestures that our lives were to be spared, and that
we should have need of them and other clothing during our long march
into captivity. He also brought me some books and letters, all of which
I thankfully received. I readily conceived a plan to make good use of
them, and secreted as many as I could about my clothing. I said to Mrs.
Larimer, “If I can retain these papers and letters, and we are forced
to travel with the Indians into their unknown country, I shall drop
them at intervals along the way we are taken, as a guide, and trust
in God that our friends may find and follow them to our rescue, or if
an opportunity of escape offer, we will seize it, and by their help
retrace our steps.”
The property that the Indians could not carry with them, they gathered
into a pile and lighted. The light of the flames showed us the forms
of our captors busily loading their horses and ours with plunder, and
preparing to depart. When their arrangements were completed, they came
to us and signified that we must accompany them, pointing to the horses
they led up to us, and motioning for us to mount. The horse assigned to
me was one that had belonged to Mr. Larimer, and was crippled in the
back. This I endeavored to make them understand, but failed.
This was the first reliable assurance they gave us that our lives were
not in immediate danger, and we received it gratefully, for with the
prospect of life hope revived, and faith to believe that God had not
forsaken us, and that we might yet be united to our friends, who never
seemed dearer than when we were about to be carried into captivity by
the hostile sons of the forest.
Many persons have since assured me that, to them, death would have been
preferable to life with such prospects, saying that rather than have
submitted to be carried away by savages, to a dark and doubtful doom,
they would have taken their own lives. But it is only those who have
looked over the dark abyss of death who know how the soul shrinks from
meeting the unknown future.
Experience is a grand teacher, and we were then in her school, and
learned that while hope offers the faintest token of refuge, we pause
upon the fearful brink of eternity, and look back for rescue.
Mrs. Larimer had climbed into her saddle, her boy placed behind her
on the same horse, and started on, accompanied by a party of Indians.
I also climbed into my saddle, but was no sooner there than the horse
fell to the ground, and I under him, thus increasing the bruises I had
already received, and causing me great pain. This accident detained me
some time in the rear. A dread of being separated from the only white
woman in that awful wilderness filled me with horror.
Soon they had another horse saddled for me, and assisted me to mount
him. I looked around for my little Mary. There she stood, a poor
helpless lamb, in the midst of blood-thirsty savages. I stretched out
my arms for her imploringly. For a moment they hesitated; then, to my
unspeakable joy, they yielded, and gave me my child. They then started
on, leading my horse; they also gave me a rope that was fastened around
the horse’s under jaw.
The air was cool, and the sky was bright with the glitter of starlight.
The water, as it fell over the rocks in the distance, came to our eager
ears with a faint, pleasant murmur. All nature seemed peaceful and
pitiless in its calm repose, unconscious of our desolate misery; the
cry of night-birds and chirp of insects came with painful distinctness
as we turned to leave the valley of Little Box Elder.
Straining my eyes, I sought to penetrate the shadows of the woods where
our fugitive friends might be hid. The smoldering ruins of our property
fell into ashes and the smoke faded away; night had covered the traces
of confusion and struggle with her shrouding mantle, and all seemed
quiet and unbroken peace.
I turned for a last look, and even the smoke was gone; the solemn
trees, the rippling water, the soft night wind and the starlight, told
no tale of the desolation and death that had gone before; and I rode on
in my helpless condition, with my child clinging to me, without guide
or support, save my trust in God.