THE MODOC WAR--GEN. WHEATON IS HELD OFF BY THE INDIANS--GEN. CANBY
TAKES COMMAND AND GETS IT WORSE--MASSACRE OF THE PEACE COMMISSION.
Two weeks later I went out to Linkville to buy some groceries.
This place was fifteen miles from where I had settled, and the
nearest trading post or settlement to me, telling my two hired men
that I would be at home the next day or the day after at the
outside.
The store was kept by a man named Nurse. He told me he had a band
of mares that he would sell cheap, and insisted on my staying over
night with him, saying that he would have them brought in the day
following, which I agreed to do, and the next morning he started
his men out to look for the mares. They did not get them gathered
up until the afternoon, and Mr. Nurse and I were in the corral
looking at them, when a man rode up at full speed, his horse
foaming all over, and said in a very excited tone that the Modoc
Indians had gone on the war-path and had murdered most all the
settlers on Lost River and Tule Lake, the latter being only twenty
miles south from Linkville. The courier that brought the news to
Linkville said that the soldiers had come down to Tule Lake and
fired on Captain Jack without any warning whatever, which we
learned later to be all too true.
The Indians had scattered all over the country, and had killed
every white person they ran across for two days and then fled to
the lava beds. This put an end to the horse trading. Mr. Nurse
said that some one would have to go to Jacksonville and report at
once, for they were not strong enough there to protect themselves
against the Modocs, but no one seemed willing to tackle the trip,
and I told them that if no one else would go, I would go myself.
It was now near sundown, and it was called one hundred miles to
Jacksonville from there. I started at once, going part of the way
over the wagon road and the remainder of the way on the trail.
I arrived at Jacksonville the next morning before sun-up. The
first man I met was the sheriff of the county, who was just coming
out to feed his horses. I related my story to him in as few words
as I could, and told him to raise all the men he could. I had my
horse taken care of and went to bed, for I was very tired; with
directions to wake me up in time to eat a bite before starting. At
four o'clock that afternoon they woke me, they having sixty men
then ready to start and one hundred ready to follow the next
morning.
Among the balance who were ready to start was Mr. Miller. When I
led my horse out he asked if that was the horse I had ridden over
from Linkville. I told him I had nothing else to ride. He went to
the stable and got another horse and insisted on my changing my
saddle, but I told him I would ride my horse to the foot of the
mountains and then change, which I did.
We reached Linkville the next morning at nine o'clock, and Mr.
Nurse gave us breakfast. That afternoon we went down to Tule Lake
and buried three dead bodies, being of the Brotherton family, the
father and two sons, and the next day we buried four more, after
which I left this squad and returned to my ranch to get my two
hired men away, which took me three days. By the time I had got
back to Linkville the news had spread all over the country of the
outbreak of Captain Jack and the Modoc tribe, and Gen. Wheaton had
moved his entire force down to the lava beds, where Captain Jack
had his forces concentrated.
Gen. Ross and Col. Miller had moved in, but I do not know just the
exact number of men they had in their command. After this scare I
could not get any men to work on the ranch, so I abandoned it for
the time being and stayed around Linkville about a week, when I
received a message from Gen. Wheaton to come to his quarters
immediately. This message was carried by one of his orderlies. I
complied, the orderly returning with me. I was not acquainted with
Gen. Wheaton, nor had I ever seen him before. When I was introduced
to him he asked me if I knew Captain Jack, chief of the Modoc
tribe. I told him that I was well acquainted with him and all of
his men. "Now," said he, "I'll tell you what I wish to see you
about. Col. Miller recommends you very highly as a scout, and how
would it suit you to take charge of the entire scouting force, and
organize them to suit yourself and start in at once?"
I said: "General, I have tried hard to quit that business. In the
first start I went at it for the glory in it, but having failed to
find that part of it, I have become tired. I will not answer you
now, but to-morrow morning at nine o'clock I will come to your
quarters, at which time I will have my mind thoroughly made up." I
left his quarters and went over to Col. Miller's. I told the
Colonel that the General had sent for me. He urged me in the
strongest terms to take hold of it, saying that there was not a
practical scout in the entire command. Finally I promised him that
I would again enter the scouting field.
The next morning I was up early and had breakfast with Col.
Miller. After obtaining the pass-word I saddled Black Bess, and at
nine o'clock was at Gen. Wheaton's quarters.
I left Black Bess standing about twenty paces from the General's
tent, took one of my gloves and stuck it on a bush, and went in to
see Gen. Wheaton. I told him that I had decided to start in
scouting for him, and I suppose I was in his tent about half an
hour talking matters over about the scouting business. All being
understood, I started out to get my mare, and saw quite a crowd
had gathered around her, and one man in particular was trying to
make up with her. Just as I stepped out of the door I heard him
say, "This must surely be Black Bess. I wonder who owns her now."
And until he called the mare's name I had not recognized him, and
it struck me that it must be George Jones, but not being sure, I
said: "Is that you, George?" He said: "Yes, and that's my old
friend Capt. Drannan." This was a surprise to us both. It was the
first time that we had met since we separated at San Francisco in
the fall of 1866, at which time we had both decided to quit
fighting Indians, but here we both were again in the field. After
a good square shake and giving a hasty synopsis of our experiences
during the time we had been separated, George asked if I was going
into the scouting field again. I told him that I had just accepted
a position as chief of scouts with Gen. Wheaton. I then asked him
what he was doing for a livelihood. He said that he had joined the
Oregon Volunteers, and asked me if I did not think I could get him
relieved. "For," said he, "I would rather work with you than any
one else. We have been together so much we understand each other."
He told me his Captain's name and that he belonged to Col.
Miller's regiment. I did not lose any time in seeing Col. Miller
and telling him that I would like very much to have him relieve
George Jones from his command, as I must have him for my first
assistant.
This was the first time that Col. Miller had heard of George Jones
being a scout, and he wrote out the release at once and went out
and had Gen. Ross sign it and gave it to me.
George and I went to work at once to organize our scouting
company, drawing our men mostly from the volunteers. About the
time that we were thoroughly organized it was reported that the
Pah-Utes and the Klamaths were all coming to join Captain Jack.
This lava bed where Captain Jack was fortified, was sixty miles
from the Klamath reservation, but the Pah-Utes were one hundred
and fifty miles away, and it both surprised and amused me when
those old officers would tell me that they expected the Pah-Utes
any time. Being afraid of an attack from the rear, we had to scout
a strip of country about forty miles long every day, and all the
arguments that I could produce were of no avail. After going
through this routine for about a month Gen. Wheaton concluded to
take Captain Jack by storm. Captain Jack was there, and had been
all the time, in what was called his stronghold in the lava bed,
being nothing more or less than a cave in the rocks, sixty yards
long, and from ten to thirty feet wide, there being one place in
the east side where a man could ride a horse into it, and numerous
places where a man could enter with ease. Down on the east and
south sides are numerous holes in the rock just large enough to
shoot through. Captain Jack had his entire force in there, had
killed all of his horses and taken them in there for meat, and
through the Klamath Indians had got a good supply of ammunition.
After Gen. Wheaton had made up his mind to take the stronghold by
storm, he asked if I could give a description of the place. Up to
this time there had not been a shot fired at the soldiers by the
Indians, and I had a number of times passed in gunshot of the main
entrance, and I know that the Indians had recognized me, but
because I had befriended them they would not shoot at me.
I drew a diagram of the cave in the best style that I could,
showing the main entrance and the natural port holes, and when I
submitted it to the General, I said: "General, you can never take
Captain Jack as long as his ammunition lasts, for he has the same
kind of guns that you have, and the majority of his men have
pistols also, and all that he will have to do is to stand there
and shoot your men down as fast as they can come."
But the General thought different. The day was set for the attack,
and on Wednesday morning the storm was to commence. The army had
its camp one mile from Jack's stronghold, so the soldiers did not
have far to march. About sunrise the whole command marched down
and turned loose on Jack, and were soon bombarding him in great
shape. This was kept up for three days and nights, when Gen.
Wheaton withdrew, having lost sixty men and something over twenty
wounded, as I was told by Col. Miller afterwards, but Jack did not
come out.
A short time after this Gen. Canby came over and took the entire
command. He brought with him a minister by the name of Col.
Thomas.
The second day after Gen. Canby arrived he asked Gen. Wheaton, in
the presence of quite a number of officers, how many men Captain
Jack had with him.
Gen. Wheaton said; "My chief scout could tell just the number that
he has, but I think some sixty-three or sixty-four warriors."
"And you had fifteen hundred men in that three days' fight?"
Gen. Wheaton said he had.
"And you got whipped? There was bad management somewhere," said
Canby; and he concluded he would take Captain Jack by storm, but
postponed it for a month, this bringing it into the foggy weather
in that country, and in that time of the year it is the foggiest
country I ever saw. I have seen it for a week at a time in the
lava bed that I could not tell an Indian from a rock when twenty
paces away. And this was the kind of weather Gen. Canby was
waiting for. He marched down to the lava bed and placed his
howitzer on the hill about a quarter of a mile from Jack's
stronghold and commenced playing the shell. This was done in order
to give the infantry a chance to march down to the main entrance
of the cave and there shoot the Indians down as fast as they came
out.
Three days and nights this was kept up, but not an Indian came
out, and Gen. Canby drew off, losing over one hundred men killed,
but I never knew the exact number wounded.
When Gen. Canby found he could not take the Modocs by storm, he
sent to Yreka, Cal., for a man named Berry, who was a particular
friend of Jack's, or rather Jack was a particular friend to him.
On Mr. Berry's arrival at headquarters Gen. Canby asked him if he
thought he dare go to Captain Jack's stronghold. Mr. Berry replied
that he would provided that he went alone. I never knew just what
Mr. Berry's instructions were, but, however, I accompanied him to
within two hundred paces of the main entrance to the cave, in
order to direct him to the proper place, and he chose his time to
go after dark.
I remained there until after he returned, which was before
midnight. A few days later I learned that there was to be a
council meeting between Gen. Canby, Rev. Col. Thomas and Captain
Jack, and in a conversation with Col. Miller he asked me my
opinion in regard to the matter. I told him that I did not
understand all the particulars, as I had heard but little about
it.
He then told me that Gen. Canby and Col. Thomas, with George Meeks
as interpreter for them, and Meek's squaw as interpreter for
Captain Jack, were to meet Jack next Sunday morning for the
purpose of effecting a treaty with the Modoc tribe, they to meet
Jack at a certain place, without escort or side arms. After the
Colonel had told me of the council and manner in which they were
to meet Captain Jack, I said: "Colonel, do you really believe they
will go?"
"Go," he replied. "Gen. Canby will go if he lives till the time
appointed for the meeting."
I could not think that Canby would do such a thing, and I told
Col. Miller that there was one thing he could depend upon, if they
went in that manner they would never return alive. I also told him
I did not consider Mr. Berry showed good judgement in letting
Captain Jack choose his own ground for the council and agreeing to
meet him without escort or side arms.
That afternoon Gen. Wheaton sent for me, and I responded to the
call at once. When I arrived at the General's camp he opened the
conversation by saying: "Captain, have you heard of the meeting
that is to take place between Gen. Canby and Captain Jack?"
I said: "No, General, I had heard nothing of it." This being a
little white lie, for it had been told me in confidence by Col.
Miller. I asked what the object of the meeting was, and when and
where it was to be.
He said it was for the purpose of effecting a treaty with Captain
Jack, and was to be held in a little glade or opening on the other
side of Dry Lake canyon, this being about one mile south of
headquarters, and within a quarter of a mile of Captain Jack's
stronghold. Said he: "Gen. Canby and Rev. Col. Thomas, accompanied
by George Meeks and his squaw as interpreters, are to meet Captain
Jack there without escort or even side arms. Now, Captain, tell me
seriously, what you think of this affair."
I said: "General, they may go, but they will never return."
The General then asked me if I would have a talk with Gen. Canby.
I told him that if Gen. Canby asked for my opinion in the matter I
would give it just as frankly as I would to you, otherwise I had
nothing to say, for Gen. Canby was a man that seemed to feel too
much elevated to speak to a scout, except just to give orders.
Gen. Wheaton told me that he would see Gen. Canby himself and have
a talk with him. This was on Friday previous to the Sunday on
which they were to meet in council.
In the afternoon of the same day it was reported that there had
been Indians seen along Tule Lake. I mounted my horse and started
with a platoon of soldiers and a sergeant, and when we had
advanced about twelve miles I was riding about two hundred yards
in advance I saw something dodge into a bunch of sarvis brush.
Beckoning to the sergeant, he dashed up to my side and said:
"What's up, Captain?"
"I got a glimpse of something just as it ran into that patch of
brush, and I think it was an Indian."
He had his men surround the brush and I went to scare the Indian
out. I searched that patch of brush thoroughly, but could find no
Indian or anything else, and the boys all enjoyed a hearty laugh
at my expense.
The sergeant proposed that we all have a smoke, so we turned our
horses loose to graze. The sergeant lit his pipe, threw off his
overcoat and laid down to rest. As he cast his eyes heavenward in
the direction of the top of the only pine tree that stood in that
patch of brush, he exclaimed: "Captain, I have found your Indian."
Of course we all commenced looking for the Indian, and I asked
where he was, whereupon he told me to look up in the pine tree,
and on looking I beheld an Indian with whom I was well acquainted,
as he had been to my ranch several times in company with Captain
Jack.
I asked him to come down, telling him that I would protect him if
he would, but he would not utter a word, nor would he come down. I
tried for at least a half hour to induce him to come down until I
had exhausted all the persuasive powers I possessed, but to no
avail.
I told the sergeant that I had treed his Indian, and now he could
do as he pleased with him, and the sergeant ordered him shot down,
after which we returned to headquarters, this being the only
Indian seen on the trip.
The next morning Gen. Wheaton sent for me to come to his quarters,
which I did, and in a conversation with him he asked me if I was
still of the same opinion concerning the council meeting as when I
talked with him before. I told him that I was, that I had not seen
or heard anything to change my mind in the least. He then said: "I
had a conversation with Gen. Canby and Rev. Col. Thomas, and Col.
Thomas scoffs at the idea you advance, claiming that they were
going in a good cause, and that the Lord would protect them." I
told the General that George Jones and I were going to see that
meeting. He said that would not do, for it was strictly forbidden.
I assured the General that I would not break any rules, but that I
would see the meeting. I had given my scouts their orders until
ten o'clock the next day, and when dark came Jones and I were
going to the bluff on this side of the canyon and there secrete
ourselves, where, with a glass, we could see the whole proceeding
and not be discovered by the Indians.
The reader will understand that a scout is, in a certain measure,
a privileged character.
As soon as it was dark Saturday evening George and I went to the
place mentioned and remained there until the time arrived for the
meeting. About nine o'clock that morning the fog raised and the
sun shone brightly, making it one of the most pleasant mornings we
had experienced for some time, thereby giving us a good view of
the grounds of the proposed meeting, and we could see Captain Jack
and another Indian there waiting. I could recognize Jack's
features through the glass, but the other Indian I could not. In a
short time we saw Gen. Canby, Col. Thomas, George Meeks and his
squaw coming. When they reached the lower end of the little
opening one hundred and fifty yards from where Captain Jack was
standing, they dismounted, tied their horses and walked slowly in
the direction where Captain Jack was standing, and every few steps
Gen. Canby would look back, apparently to see if any one was
following them. On arriving at the spot they shook hands with
Captain Jack and the other Indian, and probably fifteen minutes
elapsed when Captain Jack dropped his blanket from his shoulders
to the ground and suddenly turned and picked it up. This, I
believe, was a signal for an attack, for the next moment I saw
smoke from a number of guns from the rocks and could hear the
reports also. Col. Thomas, Meeks and his squaw started on the run,
but Gen. Canby fell in his tracks, a victim at the hands of
Captain Jack and his followers. Col. Thomas only ran about ten
steps, when he fell. Meeks ran nearly one hundred yards, when he
fell, and the squaw escaped unhurt, but badly scared, I presume.
As soon as Gen. Canby had fallen George Jones asked if he had
better go to headquarters and give the alarm. I told him to go
with all possible speed. George reached camp twenty minutes ahead
of me. The other officers could not believe that he was telling
the truth, but when I arrived and told them that the entire crowd
had been killed, with the exception of the squaw, they were
thunderstruck, and by the time I was through telling them the
squaw was there.
I do not know just how many soldiers were sent to recover the dead
bodies, but that day there was a general attack made on Captain
Jack, which was kept up from day to day almost as long as the war
lasted.
When it was foggy, as it was nearly all the time, the Indians
almost invariably got the best of the soldiers, from the fact that
they would come out without any clothing on their bodies with a
bunch of sage-brush tied on their heads, and their skins being so
similar in color to that of the lava rocks, that when the fog was
thick, at a distance of thirty or forty yards, it was impossible
to distinguish an Indian from a rock. There were more or less
soldiers killed and wounded every day until the end of the war.
One day only a short time after the assassination of Gen. Canby and
Col. Thomas, the soldiers were attacked in Dry Lake canyon by the
Modocs and were getting badly butchered up.
As I rode along Gen. Wheaton dashed up by my side and said: "Where
can those Indians be and what kind of guns have they? I have been
losing men all day and there has not been an Indian seen." I told
the General I would try and locate them and let him know just
where they were. Taking George Jones and another man by the name
of Owens with me, I rode around on the opposite ridge, dismounted,
and leaving my horse with the other boys, I crawled down among the
rocks. I had on a buckskin suit and could not be seen much easier
than a Modoc when in the lava beds. They kept up a continual
firing, and now and then I could hear a bullet whiz near me. After
I had crawled about sixty yards as cautiously as I could I raised
on one knee and foot and my gun was resting across my leg while I
was peering through the fog to see if I could get sight of any
Indians, and listening to see if I could hear an Indian's voice. I
had remained in this position about five minutes when a ball
struck me on the shin-bone, just below the boot top. It appeared
to me that I could have heard it crack at a hundred yards. Never
before in my life had I experienced such a miserable feeling as at
that time. I thought that my leg was broken into atoms. I started
to crawl back up the hill, taking the same route that I had come
down, and when I had ascended the hill near enough to the boys so
they could see me, George Jones saw that I was hurt.
He dropped his gun and ran to me at once and said: "Captain, are
you badly hurt?" But before I had time to answer him he had picked
me up bodily and was running up the hill with me.
When he got to where our horses were he said: "Where are you
shot?" I said: "George, my left leg is shot off." "What shall we
do?" said George. I told him to put me on Johnny, that being the
name of my horse, and I would go to headquarters. He said: "Let me
pull your boot off," at the same time taking hold of my boot. I
caught my leg with both hands to hold the bones together while the
boot was being removed from the leg, thinking that the bone was
shattered into small pieces. As soon as George had succeeded in
removing my boot from my foot, he turned the top of the boot
downward to let the blood run out of it. "Why," said he, "your leg
is not bleeding at all." I then commenced feeling my leg, but could
not feel or hear any bones work, so by the assistance of George I
got my breeches-leg up and there the ball stuck just between the
skin and the bone of my leg, and the boys had a good laugh at my
expense.
When I had learned that my leg was not broken, George and I
crawled down together into the canyon, and located the Indians. We
got so near that we could see the flash from their guns through
the fog. We then ascended the hill, mounted our horses, rode back
and reported to Gen. Wheaton. But the Indians had the advantage
over the soldiers from the fact that the soldiers' could be easily
distinguished from the rocks.
About one week later, George Jones, a young man named Savage, and
myself, went on just such another trip. It was our custom when
going into the canyon to leave one man in charge of our horses
until we returned, and in this case we left Savage with three
saddle horses and instructions to remain there until we returned.
On our return we found poor Savage mortally wounded, and he only
lived a few minutes. He had two balls through his body. It seemed
that he had tied the horses and come to the top of the hill to
look for us or to warn us of danger, and while there had been shot
down by the Indians.
This was the first scout I had lost since I had entered the
scouting field at this place. By the assistance of Jones I got the
body on my horse in front of me and carried it to headquarters and
reported to Gen. Ross, who was acquainted with Savage's family,
and he sent the body to Jacksonville for interment. A few days
later, George, myself and four assistants started out to meet a
pack-train that was coming in from Yreka, Cal., with supplies. We
met the train twelve miles from headquarters and told the man in
charge that he would either have to cross the lava beds or go
around forty miles. He decided to take chances in crossing the
lava beds in preference to going so far around. We told him that
he would be running a great risk, for we were satisfied that Jack
was running short of provisions and that he had men out all the
time foraging, and we knew that if the Indians happened to
discover this train they would make a desperate effort to capture
it, or at least a part of it. There were fifty animals in the
train and only three men. When we started across the lava beds I
took the lead, and George and our other men in the rear. In case
of an attack on either, he was to fire two shots in quick
succession as a signal for assistance, for the fog was almost
thick enough that day to cut in slices with a knife. The man in
charge of the train started a young man ahead with me to lead the
bell-horse, placing another young man about the center of the
train.
It was a miserably rough country across these lava beds, and we
had to travel very slowly.
The man in charge dropped back in the rear of the train, thinking
that if we were attacked it would be at the rear.
The reader will understand that in crossing this hell-hearth it
was necessary for the pack-animals to string out single file.