In 1850 Mr. S. M. Hamilton, with his wife and four children, after a
long journey across the Plains arrived at the Cascades. They were
impressed with the towering mountains and beautiful scenery. Here they
decided to locate on a donation land claim, which is now known as
Hamilton's Island. A comfortable house soon greeted them. Mrs.
Hamilton, who is still with us, is a woman of culture and refinement,
and many owe their success in life to her loving example and words of
cheer; but dark days were hovering around their peaceful home. The
terrible news that Indians were lurking to plunder and kill had filled
their hearts with terror. Mr. Hamilton had arranged, if the outbreak
did occur, that two men were to take charge of the boat, while others
were to remain and defend their property. A bateaux lay in readiness.
On the morning of the 26th of March, 1856, the dreaded signal sounded,
striking terror to the stoutest hearts. Mr. Hamilton hurried to his
home, where wife and children were terrified. His first word was
"Mary, the Yakima Indians have attacked the men, who were working on
the portage railroad, and will soon reach our home. Your only safety
is to embark at once, with other families, who are hurrying to reach
the boat, their only means of escape." All were now on board except
one woman, who was carrying her babe, and running over the rocks as
fast as her strength would permit. One of the men who had charge of
the boat said "Push out and leave her." Mr. Hamilton placed his hand
on the boat, saying, "No, no; never leave man, woman, or child who is
in sight." By this time the woman and child were on board; quickly the
boat was in the swift current, the occupants were lying on the bottom
to escape the whizzing bullets and arrows of the savages, whose
demoniacal and blood curdling yells added terror to the mothers'
hearts. Picture the agony of those mothers as they were floating away
from loved ones and home, listening to the frightful shrieks and rapid
shooting of the Indians. For a moment the father watched the receding
craft that held all that was dear--dearer than life--not knowing when,
or if ever, they would meet again. With upturned face he exclaimed
"Oh, God, have mercy and protect the dear ones." A bullet whistled
past his head; he raised his trusty rifle, fired, one Indian fell;
again and again his rifle was reloaded and fired, each time sure of
its mark. That night his house was burned. The Indians were armed with
guns and arrows. They killed one woman and her husband; several men
were killed; after hours of suspense those in the boat sighted the
steamer Fashion. She quickly halted, taking all on board, turned back,
reaching Vancouver the following day, where the alarm was sounded, and
the steamer hurried on to Portland; there the bells tolling forth
called out the citizens, who, on hearing the terrible news began
collecting guns and ammunition; the entire population was aroused.
Nothing since the Whitman massacre had brought such sorrow to their
hearts. Early in the morning the steamer, loaded with human freight,
started for the sad scene. A steamer had left Fort Vancouver with our
illustrious Sheridan, who, with forty men reached the Cascades first.
On landing they received a volley from the Indians, who fought like
demons. Now the steamer arrived with the Portland volunteers. At the
same time Colonel Steptoe, from The Dalles, with infantry and
volunteers, arrived, who surprised the Indians, many of whom were
horse racing, others were watching Sheridan. As they saw the new
arrival of blue coats, they fled to the hills. Nine of the ring
leaders were captured and hung. To relate all the thrilling incidents
encountered by the early pioneers would fill volumes, and in
conclusion, I feel that the hallowed remembrances of all our loyal
patriotic pioneer fathers and mothers will live to the end of time, as
they braved dangers that tongue or pen fail to express, and by their
life's work each one has erected their invincible monument.
CHARLOTTE MOFFETT CARTWRIGHT,
Pioneer of 1845.