FLEEING FROM THE INDIANS.
The danger had now become so imminent that my husband determined to send
his family to Fort Howard, a point which was believed to be far out of
the range of the enemy. It was in vain that I pleaded to be permitted to
remain; he was firm.
"I must not leave my post," said he, "while there is any danger. My
departure would perhaps be the signal for an immediate alliance of the
Winnebagoes with the Sauks. I am certain that as long as I am here my
presence will act as a restraint upon them. You wish to remain and share
my dangers! Your doing so would expose us both to certain destruction in
case of attack By the aid of my friends in both tribes, I could hope to
preserve my own life if I were alone; but surrounded by my family, that
would be impossible--we should all fall victims together. My duty
plainly is, to send you to a place of safety."
An opportunity for doing this soon occurred. Paquette, the Interpreter,
who was likewise an agent of the American Fur Company, had occasion to
send a boat-load of furs to Green Bay, on their way to Mackinac. Mr.
Kinzie, having seen it as comfortably fitted up as an open boat of that
description could be, with a tent-cloth fastened on a frame-work of
hoop-poles over the centre and lined with a dark-green blanket, and
having placed on board an abundant store of provisions and other
comforts, committed us to the joint care of my brother Arthur and our
faithful blacksmith, Mâtâ.
This latter was a tall, gaunt Frenchman, with a freckled face, a
profusion of crisp, sandy hair, and an inveterate propensity to speak
English. His knowledge of the language was somewhat limited, and he
burlesqued it by adding an s to almost every word, and giving out each
phrase with a jerk.
"Davids," he was wont to say to the little yellow fiddler, after an
evening's frolic at the Interpreter's, "Davids, clear away the tables
and the glasses, and play _fishes-hornspikes."_[55] He was a kind,
affectionate creature, and his devotion to "Monsieur Johns" and "Madame
Johns" knew no bounds.
Besides these two protectors, three trusty Indians, the chief of whom
was called _Old Smoker_, were engaged to escort our party. The crew of
the boat consisted entirely of French engagés in the service of the Fur
Company. They were six gay-hearted, merry fellows, lightening their
labor with their pipe and their songs, in which latter they would have
esteemed it a great compliment to be joined by the ladies who listened
to them; but our hearts, alas! were now too heavy to participate in
their enjoyment.
The Fourth of July, the day on which we left our home, was a gloomy one
indeed to those who departed and to the one left behind. Who knew if we
should ever meet again? The experience which some of the circle had had
in Indian warfare was such as to justify the saddest forebodings. There
was not even the consolation of a certainty that this step would secure
our safety. The Sauks might, possibly, be on the other side of us, and
the route we were taking might perhaps, though not probably, carry us
into their very midst. It was no wonder, then, that our leave-taking was
a solemn one--a parting which all felt might be for this world.
Not _all_, however; for the gay, cheerful Frenchmen laughed and sang and
cracked their jokes, and "assured Monsieur John that they would take
Madame John and Madame Alum safe to the bay, spite of Sauks or wind or
weather."
Thus we set out on our journey. For many miles the Fort was in sight, as
the course of the river alternately approached and receded from its
walls, and it was not until nearly mid-day that we caught the last
glimpse of our home.
At the noon-tide meal, or pipe, of the voyageurs, an alarming discovery
was made: no bread had been put on board for the crew! How this
oversight had occurred, no one could tell. One was certain that a large
quantity had been brought from the garrison-bakery for their use that
very morning--another had even seen the sacks of loaves standing in
Paquette's kitchen. Be that as it may, there we were, many miles on our
journey, and with no provisions for the six Frenchmen, except some
salted pork, a few beans, and some onions. A consultation was held in
this emergency. Should they return to the Portage for supplies? The
same danger that made their departure necessary, still existed, and the
utmost dispatch had been enjoined upon them. We found upon examination
that the store of bread and crackers with which our party had been
provided was far-beyond what we could possibly require, and we thought
it would be sufficient to allow of rations to the Frenchmen until we
should reach Powell's, at the Butte des Morts, the day but one
following, where we should undoubtedly be able to procure a fresh
supply.
This decided on, we proceeded on our journey, always in profound
silence, for a song or a loud laugh was now strictly prohibited until we
should have passed the utmost limits of country where the enemy might
possibly be. We had been warned beforehand that a certain point, where
the low marshy meadows, through which the river had hitherto run, rises
into a more firm and elevated country, was the border of the Menomonee
territory, and the spot where the Sauks, if they had fled north of the
Wisconsin towards the Chippewa country, would be most likely to be
encountered.
As we received intimation on the forenoon of the second day that we were
drawing near this spot, I must confess that "we held our breath for
awe."
The three Winnebagoes were in the bow of the boat. Old Smoker, the
chief, squatted upon his feet on the bench of the foremost rowers. We
looked at him. He was gazing intently in the direction of the wooded
point we were approaching. Our eyes followed his, and we saw three
Indians step forward and stand upon the bank. We said in a low voice to
each other, "If they are Sauks, we are lost, for the whole body must be
in that thicket." The boat continued to approach; not a word was spoken;
the dip of the paddle, and perhaps the beating hearts of some, were the
only sounds that broke the stillness. Again we looked at the chief. His
nostrils were dilated--his eyes almost glaring.
Suddenly, with a bound, he sprang to his feet and uttered his long,
shrill whoop.
"Hoh! hoh! hoh! Neechee (friend) _Muh-no-mo-nee!_"
All was now joy and gladness. Every one was forward to shake hands with
the strangers as soon as we could reach them, in token of our
satisfaction that they were Menomonees and not Sauks, of the latter of
whom, by the way, they could give us no intelligence.
By noon of that day we considered ourselves to be out of the region of
danger. Still, caution was deemed necessary, and when at the mid-day
pipe the boat was pushed ashore under a beautiful overhanging bank,
crowned with a thick wood, the usual vigilance was somewhat relaxed, and
the young people, under the escort of Arthur and Mâtâ, were permitted to
roam about a little, in the vicinity of the boat.
They soon came back, with the report that the woods were "alive with
pigeons,"--they could almost knock them down with sticks; and earnestly
did they plead to be allowed to shoot at least enough for supper. But
no--the enemy might be nearer than we imagined--the firing of a gun
would betray our whereabouts--it was most prudent to give no notice to
friend or foe. So, very reluctantly, they were compelled to return to
the boat without their game.
The next morning brought us to Powell's, at the Butte des Morts. Sad
were the faces of the poor Frenchmen at learning that not a loaf of
bread was to be had. Our own store, too, was by this time quite
exhausted. The only substitute we could obtain was a bag of dark
looking, bitter flour. With this provision for our whole party, we were
forced to be contented, and we left the Hillock of the Dead, feeling
that it had been indeed the grave of our hopes.
By dint of good rowing, our crew soon brought us to the spot where the
river enters that beautiful sheet of water, Winnebago Lake. Though there
was but little wind when we reached the lake, the Frenchmen hoisted
their sail, in hopes to save themselves the labor of rowing across; but
in vain did they whistle, with all the force of their lungs--in vain did
they supplicate _La Vierge_, with a comical mixture of fun and
reverence. As a last resource, it was at length suggested by some one
that their only chance lay in propitiating the goddess of the winds with
an offering of some cast-off garment.
Application was made all round by Guardapié, the chief spokesman of the
crew. Alas! not one of the poor voyageurs could boast a spare article. A
few old rags were at length rummaged out of the little receptacle of
food, clothing, and dirt in the bow of the boat, and cast into the waves
For a moment all flattered themselves that the experiment had been
successful--the sail fluttered, swelled a little, and then flapped idly
down against the mast. The party were in despair, until, after a
whispered consultation together, Julian and Edwin stepped forward as
messengers of mercy. In a trice they divested themselves of jacket and
vest and made a proffer of their next garment to aid in raising the
wind.
At first there seemed a doubt in the minds of the boatmen whether they
ought to accept so magnificent an offer; but finding, on giving them a
preparatory shake, that the value of the contribution was less than they
had imagined, they, with many shouts and much laughter, consigned them
to the waves. To the great delight and astonishment of the boys, a
breeze at this moment sprang up, which carried the little vessel
beautifully over the waters for about half the distance to Garlic
Island. By this time the charm was exhausted, nor was it found possible
to renew it by a repetition of similar offerings. All expedients were
tried without success, and, with sundry rather disrespectful reflections
upon the lady whose aid they had invoked, the Frenchmen were compelled
to betake themselves to their oars, until they reached the island.
Two or three canoes of Winnebagoes arrived at the same moment, and their
owners immediately stepped forward with an offering of some sturgeon
which they had caught in the lake. As this promised to be an agreeable
variety to the noon-tide meal (at least for the Frenchmen), it was
decided to stop and kindle a fire for the purpose of cooking it. We took
advantage of this interval to recommend to the boys a stroll to the
opposite side of the island, where the clear, shallow water and pebbly
beach offered temptation to a refreshing bath. While they availed
themselves of this, under the supervision of Harry, the black boy, we
amused ourselves with gathering the fine red raspberries with which the
island abounded.
Our enjoyment was cut short, however, by discovering that the whole
place, vines, shrubs, and even, apparently, the earth itself, was
infested with myriads of the wood-tick, a little insect, that, having
fastened to the skin, penetrates into the very flesh, causing a swelling
and irritation exceeding painful, and even dangerous. The alarm was
sounded, to bring the boys back in all haste to the open and more
frequented part of the island. But we soon found we had not left our
tormentors behind. Throughout the day we continued to be sensible of
their proximity. From the effects of their attacks we were not relieved
for several succeeding days; those which had succeeded in burying
themselves in the flesh having to be removed with the point of a
penknife or a large needle. After partaking of our dinner, we stepped on
board our boat, and, the wind having risen, we were carried by the
breeze to the farther verge of the lake, and into the entrance of the
river, or, as it was called, the Winnebago Rapids.
On the point of land to the right stood a collection of neat bark
wigwams--this was Four-Legs' village.
It was an exciting and somewhat hazardous passage down the rapids and
over the Grand Chûte, a fall of several feet; but it was safely passed,
and at the approach of evening the boat reached the settlement of the
Waubanakees at the head of the Little Chûte. These are the Stockbridge
or Brothertown Indians, the remains of the old Mohicans, who had, a few
years before, emigrated from Oneida County, in the State of New York, to
a tract granted them by the United States, on the fertile banks of the
Fox River. They had already cleared extensive openings in the forest,
and built some substantial and comfortable houses near the banks of the
river, which were here quite high, and covered for the most part with
gigantic trees.
It was determined to ask hospitality of these people, to the extent of
borrowing a corner of their fire to boil our tea-kettle, and bake the
short-cake which had been now, for nearly two days, our substitute for
bread. Its manufacture had been a subject of much merriment. The
ingredients, consisting of Powell's black flour, some salt, and a little
butter, were mixed in the tin box which had held our meat. This was then
reversed, and, having been properly cleansed, supplied the place of a
dough-board. The vinegar-bottle served the office of rolling-pin, and a
shallow tin dish formed the appliance for baking. The Waubanakees were
so good as to lend us an iron bake-kettle, and superintend the cooking
of our cake after Harry had carried it up to their dwelling.
So kind and hospitable did they show themselves, that the crew of the
boat took the resolution of asking a lodging on shore, by way of relief
after their crowded quarters in the boat for the last three nights.
Arthur and Mâtâ soon adopted the same idea, and we were invited to
follow their example, with the assurance that the houses were extremely
neat and orderly.
We preferred, however, as it was a fine night, and all things were so
comfortably arranged in the boat, to remain on board, keeping Edwin and
Josette with us.
The boat was tightly moored, for the little Chûte was just below, and if
our craft should break loose in the rapid current, and drift down over
the falls, it would be a very serious matter. As an additional
precaution, one man was left on board to keep all things safe and in
order, and, these arrangements having been made, the others ascended the
bank, and took up their night's lodgings in the Waubanakee cabins.
It was a beautiful, calm, moonlight night, the air just sufficiently
warm to be agreeable, while the gentle murmur of the rapids and of the
fall, at no great distance, soon lulled our party to repose. How long we
had slumbered we knew not, when we were aroused by a rushing wind. It
bent the poles supporting the awning, snapped them, and, another gust
succeeding, tent and blanket were carried away on the blast down the
stream. The moonlight was gone, but a flash of lightning showed them
sailing away like a spectre in the distance.
The storm increased in violence. The rain began to pour in torrents, and
the thunder and lightning to succeed each other in fearful rapidity. My
sister sprang to waken the Frenchman. "Get up, Vitelle, quick," cried
she, in French, "run up the bank for Mâtâ and Mr. Arthur--tell them to
come and get us instantly."
The man made her no reply, but fell upon his knees, invoking the Virgin
most vociferously.
"Do not wait for the Virgin, but go as quickly as possible. Do you not
see we shall all be killed?"
"Oh! not for the world, madame, not for the world," said Vitelle,
burying his head in a pack of furs, "would I go up that bank in this
storm." And here he began crying most lustily to all the saints in the
calendar.
It Was indeed awful. The roaring of the thunder and the flashing of the
lightning around us were like the continued discharge of a park of
artillery. I with some difficulty drew forth my cloak, and enveloped
myself and Josette--sister Margaret did the same with Edwin.
"Oh I madame," said the poor little girl, her teeth chattering with cold
and fright, "won't we be drowned?"
"Very well," said my sister to the Frenchman, "you see that Madame John
is at the last agony--if you will not go for help I must, and Monsieur
John must know that you left his wife to perish."
This was too much for Vitelle. "If I must, I must," said he, and with a
desperate bound he leaped on shore and sped up the hill with might and
main.
In a few minutes, though it seemed ages to us, a whole posse came flying
down the hill. The incessant lightning made all things appear as in the
glare of day. Mâtâ's curly hair fairly stood on end, and his eyes rolled
with ghastly astonishment at the spectacle.
"Oh, my God, Madame Johns! what would Monsieur Johns say, to see you
nows?" exclaimed he, as he seized me in his arms and bore me up the
hill. Arthur followed with sister Margaret, and two others with Edwin
and Josette. Nobody carried Vitelle, for he had taken care not to risk
his precious life by venturing again to the boat.
On arriving at the cabin where Arthur and Mâtâ had been lodged, a fire
was, with some difficulty, kindled, and our trunks having been brought
up from the boat, we were at length able to exchange our drenched
garments, and those of the children, for others more comfortable, after
which we laid ourselves upon the clean but homely bed, and slept until
daylight.
As it was necessary to ascertain what degree of damage the cargo of furs
had sustained, an early start was proposed. Apparently, the inhabitants
of the cottages had become weary in well-doing, for they declined
preparing breakfast for us, although we assured them they should be well
compensated for their trouble. We, consequently, saw ourselves compelled
to depart with very slender prospects of a morning meal.
When we reached the boat, what a scene presented itself! Bedclothes,
cloaks, trunks, mess-basket, packs of furs, all bearing the marks of a
complete deluge! The boat ankle-deep in water--literally no place on
board where we could either stand or sit. After some bailing out, and an
attempt at disposing some of the packs of furs which had suffered least
from the flood, so as to form a sort of divan in the centre of the boat,
nothing better seemed to offer than to re-embark, and endure what could
not be cured.
Our position was not an enviable one. Wherever a foot or hand was
placed, the water gushed up, with a bubbling sound, and, oh! the state
of the bandboxes and work-baskets! Breakfast there was none, for on
examining the mess-basket everything it contained was found mingled in
one undistinguishable mass. Tea, pepper, salt, short-cake, all floating
together--it was a hopeless case.
But this was not the worst. As the fervid July sun rose higher in the
heavens, the steam which exhaled from every object on board was nearly
suffocating. The boat was old--the packs of skins were old--their
vicinity in a dry day had been anything but agreeable--now it was
intolerable. There was no retreating from it, however; so we encouraged
the children to arm themselves with patience, for the short time that
yet remained of our voyage.
Seated on our odoriferous couch, beneath the shade of a single umbrella,
to protect our whole party from the scorching sun, we glided wearily
down the stream, through that long, tedious day. As we passed
successively the Kakalin, the Rapids, Dickenson's, the Agency, with what
longing eyes did we gaze at human habitations, where others were
enjoying the shelter of a roof and the comforts of food--and how eagerly
did we count the hours which must elapse before we could reach Port
Howard!
There were no songs from the poor Frenchmen this day. Music and fasting
do not go well together. At length we stopped at Shanty-town, where the
boat was to be unloaded. All hands fell to work to transfer the cargo to
the warehouse of the Fur Company, which stood near the landing. It was
not a long operation, for all worked heartily. This being accomplished,
the voyageurs, one and all, prepared to take their leave. In vain Mâtâ
stormed and raved--in vain Arthur remonstrated.
"No," they said, "they had brought the boat and cargo to the
warehouse--that was all of their job." And they turned to go.
"Guardapié," said I, "do you intend to leave us here?"
"Bien, madame! it is the place we always stop at."
"Does Monsieur John pay you for bringing his family down?"
"Oh, yes, Monsieur John has given us an order on the sutler, at the
Fort down below."
"To be paid when you deliver us safe at the Fort down below. It seems I
shall be there before you, and I shall arrange that matter. Monsieur
John never dreamed that this would be your conduct."
The Frenchmen consulted together, and the result was that Guardapié with
two others jumped into the boat, took their oars, and rather sulkily
rowed us the remaining two miles to Fort Howard.