SEALTH AND THE ALLIED TRIBES
Sealth, second chief of the allied tribes in early days and previously
of the Squamish and Duwamish, was the greatest Indian character of the
country. Like the historic chief of the Mingoes, he was a friend of the
white man and enemies he had none. A statesman and not a warrior he
swayed the minds of his people with the magic of oratory rather than
of war. Without a knowledge of the polyglot language common to all the
tribes and the early white men, he was able by his superiority of mind
to mould the turbulent and warlike spirits about him to his way of
thinking, and to not only control them individually but to unite them
into one grand peace union and to ever after maintain over them against
all opposition a power as potent for good as the spirit and nature of
the one who prompted it. Many chiefs who had before enjoyed chiefship
without hinderance and directed and controlled his people at his own
sweet will yielded to the superior power of Sealth, acted his part after
the federation only as a lieutenant or sub-chief. Many old-timers yet
survive who enjoyed the friendship of the old chief. Samuel F. Coombs,
who probably has as intimate a knowledge of the early Indians as any one
living, says of the old chief Sealth:
“The first time I ever saw Chief Sealth was in the summer of 1860,
shortly after my arrival, at a council of chiefs in Seattle. At that time
there was an unusually large number of Indians in town, over 1000 of them
being congregated on the sandy beach. Most of the Indians were standing
around talking in groups or listening to the deliberations of the council
of about twenty of the oldest Indians seated in a circle on the ground.
The chief figure was a venerable-looking old native, who was apparently
acting as judge, as all who spoke addressed themselves to him. Matters
of grave importance were evidently being discussed, and I was greatly
impressed with the calm and dignified manner in which the old judge
disposed of the matter in dispute and the great attention and respect
shown him when speaking. From an intelligent-looking Indian who could
speak English I learned that the old judge was Chief Seattle, or, as he
was then known, Sealth, and that those seated about him were ex-chiefs
and leading Indians of the various tribes then living about here. Among
them were Seattle Curley from the mouth of the Duwamish; Tecumseh, from
the Black river; Shilshole Curley, from Salmon bay; Lake John from Lake
Washington, and Kitsap, from Kitsap county.
[Illustration: Chief SEALTH
SEATTLE
RAPHAEL · COOMBS · 95 ·]
“With this young man as an interpreter I interviewed several of the
oldest natives as to how Sealth became head chief of so many tribes.
They said that about fifty years before that time, when Sealth was 20 or
22 years old, news reached the various tribes in this vicinity that a
large number of the mountain or upper Green and White river Indians were
preparing to make a raid upon the salt water tribes. Great anxiety was
felt among the latter, as the mountain tribes were redoubtable warriors,
and had on several previous occasions vanquished the salt water tribes
and carried off many of their people as slaves. Accordingly a council of
war, composed of the chiefs and leading warriors of the tribes expecting
to be attacked, met at the Old-Man-House near Port Madison. This place
was the principal rendesvous of these tribes for potlatches and councils.
At this council many plans were discussed as to the best method of
resisting the invaders. None of those suggested by the older men,
however, was satisfactory, and then the younger men were called upon for
suggestions. At length young Sealth, a member of the Old-Man-House tribe,
presented his plan, and it was so well devised and so clearly presented,
that without listening to any others, it was adopted and he was appointed
to carry t out, being given command of the expedition.
“Information had reached the salt water tribes that a large force of
the mountain tribes intended to come down the Green and White rivers in
canoes and inaugurate their attack at night. Sealth organized a band
of warriors, and the day before the raid was expected they went up the
river to a place on White river, near where John Fountain now lives above
Black river bridge, and where the bluff on one side reaches to the river
edge. The river here makes a short bend, and the current is very swift.
A little below the bend a large fir tree standing on the bank was felled
in such a way that it reached across the river and lay only a few inches
above the water, so that no canoe could go under without upsetting. The
work of felling the tree was done with rude axes, some made of stone,
and it took the band nearly the whole day to bring it down and get it
into position, which was finally accomplished before sunset. Sealth then
ambushed his warriors, armed with bows and arrows, lances, tomahawks
and knives, on either side of the stream, and confidently awaited the
invaders.
“As soon as it was dusk five large canoes loaded with 100 selected
warriors started down the stream, and as there was a strong current it
was not long before they fell into the trap. The leading canoes were
successively swamped before their occupants could realize the nature of
the obstruction. The cries of their unfortunate companions, however,
enabled those in the last two canoes to reach the shore before coming to
the log. In the meantime thirty of the occupants of the leading canoes
were either drowned, killed or captured by Sealth’s warriors, and those
who reached shore in safety betook themselves up the river again, and
their account of the disaster which had befallen their companions so
discouraged the remainder of the expedition that they retired to their
mountain homes.
“When Sealth and his warriors returned to the bay with such substantial
proofs of the victory gained over their former persecutors great was the
rejoicing among the salt water tribes and the hero of the hour was the
young warrior who, by his cleverness, boldness and courage, had delivered
them from a great danger. A grand council of the tribes was called,
composed of the chiefs and leading warriors and medicine men from the
following six tribes: Old-Man-House, Moxliepush, Duwamish, Black River,
Shilshole and Lake, whose chiefs were Kitsap, Seattle Curley, Tecumseh,
Salmon Bay Curley and Lake John, Seattle Curley being chief of both the
Moxliepush and the Duwamish tribes. At this council Sealth was made
great chief of all the tribes and the former chiefs became tyees, or
sub-chiefs. The Moxliepush, Black River and Lake tribes, however, did
not consent to a consolidation and Sealth, having assumed the authority
conferred upon him by the majority, determined to make his authority
respected by all. He organized an expedition composed of the bravest of
his followers and made a tour of the three rebellious tribes, going by
way of Shilshole and Salmon bays, Lake Union and across the portage to
Lake Washington and thence to Black river and back to Old-Man-House.
Though prepared to give battle if necessary he subdued his opponents by
diplomacy. He held councils at various places on his route, made speeches
to the tribesmen and won them over from their chiefs, and when they had
submitted he took a number of hostages from each tribe along with him.
In this way he gained the submission of all the rebellious chiefs and
tribesmen without fighting a battle or killing a man. When the first
white man came here Chief Sealth had quite a number of these hostages,
who were called slaves by the other Indians, but who were not treated any
differently, so far as the whites could observe, than the other Indians.
Indeed, many of these so called slaves afterwards became Chief Sealth’s
principal lieutenants.
“After Chief Sealth had consolidated the tribes and enforced his right to
the chieftainship, he still further strengthened his influence over the
tribes by checking other raids by unfriendly tribes from the north and
south, and concluded treaties of friendship with them. He even carried
his wise rule so far as to anticipate the formation of the Chinook
language by the Hudsons Bay traders by so adapting the several distinct
dialects then prevailing amongst the different tribes scattered over a
large area, that at length they could converse with one another, where
before they could not. Thus he brought about the formation of a language
common to all the tribes from the Snohomish and Snoqualmie as far south
and west as Olympia.
“By his great exploits in war, his wisdom and prudence in council,
and the nobility of his character, Chief Sealth obtained a wonderful
influence over all the natives in this section, whether belonging to his
tribes or to others. And thus it was that, when I first saw him, his deep
voice, slow and grave speech were listened to with such marked deference
and respect by all. He was the supreme arbiter in their disputes, and
his decisions were accepted as final and conclusive and carried out with
unquestioning obedience. Having early been converted to the Catholic
faith, he introduced and successfully carried out many moral reforms
among his people. He reprimanded them often for drunkenness, fighting and
their loose sexual relations with the whites. He was a great peacemaker
and always avoided bloodshed whenever possible. He even undertook
to subvert the ancient traditional customs of his race in regard to
bloody retaliation for mortal wrongs, and to inculcate among his people
Christian principles.
“Though a man of great natural abilities, Chief Sealth never learned
either the Chinook or the English languages; nor did any of the older
Indians whom I knew. An interpreter was always necessary whenever any of
the whites wished to converse with him. In appearance he was dignified,
but somewhat bent with age when I knew him, and at that time he always
walked with a staff in his hand. He looked like a superior man among his
people. Though the top of his head had been flattened in childhood, the
malformation was not so apparent as it was in all the other old Indians
of his day. During the summer months and when I first saw him he wore but
a single garment. That was a Hudsons Bay company’s blanket, the folds of
which he held together with one hand, and from their midst appeared the
broad chest and strong arm of bronze which grasped his staff. The sketch
herewith represented the old chief as he appeared on the streets of
Seattle thirty-four years ago.
“The later years of Chief Sealth were passed at his headquarters at the
Old-Man-House in Kitsap county, near Port Madison, and in visiting the
tribes, administering justice, reproof and counsel to his devoted people.
He was often in Seattle, where he was respected by all the white people.
The Old-Man-House, where he resided was a famous gathering place for the
natives from all over the Sound, and some of the potlatches held there
have been attended by as many as 8,000 Indians. I saw one there at which
there was fully 1,500 present.
“After a long illness, during which the old chief was frequently visited
by natives and early white settlers from all over the Sound, he died at
the Old-Man-House. His funeral was attended by several hundred white
people and by more of his own people. G. A. Meigs, proprietor of the
Port Madison mill, shut down his mill and on his steamer took all the
employes and others over to the funeral. A great many also went over
from Seattle. As the old chief was a Catholic he was buried with the
ceremonies of that church, mingled with which were customs peculiar
to the natives. The ceremonies were imposing and impressive, and the
chanting of the litanies by the native singers was very beautiful.
“During his life Chief Sealth had two or three successive wives, but he
did not have many children.
“Princess Angeline was his only child by his first wife. When I first
knew her she was a washerwoman for the white people, among whom she was a
great favorite, and although she was a buxom widow and not bad-looking,
she was always esteemed as a virtuous, good woman. She had a daughter who
married a half-breed, and by whom she had a son, now living, named Joe
Foster. His parents died early and old Angeline has reared him, slaved
for him and begged for him. She has gotten him out of many scrapes and
her whole heart is wrapped up in the boy, ‘My papa’s great-grandchild.’
“Angeline had a half-sister who married a chief on Lake Samamish and died
some time ago, but I don’t know any more about her. I think Chief Sealth
also left by his last wife a son, who is now living at Old-Man-House.
This son has a grandson there who is a dwarf. He is 20 years old and is
only thirty inches tall, is very bright, well formed, talks English and
is the pet of all the Indians on the reservation.
“During the past thirty-three years I have on many occasions endeavored
to learn from the oldest and most intelligent Indians something of their
earlier recollections; for instance as to when the heaviest earthquake
occurred. They said that one is said to have occurred a great many years
before any white men had ever been seen here, when mam-ook ta-mahn-a-wis
was carried on by hundreds. This is the same performance they go through
when they are making medicine men, and consists of shouting, singing,
beating on the drums and sticks and apparently trying to make as much
noise as they can. While making a medicine man I have seen upwards of 100
painted Indians driving on the streets here a young man stripped nearly
naked, with a long lariat fastened to a girdle around his waist. At one
time it took them over a week to make a ta-mahn-a-wis man of the fellow
they were driving. After he became supernaturally fixed he came near
dying, and old Dr. Maynard, the only physician then in town, was called
in to give him a dose of civilized medicine.
“The only total eclipse of the sun visible here during the past
thirty-four years occurred about twenty-five years ago during a clear
afternoon. The white settlers were preparing their smoked glasses.
Ex-Chief Lake John happened to come by about that time, and I told him
in Chinook that the sun was to be darkened in about an hour from that
time. He very sharply inquired how I knew, and I told him I was in klosh
tum-tum with the Sah-ha-le tyee, or that I was on good terms with God.
He laughed heartily at such a ridiculous notion, but when the sun began
to be obscured I handed him a piece of smoked glass, and after looking
through it he became very grave, and looking at the sky in amazement he
said with great seriousness, ‘De-late mi-ka cum-tux,’ you have told the
truth. When the eclipse became total the howling and pounding of drums
over at Plummer’s point, where the Indians were assembled, could be heard
all over town.
“In 1880, when the deep snow occurred in January, there being over four
feet of the beautiful, I inquired of an old Indian if he had ever seen
snow so deep before, and he said no, but that his father had told him
that there was one fall of snow many years before which was equal to it.
Lake Union has been frozen all over twice, and a number of times has
formed two to five inches thick in sheltered places of the lake. Only
twice since 1856 has it been as cold as it was this winter.
“A son of Pat Kanim, the old chief of the Snoqualmies, who now lives on
the Tulalip reservation, told me that his father had been a good, true
friend of the whites during the Indian war, and he corroborated what A.
A. Denny has said in his history of that war. He said that Mr. Denny had
with good reason placed confidence in his father, notwithstanding that
others thought he was not worthy of it. He said that Leschi and Nelson
were the leaders in the massacre near Slaughter, where eight whites
were killed in 1855. These were the same tribes that had attempted the
raid fifty years before which Chief Sealth foiled, and the same which
attacked the town of Seattle in 1856. This time they came across Lake
Washington instead of down the river, landing their canoes where is now
located Leschi park. They had not forgotten Sealth’s plan of resisting an
invasion by the river route.”
To Dr. Maynard it is said belongs the honor of naming the city of Seattle
after the old chief and also of conferring the name Angeline on his
daughter.
There is one descendant of the old chief who is at once the pride and
the one particular character of the Queen City today. That descendant is
Angeline, daughter of the old chief; Princess Angeline she is called.
She is not courtly or noble in bearing and never showed any superior
powers of intellect, indeed, it is not saying too much to say that to the
present residents who know her she does not exhibit even average Indian
intelligence, though great and enfeebled old age may in a measure account
for it. Angeline had a revelation last year when she was shown a painting
of the old chief, life size and true to the original. It is said of her
that at least she showed that she had a tender memory and soft heart, for
she cried and went about the streets muttering in her Indian way: “Utch
i-dah, utch-i-dah; nika papa hias klosh.” Wonderful! wonderful! good
picture of Sealth.
Poor old Angeline. Bent, decrepit and carrying the weight of 80 years
with an effort, she still possessed a heart full of tenderness that could
only find relief in a flood of tears.
Long, long ago it had been that old Angeline saw the royal old chieftain,
her father, for the last time. Only in her Indian memory had she communed
with him who was once lord of all around in the neighborhood of Elliott
bay. But now she stood face to face once more and looked into the kindly
face of the old chief, who has been dead these many years. It was Chief
Sealth, life size, as he appeared thirty-five or forty years ago, with
his big, blue-bordered Hudsons Bay company blanket hanging in Grecian
folds from his dusky shoulders. No wonder poor old Angeline cried and
sobbed and broke down in the rush of tender recollections that must have
filled her old soul. No wonder she exclaimed: “Utch-i-dah! utch-i-da!
nika papa hias klosh.”
It was her old-time friend Samuel Coombs, the pioneer, who took old
Angeline to see the picture of the old chief, painted by Mr. Coombs’ son
Raphael for the chamber of commerce of this city. Angeline, the last
survivor of the old chief’s family, did not know what was wanted of her,
but she knew that her old friend meant her no harm and she trudged along,
muttering in her peculiar guttural Indian dialect until she came plunk
upon the big painting. It shows the old chief as he first appeared to the
whites about 40 years ago, standing erect with a big shock of raven hair,
a broad face, kindly eye and the picture of a perfect Indian, showing in
a marked degree the great intelligence the old chief is known to have
possessed. He is as nature found him, bereft of ornament save the big
gray blanket with its broad border of blue about his shoulders.
Angeline’s judgment ought to be taken as to the merits of the picture.
She pronounces it good, very good, and it will probably become the one
great memento of the now vanished royal rule that prevailed over the
woods and bays and tribes hereabouts before the white man came and took
possession. In the perspective of the picture are the snowy lines of
the grand Olympic mountains, looking very pretty and true to reality.
Angeline leaned against the counter and cried till her Indian tears fell
thick and fast. “Nika papa hias klosh,” she muttered as she turned away
towards the door and then trudged off down the street, but not for long.
She trudged back for another look and many times during the afternoon she
passed and repassed the window, muttering that it was good, and peeking
through the big plate windows, for the picture had been set therein for
the passerby to look at. Young Coombs’ picture is from a photograph of
the old chief furnished by the old pioneer, Hon. A. A. Denny, taken years
ago.
To the older settlers Angeline’s name was given by some of the Indians
as Wee-wy-eke and by herself as Kakii-Silma; very pretty names both of
them. A daughter of Angeline, known to the whites by the unpretentious
name of Betsey, had the prettily sounding Indian name of Che-wa-tum.
There is another little painting by young Coombs, just as full of
interest as that of the old chief. It is a reproduction in oil of the
old log cabin, the first log cabin built by the white settlers forty or
more years ago, on Alki point. The picture is from a sketch taken a dozen
years ago while yet the old log hut was in a state of preservation and it
is said to be a very realistic likeness. The picture is now the property
of Mr. Denny and he treasures it as one of his most valued mementoes.
In his little book, “Pioneer Days on Puget Sound,” Mr. Denny, speaking of
the first log house says:
“Our first work was to provide shelter for the winter, and we finished
the house begun by brother and Lee Terry for J. N. Low, and took shelter
in it from the rain, which was falling more or less every day; but we
did not regard it with much concern and seldom lost any time on that
account. We next built a log house for myself, which increased our room
very materially and made all more comfortable. We had now used up all the
timber suitable for log houses, which we could get without a team, and
we split cedar and built houses for Bell and Boren, which we considered
quite a fancy, but not so substantial as log houses. About the time we
had completed our winter quarters, the brig Leonesa, Captain Daniel S.
Howard, came to anchor in the bay. Seeing that the place was inhabited by
whites, the captain came ashore seeking a cargo of piles, and we readily
made a contract to load the vessel. We had no team at the time, but some
of us went to work cutting the timber nearest the water, and rolled and
hauled in by hand, while Lee Terry went up Sound and obtained a yoke of
oxen, which he drove on the beach from Puyallup with which to complete
the cargo, but we had made very considerable progress by hand before his
arrival.
“Alki point had not been a general camping place for the Indians, but
soon after we landed and commenced clearing the land, they commenced to
congregate and continued coming until we had over 1,000 in our midst and
most of them remained all winter. Some of them built their houses very
near ours, even on the ground we had cleared, and although they seemed
very friendly towards us, we did not feel safe in objecting to their
building, and it was very noticeable that they regarded their proximity
to us as a protection against other Indians.”
Little more than one generation ago, at a date which would extend quite
beyond the date birth of very many people in Seattle, there was assembled
on the neck of land known as Elliott point, Alki point, Duwamish head
and West Seattle, or as the Indians called it Squ-ducks, a large band of
Indians and a great pow wow was going on.
One thousand natives of the Duwamish and other tribes with a few
stragglers from distant local tribes were assembled and sat about their
smouldering fires, lounged lazily in brown-colored canoes or were snoring
under rakish tents much as the Indians of today do about Ballast island
or the hop fields.
All was excitement.
History records the fact that the day was a beautiful one, a brilliant
sun shedding a brilliant light over a most primeval and rural scene.
[Illustration: OLDEST HOUSE IN KING COUNTY—J. W. MAPLE’S, WHITE RIVER]
Over all this vast congregation of God’s simple-minded children there
ruled a chief—old Chief Sealth—then a patriarch, aged, yet stately and
dignified; an Indian simple and untutored, though yet an orator of the
highest rank.
Old Chief Sealth, a name honored and revered even at that early day; a
name since become historic and wreathed with an enduring, undying fame.
It was at a day when the flames of Indian warfare were beginning to
smoulder after a long seige of war, of ambush and bloodshed on Puget
Sound, though the old patriarch of the forest, Chief Sealth, had
refrained from lending a hand in the bloody work of his tribal relations
and neighbors. He, like many of the proud chieftains in the earlier
settlement of the Atlantic and middle states, stood by the white men—the
invaders we might say—when their brethren wore the war paint and carried
the scalp-lock at their girdle.
On this historic day old Sealth sat gloomily down in front of his wigwam
waiting in stolid indifference for the coming of the Boston man, who was
to treat with him that day and bring him news from the great white chief
at Washington.
At last the great white chief’s agent, Colonel M. T. Simmons, made his
appearance, coming from the direction of Olympia, and landed in front of
the staid old Siwash chief’s camp. The ceremony of an introduction was
gone through with in the Chinook jargon, Colonel Simmons being a master
in that tongue, and being an emissary of the government of much repute
among the Indians.
We can imagine the old chief receiving in his dignified, though simple
style, this messenger from the government. We of today might clothe
our imagination with the vision of Princess Angeline, the old chief’s
daughter, then a maiden of comely, though dusky, looks, standing
respectfully near and listening, possibly in eagerness, to this bartering
away of her father’s domain—her own heritage—to the stranger.
Princess Angeline now broken and enfeebled by 40 years of care and bitter
memories, yet lives by that same seaside and almost within sight of the
identical spot whereon that great pow wow was held. Well for poor old
Angeline that her sensibilities are stunted and seared, that time has
graciously smothered any remembrance of those days of freedom, when none
but her people and kindred owned and traversed these woods and waters.
But to the story.
Colonel Simmons had left Olympia on the 15th day of May, 1858, to visit
the several Indian tribes on Puget Sound and conclude the treaties with
them and arrange for the disbursement of annuities and provisions. The
commissioner had first called at Fort Kitsap, G. A. Page local agent,
where some 400 Indians waited for him. Colonel Simmons, after the
preliminaries necessary for such an august occasion, was the first to
address the assemblage of chiefs and Indians. His speech was in Chinook
and no interpreter was needed. He referred to the promises that had been
made and which were about to be realized, and wound up with the reference
at the close of his speech to the propensities of the Indian for rum and
the evil effects therefrom.
The venerable old chief being first in authority among the assembled
red men, was the first to speak. With the dignity becoming the occasion
and the position of a great chief, he arose, wrapped his heavy blanket
more closely about his shoulders, and began his address. The reference
of Colonel Simmons to the Indian thirst for strong drink touched the old
man’s quick, though he did not show it by any outward sign or expression
of feature. No, old Chief Sealth was too august, too grand for that.
Colonel Simmons would learn of his displeasure, but in a manner and with
weapons of his own choice. Sealth would show that he was an orator.
Translated, he said:
“I am not a bad man; I want you to understand what I say; I do not drink
rum; neither does New-E-Chis, (another chief present) and we continually
advise our people not to do so.
“I am and always have been a friend to the whites. I listen to what Mr.
Page (the resident agent) says to me, and I do not steal nor do any of my
people steal from the whites.
“Oh, Mr. Simmons, why do not our papers come back to us? You always say
they will come back, but they do not come. I fear that we are forgotten
or that we are to be cheated out of our land.
“I have been very poor and hungry all winter and am very sick now. In a
little while I will die. I should like to be paid for my lands before I
die. Many of my people died during the cold winter without getting their
pay. When I die my people will be very poor—they will have no property,
no chief and no one to talk for them. You must not forget them, Mr.
Simmons, when I am gone.
“We are ashamed when we think of the Puyallups, as they have now got
their papers. They fought against the whites whilst we, who have never
been angry with them, get nothing. When we get our pay we want it in
money. The Indians are not bad. It is the mean white men that are bad to
them. If any person writes that we do not want our papers they tell lies.
“Oh, Mr. Simmons; you see I am sick, I want you to write quickly to the
great chief what I say. I am done.”
Then the old chief retired. Calm his mein, unruffled his spirits,
dignified his tirade, though age had bent his stately bearing, for old
Chief Sealth had even then—long before that day when he arose to call in
question the integrity of a great nation which had promised to pay him
for his birthright and had not done so—passed the milestones on life’s
great highway, when man’s and Indian’s, too, allotted days of labor are
over.
It was the same old story. The dominion of the untutored child of the
forest had been usurped by the ruthless hand of civilization and the
Indian life had been crushed out.
It had followed the red man from the bleak New England shore to a last
great stand on the borders of the western sea. Chief Sealth, like
Powantonimo, Red Jacket, Black Hawk, Tecumseh and all the great line of
chiefs of the American red man, had given up their ancestral possessions
to the pale faces and was ready to die of a broken heart.
[Illustration: DUKE OF YORK]
On the evening of the same day (May 15) Simmons and party reached Skagit
Head, under Captain R. C. Fay, where some 800 Indians of the tribes
of Skagits, Snohomish, Snoqualmies and others were assembled. He made
about the same speech to them as at Fort Kitsap, when Hetty Kannim, a
sub-chief, answered him as follows:
[Illustration: EAST INDIAN CARVING, FIGUREHEAD BARK ENTERPRISE]
“I am but a sub-chief, but I am chosen for my people to speak for them
today. I will speak what I think and I want any of the drinking Indians
to contradict me if they can. Liquor is killing our people off fast. Our
young men spend their money and their work for it. Then they get angry
and kill each other and sometimes kill their wives and children. We old
men do not drink and we beg our boys to not trade with cultus (bad)
Boston men for liquor. We have all agreed to tell our agent when any
liquor boats are about and help to arrest the man who sells it. I will
now talk about our treaties. When is the Great Father who lives across
the mountains going to send us our papers back? Four summers have passed
since you and Governor Stevens told us we would get our pay for lands. We
remember well what you said to us over there (pointing to Elliott bay)
and our hearts are very sick because you did not do as you promised. We
saw the Puyallups and the Nisquallys get their annual pay and our hearts
were sick because we could get nothing. We never fought with the whites.
We considered it good to have good white people among us. Our young women
can gather berries and clams and our young men can fish and hunt and sell
what they get to the whites. We are willing that the whites shall take
the timber, but we want the game and the fish and we want our homes,
where there is plenty of game and fish and good lands for potatoes. We
want our Great Father to know what our hearts are and we want you to send
our talk to him at once. I have done.”
“Hiram,” a Snoqualmie then spoke:
“We want our treaty to be concluded as soon as possible. We are tired of
waiting. Our reason is that our old people, and there are many of them,
are dying. Look at those old men and women; they have only a little while
to live and they want to get their pay for their lands. The white people
have taken it and you, Mr. Simmons, promised us we should be paid, you
and Governor Stevens. Suspense is killing us.
“We are afraid to plant potatoes on the river bottom, lest some bad white
man shall come and make us leave. You know what we are Mr. Simmons. You
was the first American we ever knew and our children will remember you as
long as they remember anything. I was but a boy when I first knew you.
You know we do not want to drink liquor, but we cannot help it when the
bad Boston man brings it to us and urges us to drink. When our treaties
were made we told our hearts to you and Governor Stevens and they have
not changed since. I have done.”
[Illustration: CANOE HEAD TOTEM, SKOKOMISH]
“Bonaparte,” a Snohomish chief, then spoke as follows:
“What I have to say is not of much consequence. My children have all been
killed by rum, and I am very poor. I believe what Mr. Simmons tells about
our treaty, but most Indians think he lies. My heart is not asleep. I
have known Mr. Simmons a long time and he never lied to me, and I think
he will tell the Great Father that we want to get our pay. I have done.”
The Indians at Point no Point were then seen and many speeches of a like
character were made and then the party returned to Olympia.