U. S. SENATORS COST BLOOD——FAIR FIGHT——OPEN FIELD.
While matters were thus in suspense a change was made in the office of
Superintendent of Indian Affairs for Oregon, T. B. Odeneal, Esq., of
Oregon, succeeding to the Superintendency. He was a lawyer of ability, but
had a limited knowledge of Indian character, and still less of the merits
and demerits of this Modoc question.
When appealed to he laid the matter before his superior in office at
Washington City, who was also a new incumbent, and had perhaps a slight
knowledge of the Modoc troubles.
In a letter, dated April 11th, 1872, he instructed Superintendent Odeneal
to remove the Modocs to Klamath Reservation, _or locate them on a new
home_. In reply, Odeneal suggested that, since Klamath was the home set
apart for them in common with other Indians, it was the proper place for
them, and suggested they be removed thereto. In compliance with this
recommendation, he was instructed, in a letter of September 6th, 1872, to
remove the Modocs to the Klamath Reservation; _peaceably_ if you can,
_forcibly_ if you must.
Meanwhile the Modocs were kept posted by the white men, who sympathized
with them, of the proposed movements.
Captain Jack and his men sought advice of Judges Roseborough and Steele,
of Y-re-ka. Both these gentlemen advised them not to resist the authority
of the Government, but also promised, as _attorneys_, to assist them in
getting lands, provided they would dissolve tribal relations. I have
sought diligently, as a commissioner, for information on this subject, and
conclude that nothing further was ever promised by either Roseborough or
Steele. The hope thus begotten may have caused the Modocs to treat with
less respect the officers of the Government, and made them more insolent
toward settlers; but nothing of wilful intent can be charged to Steele or
Roseborough.
It is in evidence that Superintendent Odeneal despatched messengers to the
Modoc camp on Lost river, November 26th, 1872, to order Captain Jack and
his people to go on to the Reservation, with instruction to the messengers
that, in the event of the refusal of the Modocs to comply, to arrange for
them to meet him (Odeneal) at Linkville, twenty-five miles from the Modoc
camp.
They refused compliance with the order, and also refused to meet
Superintendent Odeneal at Link river, saying substantially “that they did
not want to see him or talk with him; that they did not want any white man
to tell them what to do; that their friends and advisers were in Y-re-ka,
Cal. They tell us to stay here, and we intend to do it, and will not go on
the Reservation (meaning Klamath); that they were tired of talk, and were
done talking.” If credit were given to these declarations, it would appear
that some parties at Y-re-ka were culpable. Careful investigation
discloses nothing more than already recited, so far as Roseborough and
Steele were concerned, but would seem to implicate one or two other
parties, both of whom are now deceased; but even then no evidence has been
brought forth declaring more than sympathy for the Modocs, which might
easily be accounted for on the ground of personal interest, dictating
friendship toward them as the best safeguard for life and property; but
nothing that could be construed as advising resistance to legal authority;
and their statement in regard to advisers in Y-re-ka should not be
entitled to more credit than Captain Jack’s subsequent assertion that “no
white man had ever advised him to stay off the Reservation.” This latter
declaration was made during the late trials at Klamath by the “military
commission,” at a time when the first proposition made to Superintendent
Odeneal’s messengers in regard to Y-re-ka advices would have secured the
Modocs then on trial some consideration.
The only thing said or done by any parties in Y-re-ka that has come well
authenticated, that could have had any influence with the Modocs in their
replies to Odeneal’s message, is the proposition above referred to as
coming from Roseborough and Steele, to assist them as _attorneys_ to
secure homes _when_ they should have abandoned tribal relations, paid
taxes, and made application to become citizens. The high character both
these gentlemen possess for loyalty to the Government, and for integrity,
would preclude the idea that any wrong was intended.
On receiving Captain Jack’s insolent reply to his message, Superintendent
Odeneal made application to the military commander at Fort Klamath for a
force to “compel said Indians (Modocs) to go upon the Klamath
Reservation;” reciting the following words from the honorable Commissioner
of Indian Affairs: “You are hereby directed to remove the Modoc Indians to
Klamath Reservation; _peaceably_ if you possibly can, but _forcibly_ if
you must,” and saying: “I transfer the whole matter to your department
without assuming to dictate the course you shall pursue in executing the
order aforesaid; trusting, however, that you may accomplish the object
desired without the shedding of blood, if possible to avoid it.”
He received the following reply:——
HEAD-QUARTERS, FORT KLAMATH, November 28th, 1872.
SIR:——In compliance with your written request of yesterday, I
will state that Captain Jackson will leave this post about noon
to-day, with about thirty men; will be at Link river to-night,
and I hope before morning at Captain Jack’s camp.
I am, sir, very respectfully,
Your obedient servant,
JOHN GREEN,
_Major First Cavalry Commanding Post_.
MR. T. B. ODENEAL, _Superintendent Indian Affairs_.
These movements were intended to be made without the knowledge of the
Modocs. Superintendent Odeneal sent messengers to warn the settlers of the
proposed _forcible experiment_. Complaint has justly been made that there
were several parties unwarned.
The Modocs had one especial friend in whom they relied for advice and
warning. This man’s name was Miller.
They called on him the day previous to Major Jackson’s appearance at the
Modoc camp, and he, being ignorant of the movement told them, that “no
soldiers were coming.” Some twelve settlers were unwarned, who lost their
lives thereby.
Neglect on the part of those having the management of this matter resulted
in much blood.
When Major Jackson was en route to the Modoc camp, some twenty-five white
men from Linkville and the surrounding country assembled and proposed to
accompany the expedition.
It has been said that they went for the purpose of “seeing Major Jackson
and his thirty-five men get licked.” At all events they were armed with
Henry rifles and revolvers.
Frontier men are fond of sport, and the more it is embellished with danger
the more captivating it is to _them_. I do not say this with disrespect to
frontier men, but simply state a fact that is not generally understood.
While it is true that they _play_ with dangerous weapons as carelessly as
a city dandy does with a switch cane or ivory opera-glass, they are,
nevertheless, as a class, true, honest, enterprising, great brave-hearted
men, who would scorn to do a mean thing.
They have among them men who are irresponsible vagabonds, reckless fellows
who are driven from the cities and towns on account of their crimes. These
latter characters beget strife among the people, and when truth comes to
the front and speaks out, it declares that they are the _sole_ cause of
any difficulty between good white men and Indians. They are the first to
volunteer on occasions like this. As a class they are brave, fearless,
desperate, having little regard for human life, caring not how much bad
blood they evoke. But the idea that seems to prevail with eastern people,
that all frontier men are rough, bad men, is outrageously false in the
premises. Better men, braver men, more honorable, more enterprising men
cannot be found on this continent than thousands who ride on the swelling
breakers of advancing emigration. A moment’s consultation with _justice_
and _right_ would compel the law-makers, book-writers and newspaper
reporters, instead of constant, sweeping insinuations against frontier
men, to say encouraging words in their behalf, and to offer them every
facility to successfully plant the foundations of prosperous society on
the verges of American civilization. Honor to whom honor is due.
The party of citizens who went down Lost river on the morning of the 27th
of November, 1872, were, _with one or two exceptions_, good, responsible
settlers. Their motives were honorable, their intentions were good; and if
serious results came out of the fact of their presence it was not because
they as a party were “bloodthirsty desperadoes.”
They went on the opposite side of the river, and took a commanding
position on a bluff overlooking the Modoc camp; which was located on the
very spot where my party met Captain Jack in 1869.
The Modoc camp was divided by the river, Captain Jack, and fourteen men
with their families, occupying the west bank, where the plain slopes
gradually down to the water’s edge; the background being covered with a
growth of sage brush.
With Captain Jack was “_Schonchin John_,” so named from being a younger
brother of the “Old chief Schonges;” “_Scar-face Charley_,” so named on
account of a scar on his face; “_Black Jim_,” so named on account of his
dark color; “_One-eyed Mose_,” so called on account of defect in one eye;
“_Watchman_,” who was killed in the first battle; “_Humpty Joe_,” “_Big
Ike_,” “_Old Tails_,” “_Old Tails’ boy_,” “_Old Long-face_,” and four
others.
On the east side of the river was the “_Curly-haired Doctor_;” “_Boston
Charley_,” named on account of his light color; “_Hooker Jim_” had lived
with old man Hooker; “_Slolax_,” and ten others, with their families.
Major Jackson, with his force, arrived at Jack’s camp at about daybreak on
the morning of the 30th November, 1872. At the same time the citizen party
arrived opposite and near the camp of the Curly-haired Doctor.
The Modocs were taken by surprise,——although they had reason to expect the
soldiers would come within a few days.
They have since asserted that Odeneal’s messengers had agreed to come
again before bringing soldiers; and, if possible, bring Supt. Odeneal with
them.
It was a mistake that he did not go in person,——either with the messengers
in the first instance or after their return to Linkville.
He might not have accomplished any good, but he would have prevented
severe criticism, and much blame that was laid at his door; inasmuch as
Jack subsequently asserted “that he would not have resisted, had Odeneal
come himself to him and made everything plain.” Again, they had relied on
Miller for warning; hence his death.
When Maj. Jackson arrived at the camp, and while he was placing his men in
position, an Indian, who was out hunting, made the discovery of Jackson’s
presence, and either accidentally, or purposely, discharged his gun. This
called the Indians to their feet, and they instantly grasped their arms on
seeing themselves so nearly surrounded by soldiers.
Maj. Jackson quietly commanded the Modocs to lay down their arms. Captain
Jack complied, and told his men to obey the order of Maj. Jackson.
A parley ensued of half an hour, Captain Jack pleading for Jackson to
withdraw his men, while the major was explaining his order, and assuring
the Modocs that ample preparation had been made for them at Yai-nax. The
whole affair seemed to be settled satisfactorily, and I. D. Applegate, who
was with Maj. Jackson, went down to the banks of the river and told
_One-armed Brown_, the regular messenger of the Indian Department, who was
with the citizen party on the east side, that “everything was settled.”
Brown mounted his horse, and started to make known the good news to Supt.
Odeneal, who was awaiting the result at Linkville.
All the Modocs on the west side of the river had laid down their arms,
except Scar-face Charley, who was swearing and making threats. Maj.
Jackson commanded him, “Put down your gun.” Scar-face refused; the major
ordered Lieut. Boutelle to disarm him,——who, on advancing to execute the
order, repeated it in emphatic words, not in harmony with savage notions
of decorum and decency. “Scarface” was enraged at the vile epithets
applied to him, and perhaps remembered just then that he had once seen,
from a chapparel thicket, a sight that had haunted him from his childhood,
namely, nothing less than armed white men chasing _his father_ with a
_lasso_ and catching him. He saw them hang him without a trial, or even
any proof that he was guilty of any crime. At all events, he drew his
pistol, and, saying that he “would kill one white man,” discharged it at
the advancing officer; but so nearly simultaneous with Boutelle’s pistol,
that even the latter does not know who fired first. This was the opening
gun of the Modoc war; the beginning of what ended on the gallows on the
third of November, 1873.
Without stopping now to call up the intervening pictures, let us see how
the battle went. Very soon the entire force of soldiers was firing into
the Indian camps, and the fourteen Indian men were fighting back with
muzzle-loading rifles.
The battle lasted three hours; the Indians, having taken cover of the sage
brush, finally withdrew, carrying with them the watchman who was killed,
and escaping with all their women and children.
Maj. Jackson lost ten killed and five wounded; and on the reappearance of
the Indians, a few hours later, drew off his forces, leaving the Modocs in
possession of the battle-field.
While all this was enacting on the west bank of Lost river, let us see how
the boys who went down to “take a look” got along as spectators. Mr.
Brown, hearing the report of arms, returned just in time to take an
active part in a performance that was not in the programme of fun as laid
out in the early morning.
The citizens and Modocs on the east side could not stand the
pressure,——looking on and seeing a fair fight, within a couple of hundred
yards, without taking a part. The Modocs caught up their guns and rushed
down to the river, intending to reinforce Captain Jack. The citizens
sought to prevent them getting into their canoes; and, _somehow_, they
became very much interested in matters nearer home than Maj. Jackson’s
fight.
Who began the battle on the east side is a question of doubt,——both
parties denying it; but a lively fight was the result, and the citizens
drew off, leaving _three_ or _four dead friends_ on the ground
and——and——_one dead squaw_, with an infant corpse in her arms.
It is not in evidence who was victor, but there is the record. The major
dispatched a messenger for reinforcements, who run the gauntlet of Indian
bullets, and barely escaped.
From Indian lips I learn that in the first battle of which I have spoken,
Captain Jack did not fire a shot himself, though he directed the fight.
On the occasion of the messenger being sent off by Maj. Jackson, Captain
Jack, who was secreted in the sage brush, ran after him and fired one or
two shots.
Let us look now to the Modocs with Captain Jack. They did not go on the
warpath, but hastened to gather up their women and horses, and retired to
the Lava Bed.
Scarface Charley remained behind, for a purpose that can scarcely be
credited. Those who doubt any real genuine manhood among Indians may
wonder when I declare that he remained to warn white men of the danger
threatening them. In two instances he saw white men, who were his personal
friends, going, as he knew, into certain death. In both instances he laid
hold of the bridle-reins of the riders’ horses and turned them around,
and, pointing to the road whence they came, bade them “ride for life.”
They lost no time in heeding the warning given, and also in notifying the
settlers en route of the existence of open hostilities.
By this means John A. Fairchild was notified of the dangers that
surrounded him and his family.
Mr. Fairchild’s name has become intimately connected with the Modoc war;
indeed, he played some of the thrilling parts of this tragic drama. He is
a man of forty years of age, a native of Mississippi; went West when a
boy, and engaged in mining. In the course of time he became a large
stock-raiser, and went, ten years ago, with his herds of cattle and
horses, into the Modoc country.
_He_ soon learned a lesson that our Government has _not_, viz., that it is
cheaper to _feed_ Indians than to _fight_ them. Soon after his arrival he
arranged a treaty with the Modocs, paying them a small compensation for
the use of the country for stock uses. During the time, he has made the
personal acquaintance of nearly every Indian of Captain Jack’s band.
His home is situated on Hot Creek, near its rise at the foot of the
mountains that divide the Modoc from the Shasta country.
It will be remembered that the head-quarters of the Peace Commission was
at Fairchild’s ranch during the first days of its organization. This was
also the original home of a part of Jack’s band.
At the beginning of the late Modoc war some fourteen warriors and their
families were living near Mr. Fairchild’s house; by his management of them
they were prevented from joining Captain Jack for several days. He,
together with Mr. Press Dorris, who lives near him, and is also a
stock-raiser, called together these fourteen men, including “Bogus
Charley” (who gets his name from his birthplace on Bogus creek),
“Shacknasty Jim” (so named from his mother), “Steamboat Frank” (so called
in honor of his squaw, whose name was Steamboat, because of her great size
and her habit of puffing and blowing like the aforesaid vessel), Ellen’s
man George, and ten others,——who all distinguished themselves in the
war,——and started with them and their families to Klamath Reservation.
They notified Agent Dyer, of Klamath, of their coming, and requested him
to meet them and take charge of the Indians.
Dyer responded, and, hastening to meet them on Klamath river, passed
through Linkville en route. While there he heard intimations of the danger
of passing through the town with the above-named Modocs.
The news of the battle had reached Linkville, and the people were aroused
to madness at the sight of the mangled bodies of the soldiers and citizens
that had been brought in. It is not strange that such sights should call
out a demand for vengeance; that the citizens, feeling outraged, should
make threats.
It is certain that a party left Linkville before Agent Dyer arrived, and
went in the direction of Bob Whittle’s, where Fairchild and Dorris were
guarding the Hot Creek Modocs, now so anxious to reach the Reservation
that they might escape any kind of entanglement with the rebels.
The party found Fairchild and Dorris fully prepared to protect those under
their charge, and no attack was made, whatever may have been the first
intention. On Mr. Dyer’s arrival at this time, he stated his fears to
Fairchild and Dorris, which the Indians overhearing, _stampeded_, and went
directly to the Lava Beds, thus adding fourteen warriors to Captain Jack’s
forces. All of them were brave men, and bad men, too, as the sequel will
show. The fright they had received at Bob Whittle’s appears to have made
them even more anxious for war than those who had been engaged in the
Lost-river battle, on the 30th of November, 1872.
Indian proof is abundant that Captain Jack, in anticipation of the coming
of the soldiers, had advised his men to surrender rather than fight; but,
even if forced to resist, in no event to attack citizens, saying, “If we
must, we will fight soldiers, not white men,” meaning citizens.
It is a fact that, so far as he was concerned, he sought to avoid
conflict. The Curly-haired Doctor was eager for blood——or, at all events,
he was rebellious, and constantly advised resistance to the authority of
the Government.
His interference in the council of December, 1869, referred to in a former
chapter, and his sanction to the proposition to murder our party at that
time, and the subsequent proposal to assassinate the Commissioners sent
out in August, 1871, to arrange matters with them, all stand against him
previous to the opening of the war.
But to return to the battle of Lost river. After a sharp fight, the
citizens having withdrawn to Dennis Crawley’s house, the Modoc braves
assembled, and, through the advice of Hooker Jim, the Curly-haired Doctor,
with Steamboat Frank and three or four others, started on a mission of
vengeance.
The acts of savage butchery committed by them are well known to the
world,——how they went to Mr. Boddy’s house with their garments covered
with the life-blood of their victims, and, taunting the women, boasted of
their heroism, saying, “This is Boddy’s blood; but we are Modocs; we do
not kill women and children. You will find Boddy in the woods. We will not
hurt you.”
Thus from house to house they went, after killing the husbands and
fathers, until they had slaughtered thirteen persons,——Brotherton,
Schiere, Miller, and others, including one small boy, who resisted them.
The reign of terror was complete. Who shall ever find words to describe
the horror of the night following this treacherous butchery? The women
left their homes to hunt for their murdered friends. In one instance, the
presence of a team without a driver gave the awful tidings.
Leaving their dead, through the long dark night that followed, they made
their way through the trackless sage-brush plains to the nearest
settlement. With these people the Modocs had been on friendly terms, and
had never had any misunderstandings with the Indians. On the contrary,
they had shown by many acts of kindness their _good will_. They were
personally acquainted with the men who composed the murderous gang. This
was especially the case with Mr. Miller; he had been their steadfast
friend for years, and had furnished them provisions and ammunition but a
few days previously, and had further interested himself in their behalf,
in conjunction with Esquire Steele of Y-re-ka, in securing to them the
right to take up lands in common with other people.
The murder of Miller seems the more inhuman when it is remembered that he
was killed by Hooker Jim. The latter declares that he did not know that he
was shooting at Miller. Otherwise he would not have committed the
treacherous deed. Miller had been on especial good terms with this
_desperado_.
With my knowledge of Indian character, I am of the opinion that Hooker Jim
designedly killed Mr. Miller, because he believed that the latter had
purposely withheld from the Modocs the movement of Major Jackson.
Loaded with plunder, and mounted on the horses they had captured, these
bloodthirsty savages made their way around the east side of Tule lake;
meeting Captain Jack and his warriors in the Lava Bed. I am indebted to
the Modocs themselves for many items of importance in this connection. I
give them for what they are worth, with the authority announced. Some of
them are doubtless correct, according to the authority quoted.
On the arrival in the Lava Bed, Captain Jack denounced the murderers for
their bloody work, and particularly for the killing of Mr. Miller; he then
declared that the men who committed this outrageous crime should be
surrendered to the white men for trial; that a great mistake had been
made; and that unless these men were given up, the whole band would be
lost. The councils held were noisy and turbulent, threatening strife and
bloodshed. While this matter was under discussion, the Hot-Creek Indians,
who had stampeded from Whittle’s Ferry, while they were en route to
Klamath Agency, arrived in the Lava Bed, adding fourteen braves to the
little band of desperadoes. The Hot-Creek Modocs, having become
demoralized by the threats they had overheard made against them, and being
influenced by the Curly-haired Doctor’s promise of making medicine to
protect them, were ready to espouse the cause of the murderers. The whole
number of braves at this time was fifty-three, including the chief
himself. Thus, when the discussion was ended and the question was
submitted to a vote, a large majority was opposed to the surrender of the
Lost-river murderers.