1861-1862.--Republican Administration.--Its Mistakes.--Changing
Annuities.--Results.--Returning from General Assembly.--A
Marriage in St. Paul.--D. Wilson Moore and Wife.--Delayed
Payment.--Difficulty with the Sissetons.--Peace
Again.--Recruiting for the Southern War.--Seventeenth of August,
1862.--The Outbreak.--Remembering Christ's Death.--Massacres
Commenced.--Capt. Marsh's Company.--Our Flight.--Reasons
Therefor.--Escape to an Island.--Final Leaving.--A Wounded
Man.--Traveling on the Prairie.--Wet Night.--Taking a
Picture.--Change of Plan.--Night Travel.--Going Around Fort
Ridgely.--Night Scares.--Safe Passage.--Four Men Killed.--The
Lord Leads Us.--Sabbath.--Reaching the Settlements.--Mary at St.
Anthony.
When President Lincoln's administration commenced, we were glad to
welcome a change of Indian agents. But, after a little trial, we found
that a Republican administration was quite as likely to make mistakes
in the management of Indians as a Democratic one. Hardly had the new
order of things been inaugurated, in 1861, when Superintendent Clark
W. Thompson announced to the Sioux gathered at Yellow Medicine that
the Great Father was going to make them all very glad. They had
received their annuities for that year, but were told that the
government would give them a further bounty in the autumn. At one of
Thompson's councils, Paul made one of his most telling speeches. He
presented many grievances, which the new administration promised to
redress. But when the superintendent was asked where this additional
gift came from, he could not tell--only it was to be great, and would
make them very glad.
By such words, the four thousand Upper Sioux were encouraged to expect
great things. Accordingly, the Sissetons from Lake Traverse came down
in the autumn, when the promised goods should have been there, but low
water in the Minnesota and Mississippi delayed their arrival. The
Indians waited, and had to be fed by Agent Galbraith. And when the
goods came the deep snows had come also, and the season for hunting
was past. Moreover, the great gift was only $10,000 worth of goods, or
$2.50 apiece! While they had waited many of the men could have earned
from $50 to $100 by hunting. It was a terrible mistake of the
government at Washington. The result was that of the Upper Sioux the
agent was obliged to feed more than a thousand persons all winter.
The Lower Sioux were suspicious of the matter, and refused to receive
their ten thousand dollars' worth of goods until they could know
whence it came. By and by the Democrats in the country learned that
the administration had determined on changing the money annuity into
goods, and had actually commenced the operation, sending on the year
before $20,000 of the $70,000 which would be due next summer. The
knowledge of this planning of bad faith in the government greatly
exasperated the annuity Indians, and was undoubtedly the primal cause
which brought on the outbreak of the next summer. Men who were opposed
to the Republican administration and the Southern war had now a grand
opportunity to work upon the fears and the hopes of the Indians, and
make them badly affected toward the government. And they seemed to
have carried it a little too far, so that when the conflict came it
was most disastrous for them.
As the summer of 1862 came on, the Washington government recognized
their mistake, and sought to rectify it by replacing the $20,000 which
had been taken from the money of the July payment. But to do this they
were obliged to await a new appropriation, and this delayed the
bringing on of the money full six weeks beyond the regular time of
payment. If the money had been on hand the first of July, instead of
reaching Fort Ridgely after the outbreak commenced, one can not say
but that the Sioux war would have been prevented.
About the first of July, I returned from Ohio, whither I had been to
attend the General Assembly in Cincinnati, and to bring home Martha
Taylor, who had just completed the course at College Hill. After the
fire at Oxford, she had accepted Rev. F. Y. Vail's invitation to go to
his institution near Cincinnati. There she remained until the end of
the year. Then Isabella and Anna went on--the latter going to Mr.
Vail's seminary, and the former attending the senior class of the
Western Female Seminary, under a special arrangement, before the
seminary was rebuilt. So that now both the older girls had completed
the course.
On our return this time, we had with us Marion Robertson, a young
woman with a little Dakota blood, who had been spending some time in
Ohio, and who was affianced to a Mr. Hunter, a government carpenter at
the Lower Sioux agency. By arrangement Mr. Hunter met us in St. Paul,
and I married them one evening, in the parlors of the Merchant's
Hotel. Six or seven weeks after this, Mr. Hunter was killed in the
outbreak.
At that marriage in the hotel were present D. Wilson Moore and his
bride from Fisslerville, New Jersey, near Philadelphia. Mr. Moore
was of the firm of Moore Brothers (engaged extensively in
glass-manufacturing), had just married a young bride, and they had
come to Minnesota on their wedding trip. We had reached home only a
few days before, when, to our surprise, Mr. Moore and his wife drove
up to our mission. They had heard that the Indian payment was soon to
be made, and so had come up; but, not finding accommodations at the
agency, they came on to see if we would not take them in. We had a
large family, but if they would be satisfied with our fare, and take
care of themselves, Mary would do the best she could for them. This
will account for the way in which Mrs. Moore lost all her silk
dresses.
The whole four thousand Indians were now gathered at the Yellow
Medicine. The Sissetons of Lake Traverse had hoed their corn and come
down. It was the regular time for receiving their annuities, before
the corn needed watching. But the annuity money had not come. The
agent did not know when it would come. He had not sent for them and he
could not feed them--he had barely enough provisions to keep them
while the payment was being made. The truth was, he had used up the
provisions on them in the previous winter. So he told them he would
give them some flour and pork, and then they must go home and wait
until he called them. They took the provisions, but about going home
they could not see it in that way. It was a hundred miles up to their
planting-place, and to trudge up there and back, with little or
nothing to eat, and carry their tents and baggage and children on
horse-back and on dog-back and on woman-back, was more than they cared
to do. Besides, there was nothing for them to eat at home. They must
go out on the buffalo hunt, and then they might miss their money. And
so they preferred to stay, and beg and steal, or starve.
But stealing and begging furnished but a very scanty fare, and
starving was not pleasant. The young men talked the matter over, and
concluded that the flour and pork in the warehouse belonged to them,
and there could not be much wrong in their taking it. And so one day
they marched up to the storehouse with axes in hand, and battered down
the door. They had commenced to carry out the flour when the
lieutenant with ten soldiers turned the howitzer upon them. This led
them to desist, for the Dakotas were unarmed. But they were greatly
enraged, and threatened to bring their guns and kill the little squad
of white soldiers. And what made this seem more likely, the Sioux
tents were at once struck and the camp removed off several miles.
Agent Galbraith sent up word that he wanted help. And when Mr. Moore
and I drove down, he said, "If there is anything between the lids of
the Bible that will meet this case, I wish you would use it." I told
him I thought there was; and advised him to call a council of the
principal men and talk the thing over. Whereupon I went to the tent of
Standing Buffalo, the head chief of the Sissetons, and arranged for a
council that afternoon.
The chiefs and braves gathered. The young men who had broken the door
down were there. The Indians argued that they were starving, and that
the flour and pork in the warehouse had been purchased with their
money. It was wrong to break in the door, but now they would authorize
the agent to take of their money and repair the door. Whereupon the
agent agreed to give them some provisions, and insisted on their
going home, which they promised to do. The Sissetons left on the
morrow, and so far as they were concerned the difficulty was over; for
on reaching home they started on a buffalo hunt. Peace and quiet now
reigned at the Yellow Medicine. Mr. Moore occupied himself in shooting
pigeons, and we all became quite attached to Mrs. Moore and himself.
In the meantime an effort, was made at the agencies, among half-breeds
and employés, to enlist soldiers for the Southern war. Quite a number
were enlisted, and when the trouble came Agent Galbraith was below
with these recruits. Several strangers were in the country. It was
afterward claimed that there were men here in the interests of the
South. I did not see any of that class. But some photographers were
there. Adrian J. Ebell, a student of Yale College, was taking
stereoscopic views, and a gentleman from St. Paul also.
* * * * *
The 17th of August was the Sabbath. It was sacramental Sabbath at
Hazelwood. As our custom was, both churches came together to celebrate
the Lord's death. Our house was well filled, and we have always
remembered that Sabbath as one of precious interest, for it was the
last time we were to meet in that beautiful little mission chapel. A
great trial of our faith and patience was coming upon us, and we knew
it not. But the dear Christ knew that both we and the native
Christians needed just such a quiet rest with him before the trials
came.
While we at Hazelwood and Pay-zhe-hoo-ta-ze were thus engaged on that
Sabbath of August 17th, the outbreak was commenced in the border white
settlements at Acton, Minn. As usual, the difficulty was commenced at
a grog-shop. Some four or five Indians made demands which were not
complied with, whereat they began to kill the whites. That night they
reached the villages at the Lower Sioux Agency, and a council of war
was called.
Something of this kind had been meditated, and talked of, and prepared
for undoubtedly. Some time before this, they had formed the
_Tee-yo-tee-pe_, or Soldiers' Lodge, which is only organized on
special occasions, for the hunt or for war. Some negotiations were
probably going on with the Winnebagoes and Ojibwas. But they were not
perfected. Several Winnebagoes were at this time at the Lower Agency,
but they do not appear to have been there for the purpose of the
outbreak. In the council held that night, Little Crow is reported to
have expressed his regret that the matter was precipitated upon them,
but he yielded to the argument that their hands were now _bloody_.
The attack was commenced in the early morning at the stores, Mr. James
W. Lynd, at Myrick's store, being the first white man shot down. So
the ball rolled. Many were killed and some escaped. Word of the rising
was carried to Fort Ridgely, and Captain Marsh was sent up to quell
it. The Indians met his company of fifty men at the ferry, and killed
half of them there, the rest making their escape with difficulty.
These things had been going on during the day, forty miles from us,
but we knew it not. Five miles below, at the Yellow Medicine, they had
heard of it by noon. The Indians gathered to consult what they would
do. Some, we learned, gave their voice for killing the white people,
but more were in favor of only taking the goods and property. The
physician at the Yellow Medicine was absent, and a young man started
down that day with the doctor's wife and children in a buggy. Before
they reached Red Wood, they were met by two Dakota men--the white man
was killed and the woman and children taken captive.
The sun was getting low Monday evening when we at Hazelwood heard of
what was going on. Mr. Antoine Renville, one of the elders of my
church, came running in much excited, and said the Indians were
killing white people. We thought it must be only a drinking quarrel.
The statement needed to be repeated and particularized somewhat before
we could believe it. Soon others came in and told more. Blackness
seemed to be gathering upon all faces. The parents came to the
boarding-school and took away their children. For several years Mary
had kept Angélique and Agnes Renville. At this time, the older one was
in Ohio, and the younger one went home with her mother.
Jonas Pettijohn, an old associate in mission work at Lac-qui-parle,
had been for some years a government teacher at Red Iron's village,
about fifteen miles above us. He had now been released, and was
removing his family. Mrs. Pettijohn and the children had reached our
house. Mr. Pettijohn came in the dusk of the evening with his last
load, which he was bringing with my horse team. The Indian men who had
brought down his goods, when they heard of the _émeute_, started back
immediately, and, meeting Mr. Pettijohn, took the horses. They
justified themselves by saying that somebody would take them.
Thus, as the darkness came on, we became sure that our Dakota friends
believed the reports. In the gloaming, strange men appeared at our
stables, and others of our horses were taken. A dozen of our neighbor
men came, and said they would stand guard with their guns. As the
evening progressed, we sent a messenger down to the Yellow Medicine,
who brought word that the stores were surrounded by Indians, and would
be broken in soon. Mr. Givens, the sub-agent, sent up a note asking me
to come down very early in the morning. Some of the Christian Dakota
women gathered into our house, and we prayed, and sang "God is the
refuge of his saints."
It was after midnight before we thought of leaving. The young folks
had lain down and slept awhile. By and by Paul came, and asked me to
give him some blue cloth I had on hand--he must dress like an Indian,
to be safe. And they evidently began to feel that _we_ might not be
safe, and that our staying would endanger them. This was made the more
serious because of Mrs. Moore and our three grown daughters. Indian
men would kill us to get possession of them. Thus the case was stated
by our neighbors. Afterward we had good reason to know that they
reasoned rightly.
And so we waked up the children and made preparations to depart. But
it was only to be temporary. The plan was to go down to an island in
the Minnesota River, and remain until the danger was overpast. Mr.
Moore looked to his revolver, the only reliable weapon among us.
Thomas and Henry got their double-barrel shot-gun. Mary put up a bag
of provisions, but, unfortunately, we forgot it when we departed.
Fortunately again, it was brought to us in the morning by Zoe, a
Dakota woman. Each one had a little baggage, but there was not enough
extra clothing in the company to make them comfortable at night. When
the daylight came, we were all over on the island, but our team was
left, and was stolen, with the exception of one horse. So we were in
rather a helpless condition as regards further escape.
On this little island we were away from the excitement and present
danger; but how long it would be safe for us to remain there was quite
uncertain. We could trust our own Indians that we should not be
personally injured; but how soon strange Indians would find our
hiding-place, we could not tell. During the forenoon I crossed back
and went to the village, to learn the progress of events. They did not
seem to be encouraging. The stores at the Yellow Medicine had been
sacked. The white people had all left in the early morning, being
convoyed by John Otherday. The only safe course open to us appeared to
be in getting away also. It was after midday when we learned that
Andrew Hunter and Dr. Williamson's young folks had succeeded in coming
away with both a horse team and an ox team. They had some flour and
other provisions with them, and had driven along the doctor's cattle.
Moreover, they had succeeded in crossing the Minnesota at a point a
mile or two below where we then were. From the island we could wade
over to the north side. This we proceeded to do, leaving the only
trunk that had been brought this far, by Mr. Cunningham's sister.
Andrew Hunter drove one of his wagons around on the prairie to meet
our party as we emerged from the ravine, each carrying a little
bundle. The women and children who could not walk were arranged with
the bundles in the wagon. Mr. Cunningham was successful in getting one
of his horses--the other had been appropriated by an Indian, together
with mine. His one horse he attached to my buggy and brought it over
the river, and we proceeded to join the rest of Mr. Hunter's party.
Two or three families of government employés from the saw-mill had
found their way to our missionary company. Thus constituted, we
started for the old crossing of Hawk River, some six or eight miles
distant.
While we were still in sight of the river bluffs, we discovered a man
coming after us. He was evidently a white man, and hobbled along with
difficulty, as though he were wounded. We stopped until he overtook
us. It proved to be a man by the name of Orr, whose comrades had been
killed up near the mouth of the Chippewa, and he escaped in a crippled
condition. Our wagons were more than full, but we could make room for
a wounded white man. About this time a rain shower came upon us, which
was a Godsend in many ways, although it made camping that night rather
unpleasant.
When night overtook us, we were across the stream,--Hawk River,--and
we lay down to rest and consider what should be our course on the
morrow. In the morning, we had decided to cross the country, or
endeavor to do so, toward Hutchinson or Glencoe. But the country was
not familiar to us. We frequently found ourselves stopped in our
course by a slough which was not easy to cross. Still, we kept on our
way during Wednesday, and in the afternoon there fell to us four men
from Otherday's party. These men all had guns which were not of much
account. They belonged at New Ulm, and did not want to go to
Hutchinson. But they continued with us that day.
The evening came with a slow continued rain. The first night we were
out, the smaller children had cried for home. The second night, some
of the older children would have cried if it had been of any use. We
had no shelter. The wagons were no protection against the continued
rain, but it was rather natural to crawl under them. The drop, _drop_,
DROP, all night long from the wagon-beds, on the women and children,
who had not more than half covering in that cold August rain, was not
promotive of cheerfulness. Mrs. Moore looked sad and disheartened, and
to my question as to how she did she replied that one might as well
die as live under such circumstances.
Thursday morning found us cold and wet, and entirely out of cooked
food. Since the first night we had not been where we could obtain
wood. And then, and since, we should have been afraid to kindle a
fire, lest the smoke should betray us. But now it was necessary that
we should find wood as soon as possible. And so our course was taken
toward a clump of trees which were in sight. When we came into their
neighborhood, about noon, we found them entirely surrounded by water.
But the men waded in and brought wood enough for the purposes of
camping. There we spent the afternoon and night. There we killed one
of the cows. And there we baked bread and roasted meat on the coals,
having neither pot nor kettle nor pan to do it in. And while we were
eating, Mr. Ebell fixed up his apparatus and took a very good
stereoscopic picture of the party.
We had discovered from surveyor's stakes that we were making slow
progress, and so we decided, as we started Friday morning, to abandon
our plan of going to Hutchinson, and turn down to the old
Lac-qui-parle road, which would lead us to Fort Ridgely. This road we
reached in time to take our noon rest at Birch Coolie, nearly opposite
the Lower Sioux Agency, where the massacres had commenced. We were not
much posted in what had taken place there. Mr. Hunter rode over to
see his house, only a couple of miles distant. There he met Tatemema
(Round Wind), an old Indian whom he knew, who told him to hurry on to
the fort, as all the white people had been killed or had fled. Just as
we were starting from this place, a team came in sight, which proved
to be Dr. and Mrs. Williamson and Aunt Jane with an ox team. They had
remained until Wednesday morning, and thought to stay through the
trouble, but finally concluded it was best to leave and follow us. Our
company now numbered over forty, but it was a very defenceless one.
We were sixteen miles from Fort Ridgely, and our thought was to go in
there under cover of the night. The darkness came on us when we were
still seven or eight miles away; and then in the gloaming there
appeared on a little hill-top two Indians on horseback. They might
bring a war-party upon us. And so we put ourselves in the best
position for defence. Martha and Anna had generally walked with the
boys. Now they piled on the wagons, and the men and boys, with such
weapons as we had, marched by their side. As the night came on, we
began to observe lights as of burning buildings, and rockets thrown up
from the garrison. What could the latter mean? We afterward learned
they were signals of distress!
In our one-horse buggy, Mr. and Mrs. Hunter drove ahead of the party,
and he crawled into the garrison. He found that the Indians had
beleaguered them, had set fire to all the out-buildings of the fort,
appropriated all their stock, had been fighting all day, and had
retired to the ravine as the night came on. The fort was already
crowded with women and children, and scantily manned by soldiers. We
could come in, they said, but our teams would be taken by the
Indians. They expected the attack would be renewed the next day.
When Mr. Hunter returned, we stopped in the road and held a _hasty_
consultation, as we were in a good deal of fear that we were even now
followed. We had just passed a house where the dogs alone remained to
bark, which they did furiously. And just then some of the party,
walking by the side of our wagons, stumbled over the dead body of a
man. There was no time to lose. We decided not to go in, but to turn
out and go around the fort and its beleaguering forces, if possible.
The four men who had fallen to our company--three Germans and an
Irishman--dissented. But we told them no one should leave us until we
were past the danger. And, to prevent any desertion in this our hour
of trial, Mr. Moore cocked his revolver and would shoot down the man
who attempted to leave.
It was ten o'clock, and the night was dark. We turned square off the
road, and went up northward to seek an old ford over the little stream
that runs down by the fort. The Lord guided us to the right place, but
while we were hunting in the willows for the old unused road, there
was a cry heard so much like a human cry that we were all quite
startled. We thought it was the signal of an attack by the Indians.
Probably it was only the cry of a fox. Just then Dr. Williamson came
to me and said perhaps he had counselled wrongly, and that, if it was
thought best, he was quite willing to go back to the fort. But I
replied that we were now almost around it, and it would be unwise to
go back. And so we traveled on over the ravine and up on the broad
prairie beyond, and received no harm. Our pulses began to beat less
furiously as we traveled on toward three o'clock in the morning, and
felt that we were out of sight and hearing of the Sioux warriors. So
we stopped to rest our weary cattle. Some slept for an hour, but the
greater part kept watch.
As we were around the fort, and around the danger so far as we knew,
it was understood that the four men who wanted to leave in the night,
might leave us in the morning. And as it was possible they might have
an opportunity to send a letter to Governor Ramsay before we should,
Dr. Williamson and I attempted to write something by starlight. But
nothing came of that letter. When the light began to dawn in the east,
our party was aroused and moving forward. We had been guided aright in
the night travel, for here we were at the old Lac-qui-parle crossing
of Mud River. Here the four men left us, and as the sun arose we saw
the sheen of their guns as they were entering a little wood two or
three miles away. And only a little while after that we heard the
report of guns; the poor fellows had fallen in with the Sioux army,
which in that early morning were on their march to attack New Ulm. We
did not know their fate until afterward.
Our party now fell into the road that leads to Henderson, and traveled
all that Saturday in safety. But on the St. Peter road, five or six
miles to our right, we saw the burning stacks and houses, and
afterward knew that the Sioux were on that road killing white people
all that day. It was the middle of the afternoon when we came to a
deserted house. The dishes were on the table. We found cream and
butter in the cellar and potatoes and corn in the garden. We stopped
and cooked and ate a good square meal, of which we were greatly in
need. Then we pushed on and came to another house some time after
nightfall, which was deserted by the humans, but the cattle were
there. Here we spent the night, and would have been glad to rest the
Sabbath, but as yet there was too much uncertainty. Three or four
hours' travel, however, brought us to a cross-roads, where the whole
settlement seemed to have gathered. We there learned that a company of
troops had passed up, and had turned across to St. Peter. This seemed
to be a guarantee of safety, and so we rested the remainder of the
day, gathering in the afternoon to worship Him who had been and was
our deliverer and guide.
All the events of the week past appeared so strange. We had hardly
found any time to consider them. But often the thought came to us,
What will become of our quarter-century's work among the Dakotas? It
seemed to be lost. _We_ could see no good way out of the difficulties.
As we came into the settlements, we began to learn something of the
terribleness of the _émeute_, how the Indians had spread terror and
death all along the frontier. And still their deadly work was going
on. In the dusk of the Sabbath evening we talked over matters a
little, as we planned to separate in the morning. Some pecuniary
adjustments were made, D. Wilson Moore being the only one who had any
money. But all the party exchanged promises.
In the morning of Monday, Dr. Williamson and his part of the company
started across to St. Peter. There remained only Mr. Moore and wife,
and Adrian J. Ebell and my family, and we had the use of an ox team to
take us to Shakopee. It was twelve miles to Henderson. When we came to
the brow of the hill above the town, we were met by several women who
were strangers to us. They rushed up and grasped our hands. I asked
what they knew of us. They said, "We have white hearts, and we heard
you were all killed." Our young folks had worn out their shoes, and
their feet also, by walking through the sharp grass, and needed
something to wear. When these wants were attended to, and we all had
partaken of a good dinner at the hotel, we started on--Mr. and Mrs.
Moore taking the little steamboat to St. Paul. When they arrived
there, Mr. Shaw, of the Merchant's Hotel telegraphed back to Mr. John
Moore of Philadelphia of their arrival. He had just before received an
urgent telegram, "Get the bodies at any cost."
On our way to Shakopee we were met by our old friend S. W. Pond, who
had been trying for days to ascertain whether the report of our being
killed was true or not. He gave Mary and the children a cordial
welcome to his home. They remained there a few days, and then went on
to G. H. Pond's, and from thence to St. Anthony, where Mary found an
old personal friend in Mrs. McKee, the wife of the pastor of the
Presbyterian church. They also found friends in all the good families,
and soon rented a house and commenced living by themselves, the
neighbors helping them to many articles which they needed.
On hearing of the outbreak, Alfred, who had been preaching a few
months at Lockport, Ill., furnished himself with a revolver, and
hastened up to see what could be done. But, meeting the family at
Shakopee, he returned to Illinois without making any demonstration of
prowess, taking with him Anna, and, after she was somewhat recruited,
sending her to Rockford Female Seminary.