MISDIRECTED VENGEANCE--HONORABLE MENTION--CHANGE OF COMMAND--EDUCATED
OXEN--FEEDING THE INDIANS--PURCHASING A BURYING-GROUND--KNOWING RATS.
While still encamped at the lower landing, some three or four days
after the events last recounted, Mr. Joseph Meek, an old frontiersman
and guide for emigrant trains through the mountains, came down from
the Dalles, on his way to Vancouver, and stopped at my camp to
inquire if an Indian named Spencer and his family had passed down to
Vancouver since my arrival at the Cascades. Spencer, the head of the
family, was a very influential, peaceable Chinook chief, whom Colonel
Wright had taken with him from Fort Vancouver as an interpreter and
mediator with the Spokanes and other hostile tribes, against which
his campaign was directed. He was a good, reliable Indian, and on
leaving Vancouver to join Colonel Wright, took his family along, to
remain with relatives and friends at Fort Dalles until the return of
the expedition. When Wright was compelled to retrace his steps on
account of the capture of the Cascades, this family for some reason
known only to Spencer, was started by him down the river to their
home at Vancouver.
Meek, on seeing the family leave the Dalles, had some misgivings as
to their safe arrival at their destination, because of the excited
condition of the people about the Cascades; but Spencer seemed to
think that his own peaceable and friendly reputation, which was
widespread, would protect them; so he parted from his wife and
children with little apprehension as to their safety. In reply to
Meek's question, I stated that I had not seen Spencer's family, when
he remarked, "Well, I fear that they are gone up," a phrase used in
that country in early days to mean that they had been killed. I
questioned him closely, to elicit further information, but no more
could be obtained; for Meek, either through ignorance or the usual
taciturnity of his class, did not explain more fully, and when the
steamer that had brought the reinforcement started down the river, he
took passage for Vancouver, to learn definitely if the Indian family
had reached that point. I at once sent to the upper landing, distant
about six miles, to make inquiry in regard to the matter, and in a,
little time my messenger returned with the information that the
family had reached that place the day before, and finding that we had
driven the hostiles off, continued their journey on foot toward my
camp, from which point they expected to go by steamer down the river
to Vancouver.
Their non-arrival aroused in me suspicions of foul play, so with all
the men I could spare, and accompanied by Lieutenant William T.
Welcker, of the Ordnance Corps--a warm and intimate friend--I went in
search of the family, deploying the men as skirmishers across the
valley, and marching them through the heavy forest where the ground
was covered with fallen timber and dense underbrush, in order that no
point might escape our attention. The search was continued between
the base of the mountain and the river without finding any sign of
Spencer's family, until about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, when we
discovered them between the upper and lower landing, in a small open
space about a mile from the road, all dead--strangled to death with
bits of rope. The party consisted of the mother, two youths, three
girls, and a baby. They had all been killed by white men, who had
probably met the innocent creatures somewhere near the blockhouse,
driven them from the road into the timber, where the cruel murders
were committed without provocation, and for no other purpose than the
gratification of the inordinate hatred of the Indian that has often
existed on the frontier, and which on more than one occasion has
failed to distinguish friend from foe. The bodies lay in a
semicircle, and the bits of rope with which the poor wretches had
been strangled to death were still around their necks. Each piece of
rope--the unwound strand of a heavier piece--was about two feet long,
and encircled the neck of its victim with a single knot, that must
have been drawn tight by the murderers pulling at the ends. As there
had not been quite enough rope to answer for all, the babe was
strangled by means of a red silk handkerchief, taken, doubtless, from
the neck of its mother. It was a distressing sight. A most cruel
outrage had been committed upon unarmed people--our friends and
allies--in a spirit of aimless revenge. The perpetrators were
citizens living near the middle block-house, whose wives and children
had been killed a few days before by the hostiles, but who well knew
that these unoffending creatures had had nothing to do with those
murders.
In my experience I have been obliged to look upon many cruel scenes
in connection with Indian warfare on the Plains since that day, but
the effect of this dastardly and revolting crime has never been
effaced from my memory. Greater and more atrocious massacres have
been committed often by Indians; their savage nature modifies one's
ideas, however, as to the inhumanity of their acts, but when such
wholesale murder as this is done by whites, and the victims not only
innocent, but helpless, no defense can be made for those who
perpetrated the crime, if they claim to be civilized beings. It is
true the people at the Cascades had suffered much, and that their
wives and children had been murdered before their eyes, but to wreak
vengeance on Spencer's unoffending family, who had walked into their
settlement under the protection of a friendly alliance, was an
unparalleled outrage which nothing can justify or extenuate. With as
little delay as possible after the horrible discovery, I returned to
camp, had boxes made, and next day buried the bodies of these hapless
victims of misdirected vengeance.
The summary punishment inflicted on the nine Indians, in their trial
and execution, had a most salutary effect on the confederation, and
was the entering wedge to its disintegration; and though Colonel
Wright's campaign continued during the summer and into the early
winter, the subjugation of the allied bands became a comparatively
easy matter after the lesson taught the renegades who were captured
at the Cascades. My detachment did not accompany Colonel Wright, but
remained for some time at the Cascades, and while still there General
Wool came up from San Francisco to take a look into the condition of
things. From his conversation with me in reference to the affair at
the Cascades, I gathered that he was greatly pleased at the service I
had performed, and I afterward found that his report of my conduct
had so favorably impressed General Scott that that distinguished
officer complimented me from the headquarters of the army in general
orders.
General Wool, while personally supervising matters on the Columbia
River, directed a redistribution to some extent of the troops in the
district, and shortly before his return to San Francisco I was
ordered with my detachment of dragoons to take station on the Grande
Ronde Indian Reservation in Yamhill County, Oregon, about twenty-five
miles southwest of Dayton, and to relieve from duty at that point
Lieutenant William B. Hazen--late brigadier-general and chief signal
officer--who had established a camp there some time before. I
started for my new station on April 21, and marching by way of
Portland and Oregon City, arrived at Hazen's camp April 25. The camp
was located in the Coast range of mountains, on the northeast part of
the reservation, to which last had been added a section of country
that was afterward known as the Siletz reservation. The whole body
of land set aside went under the general name of the "Coast
reservation," from its skirting the Pacific Ocean for some distance
north of Yaquina Bay, and the intention was to establish within its
bounds permanent homes for such Indians as might be removed to it.
In furtherance of this idea, and to relieve northern California and
southwestern Oregon from the roaming, restless bands that kept the
people of those sections in a state of constant turmoil, many of the
different tribes, still under control but liable to take part in
warfare, were removed to the reservation, so that they might be away
from the theatre of hostilities.
When I arrived I found that the Rogue River Indians had just been
placed upon the reservation, and subsequently the Coquille, Klamath,
Modocs, and remnants of the Chinooks were collected there also, the
home of the latter being in the Willamette Valley. The number all
told amounted to some thousands, scattered over the entire Coast
reservation, but about fifteen hundred were located at the Grande
Ronde under charge of an agent, Mr. John F. Miller, a sensible,
practical man, who left the entire police control to the military,
and attended faithfully to the duty of settling the Indians in the
work of cultivating the soil.
As the place was to be occupied permanently, Lieutenant Hazen had
begun, before my arrival, the erection of buildings for the shelter
of his command, and I continued the work of constructing the post as
laid out by him. In those days the Government did not provide very
liberally for sheltering its soldiers; and officers and men were
frequently forced to eke out parsimonious appropriations by toilsome
work or go without shelter in most inhospitable regions. Of course
this post was no exception to the general rule, and as all hands were
occupied in its construction, and I the only officer present, I was
kept busily employed in supervising matters, both as commandant and
quartermaster, until July, when Captain D. A. Russell, of the Fourth
Infantry, was ordered to take command, and I was relieved from the
first part of my duties.
About this time my little detachment parted from me, being ordered to
join a company of the First Dragoons, commanded by Captain Robert
Williams, as it passed up the country from California by way of
Yamhill. I regretted exceedingly to see them go, for their faithful
work and gallant service had endeared every man to me by the
strongest ties. Since I relieved Lieutenant Hood on Pit River,
nearly a twelvemonth before, they had been my constant companions,
and the zeal with which they had responded to every call I made on
them had inspired in my heart a deep affection that years have not
removed. When I relieved Hood--a dragoon officer of their own
regiment--they did not like the change, and I understood that they
somewhat contemptuously expressed this in more ways than one, in
order to try the temper of the new "Leftenant," but appreciative and
unremitting care, together with firm and just discipline, soon
quieted all symptoms of dissatisfaction and overcame all prejudice.
The detachment had been made up of details from the different
companies of the regiment in order to give Williamson a mounted
force, and as it was usual, under such circumstances, for every
company commander to shove into the detail he was called upon to
furnish the most troublesome and insubordinate individuals of his
company, I had some difficulty, when first taking command, in
controlling such a medley of recalcitrants; but by forethought for
them and their wants, and a strict watchfulness for their rights and
comfort, I was able in a short time to make them obedient and the
detachment cohesive. In the past year they had made long and
tiresome marches, forded swift mountain streams, constructed rafts of
logs or bundles of dry reeds to ferry our baggage, swum deep rivers,
marched on foot to save their worn-out and exhausted animals, climbed
mountains, fought Indians, and in all and everything had done the
best they could for the service and their commander. The disaffected
feeling they entertained when I first assumed command soon wore away,
and in its place came a confidence and respect which it gives me the
greatest pleasure to remember, for small though it was, this was my
first cavalry command. They little thought, when we were in the
mountains of California and Oregon--nor did I myself then dream--that
but a few years were to elapse before it would be my lot again to
command dragoons, this time in numbers so vast as of themselves to
compose almost an army.
Shortly after the arrival of Captain Russell a portion of the Indians
at the Grande Ronde reservation were taken down the coast to the
Siletz reservation, and I was transferred temporarily to Fort
Haskins, on the latter reserve, and assigned to the duty of
completing it and building a blockhouse for the police control of the
Indians placed there.
While directing this work, I undertook to make a road across the
coast mountains from King's Valley to the Siletz, to shorten the haul
between the two points by a route I had explored. I knew there were
many obstacles in the way, but the gain would be great if we could
overcome them, so I set to work with the enthusiasm of a young
path-finder. The point at which the road was to cross the range was
rough and precipitous, but the principal difficulty in making it would
be from heavy timber on the mountains that had been burned over years
and years before, until nothing was left but limbless trunks of dead
trees--firs and pines--that had fallen from time to time until the
ground was matted with huge logs from five to eight feet in diameter.
These could not be chopped with axes nor sawed by any ordinary means,
therefore we had to burn them into suitable lengths, and drag the
sections to either side of the roadway with from four to six yoke of
oxen.
The work was both tedious and laborious, but in time perseverance
surmounted all obstacles and the road was finished, though its grades
were very steep. As soon as it was completed, I wished to
demonstrate its value practically, so I started a Government wagon
over it loaded with about fifteen hundred pounds of freight drawn by
six yoke of oxen, and escorted by a small detachment of soldiers.
When it had gone about seven miles the sergeant in charge came back
to the post and reported his inability to get any further. Going out
to the scene of difficulty I found the wagon at the base of a steep
hill, stalled. Taking up a whip myself, I directed the men to lay on
their gads, for each man had supplied himself with a flexible hickory
withe in the early stages of the trip, to start the team, but this
course did not move the wagon nor have much effect on the demoralized
oxen; but following as a last resort an example I heard of on a
former occasion, that brought into use the rough language of the
country, I induced the oxen to move with alacrity, and the wagon and
contents were speedily carried to the summit. The whole trouble was
at once revealed: the oxen had been broken and trained by a man who,
when they were in a pinch, had encouraged them by his frontier
vocabulary, and they could not realize what was expected of them
under extraordinary conditions until they heard familiar and possibly
profanely urgent phrases. I took the wagon to its destination, but
as it was not brought back, even in all the time I was stationed in
that country, I think comment on the success of my road is
unnecessary.
I spent many happy months at Fort Haskins, remaining there until the
post was nearly completed and its garrison increased by the arrival
of Captain F. T. Dent--a brother-in-law of Captain Ulysses S. Grant
--with his company of the Fourth Infantry, in April, 1857. In the
summer of 1856, and while I was still on duty there, the Coquille
Indians on the Siletz, and down near the Yaquina Bay, became, on
account of hunger and prospective starvation, very much excited and
exasperated, getting beyond the control of their agent, and even
threatening his life, so a detachment of troops was sent out to set
things to rights, and I took command of it. I took with me most of
the company, and arrived at Yaquina Bay in time to succor the agent,
who for some days had been besieged in a log hut by the Indians and
had almost abandoned hope of rescue.
Having brought with me over the mountains a few head of beef cattle
for the hungry Indians, without thinking of running any great
personal risk I had six beeves killed some little distance from my
camp, guarding the meat with four Soldiers, whom I was obliged to
post as sentinels around the small area on which the carcasses lay.
The Indians soon formed a circle about the sentinels, and impelled by
starvation, attempted to take the beef before it could be equally
divided. This was of course resisted, when they drew their knives
--their guns having been previously taken away from them--and some of
the inferior chiefs gave the signal to attack. The principal chief,
Tetootney John, and two other Indians joined me in the centre of the
circle, and protesting that they would die rather than that the
frenzied onslaught should succeed, harangued the Indians until the
rest of the company hastened up from camp and put an end to the
disturbance. I always felt grateful to Tetootney John for his
loyalty on this occasion, and many times afterward aided his family
with a little coffee and sugar, but necessarily surreptitiously, so
as not to heighten the prejudices that his friendly act had aroused
among his Indian comrades.
The situation at Yaquina Bay did not seem very safe, notwithstanding
the supply of beef we brought; and the possibility that the starving
Indians might break out was ever present, so to anticipate any
further revolt, I called for more troops. The request was complied
with by sending to my assistance the greater part of my own company
("K")from Fort Yamhill. The men, inspired by the urgency of our
situation, marched more than forty miles a day, accomplishing the
whole distance in so short a period, that I doubt if the record has
ever been beaten. When this reinforcement arrived, the Indians saw
the futility of further demonstrations against their agent, who they
seemed to think was responsible for the insufficiency of food, and
managed to exist with the slender rations we could spare and such
indifferent food as they could pick up, until the Indian Department
succeeded in getting up its regular supplies. In the past the poor
things had often been pinched by hunger and neglect, and at times
their only food was rock oysters, clams and crabs. Great quantities
of these shell-fish could be gathered in the bay near at hand, but
the mountain Indians, who had heretofore lived on the flesh of
mammal, did not take kindly to mollusks, and, indeed, ate the
shell-fish only as a last resort.
Crab catching at night on the Yaquina Bay by the coast Indians was a
very picturesque scene. It was mostly done by the squaws and
children, each equipped with a torch in one hand, and a sharp-pointed
stick in the other to take and lift the fish into baskets slung on
the back to receive them. I have seen at times hundreds of squaws
and children wading about in Yaquina Bay taking crabs in this manner,
and the reflection by the water of the light from the many torches,
with the movements of the Indians while at work, formed a weird and
diverting picture of which we were never tired.
Not long after the arrival of the additional troops from Yamhill, it
became apparent that the number of men at Yaquina Bay would have to
be reduced, so in view of this necessity, it was deemed advisable to
build a block-house for the better protection of the agents and I
looked about for suitable ground on which to erect it. Nearly all
around the bay the land rose up from the beach very abruptly, and the
only good site that could be found was some level ground used as the
burial-place of the Yaquina Bay Indians--a small band of fish-eating
people who had lived near this point on the coast for ages. They
were a robust lot, of tall and well-shaped figures, and were called
in the Chinook tongue "salt chuck," which means fish-eaters, or
eaters of food from the salt water. Many of the young men and women
were handsome in feature below the forehead, having fine eyes,
aquiline noses and good mouths, but, in conformity with a
long-standing custom, all had flat heads, which gave them a distorted
and hideous appearance, particularly some of the women, who went to
the extreme of fashion and flattened the head to the rear in a sharp
horizontal ridge by confining it between two boards, one running back
from the forehead at an angle of about forty degrees, and the other up
perpendicularly from the back of the neck. When a head had been
shaped artistically the dusky maiden owner was marked as a belle, and
one could become reconciled to it after a time, but when carelessness
and neglect had governed in the adjustment of the boards, there
probably was nothing in the form of a human being on the face of the
earth that appeared so ugly.
It was the mortuary ground of these Indians that occupied the only
level spot we could get for the block-house. Their dead were buried
in canoes, which rested in the crotches of forked sticks a few feet
above-ground. The graveyard was not large, containing probably from
forty to fifty canoes in a fair state of preservation. According to
the custom of all Indian tribes on the Pacific coast, when one of
their number died all his worldly effects were buried with him, so
that the canoes were filled with old clothes, blankets, pieces of
calico and the like, intended for the use of the departed in the
happy hunting grounds.
I made known to the Indians that we would have to take this piece of
ground for the blockhouse. They demurred at first, for there is
nothing more painful to an Indian than disturbing his dead, but they
finally consented to hold a council next day on the beach, and thus
come to some definite conclusion. Next morning they all assembled,
and we talked in the Chinook language all day long, until at last
they gave in, consenting, probably, as much because they could not
help themselves, as for any other reason. It was agreed that on the
following day at 12 o'clock, when the tide was going out, I should
take my men and place the canoes in the bay, and let them float out
on the tide across the ocean to the happy hunting-grounds:
At that day there existed in Oregon in vast numbers a species of
wood-rat, and our inspection of the graveyard showed that the canoes
were thickly infested with them. They were a light gray animal,
larger than the common gray squirrel, with beautiful bushy tails,
which made them strikingly resemble the squirrel, but in cunning and
deviltry they were much ahead of that quick-witted rodent. I have
known them to empty in one night a keg of spikes in the storehouse in
Yamhill, distributing them along the stringers of the building, with
apparently no other purpose than amusement. We anticipated great fun
watching the efforts of these rats to escape the next day when the
canoes should be launched on the ocean, and I therefore forbade any
of the command to visit the graveyard in the interim, lest the rats
should be alarmed. I well knew that they would not be disturbed by
the Indians, who held the sacred spot in awe. When the work of
taking down the canoes and carrying them to the water began,
expectation was on tiptoe, but, strange as it may seem, not a rat was
to be seen. This unexpected development was mystifying. They had
all disappeared; there was not one in any of the canoes, as
investigation proved, for disappointment instigated a most thorough
search. The Indians said the rats understood Chinook, and that as
they had no wish to accompany the dead across the ocean to the happy
hunting-grounds, they took to the woods for safety. However that may
be, I have no doubt that the preceding visits to the burial-ground,
and our long talk of the day before, with the unusual stir and
bustle, had so alarmed the rats that, impelled, by their suspicious
instincts, they fled a danger, the nature of which they could not
anticipate, but which they felt to be none the less real and
impending.