USA > Arizona > The marvellous country : or, Three years in Arizona and New Mexico, the Apaches' home > Part 5
USA > New Mexico > The marvellous country : or, Three years in Arizona and New Mexico, the Apaches' home > Part 5
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27
79
ATROCITIES OF THE APACHES.
It seems that Mrs. Paige was at her father's home, when a party of Indians made their appearance, and seizing Mrs. Paige and two sisters, made off with them to the mountains. On their way thither they encountered Paige and three other Americans, who instantly gave fight, but were finally over- come and massacred by the Indians. Mrs. Paige, who was sick at the time of her capture, was unable to keep up with the party, so they knocked her in the head with a club, and supposing her dead, threw her body over a precipice. When she recovered her consciousness, she found herself lodged in a tree which grew out from the side of the precipice. Disentangling herself from this position, she managed to get down the declivity and away from a trail which she there found. Here she remained for sixteen days, living on such roots and berries as she could find, and this, too, within sight of her father's house.
"It was terrible," she said, "to be dying of hunger and thirst, and too weak to summon aid or to get to it."
She still lives in Arizona, or did, two years later, when I saw her,- a stout, hearty woman. Her sisters were never heard from.
Mrs. Paige's experience is not dissimilar to that of many . others in Arizona; and from it we can judge what the frontiermen and their families are often obliged to endure.
Leaving old Pennington and the remnant of his family on the Calabasas, let us return to our camp on the Rio
-
80
JIM DAVIS.
Grande, where we shall remain only long enough to give our overburdened animals time to recruit before we start down the river. The next day being a fine one, a portion of our party started on foot to visit a celebrated spring, known as the Ojo del Mertu, about five miles distant from our camping-ground; and on their return, more fortunate than I, they succeeded in killing an antelope, a portion of which they brought into camp.
The night passed without incident worthy of note, and the next day found us en route for Mesilla. We had hardly been two hours on our journey before we encountered "Jim" Davis. Now "Jim" Davis is a character, even in Arizona,- a small, wiry, hatchet-faced, red-haired Yankee from the State of Maine. "Jim" came to Arizona in '52, and has retained all the shrewdness and smartness that he possessed before he left the pine forests of his native State. Like most Maine men, he possessed the demon "swap" to a great degree. It had grown with his growth and strength- ened with his strength, till finally it had earned for him the sobriquet of "The Emigrants' Friend." "Jim" believed in emigration as firmly as the old emigrant commissioners of Castle Garden believed in it when they made their thirty thousand dollar per annum fees. He thought with honest old Horace, that 'twas every man's duty to "Go West," and firmly believed in every man doing his duty. He took good care that no emigrant train should reach Arizona until
. .
81
IIIS TRADING PROPENSITIES.
he had met it, and talked with the "boss"; and if the "boss" had any foot-sore or weary cattle lagging behind, "Jim" immediately became their owner. He has been known to start from home with an old blind horse, a jack- knife, and a smooth quarter, his entire stock in trade, and in
" JIM " DAVIS, "THE 'EMIGRANTS' FRIEND."
two weeks return with a drove of twenty-five or thirty head of cattle, and likely as not the same horse he rode away, all . 11
82
A SENSITIVE ALCALDE.
honestly made by trade with the emigrants. "Jim" would ride unti he met a train with three or four foot-sore oxen following it; these he would trade his horse for; then he would stop in his journey long enough to give the cattle a rest, and afterwards trade them for the next ones he met; and so on until he procured a good drove.
But "Jim," seeing we had nothing to trade, pushed on, and with considerable alacrity, when we told him of old Pennington's camp. Two days more brought us to the town of La Mesilla, where for the present, kind reader, I pro- pose to leave you, after asking you to refresh yourself with a delicious draught of El Paso wine, which we will draw from a huge leathern bottle made of an untanned ox-skin, the hair side being, of course, the outside, and which the worthy Don Anastacio Berella, the alcalde of the town, assures us is the only proper way of preserving the flavor of wine and preventing its tasting of the cask. It was this same alcalde whom, a few days after our arrival, we invited to dine with us, and who returned an answer to the effect that "he had plenty to eat at home"; evidently considering our invitation an insinuation that we supposed him to be out of chilli and tortillas. In reply to which Dr. Parker remarked, that "'twas ever thus" his motives had been impugned by every one, from the time he had attempted to climb a tree to avoid making entertainment for a bear, until he had voluntarily offered to entertain one.
CHAPTER VI.
HE Apache tribe, which for so many years has been the terror of northern Mexico, and the scourge of the white man in Arizona, is composed of eight bands: The Mescaleros, the Mimbres, the Mog- olones, the Chiricahui, the Coy- teros, the Pinals, the Cerro-Colorados, and the Tontos. These bands have now no fixed residence, but wander at will over the Territory, making raids into Sonora and Chihuahua, killing men, women, and children, or tak- ing the latter captives; stealing horses, mules, and cattle; destroying haciendas, ranches, and villages; then, retreating into the mountain fastnesses, not only defy pursuit, but laugh at the futile efforts made to overtake them.
In character they resemble the prairie wolf,- sneaking, cowardly, and revengeful. They are always ready to assas- sinate women and children, and then to flee if possible.
(83)
1
84
A TERRIBLE SCOURGE.
Otherwise they fight bravely and desperately. In no por- tion of our country have the settlers upon the frontier suffered so severely as in Arizona. There is scarcely a mile on any road in the Territory where the traveller is not pointed out some spot which the Apaches have con- secrated with the blood of a victim; nor is there a family that has not suffered in some manner from their depreda- tions.
There were formerly three principal war-chiefs of the tribe, under whose directions all hostile parties were mar- shalled : Mangus Colorado, Cochise, and Delgadito. Of these three, the only one now living, who exercises any control over them, is Cochise, of the Pinal tribe, which a few years ago was the only recognized tribe, but which has since been divided into several bands.
For more than four centuries these pests of the country have scourged northern Mexico and Arizona, and nothing has been sacred from them. Nor can anything ever prosper in a country that they inhabit. They have desolated Sonora and Arizona, which latter place, in 1860, had a population of thirty-four thousand, while in 1870 it had less than ten thousand.
At the time of my residence in the Territory, in '58, '59, and '60, the Apaches were generally regarded as being at peace with the white man; and during these three years there were probably fewer outrages committed than during
85
A PARTIAL TRUCE.
>
any one year before or since. An overland mail coach was occasionally attacked or an emigrant party massacred, and all the animals that could be stolen were driven off. Still, these years were regarded as quiet ones. And thus I was enabled to pursue my explorations in the Territory with
COCHISE.
but little annoyance during that time, especially as the since renowned Cochise was persuaded to act as my guide through portions of the Apache country rarely pressed by the foot of a white man. I first met Cochise at the "Apache Pass," a narrow gorge through the Chiricahui Mountains, and through
86
A WILD VISITOR.
which pass ran the only road connecting the settlements on the Rio Grande with Tucson and Fort Yuma.
It was a beautiful day in June that I first saw him, naked as he came into the world, with the exception of his breech- clout and moccasins. He was a tall, dignified-looking Indian, about forty-seven years of age, with face well daubed with vermilion and ochre. From his nose hung pendent a ring about five inches in circumference, made of heavy brass wire, while three of the same kind dangled from each ear. His body had been thoroughly anointed with some kind of rancid grease, which smelled very offensively. His stiff black hair was pushed back and gathered in a kind of knot on the top of his head, while behind it rested on his shoulders. One or two eagle feathers were fastened to his head in an upright position, and swayed with every breath of wind. As he came near me, he laid his bow and arrow down upon the grass, and extended an exceedingly dirty hand, with finger-nails fully an inch in length, saying, in pretty fair Spanish,-
"Me Cochise, white man's friend. Gim me bacca."
Turning to "Jimmy," my Irish servant, whose experience among the Indians had been very limited, I found him staring at Cochise with amazement depicted on every linea- ment of his face, and 't was fully three minutes before he recovered himself sufficiently to ask,-
"Bedad! and what kind of a crayther is that, to be shure ?"
7
87
NO TASTE FOR "INTERVIEWING."
And when I replied,-
"A live Apache," with a yell and a bound he sprang towards the corral of the overland mail company, and no threats or inducements could bring him forth until Cochise had departed.
I gave Cochise a supply of tobacco and some whiskey, and he disappeared almost as suddenly as he came.
We had drawn our wagons a few rods below the corral, close by a little spring that bubbled out from between the rocks, where we intended to spend the night. No particu- lar guard was kept, as we were so near the protection of the mail company that we apprehended no danger. Yet during the night two of our mules were stolen, and so adroitly, too, that the thieves left no traces behind them. I was strongly inclined to suspect Cochise, though he indig- nantly denied the charge, asserting that he was a brave, and not given to stealing. Nothing could have exceeded the ludicrous scene that ensued in the morning, when I charged the loss of the mules to Jimmy's carelessness, and announced that I should have to send him out to recover them.
"Howly Mother!" says Jimmy. "And what would they be doin' while I was gettin' 'em back ?"
When informed they would probably be taking his scalp, he exclaimed,-
"Och, Captain, dear; shure if I was you I'd lit the mules go. We don't nade 'em at all, at all."
88
SUDDEN ILLNESS.
Still I was obdurate, and Jimmy was finally frightened into starting out after them, protesting all the while, how- ever, that "whin he cum back he knew viry will he'd have no head on his shouldthers."
Five minutes later I discovered him lying under one of
JIMMY'S MEETING - "HOWLY MOTHER ! IS THAT AN APACHE?"
the wagons; and upon questioning him he informed me that "he wus so sick and intirely unwill, that 'twould be im- possible for him to go on the expedition I was afther sind- ing him on," and no persuasion could induce Jimmy to move for the whole day. Here we were obliged to remain
89
HONESTY OF THE INDIANS!
until we could procure mules to take the place of those of which we had been robbed. The fourth day, towards night, three Indians came in, driving four of the sickliest- looking mules it had ever been my lot to see, which they offered us for five fanagas of corn each. We purchased them, and some time afterwards learned that they had been stolen from a station of the overland mail company, some hundred miles or more west of Tucson, about five months before.
-
During the time we were encamped here I had an excel- lent opportunity to examine and admire the wild and mag- nificent scenery of the Chiricahui Mountains, and also to become acquainted with the character of Cochise and some of the Apaches, who were spending the summer in this vicinity, as its convenient locality enabled them to attack and rob any weak band of emigrants that might be passing on their way to California.
After the experience of the first night, through the kind- ness of Major De Rythe, Assistant Superintendent of the overland mail, we were permitted to put our animals in the stone corral of the company, and thus secure them from the visits of our Apache friends.
While here, a man named Frazier, with his family, con- sisting of his wife and four children, passed through with two two-horse wagons, on their way to San Diego, where they intended to settle. The oldest child was a boy,
12
.
90
DIABOLICAL OUTRAGE.
seventeen or eighteen years of age, smart and energetic; the next a girl, about sixteen, who drove one of the wagons, while the mother drove the other. They expected to reach Tucson in about a week, where they intended to recruit their teams and wait for company, before going on to San Diego. Two days later the conductor on the stage from Tucson reported that just beyond the mouth of the cañon they had found the remnants of two wagons, with the dead and mutilated bodies of Frazier and his son tied to the wheels and partially burned. Everything of value had been carried off, even to the iron about the wagons. The fate of the mother and children was never known.
Major De Rythe sent out the next morning for the re- mains of the unfortunate men, but no effort was made to capture and punish the murderers or retake the captives. I have no doubt myself but that the same band of Indians who were visiting us each day, smoking our tobacco and drinking our whiskey, were the parties who committed the murder; and yet we were powerless to revenge the injury. This outrage, in some particulars, resembles that of the Oatman family, the facts of which I will give as I learned them from one familiar with the details of the atrocious transaction, merely for the purpose of showing the brutality and diabolical cruelty with which the Apaches always treat those who fall into their clutches.
On the 11th of March, 1851, Mr. Royse Oatman, with
91
THE OATMAN TRAGEDY.
his family, left the Pimo villages, bound for California. His outfit consisted of two yoke of cows and one of oxen, with three wagons. His stock were jaded and worn by the . long and tedious journey across the plains, and he had pushed on as far as the Pimo villages, hoping to be able to replenish his exhausted supply of provisions, as well as find company to cross the almost desert country that for two hundred miles lies between the Pimos and Fort Yuma. But it had been a bad year for the Pimos, and they had nothing to spare; indeed, were fighting hard to keep the wolf away from their own doors. With starvation staring him and his family in the face if he remained with the Pimos, he determined to attempt to reach Fort Yuma, where he hoped to find plenty of provisions and an escort. He pushed on, therefore, out into the desert, his family half starved, and his jaded cattle scarcely able to drag the wagons through the deep sand that surrounded them on all sides.
For seven days they toiled on, their only comfort at night the thought that they were a little nearer their goal. After being obliged to unload their wagons at the foot of every little eminence, in order to induce the weary cattle to make the ascent, the afternoon of the eighth day found them at the foot of a rocky bluff. Here unloading the wagons once again, they wearily toiled along, till at last its summit was gained. Halting here, Mr. Oatman gave himself up to the most gloomy forebodings, and the terrible prospect before .
92
KINDNESS THROWN AWAY.
him was indeed overwhelming,- the desert on all sides, with starvation staring them in the face. What was to be done? Where should they turn for succor ?
Just at this juncture a band of Indians were seen approach- ing. Telling his terrified family to keep quiet, and no one would harm them, he walked towards the Indians, and, addressing them in Spanish, welcomed them to his camp. Asking them to sit down, he gave them pipes and tobacco, with the assurance that he would give them food did he have a supply, and treated them with kindness and consid- eration in every way. The Indians were close observers of the enfeebled condition of the emigrants, and after con- versing together for a few moments they suddenly gave one of their terrible war-whoops, and fell upon their victims.
Lorenzo, a boy of fifteen, was first struck on the head and knocked down. Next half a dozen of the savages rushed upon Mr. Oatman, and despatched him with their knives, while Mrs. Oatman and her infant daughter were beaten to death with clubs. Olive and Mary, the first sixteen, and the other eleven years of age, were securely held by two Indians, at a little distance, where they could witness the terrible scene. Lorenzo was then seized and thrown down the rocky side of the mesa, and must have fallen at least forty feet to the ground below. If any person could stand and look at the place from which he was thrown, and realize how it was possible for him to escape instant death, their
93
WONDERFUL ESCAPE.
experience would be different from mine. And yet, strange as it may appear, he was not killed.
He says that after consciousness returned, strange, dis- . cordant sounds grated upon his ear, which, gradually dying away, were succeeded by strains of such sweet music as completely ravished his senses. He finally managed to creep up the hill to the camp upon the mesa, where the dead bodies of his father, mother, and sister met his gaze, lying mutilated and bloody among the scattered remnants of the wagons and their contents. He instantly missed the bodies of Olive and Mary, and knew that they must have been carried away captives. Weary and faint, he succeeded in dragging himself down towards the river, which, after terrible suffering, he reached, almost famishing with thirst. Here he laid himself down, and slept for several hours. When he awoke, his first thought was to return to the Pimo villages; and starting out, he travelled for two days, walk- ing as long as he was able, and then crawling on his hands and knees, resting himself whenever he could find the shade of a friendly bush, delirious part of the time, and constantly- haunted by the fear that he should again fall into the hands of the Indians. Every moment he grew weaker and weaker from hunger and thirst. Death seemed inevitable. And at last, yielding to despair, he laid himself down, expecting every breath to be his last. How long he remained there he cannot tell, but he was aroused to consciousness by the
94
INHUMANITY.
discordant bark of a pack of hungry wolves. Weak as he was, he fought them off with sticks and stones. Next day two friendly Pimo Indians found him, nearer dead than alive, and carried him to their village, where, after wecks of terrible suffering, he finally recovered.
From the account given by him, it appears that as soon as the Apaches had finished their murders, they plundered the wagons, and taking Olive and Mary captives, fled across the river. The girls were without adequate clothing, bare- headed and bare-footed, yet they were dragged along over sharp stones and brambles, no heed being paid to their exhausted condition, the savages even using clubs to force them along. Their feet were torn and bleeding, and their flesh lacerated by the thorns of the thickets through which they had to pass. The younger sister, always a weak, sickly child, was repeatedly beaten by the savages, who threatened to kill her if she lagged behind. Late in the night they halted for a few hours. Sunrise, however, found them again on the move. Thus they travelled for four days, the girls enduring the most incredible suffering all the while. At the close of the fourth day they reached the Apache village, where they were welcomed by songs, shouts, and wild dances, which continued with little inter- mission for three days, the poor children being placed in the centre of the fiendish circle, and compelled to witness the most shocking and obscene sights. They were after-
95
SOLD TO THIE MOJAVES.
wards compelled to labor from morning until night, in a state of such filth and abject misery, that it is difficult to realize how, young as they were, they could endure the extreme hardships to which they were subjected, and live. They were often without food for two days at a time, save as they could steal a few roots or berries while at work.
About a year after their capture, the Apaches sold them to a band of Mojaves, for some corn and skins. Now came the time of Olive's severest trial. Mary, worn out by toil and suffering, weary with watching and waiting for some · sign of relief from a life of brutality and privation, at last yielded to despair and prayed earnestly that her sufferings might be ended by death. And that night, singing the hymns she had learned in happier days, her soul was ushered into eternity, and the weary little body buried, by the loving hands of her sister, in a spot of earth that, dur- ing their servitude, they had cultivated together for these inhuman wretches.
Olive remained four years among the Mojaves, enduring great hardships. In 1856, she was purchased by a Mr. Grinnell, who took her to Fort Yuma, and a few weeks later she was sent to her brother, then living at Los Angeles, California.
Such is a true history of the Oatman family, as corrobo- rated by both Lorenzo and Olive. A sad one indeed, yet not uncommon for Arizona. Not one in a hundred, however,
96
AN UNDESIRABLE FRIEND.
of those taken captives by the Apaches, ever live to tell the story.
It has since been ascertained that the party who massa- cred the Oatmans were Tonto Apaches, under the leadership of Mangus Colorado, who styled himself "The white man's friend."
١٠
CHAPTER VII.
ERTED APACHE HUT
T was while in camp at the Apache Pass, that I began to experience a strong desire to learn more of the Apache tribe.
I broached the matter to Cochise one day, after treat- ing him liberally to whiskey, but he did not care to talk on the subject.
My friends all tried to dissuade me from the undertaking; but a bale of smoking tobacco, a five-gallon keg of whiskey, with a pair of bright red blankets, were too strong indnce- ments for Cochise, and his consent once gained, I determined to start alone for the rancheria of the Pinal and Tonto Apaches, situated about one hundred and twenty miles west of north from the Chiricahui Mountains, near the Rio Gila. He assured me that there was no danger to be apprehended 13 (97)
1
98
BOUND FOR APACHEDOM.
from stray bands of Indians; and, after his consenting to leave his brother in the hands of Major De Rythe, as hostage for our safe return, we started for a trip to the home of the Apaches, my object being, as much as anything else, to see the country which every American in Arizona was confident furnished the gold with which these Indians were so lavish when they came into the settlements.
Cochise and myself each had one riding mule, and in addition thereto I had three pack mules, one of which was loaded down with two huge leathern bottles, holding about six gallons each, filled with water.
It was a lovely morning in June, that we started.
The parting with "Jimmy " was affecting, he swearing " if he'd iver thought I was a goin' that way he would have kilt me intirely before I started."
After leaving the Chiricahui Mountains, Cochise, striking across the country in a northwesterly direction, soon came upon a trail; following this trail, we travelled all day over an alkali plain, which reflected the rays of the burning sun with an intensity that would have done credit to the most highly-polished mirror.
There was absolutely nothing to relieve the eye, but the distant outline of the Chiricahui Mountains behind us, or the rough line of the high country we were approaching, save that occasionally we saw the beautiful blue waters of a magnificent lake with its white-capped waves rolling
99
WONDERFUL MIRAGE.
towards the shore, which appeared to be covered with trees of every conceivable shape and height.
Having frequently witnessed this mirage on the plains, I understood its deception, though never had I seen it so perfect before. Indeed, I could hardly realize that it was .
JIMMY.
the " Greenhorn's Lake," a mere phantom of the imagina- tion, that had lured many an unwary traveller miles out of his course, in the vain hope that he might quench his thirst, and lave his burning limbs in its delicious coolness.
· As we approached the high ground, Cochise gave me to
100
AN OASIS IN THE DESERT.
understand that we should be obliged to camp for the night on the plains, without grass for our mules; but that by ris- ing early in the morning, we should in a few hours reach both water and grass.
Before noon of the next day we came to a little aroya, down which trickled a small stream.
Cochise soon made a little tank, by scooping out the sand with his hands; this quickly filled with water, from which our thirsty mules drank eagerly. Here we tarried for the remainder of the day.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.