USA > Iowa > Fayette County > Oelwein > The Telegraph-herald's abridged history of the state of Iowa and directory of Fayette County, including the city of Oelwein, with a complete classified business directory; > Part 11
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On the 29th, the little army reached the Irish colony, near where Emmetts- burg now stands, and exchanged some of their worn out teams for fresh animals. They were also reinforced by several young men, bringing the number of the command up to one hundred and twenty-five. Dr. Strong, who
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had deserted his wife and child, was found here, but could not be persuaded to join the relief expedition. Mr. Williams, expecting soon to be within reach of the Indians, sent a company of nine picked men in advance as scouts. They were Carpenter, Mason, Thatcher, Church, Laughlin, Hathaway,. Defore and Johnson, under command of Lieutenant Maxmell. They carried corn bread to last three days. This was the 30th of March, and traveling northward about twelve miles, upon reaching an elevation, one of the company shouted "Indians!" Far away could be seen a party twice as large as their own, slowly advancing. Lientenant Maxwell quickly formed his men in line for the attack, and followed a high ridge to keep in sight of the enemy, as the approaching party was seen to be preparing for battle. Coming nearer, Mr. Church, who was in advance, suddenly dropped his gun, sprang forward, exclaiming, "My God! there's my wife and babies!"
Governor Carpenter described the scene that followed:
"They had surrounded the ox-sled in an attitude of defense, as they had supposed us to be Indians, and had resolved, if overpowered, never to fall into the hands of the savages alive. On discovering that we were friends, such a heartrending scene I never before witnessed, as the relatives and friends of the refugees liad supposed they were dead. In the party were Mrs. W. L. Church and her children: her sister, Drusella Swanger, shot through the shoulder; Mr. Thomas, who had lost an arm; Mr. Carver, also severely wounded in the fight at Springfield; Mrs. Dr. Strong and child, who had been deserted by her craven husband. In the haste of their flight they had taken but few provisions and scanty clothing. The women had worn out their shoes; their dresses were torn into fringe about the ankles; the children were crying with hunger and cold; the wounded were in a deplorable condition for want of surgical aid. Their food was entirely exhausted; they had no means of making a fire; their blankets and clothing were wet and frozen; and in their exhausted condition it is hardly possible that many of them could have survived another night's exposure from the fearful storm then coming on. The refugees were so overcome by the sudden transition from deadly peril and impending death that seemed to confront them, changed in an instant to relief in their desperate extremity, that they sank down in the snow, crying and laughing alternately, as their deliverers gathered around them. If nothing more had been accomplished by the relief expedition, every member felt that the salvation of eighteen perishing refugees, from almost certain death from exposure and starvation, had richly repaid them for ali the hardships encountered."
On the 31st the expedition pushed northward, finding frequent indications of Indians, until it reached the. Granger house, on the west fork of the Des Moines River, near the Minnesota linc. Here Major Williams learned that a company of soldiers from Fort Ridgely was at Springfield for the protection of settlers, and that the Indians had moved on westward. As the bodies of the murdered victims at the lakes were unburied, Major Williams called for volunteers to go to the lakes and bury the mutilated bodies. Twenty-three. brave men promptly stepped forward and volunteered to go on the perilous mission. April 2nd the command separated, the main body under Major Williams turned back to the Irish colony, while Captain Johnson's party started for the lakes. On reaching Thatcher's cabin, East Okoboji, a horrible spectacle was presented. All was in ruins, and lying in the yard were the dead bodies of Noble and Ryan. as they had fallen three weeks before when shot down.
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Inside the cabin nothing was left but the ghastly forms of the two little children who had been dragged from the arms of their terrified mothers,. Mrs. Thatcher and Mrs. Noble. The fate of the two young mothers was then unknown. From cabin to cabin, the company went through the settlement, burying the dead, until all were laid beneath the ground.
CHAPTER XXXIII. A
Not one of the colony was found alive. Mr. Marble's body had been buried by the soldiers from Fort Ridgely, The body of young Dr. Herriott was found near Mattock's cabin, with his right hand still grasping his broken rifle, where he had fallen in a hand to hand struggle with the Indians, bravely defending his neighbors. The bodies of Luce. and Clark, near the outlet of the lake, were not found until some weeks later. The burial party started April 4th on their homeward march, their provisions entirely consunied. . ..
The weather was warm and the melting snow filled the sloughs with water, in many places waist, deep, through which the men had to wade, wetting their clothing to the shoulders. About 4 o'clock the wind, which had been in the south, suddenly changed to the northwest, and in half an hour a howling blizzard was sweeping down upon them. Their clothes were soon frozen stiff. Some of the party had taken their boots off to wade the sloughs, and others had holes cut in them to let the water out. Many had their boots frozen before they could put them on and were compelled to walk through the snow and freezing water in their stockings, which were soon worn out.
As night came on the piercing winds nearly chilled them to death. They dare not lie down in the snow, for it was only by vigorous exercise that they were able to keep warmth and life in their stiffening limbs and bodies. They separated into two companies, one led by Captain Johnson, the other by Lieutenant Maxwell. They dare not go on in the blinding storm and darkness, fearing to lose their way, so all that iong fearful night they tramped back and forth in a desperate effort to save themselves from freezing. Often the weaker ones ones would fall down benumbed in the drifting snow and the stronger comrades would lift them up and force them to keep moving.
In the morning, says Lieutenant Maxwell:
"I saw Johnson and Burkholder some distance from us, going in a southerly direction, while we were traveling east. They were following the directions of an old trapper, and we soon lost sight of them. Henry Carse became unconscions during the day, and sank in the snow, blood running from his mouth. We carried him to the river, where a fire was started by saturating a damp wad with powder and shooting it into the weeds. Carse was now helpless, and when we cut the rags from his feet, the frozen skin and flesh came off with them."
As soon as the fire was well started, Maxwell and Laughlin, who were the strongest of the party, determined to cross the river and go to the Irish colony for help. They reached the settlement and sent assistance to their comrades, who were brought in badly frozen, but alive. Major Williams gives the follow- ing account of the sad fate of Captain J. C. Johnson and William E. Burkholder:
"G P. Smith was the last one who saw then. He fell in with them after they had separated from their comrades and traveled with them for some time. They were much exhausted from wading ponds and sloughs; their clothes
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were frozen and covered with ice. Their feet were badly frozen, and unable to walk farther. they finally sank down in the snow, and Smith helped them to pull off their frozen boots. They tore up a part of their blankets and. wrapped them around their freezing feet, which were very painful. Smith urged them to get up and make another effort to reach the Des Moines River timber, which was in sight, but they were so chilled and exhausted by the bleak wind, frozen feet and icy clothing that they were unable to rise, and said they could go no farther. After vainly trying for a long time to get them to make another effort to reach the timber, Smith at last realized that to save his own life he must leave them. After going some distance he looked back and saw them still on their knees in the snow, apparently unable to arise. It is not likely they ever left the spot where Smith left them, but finally, overcome with cold, they sank down and perished side by side."
Eleven years after two skeletons were found near where they were last seen and identified by the guns and powder flasks lying near them as the remains of Johnson and Burkholder.
Captain J. C. Johnson had recently came to Webster City from Pennsyl- vania, a young men who was universally esteemed. His courage, patient endurance and considerate care for his men on that long fearful march had. endeared him to every member of his company.
William E. Burkholder had recently been elected Treasurer of Webster County, and was a young man of great promise. He had cheerfully shared all' the hardships of this winter campaign, volunteering to go on to the lakes to bury the dead. He was a brother of Governor Carpenter's wife.
The principal division of the expedition which had gone back to the Irish colony had but little trouble until near night of the second day's march. Provisions being scarce, they were put upon short allowance. The river was very high and melting snow was filling the creeks and sloughs. When the division reached Cylinder Creek, its banks were overflown and spread out over the valley a mile in width and twelve feet deep, with a strong current in the channel. All efforts to find a crossing failed. The wind had changed to the northwest and it was growing cold. Captains Richards and Duncombe saw danger before them and sent Major Williams and Mr. Dawson, both of whom were old men, back to the settlement, when they proceeded to look for a crossing. An effort was made to convert the wagon box into a raft on which to cross and with a long rope erect a ferry. But the raft was swamped and the rope lost. A messenger was sent to the nearest house for help and material for a jaft. Captain Richards says:
"The wind was now blowing a terrific gale and the cold was intense so that our wet clothing was frozen stiff upon us as we traveled up and down the banks of the swollen current in a vain search for a better place for the men to cross. When help and material for a raft came, so strong and cold was the wind, and so swift the current, filled with floating ice, that all our efforts to build a raft failed. It was now dark and still growing colder, and the roar of the blinding storm so great that we could no longer hold communication with our companions on the other side. We were benumbed with cold, utterly exhausted, and three miles from the nearest cabin. We were powerless to aid our comrades, and could only try to save ourselves. It was a terrible walk in the face of the terrible blizzard, our clothes frozen, our feet freezing, and our strength gone. After wandering in the blinding storm until 9 o'clock,
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we fortunately found the cabin. Here we passed a night that will never be obliterated from my memory. We gathered about the fire vainly trying to dry our frozen clothing. We had no blankets, and the piercing wind was driving through every crevice of the cabin, and we walked the floor in the most intense anxiety over the fate of our companions, left on the banks of the creek, exposed to the fury of the blizzard, withont food, shelter or fire. All through the night we kept looking out on the wild storm in hopes it would cease, but the cold grew ever more intense, and the wind howled more fiercely, and no one slept. We knew that Carpenter, Stratton, Stevens and Wright were men endowed with courage equal to any emergency, and we trusted they would find some way to keep the men from perishing; still a harrowing fear would come over us that we should in the morning find them frozen to death. Terrible visions of their fate tortured us through the long hours of the night, and with the first dawn of light Duncombe, Smith, Mason and I were wading through the drifts to Cylinder Creek. The mercury was now 28 degrees below zero, and the blizzard at its wildest fury. Mason gave out and sank down on the drifts. I got him back to the cabin and soon overtook the others. Strong ice was formed on the creek from the shore, and we hurried over it to the main channel where the current was so swift that it was too weak to bear us up. We could go no farther, could not see across for the drifting snow, and could hear no sound on the other side in answer to our loud shouts. Our faces and hands were now freezing, and we had to return to the cabin and wait uptil the ice should be strong enough to support us. Toward night we made another vain effort to cross, and had to return to the cabin, oppressed with the conviction that not one of our companions could survive until morning. But soon after dark three of the men came to the cabin and reported the command safe."
Governor Carpenter tells how they managed to save themselves:
"We took the covers from the wagons and some tent canvas and stretched them over the wheels and made a rude shelter. We then put all of the blankets together on the snow and crowded in, lying down close together in our wet and frozen clothing, where we remained from Saturday evening until Monday morning, with nothing to eat until we reached Shippey cabin Monday noon. We had waited until the ice had frozen over Cylinder Creek hard enough to bear up our loaded wagons and teams. I have since marched with armies from Cairo to Atlanta and up to Richmond, sometimes traveling continuously for three or four days and nights with only a brief halt occasionally to give the exhausted soldiers a chance to boil a cup of coffee; under burning suns, through rain, sleet and snow, we endured great suffering: but never in all the weary years could our suffering be compared with that of the two terrible days days and nights we endured on the banks of Cylinder Creek."
Lieutenant Mason says :
"How we survived those fearful nights I do not know, when the mercury sank to 34 degrees below zero the first night. The poor boys were slowly freezing, and many of them were insane; I think all of us were more or less insane the last night. The tongues of many of the men were hanging out, and the blood was running from the mounth or nose as we got up the last morning."
The command now broke up into small parties and spread out over a wide range of country. In no other way could they find food in the scanty supply of the few settlers who had lived along the river. The sufferings of some of
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the small parties reached the last degree of endurance as they traveled home- ward. But for the help of the settlers many must have perished. However, all reached their homes except Johnson and Burkholder, but many were badly frozen.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Captain Duncombe, in writing of this relief party thirty years later, says: "For severe hardships, continuous toil, constant exposure, bodily and mental suffering, I do not believe it has ever been surpassed by men who have risked their lives to rescue their fellow men from peril and death."
While these events were transpiring, four young women, who had been dragged from their homes by the merciless savages, were cowering in the Indian camp. The Indians loaded their ponies, squaws and captives with plunder soon after their repulse at the Thomas cabin and started westward. Mrs. Thatcher was ill of a fever and scarcely able to walk, but the savages had no mercy. She was compelled to wade through snow and water sometimes up to her waist carrying a heavy load. At night she was forced to assist in all the camp drudgery, cutting and carrying wood until she often sank fainting in the snow. When she could no longer walk she was lashed to the back of a pony and carried along. She bore her sufferings with great patience in the hope that her husband, to whom she was devoutly attached, had escaped the massacre and would do all in his power for her rescue.
The Indians on the third day discovered that they were being pursued by soldiers. Preparations were made for battle, while the squaws tore down the tents and hid among the willows. The captives were left in the custody of a warrior with orders to kill them when the attack began. Another Indian secreted in a tree watched the soldiers and signaled their movements to the warriors.
For an hour and a half the suspense and excitement was intense with both Indians and captives until it was known that the soldiers had turned back and abandoned pursuit. The pursuing party was a detachment of twenty-four men, under Lieutenant Murray, which had been sent by Captain Bee, from Springfield, in pursuit of the Indians. He had arrived from Fort Ridgely and secured two half-breed guides from Lieutenant Murray. They reached the grove in which the Indians had encamped the night before at 3 p. m. Lieutenant Murray, upon examination of the camp, believed the Indians were near, but the guides assured him the camp was three days old and further pursuit wauld be futile. Thus deceived, Murray turned back, when actually in sight of the sentinel of the Indians, who was watching his movements. The Indians were numerically stronger, and being well armed and in ambush the result of an attack would have been doubtful. Then the four captives would have been murdered at once. Herein it was fortunate that no attack was made. The Indians were alarmed and fled and traveled in their flight for two days and nights without stopping. The captives suffered fearfully in the hurried retreat, wading through deep snow and sloughs and rivers, hungry, cold and exhausted and worn out, and it is a wonder they survived. The horses which they had taken from the murdered settlers died from starvation before they reached the Big Sioux River. Their bodies were cut up for food and the loads they had carried were trans- ferred to the backs of the squaws and the four white women.
Horrible suffering had been endured by the four young white women during
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the first six weeks. When they reached the Big Sioux River, as they were preparing to cross an Indian came up to Mrs. Thatcher, who was carrying a heavy load, took the pack from her shoulders and ordered her to go on to the driftwood bridge. She realized at once that some harm was intended. She turned to her companions and bade them "good-bye," saying, 'If any of you escape, tell my dear husband that I wanted to live for his sake." The savage drove her along before him and when about half across seized her and hurled her into the river, With wonderful strength and courage she swam in the icy current until she reached and clung to a fallen tree on the shore. She was beaten off by the savages with clubs and with their tent poles pushed her back into the swift current. Again the brave woman swam for the opposite shore, when the merciless wretches beat her back into the rapids. As she was carried along by the current. the savages ran along the shore throwing clubs and stones at the exhausted and drowning woman, until one of the warriors raised his rifle and shot her as she clung to a ledge of driftwood. A more cowardly crime is not recorded in the annals of Indian cruelty and barbarity. She was but nineteen years of age, a lovely girl in the bloom of youth, and had come with her husband to make a home on the beautiful wooded shore of Okoboji. Intimate friendship existed between Mrs. Noble and Mrs. Thatcher. They had married cousins and together had moved to the distant frontier with bright anticipations of long, happy lives in each other's society. Now, as Mrs. Noble closed her eyes to shut out the horror of the dying struggles of her dearest friend, and thought of her murdered husband, child, father, mother, brothers and sister, she felt that death alone could relieve her hopeless anguish. That night she begged Abbie and Mrs. Marble to go with her and end their sufferings beneath the dark waters of the river, where her last dear friend had perished. From that day Mrs. Noble seemed weary of life and anxious tn end the horrors that every night brought to the captives.
When the news of the capture of four women and the massacre of the settlers at the lakes reached the Indian Agency on Yellow Medicine River, the agent, Charles E. Flandreau, with S. R. Riggs and Dr. Thos. Williamson, mis- sionaries, began to devise plans for the rescue of the captives. Two friendly Indians had visited the Sioux camp, had there seen the three captive women and at once opened negotiations for their purchase. They succeeded in pur- chasing Mrs. Marble. When she learned that she had been sold by Ink-po-du-tah to two strange Indians, she bade her companions a sorrowful good-bye, and assured them that if she should reach a white settlement she would do all in her power for their rescue. She was taken to the Yellowstone Agency, where after several weeks, she was ransomed by Mr. Riggs and Dr. Williamson, who paid the Indians $1,000 for her, which sum had been raised by Major Flandreau. Mrs. Marble at once did everything in her power to effect the rescue of her two surviving companions. Major Flandreau was also untiring in their behalf.
CHAPTER XXXV.
The Legislature of Minnesota appropriated $10,000 to be used by the Governor for the rescue of the captives. Large rewards were offered to friendly Indians and volunteers came forward at once. Major Flandreau procured an outfit, and, on the 23rd of May, a party started with orders to purchase the captive women at any price. Four companies of soldiers were to be marched at
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once from Fort Ridgely, as near Ink-pa-du-tah's camp as was prudent, and as soon as the captives were secured exterminate the perpetrators of the massacre, if possible. But as the troops were ready to start, orders came for them to join General Johnson's Utah expedition, and Ink-pa-du-tah's band thus escaped punishment. While these events were transpiring, the two captive women were taken farther into the wilds of Dakota and were hopeless of rescue.
One evening after the two women had gone to their tent, Roaring Cloud, a son of the chief, came in and ordered Mrs. Noble to come with him to his tepee. She refused to go. He seized her and attempted to drag her off. She resisted with all of her strength, determined then and there to end her wretched life, rather than again submit to the horrors from which there was no other escape. She alone of the helpless captives had often resisted the brutal savages, until her strength was exhausted and she was overpowered. Since the cruel murder of her friend, Mrs. Thatcher, she had felt life a burden. That night she nerved herself to welcome death. Wild with rage at her unyielding resistance, the young savage dragged her out of the tent, seized a club, beat her head unmercifully, leaving her mangled form near the door. For half an hour her dying moans reached the ears of the terrified girl, Abbie, who was cowering in a corner, now alone in the hands of the savages.
The next morning the Indians cut off the two dark heavy braids of hair from the head of the murdered woman, fastened them to a stick, and followed Abbie, switching her face with them, thus adding to her agony. They reached the James River. where Ashton now stands. Here was an Indian village of about two thousand Sioux, and Abbie abandoned all hope of rescue. But powerful friends were at work, spurred on by the urgent entreaties of Mrs. Marble. Major Flandreau had procured Indian goods of great value to tempt them and selected three of the most trusty of the race to proceed with all possible haste to overtake Ink-pa-du-tah's band. John Oother Day led the party and, on the 30th of May, 1857, reached the vicinity of the Sioux encampment, hiding the team. Entering the village he and his men soon learned that there was but one white woman remaining. After three days' negotiations they succeeded in purchasing Miss Gardner. They took her to St. Paul, delivered her to Governor Medary and received $1,200 for their faithful services in rescuing the last of the surviving captives. The two women who were rescued never recovered from the brutal treatment they received from the Indians while in captivity. While their lives were spared, their suffering, bodily and mentally, could only end with death. Abbie never saw Mrs. Marble after her release from captivity, but found Mr. Thatcher and conveyed to him the last message of his young wife and the full particulars of her sad fate. At Hampton she found her sister, Eliza, who made her escape from the Springfield massacre. In 1885 Abbie Gardner Sharp wrote a full history of the massacre and her captivity. The history of Indian wars and barbarities furnishes nothing more cruel, heartless and bloody than the horrors which exterminated the first colony planted on the shores of Okoboji and Spirit Lakes. Of all the horrors endured by white women in Indian captivity, none have surpassed those of Elizabeth Thatcher, Lydia Noble, Abbit Gardner and Margaret A. Marble.
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