USA > Illinois > Marshall County > Records of the olden time; or, Fifty years on the prairies. Embracing sketches of the discovery, exploration and settlement of the country, the organization of the counties of Putnam and Marshall, biographies of citizens, portraits and illustrations > Part 50
USA > Illinois > Putnam County > Records of the olden time; or, Fifty years on the prairies. Embracing sketches of the discovery, exploration and settlement of the country, the organization of the counties of Putnam and Marshall, biographies of citizens, portraits and illustrations > Part 50
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On the 19th of October T. C. Stanton returned with five mules laden with flour and beef sent to their aid by Captain Sutter. The welcome
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supply cheered all hands, and but for this the whole party would have perished. Here a great mistake was committed.
Instead of pushing forward as they should have done they laid by four days to rest their cattle before ascending the mountains. It was a fatal delay. Here, too, an accident occurred, costing one man his life and leaving a widow and two fatherless infants.
The clouds now began to wear an omnious appearance, and everything indicated winter was at hand. It was a month earlier than usual,' but the mountains were covered with snow, and at Prosser Creek it was eight inches deep. The hapless emigrants struggled on and made desultory efforts to cross the barriers, but baffled, wearied and disheartened they turned back to the foot of the lake. Another determined effort was made. The wagons were left behind, the horses and mules packed with provisions, and all day long the men and animals floundered in the snow, breaking paths and forcing their way forward, but at nightfall an abrupt precipice was reached that could not be passed, and sorrowfully they re- turned. The next day it was decided to kill the stock, pack the meat, and cross the summit on foot, but to many the opportunity never came. That night snow began to fall at the Lake, coming down in large steady masses. All understood it meant death. The storm continued four days, and the cattle left to themselves strayed off and were lost in the drifts. The mules loaned by Captain Sutter were lost and never returned. Some of the cattle were afterward found and slaughtered; a Mrs. Breen, whose husband was an invalid, personally doing this, and storing up the meat for her family. Mrs. Reed had no cattle to kill and Mr. Graves gave her two from his store.
It was now apparent that the party must remain here during the win- ter, and preparations, such as were needed, were made. Mr. Graves built a cabin close by Donner Creek, and others were from one to six miles distant.
All knew that death speedily waited waited the company unless the mountain could be crossed and relief obtained from the other side, and it was resolved soon as possible the strongest and ablest should ; et forth. Accordingly, on the 15th of November, fifteen persons set out, among them being Mr. Graves, his two daughters, Mary A. and Sarah, along with her husband, Jay Fosdick. All day they toiled but did not get more than a mile from the cabins and at midnight they returned. The failure had a very depressing effect and many never rallied or afterward made an effort
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at release. On the 19th they killed a bear which gave a welcome supply of provisions, but what was that in a company of 81 persons. Things in- deed looked dark. They could count on their fingers when their provis- ions would be exhausted. yet unless it came from themselves no relief could be expected.
Day after day with aching hearts and throbbing brows they gazed into each others faces in blank despair. Who would go out and seek a grave that those left behind might live. Who would be the forlorn hope of the perishing emigrants.
Once, a party led by Patrick Breen, tried to reach the summit and again the same parties, accompanied by Mrs. Reed and family and others, made an unsuccessful atttempt. ' Still another party of men and women forced their way to Summit Valley but were forced to return.
About this time August Spitzer, weakened by long fasting, fell down never to rise again and was buried in the snow.
Finally a forlorn hope was organized and seventeen names enrolled, though two did not go, Mr. Graves making snow shoes for the party without which they could not travel. It was certain death to remain, it could be no worse to. go.
Who comprised this party? Mothers whose babes would starve unless they went; fathers, whose wives and children would perish if the fathers did not go; children, whose parents could not survive unless the children, by leaving, increased the parents' share of food. It was indeed a forlorn hope .. C. F. Stanton, as noble a man as ever lived, he who had returned laden with supplies furnished by Captain Sutter, was the first to volunteer. He said: "I will bring help to those famishing peo- ple or lay down my life." Franklin Ward Graves was the next. He was one of the noblest men that ever lived, and worthy of a monument. Of his nine children the youngest was but a babe. Generously had he parted with his cattle that others might live, dividing equally with those who had no food, when his own family was starving. Mary Graves and her sister Sarah resolved to accompany their father, and Jay Fosdick resolved to share with his wife, the perils of the way. Mrs. Foster and Mrs. Pike left their babes with their mother, she telling them what they ate would keep their little ones from starving.
Who can imagine the anguish with which Mrs. Pike bid her little Naomi, but two years old, and her nursing babe Catherine, farewell.
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What bitter tears were shed by Mrs. Foster, when she bid her baby boy good bye. They knew it not, but it was a long, long farewell.
Among others who went was an Irishman named Patrick Dolan from Keokuk. He had a supply of meat stored away, and generously gave it to Mrs. Reed, going voluntarily into the wilderness to starve and die. Oh, the horror of the occasion,- the heroism of the brave men and wo- men in the party. As an appreciation of his services, Mrs. Reed gave him a gold watch and a Masonic emblem belonging to her husband and hade him keep them. Months after, when the snows left the valleys, they were found by the Indians and carried to Captain Sutter's fort and re- claimed by the owners.
The party took with them six days rations, if a piece of tough shriv- eled beef the size of one's two fingers, three times a day, could be called ' such. This, with a little coffee and loaf sugar, was all. They dare not take more from the dear ones at the cabins. They had matches, a hatchet, one gun, and a blanket for each. The first day they made four miles, pressing resolutely forward, without so much as daring to look back to the dear ones whose lives depended upon the horrible venture.
They camped in full view of the cabins, which seemed harder to the aching hearts of the poor mothers than the parting. The snow was from twelve to sixty feet deep. The next day they made six miles, and get- ting a few boughs kindled a fire on the snow, boiled a little coffee and ate their pitiful allowance of beef. The third day they walked four miles, dragging themselves wearily along, silently and with downcast eyes. No one spoke except when absolutely necessary, but on they struggled, some- times at long distances from each other.
On the fifth day Stanton died. He had gone snow blind, and pite- ously besought them to lead him, but with food gone, hope lost, and only the blind clinging instinct of existence left, they could not aid him, and ceasing to importune he heroically met his fate. On that morning he sat by the camp-fire smoking, and as they were about to leave, Mary Graves went to his side and asked if he was coming. "Yes," he said, "I'ni com- ing soon." They were his last words.
None can be blamed for abandoning Stanton. In twenty-four hours all were without food, except a Mr. Eddy, who in his sorest need found a small piece of meat his wife had robbed herself of and hid in his clothes with a note signed, "Your own dearest Eleanor." It saved his life.
That night the snow begun to fall, coming down in great fleecy flakes.
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They were utterly discouraged and some proposed to go back, but the two Indians of the party said they would go on and Mary Graves said she would accompany them. For two days they had not tasted food, and some one proposed to cast lots to see who should die that the rest might live. It fell on Patrick Dolan, the generous Irishman who voluntarily gave his food that others might live. Who should take Dolan's life? With one accord they rose to their feet and staggered on, making two or three miles. The next morning dawned dreary, rainy and discouraging, but they started out as usual, the soft snow clinging to their feet in balls.
Mary Graves says instead of attempting to make a fire they crawled back to their old camp of the previous night and remained, the falling rain having changed to snow and sleet, which cut their pinched faces and made them shiver with cold. A good fire was finally made, which some- time during the night thawed the snow beneath and suddenly dropped out of sight. Their camp was made above a stream of water, which far below tumbled over its rocky bed. Here Patrick Dolan's life went out in demoniacal shrieks and frenzied appeals for food. About midnight Antoine ceased to breathe and W. F. Graves was dying. He had reached a point where iron nerves and a strong constitution would no longer sustain a man, and his end was at hand. Calling his daughters to his side he ex- horted them for the sake of those left behind to bear up and strive to prolong their lives.
He reminded Mrs. Pike of her babies and all of the necessity of secur- ing food and charged them when life was gone to save their own lives by using his body as food. His daughters had said they would never par- take of human flesh and earnestly he pleaded that they rise superior to their natural instincts and prejudices and use the the only means per- mitted to sustain life.
Was there not something noble and grand in the advice of this father? Was it not true heroism that all false delicacy be thrown aside and his body be sacrificed to save the starving emnigrants. A sublimer death was never witnessed. With his last breath he urged that his flesh be used to prolong the lives of his companions. Truly a soul so noble had no need of the form of its mortal tenant,-it had a better place prepared.
With their fires gone out, the fierce cold cutting to the bone and two of their number dead, some plan must be devised to secure warmth or all would perish. Lying down as closely as possible, Mr. Eddy spread blankets above and crawling beneath all were soon covered beneath the
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swiftly falling snow. The next day ushered in a worse storm than had yet been encountered, lasting two days. When at last it abated and they emerged from their prison-house they were more dead than alive. Four days they had passed without food and two without fire.
The horror of this "camp of death" can never be told. It was nec- esary to secure a fire or they would perish, yet for a long time their efforts were fruitless. Their matches were worthless and not until, Mrs. Pike tore open a mantle lined with cotton did they succeed in getting a fire from their flint lock gun. At last they suceeded and lighted the branches of a dead pine which afforded warmth. The weak, famished wretches had reached the last possible alternative and they must eat of the flesh of their dead companions or all perish. Oh, the supreme, the awful horror of horrors of the moment.
The men finally mustered courage enough to approach the dead. With averted heads and trembling hands they cut pieces of flesh from the inanimate forms and placed them on the coals. Human beings were never called on to undergo more trying ordeals. Dividing into groups, the members of each family were spared the pain of feasting upon their own kindred. One could not eat. This was Lemuel Murphy, a feeble boy of thirteen years, who succumbed to the great hardships and privations, and died with his head in the lap of his sister.
The four bodies were divested of their flesh and the same dried.
Although none partook of their own kindred the sights were blood- curdling. Can any one express the horror of Mrs. Foster when she saw the heart of her beloved brother broiling upon the coals? Yet did she endure it that she might succor her babies and her mother, who were left behind. The Indian guides would not partake of the revolting food but sat apart in mute dejection. Starved bodies possess little nutriment, and soon the supplies were exhausted. Then they ate their shoe strings and their moccasins. That night the Indians, hearing words that boded no good, became alarmed and fled. On the 4th, Mr. Eddy and Mary Graves, who were together, shot a deer, drinking its blood and feasting on its flesh, then waiting for the others to come up. It sustained the party several days. Next Jay Fosdick gave out, becoming too weak and exhausted to travel. That night he died, his wife staying by him until morning, and then struggling on to overtake her companions. Mrs. Foster's husband had given out and was perishing, and Mrs. Fosdick con- sented the flesh of her husband should be converted into food. It was
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the first time a woman had been called on to use the knife, but Mrs. Fos- ter cut the withered flesh, and broiling it over the coals gave it to her husband and saved his life. Mrs. Fosdick would not touch the food, and but for the deer would have died. Head, feet, entrails, and all were eaten, and then they were without food of any kind. That night they felt would be their last, but when morning came they staggered on.
Soon they met freshly inade tracks marked with blood. It was the tracks of the two Indians who for nine days had been without food. Starving, exhausted, with feet bleeding and frozen they staggered on until they reached a little streamlet, where they lay down to die. The starving whites came up and passed them, for famished as they were they could not think of depriving them of the little life left in their wasted bodies. Already the delirium that precedes death was upon them, and the fugitives sat down to wait their death. There were five women and two men left, and two of those must die unless help came at once. William Foster went back and told them he must take their lives. They neither moaned nor struggled, but with Indian stoicism submitted. The emigrants heard two reports of the gun and all was over.
Even this relief was but temporary. . The flesh was carefully removed, saving it all, and they pushed on, until absolute starvation again stared them in the face.
At last they reached a valley where they beheld human tracks, and turning a point discovered an Indian Rancherie. Mary Graves, who tells it, says they ran fast as their uncertain steps could carry them. The In- dians were amazed. Never had they beheld such pitiable human creatures who stood stretching out their arms for assistance. A moment they looked and then all turned and fled, but soon returned to aid the dying travelers. The women and children cried and wailed with grief at their terrible condition, and set before them such food as they had, which was bread made of acorns. The Indians did all they could to relieve them, but the food was insufficient for their weakened systems, and they knew something more nutritious must be had or they must die. So again they started, with their Indian friends as guides. Day after day they strug- gled until their strength was all gone, and they laid down feeling they could not rise again. W. H. Eddy had still some remaining strength, and with an Indian on either side he pushed on fifteen miles, to the cabin of a Mr. Tucker, where he found relief, and at once despatched aid to those behind who were brought safely in. Their names were W. H. Eddy,
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William Foster, Mrs. Foster, Mrs. Pike, Mrs. McCutchen, Sarah Fosdick and Mary Graves. It was thirty-two days since they left Donner Lake.
Meanwhile, how fared those left behind? About the time the fifteen left, William Baylies starved to death. He died in the Graves cabin, and was buried by W. E. Graves and John Denton. All the party were starving. Between them and death were only the hides of the cattle taken off in the fall and laid on the roof for protection. These were cut into strips, the hair singed off, and the sides scraped until clean, and then boiled and eaten without salt. It made a pulpy mass very much like glue, containing very little nourishment.
The cast away bones of the cattle were picked up and boiled until they crumbled in the teeth and could be eaten, and even rags were toasted and eaten.
The Donner party, at the foot of the lake, were if possible worse off. They ate everything from which nourishment could be extracted, and got so weak they could not make a fire.
Mrs. Murphy had charge of the little nursing babe of Catherine Pike, and all the nourishment she could give it was snow water mixed with a little coarse flour.
Jacob Donner was the first to die. He expired while sitting at the table in his tent, as if in deep meditation.
Patrick Breen kept a diary, from which these particulars are gleaned. He was a devout Catholic, and during the darkest hours prayers were regularly read. So impressive were these religious ceremonies that one beautiful girl made a vow that if God saved her family she would become a Catholic. He did save them and she kept her vow. She is to-day a devout Catholic.
Many attempts were made to cross the mountains, but all were fail- ures, and the disheartened, starving emigrants each time returned. Jan- uary 27 there was a death, and on the 31st. another. February 4 and February 7 two children died. The snow being so deep out of doors one was buried in the Graves cabin. On the 8th and 9th three more deaths occurred. February 14, another death.
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CHAPTER LIII.
RELIEF.
O soon as possible after the forlorn hope had got through, a relief party was organized to go to the aid of those left in the mountains, but it took ten or twelve days to get ready. It was on the 5th of February they started, and three days later three of them returned, unable to endure the hard- ships of the journey.
At the foot of the mountains the horses had to be , abandoned, as the snow was so deep they could not travel; but the brave men, carrying fifty pounds each, made the journey on foot. What a' spectacle met their gaze. The deep snows had almost concealed the cabins, and the inmates lived subterranean lives. They were like deep pits, down which icy steps led like going into a grave. Dead men and women were laying around, some without any covering and others partially buried in the snow. So weak had they become that it was a great effort to hoist the dead up the steps of snow that led to the cabins. All were reduced to skeletons, their eyes were sunken deep in their sockets and had a fierce maniac glare terrible to behold,. their faces were haggard, woe-begone and sepulcheral. It was seldom a voice was heard, but when heard was weak, tremulous and pitiful. Food, there was absolutely none.
Wood was plentiful, but to these weak, starving creatures it was a herculean task to prepare it. Their numb, fleshless fingers could hardly guide an ax, and it was more than their feeble strength could do to wield it.
Milton Elliot died in the Bree : cabin. There were no men about and Mrs. Breen and her daughter by tugging, pushing and lifting as best they could, got the body up the steps. And now it seemed Virginia Reed, the brave little girl who bound up the cruel wounds on her father's head, who braved the wrath of the infuriate men determined upon taking his life, and conveyed to him arms and provisions; who had been the life, the hope, the stay of the cabin and camp, must die. Her stomach had grown so weak that it could no longer endure the nauseating
SAD STORY OF THE GRAVES FAMILY. 603
boiled hides, and they had nothing else to give. Good Mrs. Breen was the first to notice the signs of dissolution, and softly calling her mother, they ascended to the snow above to confer upon it away from the hearing of the girl. Together they knelt and prayed, and were talking despairingly of the future, when an unusual noise was heard above them, and then the shout of a strong man. It was the relief party sent out by the forlorn hope. Virginia Reed's life was saved.
Captain Reasin Tucker led the party, an old acquaintance of the Graves family, to whose cabin he hastened. Famished, indeed, they were. Anxiously Mrs. Graves asked about her dear husband, and Captain Tucker had not the heart to tell her the truth, and so he said they were well. So too they deceived Mrs. Murphy about her dead son.
Mrs. Graves was a noble-hearted woman, specially praised for her un- stinted charity. She was generous to a fault, and no one was turned from her door without food while she had it to give.
The relief party started back in a couple of days, and twenty-three persons accompanied them, among whom were William C., Eleanor and Lovina Graves. Mrs. Pike's child and Mrs. Kirby's child were carried by the party.
Before they had proceeded two miles two of Mrs. Reed's children showed such signs of weakness that it was not safe to proceed, and Aquilla Glover so informed her. Bitter was her grief, and to cherish her feelings Mr. Glover promised to return when he reached Bear Valley and take them over. Turning to him, she said : "Are you a Mason?" He re- plied, "I am." "Will you promise me upon the word of a Mason that you will come back and get my children ?" Mr. Glover made the promise, and the little ones were by him taken back to the cabins. In the gloomiest moment of her life the mother remembered her husband deeply revered the order, and she felt if her children must be left, she would trust this Brother to care for them. The party were placed on short allowance from the start, and each day it was cut shorter until they had for a day's rations but two pieces of meat the size of one's finger.
/
On the evening of the first day a death occurred. It was the infant child of Mrs Keseberg. Her only boy had starved to death at the cabin, and her grief was inconsolable.
When camp was pitched at night John Denton was missing. They went back along the route and found him lying on the snow, entirely ex- hausted and asleep. They roused him and took him to camp. He appre-
.
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ciated their kindness but declared he could not stand another day's travel. And true enough after walking a little way he gave out and sat down deciding that he could go no farther. His companions built a fire and leaving some food went on. Their necessities were too great for them to wait. Denton was a gunsmith and worked in metals, and the first one to discover gold in California. In the ashes of the Graves cabin he found a yellow metal which he declared was gold and retained the piece as long as he lived. The existence of gold in California at that time was not known but afterwards there were extensive mining camps in the vicinity, and since gold exists in the soil there, it is more than probable the statement is correct. The second relief party found his remains untouched, and beside him a memorandum book on one leaf of which was inscribed the following beautiful poem, and there too lay the pencil with which it was penned. It is inexpressibly sad and beautiful.
Oh after many many years, How sweet it is to come Back to the dwelling place of youth, Our first and dearest home ; To turn away our wearied eyes From proud ambition's towers, And wander in those summer fields, The scenes of boyhood's hours.
But I am changed since last I gazed Upon that tranquil scene, And sat beneath the old witch elm That shades the village green, And watched my boat upon the brook, It was a regal galley, And sighed not for a joy on earth, Beside the happy valley. %
I wish I could once more recall That bright and blissful joy, . And summon to my weary heart The feelings of a boy ; But now on scenes of past delight. I look and feel no pleasure, As misers on the bed of death, Gaze coldly on their treasures.
Just as their last provisions were exhausted, they reached a place where Capt. Tucker had cached a supply, tied up in a tree. To their in- exepressible grief and dismay they were gone. Some wild animals had
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eaten the ropes and destroyed them. Death stared them in the face, and the strongest man trembled at the prospect.
But soon they met James F. Reed, and the little party with him was laden with provisions for the sufferers. Taking just sufficient for their immediate wants each passed on. The meeting between Reed and his family under the circumstances, was very touching, and after a simple greeting he continued his journey knowing full well that an hour's delay might cost a human life.
At Bear Valley Capt. Tucker had another cache of provisions, and these were safe. The small quantity distributed could not satisfy their hunger, and great care was taken that the starving people did not get too much. After a sufficient quantity was distributed, the remainder was hung up in a tree. During the night a boy named Hook climbed the tree and ate until his hunger was appeased. It was a fatal act. In the morn- ing he could not move, and the camp went on without him. William Murphy's feet were swollen and blistered so that he could go no further, and he, too, was left. A camp keeper likewise remained. When all had gone, William Murphy rose up and followed. For two days he walked barefoot on the snow, his feet frozen and bleeding.
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