USA > Washington > History of Washington; the rise and progress of an American state, Vol. III > Part 28
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It was well that Maloney halted when he did, for he had hardly left his camp on White River before the hostile ele- ment among the Indians on the Sound began to display activity. As soon as Eaton began the scouting service to which he had been assigned, he found that Leschi and Quiemuth, his brother, had left their accustomed haunts in the neigh- borhood of Fort Nisqually, where they had long resided, and where they cultivated small patches of ground, and owned considerable herds of horses. Their absence was regarded with suspicion, as it was remembered that Leschi had shown opposition to the treaty at the Medicine Creek council, and that Governor Stevens had there revoked the commission he had given him as chief of the Nisqually band. It was also known that both he and his brother had worked for Dr. Tolmie from time to time, as he had occasion for such services as they were willing to render, and from this, in the state of feeling which prevailed at that time, it was assumed that they would be unfriendly to the Americans. Eaton had there- fore made it one of his first duties to inquire as to their
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whereabouts, and not finding them at home, he became more than ever suspicious that they had become hostile.
For the two days following, Eaton was employed in rang- ing through the country east of the Sound, and as far south as the Nisqually, and on the evening of October 25th he crossed the Puyallup River by the military road, and went into camp about a mile east of it. On the following morn- ing he divided his command into two platoons, and made a reconnoissance up the river, both banks of which were care- fully examined for a distance of several miles, but without finding any Indians.
Next morning, the 27th, it was found necessary to send the commissary, W. W. Miller, with an escort of five men, and some pack animals to Steilacoom for supplies, and Lieu- tenants Tullis and Poe were also dispatched to Olympia for recruits. Some time after their departure information was brought to camp that a considerable party of Indians had established themselves some two or three miles further east, and near the place where the road crossed White River. How definite this information was, as to the character and number of the Indians, is not now known, though it appears it was known that they had represented that they were there for the purpose of taking fish. It was the fishing season, and it was reasonable enough that they should be there for that purpose. But if they were hostile and bent on war it was a most dangerous place to permit them to remain. It was the one place in all western Washington which a trained soldier would choose, if he wished to help the Indian cause. It was directly in Maloney's rear, commanded the only road by which he could retreat, or by which supplies or reinforce- ments could be sent him. Should he be defeated not one of his soldiers could pass it alive, and the Nachess road, which
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had been built for military purposes, would be open to the hostiles on both sides of the mountains, who would use it for the destruction of the settlers.
Although not specially trained to the art of war, it is prob- able that all this was clear to Eaton, when told where this camp was. It is probable also that he knew that both Leschi and Quiemuth, the two Indians he had been particularly in search of for three days past, were there and in command. Connell, who had been a soldier, and who had now taken a claim near where this Indian camp was, was with him-some say, had brought the news to him. He knew Leschi, and so did Lieutenant McAllister, and the latter asked permission to go to this camp and confer with him, doubtless hoping that on account of his long acquaintance, and the friendly feeling that had subsisted between them, he might be able to per- suade him to give up any hostile intentions he might have, and withdraw to one of the reserve encampments. Eaton gave his permission reluctantly. At parting he particularly admonished McAllister to return that evening, and he had replied that he would do so "if alive." Both seem to have had some misgivings about the undertaking, although McAl- lister wished to go, and set off accompanied by Connell and two friendly Indians. Neither of the white men ever returned. Shortly after their departure the captain, accom- panied by James W. Wiley, started eastward along the same road McAllister and Connell had taken, to examine a slough which was said to be next to impassable. This slough was not more than a mile beyond the camp, and after inspecting it to their satisfaction, and discovering that it would require but little work to make it easily passable by horses, they started again for their camp. They had gone but a short distance when they heard a rifle shot, followed quickly by
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another and then a volley. They instantly suspected what had happened and hurried to their camp, where preparations for defense were made with all possible speed.
But eleven now remained of their party, and they were too few to meet any considerable number of Indians in the open. They had no very large supply either of provisions or ammuni- tion, but Eaton concluded that it was better for every reason to make a stand where they were, if a defensible position could be found, than to retreat. Accordingly possession was taken of an abandoned log cabin in a small clearing. Here they were shortly afterward attacked by a numerous body of Indians, who surrounded the cabin and kept up an almost continuous fire upon it and its occupants during the whole night and far into the following day. The fire was steadily returned by the besieged party, but with what effect they could not tell, as their assailants rarely showed them- selves. The best the volunteers could do was to fire at the flash of the rifles of their assailants during the night, and as daylight appeared the Indians kept carefully under cover. Only one white man was wounded in this engagement, and he not seriously, but all their horses were stolen.
Early on the morning following the killing of McAllister and Connell, the families of Harvey H. Jones, William A. Brannan and George E. King, consisting of fourteen persons, living in the White River Valley, about half way between the thriving towns of Kent and Auburn of the present day,* were attacked by Indians, and nine of them were mercilessly butchered. The attacking party was apparently led by a chief of the White River Indians known as Nelson, who had
* The claims on which this massacre occurred lie along the river just east of the Northern Pacific Railroad, and opposite the station called Meredith on the Interurban.
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been a frequent caller on one of these families at least, and had received many favors from the hands of his victims. Only a few days before the massacre he had visited the Jones house and, while warming himself at the fire, had said moodily that the white people would soon own the whole country and the Indians would be driven away. Some people have since attempted to construe this as a warning, but, if there was any such purpose in it, it was too subtly concealed to be of any benefit to his benefactors. The family were wholly unprepared for an attack, and suspected no danger, when, in the quiet of that Sunday morning, they gathered about the table for their morning meal. There were three adults and three children, the oldest seven and the youngest scarcely two years of age. Mr. Jones had not yet risen, being ill with pleurisy, and Enoch Cooper, the hired man, was the only person of the party who could pos- sibly make any resistance in case of an attack.
While at table a sound was heard at the door which all recognized as indicating that an Indian was outside .* Mrs. Jones rose quickly and started toward the door, followed by the older children. As she opened it she saw several Indians outside, none of whom were very near the house. One of them was posted at the corner of a small building made of logs, with a rifle at his shoulder and aimed at the door. He had evidently expected a man would open it, and intended to kill him at the first fire, but seeing a woman his heart failed him. The door was instantly closed, and the Indians began firing at it, and through the windows. Jones rose from his bed and was almost immediately shot through the breast,
* The Indians never could be taught to knock at a door before enter- ing. If they gave any warning at all it was by a grunt, a shuffling of the feet or something of that sort.
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dying a few minutes later. Mrs. Jones then urged Cooper to make his escape, realizing that resistance was useless, and perhaps hoping he might give the alarm and secure assist- ance. He escaped through a window, but was shot through the lungs, and his body was subsequently found a hundred yards or more from the house. Mrs. Jones was also shot through the lungs, and her head and face horribly mangled with an ax or tomahawk.
The children were not harmed, and the incidents of their escape form a story of heroism such as is found rarely save in the history of the frontier. While the murderers were looting the house, preparatory to setting it on fire, they found the children, who had been hidden under a feather bed by their mother, and took them outside. There they found Nelson, who seemed to be in command, and was directing everything. He told the oldest boy, whose name was John I. King-he being the son of Mrs. Jones by a former husband-to take the two younger children and go to Thomas', which was about two miles distant, and gave them in charge of another Indian whom he instructed to help them on their way. The younger children were not willing to go with him, and, after lead- ing them only a short distance, he left them to them- selves.
By this time the house and nearly all the other buildings were burned, and the murderers had gone. The older boy, carrying the younger of the other children in his arms, and leading the other by the hand, thought first to go to one neighbor's house and then another, and, after wandering about in fear and confusion for some time, finally returned to the ruins of his own home. Here, in a partially burned building, they found a few potatoes, which had been so far
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roasted as to be edible, and some melted butter, on which they made a meal, for by this time they were all very hungry, having had but little breakfast.
Having satisfied their hunger they were looking about their desolated home when they came suddenly upon their mother, terribly wounded but still living. She recognized them, and gently chided the older boy for lingering so long about the place. She told him, as Nelson had done, to go to Tho- mas' place with the other children, for she could not live, and if the Indians should return they would probably murder them. With a heavy heart the boy turned away and never saw his mother again. All that afternoon he trudged on through the woods, leading one tired child and carrying the other. When he reached Thomas' place it was deserted. The next house beyond was also abandoned. Both had been pillaged.
The children now seemed to be alone in the world, and they wandered on in utter hopelessness. They were very tired, and also hungry; there was no place to rest, they could find nothing to eat, and the older boy was tormented by a continual fear that the Indians would yet find and murder them. Suddenly he saw an Indian some distance ahead of him on the trail, and turning quickly aside he hid his brother and sister under some bushes, and then returned to investi- gate. He hoped, he said long afterward, that, if he was killed, his brother and sister would somehow be rescued. The Indian proved to be an old acquaintance, and still disposed to be friendly. He also was afraid of the hostiles, but said he would take the children to his hut and, after the moon was up, would try and take them in his boat to Seattle. This he did during the night, by the help of another Indian, and put them safely
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on board the sloop-of-war Decatur, which was then lying in the harbor .*
Other settlers living in the neighborhood were warned in time, or took the alarm and fled to Seattle, arriving there on the evening of the 28th. The citizens were immediately aroused, and by II o'clock on the following morning Captain C. C. Hewitt, with a company of forty men, and four friendly Indians, were on their way to the scene of the massacre. They were two days in reaching it, as there were almost no roads through which such a party of men, with their supplies and necessary camp outfit, could be marched with celerity. All the cabins of the settlers along the route had been aban- doned, and most of them had been pillaged. Some had been burned.
The houses and most of the other buildings belonging to the Jones and King families were in ashes. The partially burned body of Mr. Jones was found in the ruins of his house. A short distance away was the body of his wife, and, at a greater distance but in the opposite direction, that of Cooper. The buildings belonging to the King family had also been burned, and the bodies of King and his wife were found near by, partially eaten by animals. Brannan's house bore evidence of a terrific struggle. His own body, terribly muti- lated, lay on the floor, which was much stained with blood. Both his hands were lacerated, as if he had seized the knife with which he had been stabbed, and made a desperate effort to wrench it away from his assailant. His arms and legs were badly cut, and Captain Hewitt says "there were as many as fifteen stabs in his back, mostly a little below the left
* From an account of the massacre written by Dr. John I. King, of Martel, O., who was the oldest of these three children. See Meeker's "Pioneer Reminiscences," p. 292.
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shoulder." He had evidently been assailed by more than one Indian, and although unarmed, had made a brave fight for his own life and that of his wife and infant child. The bodies of the latter were not found until after a long search, when they were discovered in the well. Mrs. Brannan had been stabbed through the back, while running from the house with her undressed infant in her arms, and then thrown head- long into the well. The body of the child, which was about ten months old, showed no wounds; it had been drowned, as it was found beneath its mother.
All the bodies-among them being that of one man who was not identified, and whose name has never been learned- were buried as well as circumstances would permit, and such effort was made as was possible to discover who the murderers were and apprehend or punish them, but without much suc- cess. A black man was discovered in the neighborhood, who reported having seen five Indians, some of whom he knew, who had told him that there had been as many as one hundred and fifty others in the woods near Hewitt's camp the night before. It was subsequently reported, and to a considerable extent believed, that a part of these murderers were Klikitats from beyond the mountains, and part be- longed to Nelson's band of White River Indians. There is some reason to believe that Leschi was in the neighborhood when these murders were committed, but, if this was so, it was never proven.
One child, a boy about four or five years of age, belonging to the King family, was carried away by the Indians, and held in captivity for about five months, when he was delivered to one of the settlers' families by Leschi. During his cap- tivity the child had learned to speak the Indian language with some fluency, and had partly forgotten his own.
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News of this massacre spread rapidly through the settle- ments, and intensified the alarm of the settlers, many of whom had not yet left their claims. It was quickly followed by other reports, that if less shocking were scarcely less alarming.
On the day following that on which Maloney had stopped to rest his animals, after crossing the summit of the Cascades, he was overtaken by a messenger from Fort Steilacoom with the information that Rains was not yet ready to move from the Dalles, and would not be for some days. It was probable therefore that, if he advanced farther, he would have to meet the whole body of Indians, then supposed to number two or three thousand, and that, if attacked by such a force, he would not be able to hold out until Rains could relieve him. He had neither provisions nor ammunition sufficient for a long siege, and was without means to procure a fresh supply. If he went forward, therefore, it would be to almost certain destruction. Moreover the messenger who brought the dis- patch brought also news that the northern Indians were arriving in the Sound in considerable numbers, and that the home tribes were showing signs of uneasiness. If they should fall upon his rear, or interfere with his communica- tions, his case would be hopeless. He therefore determined to recross the mountains to a point where grass could be obtained for his animals, and there was no such place nearer than that where Slaughter had fixed his camp when he had fallen back only a few days earlier. This resolution was wisely taken, for, had his return been delayed for even a day, Eaton's small force would probably have been annihilated, and his assailants, emboldened by such a success, would have found their numbers greatly increased, and the defense- less settlers, who still remained in their homes in the Puyallup
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and other valleys, would have been attacked and slaughtered without mercy.
Before leaving his camp he sent off a dispatch to Governor Mason, and one to Rains by way of Steilacoom, notifying them of his retreat. These letters were carried by William Tidd, a carpenter who lived at Steilacoom, the intrepid rider who had crossed the mountains alone, to bring him Rains' dispatch. On his return he was accompanied by A. Benton Moses, a brother of the ex-collector of customs, Joseph Miles, George R. Bright, Dr. M. P. Burns, A. B. Rabbeson and John Bradley. This party arrived at the crossing of White River near Connell's Prairie early in the afternoon of Wednesday, October 31st, and were surprised to find Leschi and a large camp of Indians there. The Indians were equally surprised to see them, as they were not looking for white people from that direction. No hostile demon- strations were made on either side, and the little party passed on toward the fatal spot where McAllister and Connell had been killed only four days earlier, and where their mutilated bodies still remained, though of this they were wholly ignor- ant. They had gone but a short distance,* when they were fired upon from an ambuscade, as McAllister and Connell had been, near the same place. Miles was instantly killed and Moses mortally wounded. The rest of the party escaped without injury.
On the morning of the preceding day-Tuesday, October 30th-Lieutenant John Nugen, at Fort Steilacoom, had received a message from Captain Sterrett of the Decatur, informing him of the massacre in the White River Valley.
* The ground was subsequently measured by a surveyor and the dis- tance ascertained to be 69 chains, or 272 rods, considerably less than half a mile.
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He also heard for the first time that Lieutenant McAllister had been killed, and there was also a rumor that nine other members of Eaton's command had suffered a like fate. At 8 o'clock in the morning he sent off a messenger to Governor Mason with this news, and then made a call upon the citi- zens of Pierce County for a company of volunteers, to help defend the fort, as it was said that no less than 250 Indians were advancing to attack it, from the direction of the Puyallup Valley. As the fort was then garrisoned by only 25 men, Nugen felt that his situation was precarious, and, if the place should be surprised and taken, all the settlers in the country would be exposed to the greatest danger. It was proper therefore to call upon them in time to rally for their own defense.
They responded promptly. On the following day he sent a second dispatch to the governor, notifying him of his call, and that a company of forty men, under Captain W. H. Wallace, were ready to take the field and had reported for orders. They were almost immediately sent to relieve Eaton and open communication with Captain Maloney.
The latter had arrived at Connell's place two days after the killing of Moses and Miles, and had found the buildings burned. The bodies of McAllister and Connell, which had remained where they had fallen until his command came up, together with those of Miles and Moses, were recovered and sent to Fort Steilacoom for burial. All had been shockingly mutilated.
Realizing that the Indians were close at hand, scouts were sent to discover the direction they had taken, which was easily done, and on the following morning, November 3d, Captain Hays, with about fifty of his volunteers, and Lieu- tenant Slaughter, with a like number of regulars, were sent
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in pursuit of them. They were overtaken at the crossing of the White River, and received the troops with a volley from the thick timber on the opposite bank as they came up. One member of Slaughter's command was killed by this fire. The stream was much swollen by recent rains, and the sol- diers were unable to cross it under fire, but the battle, which began about 9 o'clock in the forenoon, was sharply main- tained until 3 o'clock p. m., both troops and Indians fighting from cover, as it was impossible to cross the river. Only one soldier was wounded severely, and one slightly, during this six hours of fighting: how much the Indians suffered was never known, though their loss was estimated by both Slaughter and Hays at thirty.
The Indians had the advantage of position, and were prob- ably as well armed as were the regulars or the volunteers, as they had been obtaining guns from the Americans ever since the Hudson's Bay trading posts had been closed to them by the treaty of 1846. But the guns of neither side were very effective at long range. They were doubtless of the same pattern as those used in the Mexican war, only a few years earlier, of which General Grant says: "At the distance of a few hundred yards a man might fire at you all day without your finding it out."*
The Indians drew off before dark and retreated to Green River, which in that region is only a few miles distant. They were pursued on the following morning, by the regulars and volunteers, who had been engaged during the preceding day, and by Captain Wallace, with twenty-five men of his company, who had joined them on White River, after the battle. They came upon the Indians as the troops were descending the high bank of Green River, where they were
* Personal Memoirs of General Grant, Vol. I, p. 95.
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fired upon, and one man, Andrew Burge, a citizen who was acting as guide, was slightly wounded. They then continued their retreat, and the soldiers could see them running along the lowland bordering the stream. They started in pursuit, and when at close range were received with a volley, which was promptly returned. A running fight followed, in which the Indians were steadily driven back. Sometimes they would give way and run for a considerable distance, the troops pursuing. Then taking advantage of some thicket, or a few fallen logs, they would attempt to make a stand, when they would be charged either by the regulars or volunteers, and would give way again. The fight continued in this manner until dark, when the firing ceased and the troops went into camp.
It had rained steadily during nearly the whole time this combat was in progress. The soldiers were wet to the skin, not more by the water which fell from the clouds, than by that showered on them from the trees and the thick jungles in which the enemy occasionally took refuge, and from which he could only be expelled by a charge. Their ammu- nition had been kept dry only by the most careful precautions. It was impossible to select a suitable place for a camp. The soldiers were compelled to remain where they were, and to take such rest as they could get on the sodden ground of the river bottom, and under the inhospitable November sky.
During the night the sentinels occasionally saw Indian scouts lurking about the camp, but no attack was made. Soon after daybreak an ambuscade was discovered, in a marshy place that was more or less covered with driftwood, and a charge was ordered; but the order was countermanded, as the soldiers would have been at a tremendous disadvantage while crossing the logs, which were piled upon each other in
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much confusion. The Indians in their hiding places would have had every advantage, if such a movement had been made, as after delivering a volley at their enemies, who would be unable to use their guns while crossing such an obstruc- tion-and once started could not retreat without much diffi- culty-could easily fall back to the next convenient shelter.
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