A narrative of the captivity and adventures of John Tanner

by John Tanner

  The Sioux, from time to time, came near and looked at our work, but never ventured to attack it. When the spring arrived, all the Ojibbeways left it in one day, but I was compelled to remain, having taken care of some packs for a trader who was then absent, and which I could not remove. The chiefs remonstrated, telling me it was little better than throwing myself away, to remain, as the Sioux would immediately know when the main body left, and would not lose the opportunity of falling on me when I should be left alone. The saddening and alarming effect of these admonitions was somewhat increased by the many instances they related of men, women, and children, that had been killed on this very spot by the Sioux, but I was compelled to remain. At night I closed the entrances to the camp as effectually as I could, and cautioning my family to remain entirely silent, I stationed myself by the wall to watch. The night was but little advanced, when by the light of the moon, which then shone brightly, I discovered two men, who came directly towards the usual entrance, and finding it closed, began to walk around and look at the wall. Fear strongly prompted me to shoot them without hailing but recollecting that they might not be Sioux, I took an opportunity when I could aim my gun directly at them with out being much exposed, and called out. They proved to be the trader on whose account I had stayed back, and a Frenchman. I gladly opened my fort to let them in, and with this addition of strength, spent a pretty quiet night. Next morning we moved, taking the trader’s packs, and following the path of the Ojibbeways.

  I did not wish to rejoin this band, but went to live for some time by myself in the woods. Afterwards I joined some Red River Ojibbeways, under a chief called Be-gwa-is, (he that cuts up the beaver lodge.) All the hunters of this band had been for some days trying to kill an old buck moose, who had become notorious among them for his shyness and cunning. The first day that I went to hunt, I saw this moose, but could not kill him. I however killed another, and next day returned to the pursuit, with the full determination to kill him if possible. It so happened, that the weather and wind were favourable, and I killed the buck moose. My success was attributable in a great measure to accident, or to circumstances beyond my control, but the Indians gave me credit for superior skill, and I was thenceforth reckoned the best hunter in that band.

  We now started, twelve men in number under Be-gwa-is, to go to the Sioux country to hunt beaver, leaving our women behind. On this hunt all the Indians became snowblind, and I being the only one able to hunt, fed and took care of them for several days. As soon as the snow went off in the spring, they began to get better. We then separated into three parties, one of which being four in number went to Buffalo River, where they were attacked by the Sioux, had one man killed, and another wounded and made prisoner.

  I had wounded myself by accident in my ankle bone with a tomahawk, and became in consequence unable to travel fast. About this time my companions became panic struck, supposing the Sioux to be near us and on our trail. They paid not the least regard to my situation, but fled with all the speed they could make. It was now early in the spring. Rain and snow had been falling throughout the day, and at night the wind began to blow from the north-west, and the water to freeze. I followed my companions, though at a distance, and came up with them late at night when I found them perishing in their comfortless camp, they being the disciples of the prophet, and not having ventured to strike a fire. Wa-me-gon-a-biew was one of these men, and he, as well as the rest of them, was willing to desert me whenever there was any apprehension of danger. Next morning ice was strong enough in the river to walk upon, and as this cold had been preceded by warm weather, we suffered severely. We spent four days at the sugar camp of our women, and then started to return to the Sioux country. On our way we met the two who had escaped, of the party on which the Sioux had fallen. Their appearance was that of extreme misery and starvation.

  We met also, in this journey, an American trader, whose name I do not now recollect, but who treated me with much attention, and urged me to leave the Indians and return with him to the States. But I was poor, having few peltries of any value. I had also a wife and one child. He told me the government, and the people of the United States, would be generous to me, and he himself promised to render me all the aid in his power, but I declined accepting his offer, preferring for the present to remain among the Indians, though it was still my wish and intention ultimately to leave them. I heard from this man that some of my relations had been as far as Mackinac in search of me, and I dictated a letter to them which this gentleman undertook to have conveyed to its destination. When about to part from us, he gave to Wa-me-gon-a-biew and myself, each a bark canoe, and some other valuable presents.

  As we were travelling towards Red River, our principal man, Wy-ong-je-cheween, to whom we had committed the direction of our party, became alarmed. We were following a long river which discharges into Red River. I saw him anxiously looking about, on one side and the other, and attentively watching for all those indications of the proximity of men, which could be afforded by the tracks of animals, the flight of birds, and other marks, which they so well know how to understand. He said nothing of fear. An Indian in such circumstances rarely, if ever, does. But when he saw me at night, trying to kindle a fire for our encampment, he rose up, wrapped his blanket about him, and without saying a word, walked away. I watched him until I saw him select a place, combining the requisite for the entire concealment of his person, and affording him the power of overlooking a considerable extent of country. Knowing the motive which had occasioned this, I followed his example, as did the remaining men of our party. Next morning we met, and ventured to kindle a fire to prepare a little breakfast. Our kettle was but just hung over the fire and filled, when we discovered the Sioux, on a point not half a mile behind us. We dashed the contents of the kettle on the fire and fled. At some distance below, we built a strong camp, and I set my traps.

  Among the presents I had received from the American trader, was a small keg containing sixteen quarts of strong rum which I had brought thus far on my back. Wa-me-gon-a-biew and the other Indians had often begged me for a taste of it, which I had constantly refused, telling them the old man, and the chiefs, and all, should taste it together when we reached home. But now they took an opportunity when I was absent to look at my traps, to open it, and when I returned I found them all drunk and quarrelling with each other. I was aware of our dangerous and exposed situation, and felt somewhat alarmed when I found so many of us totally disabled by intoxication. I tried, however, to quiet their noise, but in so doing I endangered my own safety. As I held two of them apart, one in one hand, the other in the other, the third, an old man, came behind and made a thrust at my back with a knife, which I very narrowly avoided. They were all affronted, as I had reproached them with cowardice, telling they they preferred remaining like rabbits in their hole, and dared neither venture out to go against their enemies, or even to hunt for something to eat. In fact, I had for some time fed and supported them, and I was not a little vexed at their foolishness. We had, however, no more alarms immediately, and the Indians at length venturing to hunt, we met with so much success as nearly to load one canoe with skins. The remainder of my little cask of rum, which I had used great care to keep out of their way, caused them one more drunken frolic, they having stolen it in my absence.

  After we had completed our hunt, we started down together. Approaching Red River, we heard great numbers of guns before us, and my companions, supposing them to be those of the Sioux, left me and fled across land, in which way they could reach home in less than a day. As I was determined not to abandon our property in the canoe, I continued on by myself, and in about four days arrived safely at home.

  The Indians were now about assembling at Pembinah to dispose of their peltries, and have their usual drunken frolic. I had but just arrived at the encampment of our band when they began to start, some going forward by land, and leaving the women to bring on their loads in the canoes. I tried to persuade Wa-me-gon-a-biew and others, which were particularly m
y friends, not to join in this foolish and destructive indulgence, but I could not prevail upon them. They all went on in advance of me. I moved slowly along, hunting and making dry meat, and did not reach Pembinah until most of the men of the band had passed several days there in drinking. As soon as I arrived, some Indians came to tell me that Wa-me-gon-a-biew had lost his nose. Another had a large piece bitten out of his cheek; one was injured in one way, another in another.

  I learned that my brother, as I always called Wa-me-gon-a-biew, had but just arrived, when he happened to go into a lodge where a young man, a son of Ta-bush-shish, was beating an old woman. Wa-me-gon-a-biew held his arms, but presently old Ta-bush-shish coming in, and in his drunkenness probably misapprehending the nature of my brother’s interference, seized him by the hair and bit his nose off. At this stage of the affair, Be-gwa-is, an old chief who had always been very friendly to us, came in, and seeing that a scuffle was going on, thought it necessary to join in it. Wa-me-gon-a-biew perceiving the loss of his nose, suddenly raised his hands, though still stooping his head, and seizing by the hair the head that was nearest him, bit the nose off. It happened to be that of our friend Be-gwa-is. After his rage had a little abated, he recognized his friend, and exclaimed, “wah! my cousin!” Be-gwa-is was a kind and good man, and being perfectly aware of the erroneous impression under which Wa-me-gon-a-biew had acted, never for one moment betrayed any thing like anger or resentment towards the man who had thus been the unwilling cause of his mutilation. “I am an old man,” said he, “and it is but a short time that they will laugh at me for the loss of my nose.”

  For my own part, I felt much irritated against Ta-bush-shish, inasmuch as I doubted whether he had not taken the present opportunity to wreak an old grudge upon Wa-me-gon-a-biew. I went into my brother’s lodge, and sat by him. His face and all his clothes were covered with blood. For some time he said nothing, and when he spoke, I found that he was perfectly sober. “Tomorrow,” said he, “I will cry with my children, and the next day I will go and see Ta-bush-shish. We must die together, as I am not willing to live when I must always expect to be ridiculed.” I told him I would join him in any attempt to kill Ta-bush-shish, and held myself in readiness accordingly. But a little sober reflection, and the day’s time he had given himself to cry with his children, diverted Wa-me-gon-a-biew from his bloody intention, and like Be-gwa-is, he resolved to bear his loss as well as he could.

  CHAPTER X

  Presence of mind and self-devotedness in an Indian mother. – Indian warfare. – Conversation of a chief. – Winter hunt on the Begwionusko River. – Medicine hunting. – Customs, in cases of manslaughter. – Symbolic, or picture writing. – Death of Pe-shau-ba. – Disaster at Spirit Lake, and death of the Little Clam.

  Within a few days after this drunken quarrel, Ta-bush-shish was seized with a violent sickness. He had for many days a burning fever, his flesh wasted, and he was apparently near dying when he sent to Wa-me-gon-a-biew two kettles, and other presents, of considerable value, with a message, “My friend, I have made you look ugly, and you have made me sick. I have suffered much, and if I die now my children must suffer much more. I have sent you this present, that you may let me live.” Wa-me-gon-a-biew instructed his messenger to say to Ta-bush-shish, “I have not made you sick. I cannot restore you to health, and will not accept your presents.” He lingered for a month or more in a state of such severe illness that his hair all fell from his head. After this he began to amend, and when he was nearly well, we all removed to the prairie, but were scattered about in different directions, and at considerable distances from each other.

  After our spring hunting we began to think of going against the Sioux, and an inconsiderable party assembled among those who lived immediately about me. Wa-me-gon-a-biew and I accompanied them, and in four days we arrived at the little village where Ta-bush-shish then lived. Before our arrival here we had been joined by Wa-ge-tote with sixty men. After we had rested and eaten at our encampment near Ta-bush-shish’s lodge, and were about to start, we saw him come out naked, but painted and ornamented as for a war, and having his arms in his hands. He came stalking up to us with a very angry face, but none of us fully comprehended his design, until we saw him go up and present the muzzle of his gun to Wa-me-gon-a-biew’s back. “My friend,” said he, “we have lived long enough, and have given trouble and distress enough to each other. I sent to you my request that you would be satisfied with the sickness and pain you had made me suffer, but you refused to listen to me, and the evils you continue to inflict on me, render my life wearisome. Let us therefore die together.” A son of Wa-ge-tote, and another young man, seeing the intention of Ta-bush-shish, presented the point of their spears, one to one of his sides, the other to the other, but he took no notice of them. Wa-me-gon-a-biew was intimidated, and dared not raise his head. Ta-bush-shish wished to have fought, and to have given Wa-me-gon-a-biew an equal chance for his life, but the latter had not courage enough to accept his offer. Henceforth, I esteemed Wa-me-gon-a-biew less even than I had formerly done. He had less of bravery and generosity in his disposition than is common among the Indians. Neither Ta-bush-shish nor any of his band joined in our war-party.

  We went on, wandering about from place to place, and instead of going against our enemies, spent the greater part of the summer among the buffalo. In the fall I returned to Pembinah, my intention being to go thence to the wintering ground of the trader above mentioned, who had proposed to assist me in getting to the states. I now heard of the war between the United States and Great Britain, and of the capture of Mackinac, and this intelligence deterred me from any attempt to pass through the frontier of the United States territory which were then the scenes of warlike operations.

  In the ensuing spring, there was a very general movement among the Ojibbeways of the Red River toward the Sioux country, but the design was not, at least avowedly, to fall upon or molest the Sioux, but to hunt. I travelled in company with a large band under the direction of Ais-ainse, (the little clam.) His brother, called Wage-tone, was a man of considerable consequence. We had ascended Red River about one hundred miles when we met Mr. Hanie, a trader, who gave us a little rum. I lived at this time in a long lodge having two or three fires, and I occupied it in common with several other men with their families, mostly the relatives of my wife. It was midnight or after, and I was sleeping in my lodge when I was waked by some man seizing me roughly by the hand and raising me up. There was still a little fire burning in the lodge, and by the light it gave I recognized, in the angry and threatening countenance which hung over me, the face of Wa-ge-tone, the brother of the Little Clam, our principal chief. “I have solemnly promised,” said he, “that if you should come with us to this country, you should not live. Up, therefore, and be ready to answer me.” He then went on to Wah-zhe-gwun, the man who slept next me, and used to him similar insolent and threatening language, but, by this time, an old man, a relative of mine, called Mah-nuge, who slept beyond, had comprehended the purport of his visit, and raised himself up with his knife in his hand. When Wa-ge-tone came to him, he received a sharp answer. He then returned to me, drew his knife, and threatened me with instant death. “You are a stranger,” said he, “and one of many who have come from a distant country to feed yourself and your children with that which does not belong to you. You are driven out from your own country, and you come among us because you are too feeble and worthless to have a home or a country of your own. You have visited our best hunting grounds, and wherever you have been you have destroyed all the animals which the Great Spirit gave us for our sustenance. Go back, therefore, from this place, and be no longer a burthen to us, or I will certainly take your life.” I answered him, that I was not going to the country we were now about to visit, particularly to hunt beaver, but that even if I were to do so, I had an equal right with him, and was as strong to maintain that right. This dispute was becoming somewhat noisy, when old Mah-nuge came up, with his knife in his hand, and drove the noisy and half drunken Wa-g
e-tone out of the lodge. We saw this man no more for a long time, but his brother, the Little Clam, told us to think nothing of what he said.

  Here a messenger overtook us to bring to the Ottawwaws the information that Muk-kud-da-be-na-sa, (the black bird,) an Ottawwaw of Waw-gun-uk-ke-zie, or L’Arbre Croche, had arrived from Lake Huron, to call us all home to that country. So we turned back, and one after another fell back, till Wa-ge-tone only was left, and he went on and joined a war-party of Ojibbeways then starting from Leech Lake. A part of this band stopped at the Wild Rice River, and went into the fort, or fortified camp before mentioned. Here they began to hunt and trap, and were heedlessly dispersed about when a large party of Sioux came into their neighbourhood.

  Ais-ainse, the Ojibbeway chief, returned one evening from a successful hunt, having killed two elks, and on the following morning, his wife with her young son, started out to dry the meat. They had proceeded a great distance from the lodge when the lad first discovered the Sioux party, at no great distance, and called out to his mother, “the Sioux are coming.” The old woman drew her knife, and cutting the belt which bound the boy’s blanket to his body, told him to run for home with all his strength. She then, with her knife in her hand, ran to meet the approaching war-party. The boy heard many guns, and the old woman was no more heard of. The boy ran long, when, perceiving that his pursuers were near, he lost consciousness; and when he arrived at the fortified camp, still in a state of mental alienation, the Sioux were about one hundred and fifty yards behind him. He vomited blood for some days, and never recovered his health and strength, though he lived about one year afterwards.