A narrative of the captivity and adventures of John Tanner

by John Tanner

  Some time after this, as we were sleeping one night in the road, some one came up on horseback, and asked us, in the Ottawwaw dialect, who we were. One of the Indians answered, “We are Ottawwaws and Ojibbeways, and have with us one Long Knife from Red River, who was taken prisoner many years ago by Gish-kaw-ko.” He told us, after he understood who we were, and where we were going, that his name was Ah-koo-nah-goo-zik. “If you are brisk travellers,” said he, “you may reach my house next day after to-morrow at noon, and then you will find plenty to eat. It is necessary that I should travel on all night, that I may reach home to-morrow.” And thus he left us. Next day, my strength failed so much that I was only able to keep up by being released from my load. One took my gun, another my blanket, and we reached that night the forks of the Miami, where was a settlement of Indians and a trading-house, as well as several families of whites. I applied to the trader, and stated my situation, and that of the Indians with me, but we could obtain no relief, and on the next day I was totally unable to travel. We were indebted to the Indians for what relief we obtained, which was sufficient to enable us the day after to reach the hospitable dwelling of Ah-ko-nah-goo-zik.

  This man had two large kettles of corn and venison ready cooked, and awaiting our arrival. One he placed before me, with some wooden dishes, and spoons; the other before Be-nais-sa. After we had eaten, he told us we had better remain with him ten or fifteen days, and refresh ourselves from our long journey, as he had plenty of corn, and fat venison was abundant about him. I told him that for my own part I had for many years been wishing to make the journey I had now so nearly accomplished, and that I was extremely impatient to see whether or not any of my own relatives were still alive, but that I should be glad to rest with him two or three days, and afterwards to borrow one of his horses to ride as far as Kau-wis-se-no-ki-ug, or St. Mary’s. “I will tell you,” said he. After two or three days, as we were early one morning making up our loads to start, he came to me, leading a fine horse and putting the halter in my hand, he said, “I give you this for your journey.” I did not again tell him I would leave it at Kau-wis-se-no-ki-ug, as I had already told him this, and I knew that in such cases the Indians do not wish to hear much said. In two days I arrived at the place appointed for the council. As yet no Indians had assembled, but a man was stationed there to issue provisions to such as should come. I had been but a short time at this place when I was seized with fever and ague, which, though it did not confine me all the time, was yet extremely painful and distressing.

  After about ten days, a young man of the Ottawwaws, whom Be-nais-sa had given me to cook for me and assist about me in my sickness, went across the creek to a camp of the Po-ta-wa-to-mies who had recently arrived and were drinking. At midnight he was brought into the lodge drunk, and one of the men who came with him, said to me, as he pushed him in, “Take care of your young man. He has been doing mischief.” I immediately called Be-nais-sa to kindle a fire, when we saw, by the light of it, the young man standing with his knife in his hand, and that, together with his arm and great part of his body covered with blood. The Indians could not make him lie down, but when I told him to, he obeyed immediately and I forbade them to make any inquiries about what he had done, or take any notice of his bloody knife. In the morning, having slept soundly, he was perfectly unconscious of all that had passed. He said he believed that he had been very drunk, and as he was now hungry, he must hurry and get ready something to eat. He was astonished and confounded when I told him he had killed a man. He remembered only that in his drunkenness he had began to cry for his father, who had been killed on that spot several years before by white men. He expressed much concern, and went immediately to see the man he had stabbed, who was not yet dead. We learned from the Po-ta-wa-to-mies that he had found the young man sleeping, or lying in a state of insensibility from intoxication, and had stabbed him without any words having been exchanged, and apparently without knowing who he was. The relations of the wounded man said nothing to him, but the interpreter of Gov. Cass reproved him very sharply.

  It was evident to all that the young man he had wounded could not recover; indeed, he was now manifestly near his end. When our companion returned, we had made up a considerable present, one giving a blanket, one a piece of strouding, some one thing, and some another. With these he immediately returned, and placing them on the ground beside the wounded man, he said to the relatives who were standing about, “My friends, I have, as you see, killed this, your brother; but I knew not what I did. I had no ill will against him, and when, a few days since, he came to our camp, I was glad to see him. But drunkenness made me a fool, and my life is justly forfeited to you. I am poor, and among strangers, but some of those who came from my own country with me, would gladly bring me back to my parents. They have, therefore, sent me with this small present. My life is in your hands, and my present is before you, take which ever you choose. My friends will have no cause to complain.” He then sat down beside the wounded man, and stooping his head, hid his eyes with his hands, and waited for them to strike. But the mother of the man he had wounded, an old woman, came a little forward and said, “For myself and my children, I can answer, that we wish not to take your life; but I cannot promise to protect you from the resentment of my husband, who is now absent; nevertheless, I will accept your present, and whatever influence I may have with him, I shall not fail to use it in your behalf. I know that it was not from design, or on account of any previous hatred that you have done this, and why should your mother be made to cry as well as myself?” She took the presents, and the whole affair being reported to Gov. Cass, he was satisfied with the course that had been taken.

  On the following day the wounded man died, and some of our party assisted the young man who had killed him in making his grave. When this was completed, the governor gave the dead man a valuable present of blankets, cloth, etc. to be buried with him, according to the Indian custom, and these were brought and heaped up on the brink of the grave. But the old woman, instead of having them buried, proposed to the young men to play for them. As the articles were somewhat numerous, various games were used, as shooting at the mark, leaping, wrestling, etc. but the handsomest piece of cloth was reserved as the prize for the swiftest in the foot race, and was won by the young man himself who had killed the other. The old woman immediately afterwards called him to her, and said, “Young man, he who was my son, was very dear to me, and I fear I shall cry much and often for him. I would be glad if you would consent to be my son in his stead, to love me and take care of me as he did, only I fear my husband.” The young man, who was grateful to her for the anxiety she showed to save his life, immediately consented to this arrangement, and entered heartily upon it. But the governor had heard that some of the friends of the deceased were still determined to avenge his death, and he sent his interpreter to the young man, to direct him, without loss of time, to make his escape, and fly to his own country. He was unwilling to go, but as Be-nais-sa and myself concurred with the governor in his advice, and assisted him in his preparations, he went off in the night; but instead of going immediately home, as he had been directed to do, he lay concealed in the woods only a few hundred yards from our lodge.

  Very early next morning, I saw two of the friends of the young man that was killed coming towards our lodge. At first I was somewhat alarmed, as I supposed they came with the intention of doing violence; but I soon perceived they were without arms. They came in, and sat a long time silent. At last one of them said, “Where is our brother? We are sometimes lonely at home, and we wish to talk with him.” I told them he had but lately gone out, and would soon return. As they remained a long time, and insisted on seeing him, I went out, with the pretence of seeking for him, but without the remotest expectation that he would be found. He, however, had observed from his hiding place the visit of the two young men to our lodge, and not believing it to have been made with any unfriendly design, discovered himself to me and we returned together. They shook hands with him, and tre
ated him with great kindness, and we soon afterwards ascertained that all the reports of their wishing to kill him were false.

  CHAPTER XIV

  Journey to Kentucky. – Hospitalities of the whites. – Return to Detroit. – Jackson. – St. Louis. – General Clark. – Return to the Lake of the Woods. – Col. Dickson. – Second journey to St. Louis, by Chikago and Fort Clark. – Kindness of the Potawattomies.

  About the time of the conclusion of the council, Gov. Cass called me to dine with him; and as many gentlemen asked me to drink wine with them, I was, after dinner, scarce able to walk home. A few days afterwards the interpreter told me the governor had a curiosity to know whether I had acquired the same fondness the Indians usually have for intoxicating liquors, and whether, when drunk, I would behave as they did. But I had not felt the influence of the wine so much as to forget myself, or become unconscious of my situation, and I went immediately to my lodge and lay there until I was entirely sober.

  Some of the Potawattomies had stolen the horse that was lent me on the road by the friendly old man, called Ah-koo-nah-goo-zik; but he was recovered by the young men who followed my friend Be-nais-sa, and I restored him to the owner who was at the council. Governor Cass, understanding how kind this man had been to me directed that a very handsome and valuable saddle should be given him. The old man for some time persisted in declining this present, but at last, when prevailed upon to receive it, he expressed much gratitude. “This,” said he, “is that which was told me by the old men who gave me instruction many years ago when I was a child. They told me to be kind, and to do good to all men, particularly to the stranger who should come from a distant country, and to all who were destitute and afflicted; saying, if I did so, the Great Spirit would also remember me, to do good to me, and reward me for what I had done. Now, though I have done so little for this man, how amply and honourably am I rewarded!” He would have persuaded me to take his horse, as he said he had more, and the saddle was more valuable than the horse he had lent me; and though I declined his offer, still he insisted upon it, until I consented that he should consider it as belonging to me, and should take care of it until I returned and called for it. Here the governor gave me goods to the amount of one hundred and twenty dollars value, and as I had still a considerable journey to make, I purchased a horse for eighty dollars, for which I gave a part of the goods I had received. There were at the council, among others, two men from Kentucky who knew something of my relations, one of them having lived from a child in the family of one of my sisters.

  With these two men I started, though my health was still very poor. In a few days I had become so much worse that I could not sit on my horse, and they concluded to purchase a skiff, and one of them to take me down by water, while the other went with the horses by the usual route. In that part of the Big Miami are many mill-dams and other obstructions which rendered even this method, not only slow and laborious, but extremely distressing to me on account of my ill health. At last I was reduced to such a state of weakness as to be quite unable to move, and I stopped at the house of a poor man who lived on the bank of the river, and as he seemed greatly to pity me, and was disposed to do all in his power for my relief, I determined to remain with him, the man with whom I had travelled thus far making me understand that he would go to the Ohio, and either come back himself, or send some one after me.

  This man with whom I stopped could speak a few words of Ottawwaw, and he did every thing in his power to render my situation comfortable, until my nephew, who was the person sent by my friends in Kentucky, came for me. By him I heard of the death of my father, and also some particulars of my surviving relatives. Before Gish-kau-ko, at Detroit, I had always supposed that the greater part, if not all of my father’s family, had been murdered by Manitoo-geezhik and his party the year subsequent to my capture. Our journey was very tedious and difficult to Cincinnati, where we rested a little. Thence we descended the Ohio in a skiff. My fever continued to return daily, and when the chill commenced, we were compelled to stop for some time so that our progress was not rapid. We were accompanied by one man who assisted my nephew to put me in and take me out of the skiff, for I was now reduced to a mere skeleton, and had not strength enough to walk or stand by myself.

  As the night was coming on, after a very dark and cloudy day, we arrived at a handsome farm where was a large and rather good looking house. It was quite dark when we were ready to leave the skiff. They then raised me by the arms, and led, or rather carried me to the house. My nephew told the man our situation, and stated that I was so unwell it would be extremely difficult, and must even endanger my life, if we attempted to go farther; but he told us we could not stay at his house all night; and when my nephew persisted in his request, he drove us roughly and violently out of the house. The night had now considerably advanced, and the distance to the next house was a mile and a half; but as it stood back from the river, we could not go to it in our skiff. They accordingly supported me between them, and we went on. It was probably after midnight when we arrived at a large brick house. The people within were all in bed, and all the windows were dark, but my nephew knocked at the door, and after a little time a man came out. When he saw me he took hold of me, and assisted me to go in; then he called up his wife and daughters, and gave some supper to my companions. For me he prepared some medicine, and then made me go to bed, where I slept very quietly until late in the morning. At this house, I remained nearly all the next day, and was treated with the utmost kindness. From this time I began to get a little better, and without much more difficulty, I reached the place where my sister’s children were living. I stayed one night at the house of one of my nephews, whose name was John; then I went to the house of another brother, where I lay sick about a month.

  A letter was now received which they made me understand was for me, but though they read it to me repeatedly, I could not comprehend a single word of the contents. All the time since my arrival here, I had lain sick, and no one being for any considerable part of the time with me, I had not learned either to understand, or make myself understood; but as I was now some better, and able often to walk about, when a second letter came, I could understand from it that my brother Edward, whose name I had never forgotten, had gone to Red River to search for me. Also, that one of my uncles, who lived one hundred miles distant, had sent for me to come to him.

  My greatest anxiety was now on account of my brother Edward, and I immediately called for my horse, intending to return towards Red River and search for him. Twenty or thirty of the neighbours assembled around me when they heard that I wished to go back, and I could comprehend that they wished to dissuade me from going. But when they found I was obstinate, they gave me each a little money: some one shilling, some two shillings, and others larger sums, and I got upon my horse and started. I had rode about ten miles when fatigue and sickness overcame me, and I was compelled to stop at the house of man, whose name, as I afterwards learned, was Morgan. Here I stayed four days, and when I again called for my horse, the neighbours, as before, began to gather round me, and each to give me something. One gave me some bread in a bag, another tied a young pig behind my saddle, and among them all they furnished me with a good outfit of provisions, and some money. I wished to return to Detroit, but as I was still very weak, Mr. Morgan accompanied me to Cincinnati. I had found that it made me sick to sleep in a house, and on this journey I constantly refused to do so. Mr. Morgan would sleep in the houses where we stopped at night, but I chose a good place outside, where I lay down and slept, and I found the advantage of doing so, by the partial recovery of my health. After Mr. Morgan returned from Cincinnati, I travelled on alone, and was before long destitute of provisions. About this time, an old man who was standing by the door of his house when he saw me, called out stop! come! I could understand no more than these two words, but I knew from the expression of his countenance, and his manner, that his design was friendly, and accordingly went into his yard. He took my horse and gave him plenty of corn, and
I accompanied him into the house, where, though they placed food before me, I could not eat. Seeing this, he gave me some nuts, a few of which I ate. When he saw that my horse had eaten, and I was impatient to start, he put on the saddle, and brought the horse. I offered him money, but he would not take it.

  A day or two afterwards I stopped at a house where I saw a great quantity of corn lying in the yard. My horse was very hungry, therefore I got down, and taking a dollar out of my pocket, I handed it to the man who stood there, and then I counted ten ears of corn, and took them and laid them before my horse. I could not make the people comprehend that I was hungry; at least they seemed determined not to understand me. I went into the house, and the woman looked displeased; but seeing there part of a loaf of corn bread, I pointed first to it, next to my mouth; but as she appeared not to understand my meaning, I took it in my hand and raised it to my mouth, as if I would eat it. Seeing this, she called to the man outside, and he coming in, took the bread from me, pushed me violently out of the house, then went and took the corn from my horse, and motioned to me to be gone. I came next to a large brick house, and hoping I might meet gentler treatment, I determined to try here. But as I was riding up, a very fat man came out and spoke to me in a loud and harsh tone of voice. Though I could not understand his words, his meaning, which I thought was very evident, was, as I supposed, to forbid my entering the yard. I was willing to pass on, and was about to do so, when he ran out and caught my horse by the bridle. He said much to me, of which I understood little or nothing. I thought I could comprehend that he was cursing me for an Indian. He took hold of my gun, and tried to wrench it out of my hand. I have since understood that he kept a tavern, and was a magistrate; but at that time I was sick, and hungry, and irritable, and when I found that he wanted to take my gun from me, I became angry; and having in my hand a hickory stick about as large as my thumb and three or four feet long, I struck him over the head with it, so hearty a blow that he immediately quitted his hold on my gun, and I rode off. Two young men, whose horses were standing by this house, and who appeared to me to be travellers, soon overtook me, and we rode on together.