A narrative of the captivity and adventures of John Tanner

by John Tanner

  This journey was a painful and unpleasant one to me. I travelled on, from day to day, weak, dispirited, and alone, meeting with little sympathy or attention from the people among whom I passed, often suffering from hunger and from sickness. I was willing to sleep in the woods, as I constantly did; but it was not easy to kill any game, nor did the state of my health allow me to go far from the road to hunt. I had ascended nearly to the head of the Big Miami, when one night, after having offered a dollar to a farmer, and been driven away without refreshment for myself or my horse, I lay down in the woods near by, and after I supposed them to be asleep, I took as much corn as was sufficient to feed my horse. I had, some time in the course of the preceding day, bought a chicken for twenty-five cents, a part of which I now ate, and the next day I began to feel a little stronger. I had now arrived where the intervals between the settlements were very wide, and seeing a gang of hogs in the woods, I shot one, skinned him, and hung the meat on my saddle, so that I was, for some time, well supplied with provisions. At the forks of the Miami of Lake Erie was a trader with whom I was well acquainted, and who spoke Ottawwaw as well as I did; but when I asked him for something for my horse, he told me to begone, as he would give me nothing, though he offered to sell me some corn for my bear meat, as he called the pork I had hanging at my saddle; but I disliked him, and therefore went across the river to sleep in the woods.

  This night I was again taken very sick, and when in the morning I found that my horse had escaped and gone back, I was scarce able to follow him. When I arrived at the river opposite the trader’s house, I saw the horse standing on the other side, and calling to the trader, I asked him to send or bring the horse over to me, as I was sick. When he replied that he would not, I asked him to bring me a canoe, as being sick myself, I did not wish to go into the water; but this he refused to do, and I was compelled to swim across. I took my horse and returned to my camp, but was too sick to travel farther that day.

  On the day after I resumed my journey, and had the good fortune to come to a house where the woman treated me kindly. She fed my horse, and then offered me some salt pork; but as I could not eat this, I returned it to her. Then she brought me some fresh venison, and I took a shoulder of it. She made signs to me to sit down in the house; but as I preferred the woods, I declined her offer, and selected near by a pleasant place to encamp, and there cooked the meat she had given me. Before my supper was cooked, she sent a little boy to bring me some bread, and some fresh and sweet butter.

  Next day my route was principally out of settlements. At the village of Ah-koo-nah-goo-zik, I would not stop, as I was already under sufficient obligation to him, and I thought he would again urge me to take his horse. I had arrived within about one hundred miles of Detroit when I was again taken very sick. Feeling wholly unable to travel, I determined to take some emetic tartar, which I had carried for a long time about me, having received it from Dr. M’Laughlin at Rainy Lake. Soon after I had taken it, rain began to fall, and as the weather was now somewhat cold, and I was unable to avoid getting wet, the cramp affected me very violently. After the rain had ceased, the creek near which I was encamped froze over, but as I was suffering under a most violent fever, I broke the ice, and plunged myself all over into the water. In this situation I remained for some time, totally unable to travel and almost without a hope of recovering. Two men passed me with the mail, one of whom could speak a little Indian; but they said they could do nothing for me, as they were compelled to proceed on their journey without loss of time.

  But at length, I was again able to travel, and resumed my journey. I was two days’ journey from Detroit, when I met a man in the road with a Sioux pipe in his hand, whose strong resemblance to my father immediately arrested my attention. I endeavoured to make him stop and take notice of me, but he gave me a hasty look, and passed on. When I arrived, two days afterwards, at Detroit, I learned that this man was, as I supposed, my brother; but the governor would not allow me to return after him, as he knew that my having passed towards Detroit would be known at the Indian traders’ houses on the way, and that my brother, who would inquire at all of them, would very soon hear of me, and return. His opinion appeared to have been well founded, for about three days afterwards my brother arrived. He held me a long time in his arms; but on account of my ignorance of the English language, we were unable to speak to each other except through an interpreter. He next cut off my long hair, on which, till this time, I had worn strings of broaches, in the manner of the Indians. We visited Gov. Cass together, and he expressed much satisfaction at my having laid aside the Indian costume. But the dress of a white man was extremely uncomfortable to me, so that I was, from time to time, compelled to resume my old dress for the sake of convenience.

  I endeavoured to persuade my brother, with whom I still conversed through an interpreter, to accompany me to my residence at the Lake of the Woods; but to this he would by no means consent, insisting that I must go with him to his house beyond the Mississippi, and we set off together accordingly. From the military commandant at Fort Wayne we received much friendly attention, and our journey was, in the main, a pleasant one. Forty days brought us to the Mississippi fifteen miles above New Madrid, where my brother resided. Another of my brothers lived near by, and they both accompanied me to Jackson, fifteen miles from Cape Girardeau, where two of my sisters were living. From this place we started, six or seven in number, to go to Kentucky; and crossing the Mississippi, a little above Cape Girardeau, we went by the way of Golconda, on the Ohio, to Kentucky where many of my relatives lived, not far from the small villages called Salem and Princeton.

  My sister Lucy had, the night before my arrival, dreamed that she saw me coming through the corn field that surrounded her house. She had ten children. Relatives, friends, and neighbours, crowded around to witness my meeting with my sisters, and though we could converse together but little, they, and most of those who assembled about us, shed many tears. On the Sabbath day after my arrival, greater numbers than usual came to my sister’s house, and divine worship was performed there. My brother-in-law, Jeremiah Rukker, endeavoured to find in my father’s will some provision for me. He took me to the court at Princeton, and showed me to the people there; but nothing could be accomplished. My step-mother, who lived near by, gave me one hundred and thirty-seven dollars.

  I went, accompanied by seven of my relatives, some men, some women, to Scottsville, where I had an uncle who had sent for me. Here the people collected and gave me one hundred dollars, and on my return, Col. Ewing, of Hopkinsville, raised, in about one hour that I remained with him, one hundred dollars more, which he gave me. This gentleman showed me very distinguished attention and kindness, and remains to this day a cordial and active friend to me.

  From Hopkinsville I returned to the house of my step-mother, where I made my preparations to go to the Lake of the Woods. Part of my relatives, who had accompanied me from beyond the Mississippi, had returned to their own homes; but my brother and his wife stayed to travel with me. From my brother Edward’s house near New Madrid, I went again to Jackson where I was again taken sick. My stock of money had now increased through the voluntary donations of those friendly and charitable people among whom I had passed, to five hundred dollars, and, this being all in silver, would, my brother thought, be the means of exposing me to danger, and bringing me into difficulty, should I travel by myself. He, therefore, refused to leave me.

  From Jackson we went together to St. Louis, where we saw Gov. Clark, who had already given much assistance to my brother in his journeys in search of me. He received us with great kindness, and offered us whatever assistance we might think necessary in accomplishing the object I now had in view, which was to bring my family from the Indian country. My brother wished to accompany me, and to take a considerable number of men, to aid, if it should be necessary, in taking my children from the Indians; but I went one day to Gov. Clark, by myself, and told him he must not listen to my brother, who knew little of the country I was going t
o visit, or of what was needful to my success in the attempt to bring out my family. In truth, I did not wish my brother, or any other white man, to accompany me, as I knew he could not submit to all the hardships of the journey, and live as I should be compelled to live, in an Indian lodge all winter. Furthermore, I was aware that he would be rather an incumbrance than any help to me. Gov. Clark wished to send me to the Lake of the Woods by way of the Upper Mississippi, but I was not willing to go that way, on account of the Sioux, through whose country I must pass. He gave me a Mackinac boat, large enough to carry sixty men, with a sufficient crew, three barrels of flour, two of hard bread, guns, tents, axes, etc. etc. Having prevailed on my brother to return, I set off. The current of the Mississippi below the Missouri, soon convinced me that my large and heavy boat was not well adapted to the nature of my undertaking, and at Portage De Sioux I left it.

  From this place I proceeded in a small canoe, with two men, to the head of the Illinois River, thence to Chikago.

  I had a letter from Gov. Clark to Mr. M’Kenzie, the Indian agent at that place, and as there was no vessel about to sail for Mackinac, he fitted out a bark canoe with a crew of Indians to take me on my journey; but the Indians stopped to drink several days, and, in the mean time a vessel arrived in which I sailed on her return. I had waited ten days at Mackinac when Capt. Knapp of the revenue cutter offered me a passage to Drummond’s Island. Here Dr. Mitchell, and the Indian agent, Col. Anderson, treated me in a very friendly manner, until the latter had an opportunity to send me to the Saut De St. Marie.

  At the Saut I remained two or three months, as Col. Dickson, who was there, would not allow me to go up Lake Superior in the North West Company’s vessel, which went and returned three times while I was detained waiting for him. At last he was ready to start, and I went on board his boat. We were no sooner out from shore, than he handed me an oar, and though my health was very poor, he compelled me to row as long as I was able to set up. Being at last quite disabled, he left me on shore at a spot twenty miles above Fort William, where we found Mr. Giarson, who was there to take care of some property for the Hudson’s Bay people. I was much dissatisfied with the treatment I received from Col. Dickson, and at parting I told him that notwithstanding he left me so far from the end of my journey, I would still reach Me-naw-zhe-tau-naung before him. All my baggage I left in the care of Mr. Giarson, and went on in a small canoe with one old Frenchman whom I hired, and having good luck to cross the lake, I arrived before him.

  My family were all well. Next day some one told me that the red headed Englishman, as they called Col. Dickson, was coming up to my lodge. I told him, without going out, that he need not come in. “You find me here in my lodge,” said I, “though you abandoned me on the lake shore, when very far from my home, or from any place where I could have expected to find help; but my lodge is not fit for such as you, therefore I hope you will not come in.” I knew he wished to ask me for something to eat, but I was determined not to see him, or give him any thing. He left our village, and went by the Indians’ road to Red River, though, as the water was unusually low, we heard he had a journey of extreme difficulty, and had nearly perished of hunger. There was, on the way, an enclosed burying ground where one of my brother’s-in-law, a daughter of Oto-pun-ne-be, and others of my friends and acquaintances, had been buried. Many of these graves were well covered, but Col. Dickson broke down the pailings, and destroyed the little houses that had been raised over the graves, at which conduct the Indians were much offended. They threatened to take his life, and might have done so had an opportunity offered. He went to Pembinah, thence to Lake Traverse, and returned no more into the country of the Ojibbeways.

  A few days after my arrival at Me-naw-zhe-tau-naung, one of my children sickened and died of the measles, a complaint at that time very fatal among the Indians. The others were subsequently attacked, but I now knew better how to take care of them, and no more died. Soon after this provisions became scarce, and I was, with Me-zhuk-ko-naun, making preparations for a medicine hunt. In my dream I saw the same young man I had before seen on similar occasions, come down in the usual manner and stand before me. He reproved me with more than usual harshness for my complaints, and because I cried for the child I had recently lost. “Henceforth,” said he, “you shall see me no more, and that which remains before you, of your path, shall be full of briers and thorns. It is on account of the many crimes, and the bad conduct of your wife, that all your coming days are to be filled with trouble. Nevertheless, as you have called me this time, I give you something to eat.” When he said this, I looked and saw before me many ducks covering the surface of the water, and in another place a sturgeon, in a third a reindeer. This dream was fulfilled, as usual, at least as much of it as related to my hunting and fishing.

  As the winter came on, I went to Red River to hunt buffalo, and make dry meat, and early in the spring I started to come to the States. From my first wife I had parted ten years before the time I now speak of; but the urgency of the Indians, and, in part, the necessity of my situation, had compelled me to take another. By this woman I had three children; those by my former wife were not at present in the village. My wife refusing to accompany me, I took the three children and started without her. At Rainy Lake she overtook me, and agreed to accompany me to Mackinac.

  On my way down, I was assisted by the North West Company. At Drummond’s Island I was disappointed of large presents given me when on my way to the Lake of the Woods, but which, as I did not then wish to take, were promised me on my return. The commanding officer who had shown me so much kindness, had been relieved by another of a very different character, one who seemed to find no satisfaction in doing any thing for any person connected with the Indians. This man refused to see me, or afford me any assistance. By the kindness, however, of Mr. Ermatinger of the Saut De St. Marie, I was enabled to reach Mackinac.

  Col. Boyd, the Indian agent at that time at Mackinac, called me to him, and wished to hire me as a striker in his smith’s shop; but not liking the employment, I did not wish to remain. He gave me one hundred pounds of flour, the same quantity of pork, some whiskey, tobacco, etc. There were two vessels about to sail for Chikago, but neither of them would take me as a passenger, though I had money enough, and was willing to pay them. As I had no other alternative, I was compelled to purchase from the Indians a poor and old bark canoe, for which I gave sixty dollars, and I engaged three Frenchmen to accompany me, but Col. Boyd would not permit them to go. He gave me, however, a letter to Dr. Wolcott, who was now Indian agent at Chikago, and I started with only one man to assist me.

  At the Ottawwaw settlement of Waw-gun-nuk-kiz-ze I stopped for a short time, and finding that my canoe was too frail and leaky to perform the voyage, I purchased another, a new one, for which I gave eighty dollars. Several of my acquaintances among the Ottawwaws determined to accompany me, and started accordingly, eight men in one canoe, and six in another, with some women. They went on with me until we arrived within one or two days’ journey of Chikago, when meeting other Indians with discouraging accounts of the state of the water in the Illinois, they left me and went back. My wife returned with them.

  When I arrived at Chikago, I was sick of a fever, and my provisions being exhausted, I was in great distress. I went to Dr. Wolcott to present him the letter from Col. Boyd, the Indian agent at Mackinac, but he would not receive it, nor take any notice of me. He knew well who I was, as he had seen me when I passed Chikago before, and I could not tell why he refused me assistance. I had my tent set up at a little distance from his house, near a wild rice swamp, and for several days, though I was so much more unwell that I was scarce able to sit up five minutes at a time, I subsisted my children by shooting the black birds as they came and settled on the rice. When I was again able with the aid of two sticks to crawl to the house of Dr. Wolcott, I went to represent to him that my children were in danger of perishing of hunger, but he drove me harshly away. When I left his door, I shed some tears which it was not com
mon for me to do, but I was rendered womanish by my sickness. Three or four times I fainted, and lay long by the road side on the way from his house to my tent. But my sufferings, and those of my children, were shortly afterwards relieved by a Frenchman, who had been to carry some boats across the Portage. His wife was an Ojibbeway woman, and commonly accompanied him when he went to take any boats across. Though his horses were now much worn out with the long journey from which he had returned, he agreed to take me and my canoe sixty miles, and if his horses could hold out, the whole one hundred and twenty, which was, at the present stage of water, the length of the Portage, for which I agreed to pay him agreeable to his demand, which I thought very moderate. He lent me, also, a young horse to ride as I was far too weak to think of walking, and he thought I could ride on horseback much more comfortably than in the cart with the canoe. Before we arrived at the end of the sixty miles, he was taken sick, and as there was now a little water in the river, I concluded to put my canoe in, and try to descend in it. His young horse, the night after I gave it up to him, was stolen by the Po-ta-wato-mies. He was seized with the bloody flux, but as he had a young man with him, I rendered him what assistance I could in starting, and let him go back. My Frenchman had deserted from me soon after I left Chikago, and I had now no person to assist me except an old Indian, called Gos-so-kwaw-waw, (the smoker.) We put the canoe in the water, but we could not get into it ourselves, only sometimes the children were put in, and we took them down, one walking at the bow, the other at the stern of the canoe. We had proceeded no more than three miles when I found that this method was likely to prove so laborious and slow that I thought best to engage a Po-ta-wato-mie, whom I met there, and who agreed for a blanket and a pair of leggins, to take my baggage and my children on his horses to the mouth of the An-num-mun-se Se-be, or Yellow Ochre River, a distance of sixty miles. The An-num-mun-ne comes from towards the Mississippi, and below it there is always, in the Illinois, water enough for canoes. I felt somewhat afraid to trust the Po-ta-wato-mie with my children, and the baggage, which contained some valuable property, but old Gos-so-kwaw-waw was of the opinion that he would prove honest. When he put the children on the horses, he said, “In three days I shall be at the mouth of the An-num-mun-ne River, and shall wait for you there.”