Part 9

Duncan M’Krimmon, (a resident of Milledgeville, a Georgia militia man, stationed at Fort Gadsden,) being out one morning on a fishing excursion, in attempting to return, missed his way, and was several days lost in the surrounding wilderness. After wandering about in various directions he was espied and captured by a party of hostile Indians, headed by the well known prophet Francis. The Indians having obtained the satisfaction they wanted respecting the determination of government, the position of the American army, &c. they began to prepare for the intended sacrifice. M’Krimmon was bound to a stake, and the ruthless savages having shaved his head and reduced his body to a state of nudity, formed themselves into a circle and danced round him some hours, yelling most horribly. The youngest daughter of the prophet, about fifteen years of age, remained sad and silent the whole time. She participated not in the general joy, but was evidently, even to the affrighted prisoner, much pained at the savage scene she was compelled to witness. When the burning torches were about to be applied to the fagots which encompassed the prisoner, and the fatal tomahawk was raised to terminate forever his mortal existence, Milly Francis, (for that was her name,) like an angel of mercy, placed herself between it and death, resolutely bidding the astonished executioner, if he thirsted for human blood, to shed hers; being determined, she said, not to survive the prisoner’s death. A momentary pause was produced by this unexpected occurrence, and she took advantage of the circumstance to implore upon her knees the pity of the ferocious father, who finally yielded to her wishes; with the intention, however, it is suspected, of murdering them both, if he could not sell M’Krimmon to the Spaniards; which was luckily effected a few days after at St. Marks, for seven gallons and a half of rum. As long as M’Krimmon remained a prisoner his benefactress continued to show him acts of kindness. The fortune of war since placed her in the power of the white people, being compelled, with a number of others of her tribe who were in a starving condition, to surrender themselves prisoners. As soon as this fact was known to M’Krimmon, in manifestation of a due sense of the obligation which he owed to the woman who saved his life, at the hazard of her own, he sought her to alleviate her misfortune, and to offer her marriage; but Milly would not consent to become his wife as a consideration of having saved his life, declaring that she did no more than her duty, and that her intercessions were the same as they would ever have been on similar occasions.

ADVENTURES OF SIMON BUTLER AMONG THE INDIANS.

Simon Kenton, _alias_ Butler, from humble beginnings, made himself conspicuous by distinguished services and achievements, in the first settlement of this country, and ought to be recorded as one of the patriarchs of Kentucky. He was born in Virginia, in 1753. He grew to maturity without being able to read or write; but from his early exploits, he seems to have been endowed with feelings, which the educated, and those born in the upper walks of life appear to suppose a monopoly reserved for themselves. It is recorded of him, that at the age of nineteen he had a violent contest with another competitor for the favour of the lady of his love. She refused to make an election between them; and the subject of this notice indignantly exiled himself from his native place. After various peregrinations on the long rivers of the west, he fixed himself in Kentucky, and soon became a distinguished partizan against the savages. In 1774, he joined himself to Lord Dunmore, and was appointed one of his spies. He made various excursions, and performed important services in this employ. He finally selected a place for improvement on the site where Washington now is. Returning one day from hunting, he found one of his companions slain by the Indians, and his body thrown into the fire. He left Washington in consequence, and joined himself to Colonel Clark in his fortunate and gallant expedition against Vincennes and Kaskaskia. He was sent by that commander with despatches for Kentucky. He passed through the streets of Vincennes, then in possession of the British and Indians, without discovery. Arriving at White river, he and his party made a raft, on which to cross with their guns and baggage, driving their horses into the river, and compelling them to swim it. A party of Indians was concealed on the opposite bank, who took possession of the horses as they mounted the bank, after crossing the river. Butler and his company seeing this, continued to float down the river on their raft, without coming to land. They concealed themselves in the bushes until night, when they crossed the river, pursued their journey, and delivered their despatches.

After this, Butler made a journey of discovery to the northern regions of the Ohio country, and was made prisoner by the Indians. They painted him black, as is their custom, when a victim is devoted to torture; and informed him that he was destined to be burned at Chillicothe. Meanwhile, for their own amusement, and as a prelude to his torture, they manacled him hand and foot, placed him on an unbridled and unbroken horse, and turned the animal loose, driving it off at its utmost speed, with shouts, delighted with witnessing its mode of managing under its living burden. The horse, unable to shake off this new and strange incumbrance, made for the thickest covert of woods and brambles, with the speed of the winds. It is easy to conjecture the position and sufferings of the victim. The terrified animal exhausted itself in fruitless efforts to shake off its load, and worn down and subdued, brought Butler back to the camp amidst the exulting yells of the savages.

Having arrived within a mile of Chillicothe, they halted, took Butler from his horse, and tied him to a stake, where he remained twenty-four hours in one position. He was taken from the stake to ‘run the gauntlet.’ The Indian mode of managing this kind of torture was as follows: The inhabitants of the tribe, old and young, were placed in parallel lines, armed with clubs and switches. The victim was to make his way to the council house, through these files, every member of which struggled to beat him, as he passed, as severely as possible. If he reached the council house alive, he was to be spared. In the lines were nearly six hundred Indians, and Butler had to make his way almost a mile in the endurance of this infernal sport. He was started by a blow; but soon broke through the files, and had almost reached the council house, when a stout warrior knocked him down with a club. He was severely beaten in this position, and taken back again into custody.

It seems incredible, that they sometimes rescued their prisoners from these tortures, adopted them, and treated them with the utmost lenity and even kindness. At other times, ingenuity was exhausted to invent tortures, and every renewed endurance of the victim seemed to stimulate their vengeance to new discoveries of cruelty. Butler was one of these ill-fated subjects. No way satisfied with what they had done, they marched him from village to village, to give all a spectacle of his sufferings. He ran the gauntlet thirteen times. He made various attempts to escape; and in one instance would have effected it, had he not been arrested by some savages who were accidentally returning to the village from which he was escaping. It was finally determined to burn him at the lower Sandusky, but an apparent accident changed his destiny.

In passing to the stake, the procession went by the cabin of Simon Girty, who had just returned from an unsuccessful expedition to the frontiers of Pennsylvania. The wretch burned with disappointment and revenge; and hearing that there was a white man going to the torture, determined to wreak his vengeance on him. He found the unfortunate Butler, threw him to the ground, and began to beat him. Butler, who instantly recognized in Girty a former companion of his youth, made himself known to him. His savage heart relented. He raised him up, and promised to use his influence to save him. Girty had a council called, and he moved the savages to give Butler up to him. He took the unfortunate man home, fed, and clothed him, and Butler began to recruit from his wounds and torture. But the relenting of the savages in his favour was only momentary. After five days, they repented of their relaxation in his favour, reclaimed him, and marched him to Lower Sandusky to be burned, according to their original purpose. By a surprising coincidence, he there met the Indian agent from Detroit, who from motives of humanity, exerted his influence with the savages for his release, and took him with him to Detroit. Here he was paroled by the governor. He escaped, and by a march of thirty days through the wilderness, reached Kentucky.

INGENUITY IN TORTURE.

An instance of the keenness of Indian ingenuity, in the invention of original modes of torture, is given in Flint’s Indian Wars. The Indians captured a young man of the name of Moses Hewitt, who lived on the Little Hock hocking, and was a member of the Marietta settlement. He was remarkable for the suppleness of his limbs, and the swiftness of his running. The Indians tested him with their champion racers, and, although he could not have run with much spirit, under his depressing circumstances, he easily vanquished them all in swiftness. They affected to be pleased, but their envy was piqued. They were destitute of provisions, and wished to secure their swift-footed prisoner, while they were occupied in their hunt. With this view, and probably to torture him at the same time, they fastened his wrists by crossing them, and binding them firmly with a cord. They then tied his arms to a stake, so as partly to raise the upper part of his body. They fastened his legs in the same way, and partly cut off a young sapling, bending it down, so that the weight of the lower part of his body would be a counterpoise to the elastic force of the curved tree. Thus was he partially raised by his hands and feet, in a way most horribly painful; and yet in a position where death would be slow in arriving to his release. It was like the torture of killing by dropping water on the head. Fortunately the young man had remarkably slender wrist bones. When left alone to meditate upon his terrible situation, he contrived, not without disengaging the skin and flesh from his wrists, to disentangle his arms from their manacles, and finally his legs. He picked up a little of the scraps of jerked meat, which the Indians had left. To baffle their pursuit and that of their dogs, he ran on the bodies of fallen trees, and meandered his course in every direction. Such was the adroitness of his management, that he put them completely at fault, escaped them, and came in to the settlement of Marietta, wounded, his flesh torn and mangled, and emaciated to a skeleton—a living proof how much man can survive before he suffers the mortal pang. He had been absent fourteen days.

OSCEOLA.

On one occasion, Osceola acted as guide to a party of horsemen, and finding that, at starting, they proceeded slowly, he enquired the cause. On being told that it was on his account, with one of those smiles he alone can give, he bade them proceed more rapidly. They put spurs to their steeds, and he, a-foot, kept up with them during the entire route, nor did he exhibit the slightest symptoms of fatigue, at the close of day, but arrived at the point proposed, as early as the mounted body. To Col. Gadsden, sole Commissioner at the Treaty of Payne’s Landing, Osceola rendered good service, at the head of thirty or forty warriors, posting himself nearer to the Colonel’s position than the other Indians, and saying, he was more like the white man than they. He did not sign the treaty then and there made, nor did he refuse so to do. The fact is, he was never asked to subscribe his name thereto, being at that time, but a Tustenugge and of little note. This treaty must not be confounded with the subsequent agreement that Osceola finally signed, and into which he is said to have plunged his knife, when called on for his signature. The negotiations at Payne’s landing were in the time of Tuckasee Emathla, or the Ground Mole Warrior, Chief of the Micasuky tribe. At that date it was not known of Powell, as Cotton Mather says of Roger Williams, that “the whole country was soon like to be set on fire by the rapid motion of a wind mill in the head of this one man.”

GRATITUDE OF OSCEOLA.

Osceola’s agency, and that of his Lieutenant Tom, in Omathla’s death, and his killing Gen. Thompson, with the rifle presented him by the General, militate against the favourable estimate of his character. But that all his goodly feelings were not utterly eradicated, is proven by an incident, in the interview with Gen. Gaines’ command. On that occasion, Osceola anxiously inquired after Lieut. John Grahame, and on being informed that he was wounded, stoutly denied it. On being asked why he was so positive that Lieut. G. was unhurt, he replied that he had imperatively ordered his people never to molest that young man, and he knew no one who would dare disobey him; none should, and live! It was then admitted, that though the brothers, Grahame, had been wounded, yet Lt. G. had escaped injury; at which admission Osceola greatly joyed. It seems that Powell has a little daughter, to whom Lt. G. was kind, and had presented with frocks, in which the young girl, who grew very fond of him, always insisted on being dressed, whenever she perceived Lieut. G. (for whom she often looked out) coming to visit her. Osceola’s motive in sparing Lieut. G. was gratitude for attention to his child, which he also endeavored to repay by teaching the Lieut. the Indian language, for he spoke a little English, and was very intelligent.

THE CROWNING OF POWHATAN.

The Virginia company in London, deceived by false reports, and misled by their own sanguine imaginations, had conceived an expectation not only of finding precious metals in the country, but of discovering the South Sea, from the mountains at the head of James-river; and it was thought, that the journey thither, might be performed in eight or ten days. For the purpose of making this capital discovery, they put on board Newport’s ship, a barge capable of being taken to pieces, and put together again at pleasure. This barge was to make a voyage to the head of the river, then to be carried in pieces across the mountains, and to descend the rivers which were supposed to run westward to the South Sea. To facilitate this plan, it was necessary to gain the favour of Powhatan, through whose country the passage must be made; and as means of winning him, a royal present was brought over, consisting of a bason and ewer, a bed and furniture, a chair of state, a suit of scarlet clothes, with a cloak and a crown, all which were to be presented to him in due form; and the crown placed on his head, with as much solemnity as possible. To a person who knew the country and its inhabitants so well as Smith, this project appeared chimerical, and the means whereby it was to be carried on, dangerous. With a small quantity of copper and a few beads, he could have kept Powhatan in good humour, and made an advantage of it for the colony, whereas a profusion of presents he knew would but increase his pride and insolence. The project of travelling over unknown mountains with men already weakened by sickness, and worn out with fatigue, in a hot climate, and in the midst of enemies, who might easily cut off their retreat, was too romantic even for his sanguine and adventurous spirit. His opinion upon the matter cannot be expressed in more pointed language, than he used in a letter to the company. “If the quartered boat was burned to ashes, _one_ might carry her in a bag, but as she is, five hundred cannot, to a navigable place above the falls.” His dissent however was ineffectual, and when he found that the voice of the council was for executing it, he lent his assistance to effect as much of it as was practicable.

Previously to their setting out, he undertook, with four men only, to carry notice to Powhatan of the intended present, and invite him to come to James-Town, that he might receive it there. Having travelled by land twelve miles to Werocomoco, on Pamunky (York) river, where he expected to meet Powhatan, and not finding him there, whilst a messenger was dispatched thirty miles for him; his daughter Pocahontas, entertained Smith and his company with a dance, which for its singularity, merits a particular description.

In an open plain, a fire being made, the gentlemen were seated by it. Suddenly a noise was heard in the adjacent wood, which made them fly to their arms, and seize on two or three old men, as hostages for their own security, imagining that they were betrayed. Upon this the young princess came running to Smith, and passionately embracing him, offered herself to be killed, if any harm should happen to him or his company. Her assurances, seconded by all the Indians present, removed their fears. The noise which had alarmed them, was made by thirty girls, who were preparing for the intended ceremony. Immediately they made their appearance, with no other covering than a girdle of green leaves and their skins painted, each one of a different colour. Their leader had a pair of buck’s horns on her head, an otter’s skin as her girdle, and another on one arm; a bow and arrow in the other hand, and a quiver at her back. The rest of them had horns on their heads, and a wooden sword or staff in their hands. With shouting and singing, they formed a ring round the fire, and performed a circular dance for about an hour, after which they retired in the same order as they had advanced. The dance was followed by a feast, at which the savage nymphs were as eager with their caresses as with their attendance; and this being ended, they conducted the gentlemen to their lodging by the light of fire brands.

The next day Powhatan arrived, and Smith delivered the message from his father, Newport (as he always called him) to this effect. “That he had brought him from the King of England, a royal present, and wished to see him at James-Town, that he might deliver it to him; promising to assist him in prosecuting his revenge against the Monacans, whose country they would penetrate even to the sea beyond the mountains.” To which the savage prince with equal subtility and haughtiness, answered, “If your King has sent me a present, I also am a King, and am on my own land. I will stay here eight days. Your father must come to me, I will not go to him, nor to your fort. As for the Monacans, I am able to revenge myself. If you have heard of salt water beyond the mountains, from any of my people, they have deceived you.” Then with a stick he drew a plan of that region on the ground; and after many compliments the conference ended.

The present being put on board the boats, was carried down James-river and up the Pamunky, whilst Newport, with fifty men, went across by land and met the boats, in which he passed the river, and held the proposed interview. All things being prepared for the ceremony of coronation, the present was brought from the boats; the bason and ewer were deposited, the bed and chair were set up, the scarlet suit and cloak were put on, though not till Namontac (an Indian youth whom Newport had carried to England and brought back again) had assured him that these habiliments would do him no harm; but they had great difficulty in persuading him to receive the crown, nor would he bend his knee, or incline his head in the least degree. After many attempts, and with actual pressing on his shoulders, they at last made him stoop a little and put it on. Instantly, a signal being given, the men in the boats fired a volley, at which the monarch started with horror, imagining that a design was forming to destroy him in the summit of his glory; but being assured that it was meant as a compliment, his fear subsided, and in return for the baubles of royalty received from King James, he desired Newport to present him his old fur mantle and deer skin shoes, which in his estimation were doubtless a full equivalent; since all this finery could not prevail on the wary chief to allow them guides for the discovery of the inland country, or to approve their design of visiting it. Thus disappointed they returned to James-Town, determined to proceed without his assistance.

THE FLORIDA INDIANS.

The Palarches, Eamuses and Kaloosas, were the ancient possessors of Florida, and are all extinct. The present Florida Indians are the remains of that ancient and warlike tribe on the Mississippi, which being almost extirpated by the French, retreated along the Northern coast of the Gulf of Mexico, and united with broken bands of Biloxies, Red Sticks, and runaway Creeks, called Seminoles. The largest portion of these Indians are Lower Creeks, and are of the most dissolute, daring, and abandoned of that tribe.

The word Seminole signifies a wanderer or runaway, or it means a wild people or outsettlers, the ancestors of the tribe having detached themselves from the main body of the Creeks, and dwelt remotely, wherever the inducements of more game, or greater scope for freedom of action, might casually lead them. They settled in Florida about 115 years ago.

That this is the period of their becoming a separate community, is confirmed by the connection of their history with that of the Yemasees, of whom there occur frequent notices in the account of the early settlement of Georgia and South Carolina.

In a talk, which the Seminoles about the year 1820, transmitted to the American government, they say, alluding to their ancient independence: “An hundred summers have seen the Seminole warrior reposing undisturbed under the shade of his live oak, and the suns of an hundred winters have risen on his ardent pursuit of the buck and the bear, with none to question his bounds, or dispute his range.”

The greater part of East Florida appears to have been originally in possession of the Yemasees—a powerful people, who not only occupied this province, but spread themselves over Georgia, and into the limits of South Carolina, which on its first demarcation was bounded on the South by the Altamaha. Some of the tribes resided within the present limits of that State, in and about Beaufort and Savannah River, and also the Sea Islands. Bartram relates that these people, after a hardy contest, and many bloody defeats, were nearly exterminated by their ancient enemies the Creeks, who had a tradition, that a beautiful race of Indians, whose women they called Daughters of the Sun, resided amidst the recesses of the great Oakefanokee wilderness, where they enjoyed perpetual felicity, in ever blooming islands, inaccessible to human approach.

Bartram with probability supposes, that this fable took its rise from a fugitive remnant of the Yemasees, who found a refuge in this swamp, and were perhaps, after a lapse of years, accidentally seen by some of the hunters of the Creek nation.

There is frequent mention, in the early colonial history of South Carolina, of wars between the first settlers and the Yemasees, the latter having been excited to attack the Colony by the Spanish authorities in St. Augustine.