While we know our northern friends may not feel it, in the South, Spring is
here. So we thought we'd share a few of our gardening sites appropriate
for this time of the year. Along with gardening, there's grilling, and getting
ready to diet so that you can fit back into that bathing suit this summer!
Col. Sibley Marches to the Relief of Fort
Ridgely and New Ulm
Col. Sibley Marches To The Relief Of Fort Ridgely And New
Ulm. Fight At Birch Cooley. Crow Asks For Peace. Deacon Paul Pleads With His
Tribe. Col. Sibley Advances To The Yellow Medicines. Defeats The Indians.
Prisoners Rescued. Camp Release. Guilty Indians. Marvelous Escapes. Women Of New
Ulm Attack The Prisoners. Their Examination. Thirty-Eight Tried And Executed.
Their Behavior Mounting The Scaffold.
In the mean time Governor Ramsay had been
rousing the state to arms. Luckily, several
regiments of volunteers were in the state,
nearly ready to depart for the war, so that
in a few days 1,400 men had assembled at St.
Peters. Col. Sibley was put at the head of
these, and marched at once to the relief of
New Ulm and Fort Ridgely. The former, we
have seen, was evacuated before he reached
it. Moving without opposition over the
silent, desolated country, he reached the
fort on the 28th of the month, much to the
joy of the garrison.
Scattered over the prairie around, lay a
vast number of black and decaying corpses,
on which hogs and prairie foxes were
rioting, and to bury these, and also to
ascertain in what direction the Indians had
gone, Col. Sibley sent out a detachment
composed of a company of infantry and
cavalry, commanded by Major Brown. This was
the last day of August, Sunday. That day and
the next they buried over two hundred
bodies, and encamped at night at Birch
Cooley, a place admirably adapted for a
surprise. But water being convenient there,
and not anticipating an attack; the command
pitched their tents without fear. But Little
Crow, who had moved with the Indian families
up the river to the Yellow Medicine Agency,
for greater safety, had been informed by his
scouts that New Ulm was abandoned. A war
party was immediately organized, with a long
train of wagons, to go and secure the
plunder. On their way down, the scouts
discovered this detachment on the march.
Watching its progress, to ascertain its
destination, they saw with unbounded
delight, it quietly camp at Birch Cooley.
The unsuspecting whites corralled their
horses, lit their camp fires, and lay down
to rest. Just as the morning began to dawn,
as the officer with the new relief was going
the rounds, one of the sentinels saw, in the
dim uncertain light, the tall grass waving
in irregular lines up the ravine. He called
the officer back to notice it. Just as he
did so, an unearthly yell suddenly arose on
every side, and the next moment a tempest of
musket balls swept the encampment. Almost
the entire guard fell at the first fire, and
nearly a hundred horses dropped in their
tracks. Had the Indians then charged, none
would have been left to tell the tale of
blood, for the whole camp was thrown into
sudden confusion. But fortunately, they held
back, and the men rallying, crawled forward,
and sheltering themselves as best they
could, behind the living and dead horses and
wagons, poured in a destructive fire. They
lay two together, and while one was firing,
the other, with the point of his bayonet,
dug a hole in the earth, ladling out the
soil with his tin cup. Thus fighting and
digging, they at last got well covered, and
made their shots tell on the savages. They
lay and fought in this way all day, but with
their numbers steadily diminishing. That
morning in the camp of Sibley, near the
fort, the firing, though some twenty miles
distant, was distinctly heard. Knowing at
once that the detachment had been attacked,
Sibley immediately dispatched a hundred and
sixty men, with a six pound howitzer, to its
relief. Sweeping rapidly over the prairies,
they in the afternoon approached the scene
of conflict. The Indians, hearing through
scouts of their approach, left a few men at
Birch Cooley, and hastened forward to attack
them, before they could form a junction with
their comrades. Colonel M. Phaill, in
command, saw with great uneasiness,
apparently more than a thousand Indians
swarming down on his little band. He
immediately opened on them with his
howitzer, which kept them at bay, and
dispatched a courier to Sibley for help. But
this commander was already on the march. As
the heavy boom of the cannon came rolling
over the prairie, he ordered the tents to be
struck and carried into the fort, and just
at sunset put his whole force in motion.
That night, at midnight, they came up to M.
Phaill, and in the morning the whole moved
forward. The Indians, ignorant of the
arrival of the main army, came forth to meet
them, when to their amazement they saw in
the early sunlight, long lines of dazzling
steel, moving over the prairie. "Oh! oh!"
they cried, "there are five miles of white
men coming," and kept prudently out of range
of our guns. Shaking their blankets and
brandishing their guns, they scurried hither
and thither, with loud war-whoops. The
motley throng presented a picturesque
appearance on the open prairie, in the early
sunlight. Advancing in line of battle,
firing as they went, the troops moved
forward, and at last came in sight of the
beleaguered camp, though not a living soul
could be seen. Silent tents and slaughtered
horses were all that was visible. As they
came near, the survivors arose from their
hiding places, and gazing a moment at the
proud array, sent up a wild shout of
delight, and leaped into the air. Exhausted,
without water, and rapidly diminishing, a
few more hours of delay would have left them
at the mercy of the savages. Thirteen lay
dead amid the tents, and sixty more were
wounded. The former were buried on the spot,
and the wounded placed on a bedding of grass
pulled from the prairie, and carried to Fort
Ridgely. Little Crow was not with this
party, though he started with them. With a
smaller band, he went to Acton, where he had
a fight with another party of whites. When
he returned to Yellow Medicine, and learned
what a large force was assembled against him
at the fort, he and his warriors became
alarmed, and a meeting of the Soldier's
Lodge was called. At this it was determined
to enter into negotiations for peace, and so
on Sunday, two half-breeds with a flag of
truce, rode into camp in a buggy drawn by a
mule they had stolen from that very spot a
few days before. They bore a letter from
Little Crow, asking for peace. This chief,
though a great liar, was not naturally
cruel, and had opposed from the outset the
murder of peaceable settlers, and women and
children. The traders he killed ruthlessly,
as his worst foes. Besides, there was no
real harmony between the upper and lower
Indians, and had not been for along time.
This breach had been widened by the
unwillingness of the latter to make an equal
distribution of the plunder taken the first
day at the Lower Agency. Chief among the
disaffected, though not for this reason, was
Paul, a civilized Indian, and head deacon of
Mr. Riggs church, a brave and eloquent man.
From the first, he had told the Indians that
they were rushing on destruction, for the
result of their action would be the
extinction of the tribe. He and his friends
were strenuous for peace.
Little Crow, in his letter, stated that they
had been fighting because they could not get
their rights, but were now willing to enter
into negotiations for peace. But Sibley
replied that he would listen to no terms
until the prisoners were restored. But Crow
saw, if this were done, he would lose the
last hold on the whites. Still, the upper
Indians advised it should be done. Council
after council was held, in which the debates
grew stormy, and for a while the two parties
threatened to come in collision. Some, even
advised to kill Paul, the boldest advocate
of the measure, but he openly defied them,
saying that if they killed him they would
have to kill three hundred more Indians at
his back.
Nothing came of the negotiations, and the
Indians remained at the Yellow Medicine, and
Sibley at Fort Ridgely making preparations
to move against them. More than a fortnight
was consumed in getting ready, which
occasioned great impatience and loud
complaints throughout the country. He,
however, was determined not to move till he
was sure of success. In the mean time
several letters were clandestinely received
from the friendly Indians, promising their
friendship, and quite a number of prisoners,
through their agency, succeeded in escaping.
At length, on the 18th of September, Sibley
took up his line of march, and sweeping over
the once fair, but now blackened and
desolate country, arrived in four days
within sight of the ruined and charred
building of the Yellow Medicine Agency. The
Indians had destroyed the bridges along the
road, but these were easily rebuilt, with
the exception of an important one near the
Yellow Medicine Ravine. When the pioneers
advanced to reconstruct this, the Indians
fired upon them. A fight ensued in regular
Indian fashion, which lasted for some time,
but was finally ended by a gallant charge of
Lieut. Colonel Marshall, at the head of the
seventh regiment, who drove them like sheep
before him. Had Sibley been furnished, as he
ought to have been, with a large body of
cavalry, he would have finished the war with
a blow. As it was, this victory broke the
spirit of the tribe. Little Crow, with two
hundred men, fled into Dakotah territory and
scattered. The remainder, with the Mission
Indians, retained the captives, and
immediately sent a flag of truce to Col.
Sibley, requesting him to come and take them
before Little Crow could attack them and
carry off or kill the prisoners. The army at
once took up its line of march, and the next
day about noon, came in sight of the Indian
camp, composed of about a hundred wigwams.
An Indian on a pony, and carrying a
bed-sheet tied on a pole as a flag of truce,
approached, while a white cloth floated from
the top of almost every hut. The column,
marching slowly around them, encamped near
the river. The painted warriors, fresh from
their carnival of blood, at once came
forward, smiling and offering to shake hands
with every one, and expressing the most
profound gratification at seeing their dear
friends, the whites, once more. A demand was
instantly made for the captives, when over
two hundred sad, wan looking beings, some of
the women and children half naked, were led
out. Tears rained down their faces as with
clasped hands they raised their eyes to
their deliverers. The soldiers were
jubilant, and unbounded joy reigned
throughout the camp. Other captives, day
after day, were brought in, and the tales
they told of hope deferred, suffering and
abuse, were heart-rending. Death had
incessantly stared them in the face, and
often a fate worse than death was offered
them. Some had been treated kindly, and
among them was the wife of Mr. Huggins, the
missionary at Lac qui Parle. Wholly
unconscious of danger, she was sitting in
her house, surrounded with all the comforts
of civilized life, when three Indians, each
carrying a gun, entered. They sat down, and
appeared to be much interested in watching
the operations of a sewing machine, which a
young lady was working. Soon after, Mr.
Huggins came to the door from the field,
where he had been at work. The Indians
immediately went out, and the next moment
Mrs. Hug-gins heard the report of two guns.
She had barely time to look up, when the
Indians rushed in, exclaiming, "Go out; go
out; you shall live; but go out; take
nothing with you." She hastened out, and
there lay her husband, a corpse on the
ground. Providentially she fell into the
hands of Walking Spirit, an old chief, and
friend of her husband, in whose house she
remained, treated with constant kindness by
himself and family, until her release. Some
of the escapes were most marvelous, and
could not be credited were they not
substantiated by the most unimpeachable
testimony. Among these, none were more
remarkable than that of a boy named Burton
Eastlick, only ten years of age. Left alone
with a little brother, only five years old,
he started for Fort Ridgely, eighty miles.
He did not know the way thither; he only
knew it was somewhere down the river, and he
set out to reach it. The spectacle of those
two mere infants, on that far desolate
prairie, linked hand in hand, and turning
their little faces southward for protection,
might well move the pity of the great Father
of us all. With cunning beyond his years,
the eldest took every precaution not to be
seen by the Indians. When his little brother
became foot-sore and weary, he would take
him in his arms and carry him till he
himself was tired out, and then they would
rest together. Living on berries and such
fruit as they could find, they traveled
during the day, and when night came, would
lie down in each other s arms, under the
open sky. Thus the brave little fellow kept
on, and encouraging his infant brother with
all kinds of promises, actually made the
eighty miles in safety, and reached the fort
to tell his marvelous story. If all the
incidents of this wonderful journey the
shifts resorted to, and the innocent prattle
by the way could be known and related in all
their touching details, it would equal the
strangest creation s of fiction.
In another case a woman succeeded in getting
out of her house with her three children,
undiscovered by the Indians. The youngest
was an infant, and carrying this in her
arms, with two little girls hanging on to
her dress, she plunged into a thicket; she
got off, and struck out into the prairie,
not knowing whither she went. All day this
sad group traveled on, uncertain whether
each step was taking them nearer to, or
farther from, safety. When night came, the
trembling mother laid down under a bush, and
pulling some grass and leaves for the two
little girls, committed herself to Him who
hears the young ravens when they cry. With
the morning, she resumed her disconsolate
journey, oppressed with the fear that she
might be going farther and farther from
home. Wild plums and berries kept them from
starvation, and thus they traveled day after
day, directing their steps at random, and
looking in vain for some familiar object, or
sign of human habitation. Between the
miserable food she was compelled to eat, and
her fatigue, she could not furnish her baby
nourishment, and it gradually sickened and
died. The anguish of her heart as she bore
the little sufferer in her arms, and her
utter desolation as she laid it at last dead
on the prairie, can never be told. Gathering
some leaves and grass, she covered it
carefully from sight, and placing some
sticks across the heap so that the wind
should not uncover its delicate form, she
left it with its God, and with the remaining
two, hurried away. She wandered thus, lost
on the prairie, till the summer verdure was
gone, and the frosts of autumn robbed her of
the berries and plums, and she had to dig
roots to keep her self and little girls
alive. For seven weeks she roamed about in
this way, hoping each day would bring her on
the track of some white man, before she was
discovered and saved. In many cases, the
women lost their reason, and wandered
around, unfettered lunatics, in the
thickets, until by accident they were found.
Others still, strolled into the hands of the
Indians, and were murdered or subjected to a
still more cruel doom. Many a heart-rending
tale will never be told, for the tongue that
could have related it is still in death.
Col. Sibley named his camp "Camp Release,"
and as soon as the captives had been cared
for, he built in it a huge log-pen for a
jail. When it was finished, a force under
Col. Crooks was dispatched by night, which
quietly surrounded the Indian camp, and took
all the men prisoners, except those known to
be true friends, and locked them up, and the
next day secured them with fetters. The camp
itself, now consisting mostly of women and
children, was removed to the Lower Agency,
and finally to Fort Snelling. In the mean
time, Lieutenant-Colonel Marshall, with two
hundred men, was sent on an expedition into
the Dakotah territory. As he was advancing
in the direction of James River, he heard
that a part of Little Crow's band was
encamped at Wild Goose Nest Lake.
Approaching them stealthily by night, he
succeeded in capturing the whole. On his
return, it being now late in the season, it
was determined to return; so October 28d,
the camp was broken up, and with four
hundred prisoners, loaded twelve or fifteen
together, in each wagon, the column took up
its line of march south ward, towards
Mankato. As it passed through New Ulm, on
Sabbath morning, the inhabitants, most of
whom had returned, sallied forth with
pitchforks, hoes, rakes, knives, guns, and
brickbats, in fact with every missile they
could lay their hands on, and fell with
fierce imprecations on the wagons containing
the prisoners, determined to save the
government the trouble of hanging them. Even
the women, with their aprons full of stones,
danced in a perfect frenzy round the wagons,
clamorous for a chance at the "red devils,"
as they called them. One woman actually
pounded an Indian brave on his head till he
fell out of the wagon. The mob, however, was
soon dispersed, and the column moved on and
encamped about two miles from Mankato, at
Camp Lincoln. In the mean time a military
commission had set at the Lower Agency, to
try the prisoners. The scene at the trial
and execution was a strange mixture of the
revolting, the sad and the ludicrous. The
childish subterfuges and falsehoods of some
of these braves, whose sagacity in the field
was a match for the white man, were
laughable, while the brutish in difference
and stolid depravity of others; were painful
to witness. The trial was hurried through,
and three hundred and three were condemned
to be hung, and eighteen to be imprisoned
for life. The proceedings were sent to
Washington for ratification. A rumor
spreading that mercy was to be shown to the
criminals, it aroused the deepest feelings
in the west, and threats were even uttered
to take them out of the hands of the
authorities, and give them over to popular
vengeance. A mob did attack the jail, but
was dispersed by the decision of Col.
Miller, then in command of the camp at that
place. Mr. Riggs visited the prisoners
constantly, and every kindness was shown
them. A very few, however, seemed to be
moved by it, receiving their fate with the
accustomed indifference of the Indian. Some
complained that they had been deceived by
the promise of mercy if they surrendered
them selves, and laid the blame of the whole
difficulty on the whites, who by their
injustice had forced them to seek redress by
violence.
After several weeks delay the decision was
received from Washington, ordering that only
thirty-eight of the whole number should be
executed. The 26th day of February was fixed
for the execution. These were immediately
separated from the rest, and their fate
announced to them. They received it with
total indifference smoking all the time,
some even relighting their pipes, while the
sentence was being read.
The morning they were to be led out, they
put on extra paint to decorate themselves
for the occasion, and then commenced their
death song. The melancholy chant, now
sinking into a low wail, and again rising to
a shrill, exultant cry, rang with strange
power through their rude prison. At ten o
clock they were brought forth, and marched
in procession to the scaffold. They showed
no signs of fear; on the contrary, they
"went eagerly and cheerfully, even crowding
and jostling each other, to be ahead, just
like a lot of hungry boarders rushing to
dinner in a hotel." As they began to ascend
the scaffold, they again raised their weird
death song, and when they reached the top,
broke out into unearthly shouts. A vast
crowd had assembled, but all angry feelings
were laid to rest by the painful spectacle,
and a death-like silence reigned throughout.
When all was ready, three slow, measured
beats of the drum broke the stillness, and
with a single blow, the rope was cut, and
the whole were launched into eternity
together.
The execution of this small number, seemed
wholly inadequate to satisfy the demands of
justice, for six hundred and forty-four
whites had been massacred in cold blood, and
ninety-three soldiers had fallen in the
efforts to repel the outbreak. Perhaps the
government thought this inequality in the
number of sufferers, fairly represented the
amount of actual guilt on both sides. To say
that massacres must be avenged, in order to
justify our slaughter of Indians, is a logic
that will not stand before the great
tribunal of heaven. The amount of injustice
and wrong-doing that provoked the savage to
the only means of redress left open to him,
will be reviewed in the final adjustment
there. This is but the beginning of
troubles, if the nation persists in the
policy it has pursued for the last thirty
years. The Chippeways are nearly three times
as strong as the Sioux, numbering some four
thousand warriors in the United States, and
about as many more in Canada, and they have
been more than once on the point of an
outbreak, growing out of the action at
Washington. It becomes the people to inquire
why it is that we are scarcely ever without
an Indian war on our borders, while Canada
has never been cursed with one. This single
fact shows that there is a radical wrong in
our system.
This site
includes some historical materials that may imply negative stereotypes
reflecting the culture or language of a particular period or place. These
items are presented as part of the historical record and should not be
interpreted to mean that the WebMasters in any way endorse the stereotypes
implied .
Indian Races of North and South America, By Charles De Wolf Brownell, 1865
