University of Virginia Library

THE CHEROKEE EMBASSAGE.

It was deemed prudent, soon after the close of
a trying war with the savages, to conciliate the
Cherokee nation, then one of the largest in the
colony; and Sir Alexander Cumming, himself
an ostentatious person, was fitly chosen for this
purpose. Charged with proposals of alliance,
and amply provided with gifts, more imposing
than valuable, to the several leading chiefs and
sages, this gentleman, in the beginning of the
year 1730, set forth for the Apalachian mountains,
in the neighborhood of which the principal
towns of the Cherokees were situated. He was
attended on this occasion, as well by several
voluntary travellers, as by a numerous military
retinue; and no circumstance was omitted, of display
or pomp, which could impress upon the aborigines

an idea of the vast power of that foreign
potentate, whose representative was then to appear
before them. Every expense called for by the deputation
was cheerfully conceded on the part of
the royal government, as the king well knew the
great military strength of the people, whom it was
the object to conciliate. The Cherokees inhabiting
South Carolina at this time, were as numerous as
they were brave. The inhabitants of thirty-seven
regular towns, were computed to amount to twenty
thousand. Of these, six thousand were bowmen,
ready, on any emergency, to take the field. In
addition to this force, which may be considered
the regular force of the nation, the roving tribes
were supposed to reach several thousand more;
not so easy to be brought together, but, if possible,
far more dangerous to an enemy when once
collected, as, from their continual habit of wandering,
they grew even fiercer than the wild beasts,
in whose pursuit only they seemed to live.

It was some time before Sir Alexander reached
Keowee, a distance of three hundred miles or more
from Charleston. His way, for the most part,
lay through a wilderness, seldom, if ever before,
trodden by European footsteps. It was a dreary
pilgrimage, and it was no small satisfaction to the
English, when, as they attained the outskirts of the

Cherokee territory, the chiefs of the lower town,
hearing of their approach, came forth to receive
and to guide them still further on their way. Ee-fistoe,
the chief of the Green Birds or Little Estatoees,
Chulochkolla, the sachem of the Occonies,
and Moitoy, the Black Warrior of Telliquo, the
most renowned of all their braves, thus joined the
jaded cavalcade.

Sir Alexander Cumming hailed them with a
flourish; and, having disposed of his retinue, before
their approach, in such a manner as to show
them to the best possible advantage, he was pleased
to think that he had made a favorable impression.
He was not deceived. The wondering savages
— themselves ostentatiously decorated, according
to their sylvan fashion, in all the rich plumage of
their native birds, contrasted strangely with the
hideous paint, and rugged skins, which formed so
large a part of their ceremonial equipment — were
nevertheless overcome by the more imposing splendors
of the deputation. The glittering armor —
the gorgeous uniform of the English, shining in
gold and scarlet — the lofty plumes — the plunging
and richly caparisoned horses — together with the
thrilling military music of an English band — all
combined to overpower their imaginations, and to
impress the deeply excited senses of the Cherokees;

and though, like the Roman Fabricius, they
were not to be surprised, and suffered neither awe
nor irreverent curiosity to appear upon their faces,
or in their gesticulation, they were all nevertheless
strongly wrought upon by both these emotions.

Sir Alexander lost no time in securing the friendship
of the chiefs, as they severally came forth to
meet him. He received them in great state, and
to each gave some particular present, so carefully
chosen as to avoid all chance of showing a preference
to any one, thus giving offence to the rest.
This caution had its due results. The chiefs were
all well satisfied, and Moitoy, the Black Warrior
of Telliquo, not to be outdone in these respects,
brought from Tenassee, the principal town of the
nation, the crown of the Great Keowee, the old
chief and reigning sovereign — a monarch too potent,
according to his own and his people's estimation,
to be even looked upon by strangers. The
policy of the suspicious savage had much to do
with this strange seclusion. His person, like that
of Montezuma, was considered sacred, and a
proper watch was maintained over it accordingly.
Thus, though able to have annihilated the entire
force under Cumming in a single effort, it was yet
thought advisable to risk nothing, by the exposure
of a commodity so susceptible to injury as a reigning

sovereign; and with the first annuciation,
therefore, of the approach of the English, Keowee,
a decrepid and almost blind old man, was hurried
bodily away from the contiguous country, more
deeply than before into the thick forests, and among
the impassable barriers of rock, which girdled in
and covered their extended territory. To Moitoy,
and the other chiefs or kings, was entrusted the
task of receiving and providing for the strangers;
and, to do them all justice, the reception was such
as became a brave and honorable people. The
fruits and flesh, the maize and provisions, to which
they were themselves accustomed, were all freely
provided; and five eagle tails, and four scalps
from slaughtered enemies, were also among the
presents brought by Moitoy. These had a signification
which, through the interpreter, the dusky
warriors explained to the satisfaction of their European
visiters. The feathers of the eagle marked
the strength and the glory alike of Cherokee, and
the scalp of their enemies announced the unerring
certainty of Cherokee victory and vengeance.
These were presented to the English, in token that
henceforward their course should be trodden on
the same war path, in close affinity, and against
the same enemies.

Thirty-two chiefs, each paramount with his own
tribe and section, appeared at the solemn council
which followed. A great deal of pompous talk
was uttered, and Moitoy of Telliquo, the Black
Warrior, found such high favor with Sir Alexander,
that he nominated him as the commander-in-chief
of the Cherokee armies, and presented him
with a rich robe as a badge of his new office. The
chiefs present agreed to recognise him as such,
provided that there should be a like accountability
to him, (Sir Alexander,) on the part of Moitoy.
Every thing went on amicably, and, emboldened
by the friendly disposition which the savages
evinced, the English ambassador proposed that
some of them should accompany him to England,
in order, with their own eyes, to behold that great
king, of whom he had given them a most flaming
description.

“Your brother, King George,” said he, in a
speech which was well remembered by the attentive
chiefs, “will be glad to see you. He will
load you with presents, with hatchets and knives,
with rich clothes, and beautiful feathers. He will
bind you to his heart with a bright gold chain,
which will last unbroken for a thousand years.”

“He is our brother,” replied the chiefs with one

voice, dazzled by the glorious promise — “he is
our brother — we will go to our brother George.”

There was no difficulty in getting the proposed
deputation; the only difficulty, indeed, was in
making a selection from the number of those offering.
Unconscious of the length of the voyage, of
its dangers, and the new and unaccustomed scenes
and circumstances through which they would have
to go before realizing the prospects set before them,
the simple savages, each a king in his own country,
were readily persuaded to undertake the embassage
which promised them so much enjoyment.
The gold and the glitter — the fine armor like that
which Sir Alexander wore — the pomp and the
display, which, through the interpreter, the Englishman
dwelt upon in the most glowing language
— were irresistible; and, full of the splendors of
their brother George, they threw the bear skins
about their shoulders, filled their quivers with fresh
arrows from the canebrake, and kissing the sunny
side, one after the other, of the broad tree that
covered them during the progress of the council,
they bade their farewell to the green forests, and
the wild free country, their eyes might never again
behold.

Six of them accompanied Sir Alexander to
Charleston, and thence, having been there joined

by another chief who followed them after a brief
delay, they embarked with him for Europe. The
eldest of these chiefs, or kings, was Tonestoi,
prince of Nequassée, a once formidable, but now
decayed warrior, and a good old man. He was
renowned among the Cherokees for his wisdom.
The next in order was the famous orator, Skiajagustha
— a man whose eloquence performed wonders
in the councils of his people, and of whose
speeches, some occur upon our own historical records,
not unworthy to appear in any collection.
Next came Chulockholla, another orator, neither
so old nor so well renowned as Skiajagustha. The
chief of the Occonies, or Brown Vipers, Cenestee,
was the fourth of this delegation — a chief only
remarkable for the reckless audacity of his valor.
The fifth was a gallant young warrior of the Little
Estatoees, or Green Birds, Ee-fistoe — a warrior
intelligent as valiant, and not any thing less amiable
because of his acknowledged bravery. Occonostota
made the sixth. He was the king of Echotee,
and could himself bring three hundred warriors
into the field; but he was something of a
tyrant, and was deposed the very year after his return
from Europe. The seventh, who joined the
deputation in Charleston, was a chief also, but
his name does not appear in our history. He was
probably of no great renown.

These were the Cherokee kings, who, consenting
to the invitation of Sir Alexander Cumming,
sailed with him in the Swallow Packet, for London,
some time in the month of May, 1730. Seduced
by the glowing pictures spread before their
minds by the English agent, full of expectation,
and flushed with the promise of so many novelties,
the wild men of the woods, wrapped in their hunter
garbs, gorgeously covered with fresh paint,
and armed to the teeth, after the fashion of their
people, fearlessly went on board the little vessel
that awaited them, and, with favoring breezes,
were soon lost to the sight of land, and plunging
steadily over the bosom of the Atlantic.

The sea — a new element to the Cherokees —
exacted its dues, and it was not many hours before
the warriors grew heartily sick of their unusual
undertaking. Much would they have given to be
once more in their native forests, but they were too
brave, and too well taught in the stoical morality
of the savage, to confess to any such weakness.
They had long before learned, that, to conquer, it
is first necessary that we should bear with, our fate,
and they withstood, accordingly, as well as they
could, the storms and the tossings of the waters, in

a manner by no means discrediting their creed or
nation. They grew, in a little time, familiar with
their new abiding place, and, as the initial sickness
passed away, soon began to contemplate, with
comparative steadiness and a growing appreciation,
all the various objects and aspects of their
new domain.

All was strange — all was wonderful around
them. Their own complete isolation — the absence
of the woods and wilds to which only they
had been accustomed — their initiation into a world
so new and strange, as to them was that of ocean
— the singular buoyancy of their ship — the astonishing
agility of the seamen, moving about with
ease and dexterity, where they could scarcely
maintain the most uncertain foot-hold — these were
all matters of profound astonishment and curiosity.
But these were all as nothing, after the first blush
of novelty had passed away, in comparison with
the queer tricks and uncouth antics of one of the
ship's company. This was no less than a monkey,
belonging to one of the sailors, named Jacko — a
creature of habitual trick and mimicry, continually
provoked to its exercise by some one or other of
the seamen. He ran along the ropes and rigging
in pursuit of them. He mounted the spars, and
sat in uncouth shapes in the most dangerous

places. He carried off the caps of the sailors, then
pelted them down upon those who walked the deck.
In short, nothing in the semblance of mischief was
omitted by Jacko. Tonestoi, the venerable elder
of the Indian chiefs, was absolutely ravished by
the tricks of the sportive monkey. He had no
thought for any other object than Jacko. He
watched his movements by the hour, provoked
their exercise by continual stimulating affronts, and
laughed, in despite of the grave looks of his brother
chiefs, as immoderately as if such had been
his continual practice. Tonestoi was an ancient
chief, renowned as much for wisdom as for valor,
and he presumed upon his reputation. He therefore
gave vent to his merriment without any fear of
losing either his own or the general respect of his
people. The other chiefs, who were all younger,
were either differently situated in rank, or were not
altogether so secure in the estimation of their people;
and, though equally delighted with Tonestoi,
were yet prudent enough to preserve a greater degree
of gravity. They looked on with composure;
and, while watching closely all the sports of Jacko,
they yet forebore to take any part in the merriment.
But the old chief had no such scruples, and his
laughter was without reserve. He played with
Jacko like a child — rolled with him about the
decks — hallooed him on to all manner of mischief
— clapped his hands and cheered him in his performance,
and then, in his own language, pronounced
a high eulogy upon his achievements.
He called him “Hickisiwackinaw,” or “the
warrior with a tail;” and at length, when he saw
Jacko swing by his hind legs from a rope, and,
with his paws, grapple and take fast hold upon
the bushy poll of one of the sailors as he walked
beneath, he called him “Toostenugga,” after the
celebrated leader of the Cherokee hobgoblins —
— this being one of the favorite modes by which
Toostenugga, suspending himself from a tree, laid
hold of, and punished, those who offended him, as
they walked beneath. Nothing could divert the
attention of Tonestoi from the monkey. Sir Alexander
Cumming, whose sense of dignity was
greatly outraged by such unbecoming levity, tried
his best to attract the mind of the Cherokee to
more dignified amusements; and, in his vexation,
was with difficulty restrained from tumbling Jacko
overboard, hopeless of any other means of obtaining
his object. He made a show of anger towards
the monkey, but, upon beholding the sudden gravity
of Tonestoi as he comprehended this design,
he thought it only wise to forbear, as it was his
policy, as well as his orders, to avoid all manner
of offence. His dernier resort then was in his
liquors, and once made acquainted with their potency,
the old chief, Tonestoi, was soon taught to
prefer the intoxicating cup to the antics of his more
innocent companion. Jacko, or, as he called him
to the last, Toostenugga, ceased to attract so much
of his attention, and, to the shame of all parties
be it said, the good old warrior, after this, had
scarcely a sober hour until they reached the haven
of their destination.

Their arrival in London was the signal for much
bustle and exhibition. Apart from the desire to
impose greatly on their senses by shows and splendors,
to which, in their wild abodes, they had never
been accustomed, the better to acquire dominion
over them, they received a thousand attentions as
the last new lions in the metropolis. Lords and
ladies thronged the hotel at which the Cherokee
kings were lodged, and the beautiful squaws of
London, as was more recently the case in our own
country, submitted joyfully to the salute of the Indian
warriors for the sake of its novelty. Feasts
were given them in profusion — frolics conceived
on purpose to make them actors; and from the day
of their arrival to that of their departure, all was
uproar and exultation. In all these junkettings, it
need scarcely be said that our Cherokees preserved

happily their usual equanimity of character. They
were grave and composed, and behaved, for all
the world, as if they had been accustomed all their
lives to such honors and indulgences. Tonestoi,
alone, of all the deputation, gave way to the garrulous
good humor of the aged man. He laughed
and joked freely with his visiters, and nothing gave
him such profound pleasure as when his great
cheek bones and painted lips came in contact with
the velvety skin of his lady visiters. Never had
Cherokee warrior so given way before to all the
practices, and so many of the evidences, of la belle
passion. So much was this the case, that his more
youthful companions began to have doubts as to
the tenacity of that superior wisdom in the ancient
chief which had been a proverb in his own country.

But if the general acquaintance with the Indians,
and their usual deportment, prevailed with
and gave satisfaction to the English nobility, their
conduct in the interview with the king completed
the merriment, and furnished a fitting climax to
the whole proceeding. Seized somewhat with the
spirit of the fashion in reference to them, and desirous
of securing, by a proper policy, the affections
of these people, the British monarch desired,
and determined to do them particular honor. An

especial drawing-room was appointed them, and,
in the presence of a most brilliant and imposing
assemblage, he prepared to receive his distinguished
visiters. Sir Alexander Cumming, who
had the chiefs in charge, attempted, before going
to court, to give them certain instructions as to
their behavior in the presence of majesty; but
they either did not, or would not, understand him.
They comprehended sufficiently his object, however,
and the native pride of an aboriginal chief
rose in arms at his suggestion. Skiajagustha, the
orator, was the first to take fire at what seemed an
indignity. Wrapping his bear skin around him
with a majesty which George himself, in all his
career, and with the best teachers, never could
have emulated, he looked scornfully upon his
would-be tutor, while he replied:

“Skiajagustha is the great mouth of Cherokee —
he has stood before his nation when Keowee, the
red arrow, was there. His words are good.”

The interpreter explained; but, as similar sentiments
were uttered by nearly all the party, Sir
Alexander saw that it would not only be idle, but
most probably offensive, were he to endeavor to
teach them farther. As they approached the chair
of state, in which sat the monarch, the aged Tonestoi
took the advance. The king rose as he

drew nigh, and came forward, extending his hand
for the usual salute, as he did so, to the approaching
Indian. But Tonestoi, remembering his own
dignity, and what had been said to him on the
score of the relationship between them, prior to his
leaving his own country, to the great horror of the
courtiers, and of Sir Alexander Cumming in particular,
grasped the extended hand of the English
monarch with his own, and, giving it a squeeze
that none but a bear could well have equalled,
shook it heartily and long, exclaiming, in the few
words of courtesy which he had committed in broken
English,

“Huddye-do, Broder George — huddye-do —
glad to see you” — and, continuing with a smile
as he looked round upon the women — “You got
plenty squaws.”

The court was convulsed and shocked beyond
measure. All were astounded except the king
himself, and the savages. George, with his usual
good nature, withdrawing his hand, though with
some difficulty, from the powerful gripe of his brother
monarch, smiled pleasantly, and, amused with
the familiarity, responded in similar style, giving
the cue to those around him. Nothing then could
exceed the hilarity with which the business of the
conference was carried on and finished. The

kings made long speeches through the interpreters,
satisfactory on all sides, and a treaty of alliance
was then and there agreed upon between
them, to be valid and binding upon the Cherokees
and English in America, as they were avowed to
be so by both parties present then in England.

We quote portions of this treaty, as it not only
presents us with much of the eloquence employed
by the several contracting parties, but also gives
us some idea of the various topics of trade and communion,
rendering such a treaty between people
so dissimilar essential to the mutual good. It will
be found, however, that the performance of duties
devolves much more frequently upon the Indian
than upon the white man, and that his rewards,
estimated by our standards of use and value, are
quite inadequate to the services required at their
hands. Doubtless, however, they were such as
were best calculated for the uninstructed savage.

The preamble to this treaty recites.

“That whereas the six chiefs, [without naming
them, and without any reference to the chief who
unquestionably joined the embassy at Charleston,
when about to sail,] with the consent of the whole
nation of Cherokees, at a general meeting of their
nation at Nequassée, were deputed by Moitoy,
their chief warrior, to attend Sir Alexander Cumming

to Great Britain, where they had seen the
great king George, and where Sir Alexander, by
authority from Moitoy and all the Cherokees, had
laid the crown of their nation, with the scalps of
their enemies, and feathers of glory, at his majesty's
feet, as a pledge of their loyalty; — and
whereas the great king has instructed the lords
commissioners of trade and plantations, to inform
the Indians, that the English on all sides of the
mountains and lakes, were his people, their friends
his friends, their enemies his enemies; that he took
it kindly that the great nation of Cherokee had
sent them so far to brighten the chain of friendship
between him and them, and between his people
and their people; that the chain of friendship between
him and the Cherokee is now like the sun,
which shines both in Britain and upon the great
mountains where they live, and equally warms the
hearts of Indians and Englishmen; that, as there
is no spot or blackness in the sun, so neither is
there any rust or foulness on this chain; and, as
the king has fastened one end to his breast, [suiting
the action to the word, in George's best and
bluffest style,] he desired them to carry the other
end of the chain and fasten it to the breast of Moitoy,
of Telliquo, and to the breasts of all their
wise old men, their captains and people, never
more to be made loose or broken.

“The great king and the Cherokees being thus
fastened together by a chain of friendship, he has
ordered, and it is agreed, that his children in Carolina
do trade with the Indians, and furnish them
with all manner of goods they want, and to make
haste to build houses and plant corn from Charleston
towards the towns of the Cherokees behind the
great mountains. [Vague enough, and, like most
treaties with the Indians, carried on through dishonest
or imperfect interpreters, not understood by
one of the parties, and a frequent source of mischief
afterwards.] That he desires the English and
Indians may live together as children of one family
— that the Cherokees be always ready to fight
against any nation, whether white men or Indians,
who shall molest or hurt the English — that the
nation of the Cherokee shall, on its part, take
care to keep the trading path clean — that there
be no blood on the path which the English tread,
even though they should be accompanied with other
people with whom the Cherokees may be at war —
[what an exaction — how is it possible that the
Cherokees should have understood this charge,
or, understanding, that they should have complied
with it?] — that the Cherokees shall not suffer their

people to trade with white men of any other nation
but the English — [here is monopoly with a vengeance!]
— nor permit, [mark this,] nor permit
white men of any other nation to build any forts or
cabins, or plant any corn among them, upon lands
which belong to the great king.”

Such was the morality of these selfish traders.
They actually excluded the savages from the exercise
of those wonted rites of hospitality to white
men, and to christians like themselves, (for the
French and Spaniards were contemplated by this
clause,) which the Cherokees had freely accorded
to the British, and which they must otherwise have
extended freely to all others. The treaty goes on
to provide, that, if any such attempt shall be made
by the white men of any other than the British
nation, the Cherokees must not only acquaint the
British government of the fact, but must do whatever
he directs, in order to maintain and defend
the “great king's right to the country of Carolina.”
The treaty further provides, “that if any
negroes shall run away into the woods from their
English masters, the Cherokees shall endeavor to
apprehend them, and bring them to the plantation
from whence they ran, or to the governor.”

Hitherto the contract has been all on one side,
and the English king has never said “Turkey,”

once, to his Cherokee brother; but, at this stage
of the treaty, he seems to have recollected himself,
and, accordingly, we find him promising, that,
“for every slave so apprehended and brought
back, the Indian that brings him shall receive a
gun and a watch coat; and if, by any accident, it
shall happen that an Englishman shall kill a Cherokee,
[an event only possible, it seems,] the king
or chief of the nation shall first complain to the
English governor, and the man who did the harm
shall be punished by the English laws as if he had
killed an Englishman; and, in like manner, if any
Indian happens to kill [by any accident is entirely
wanting here] an Englishman, the Indian shall be
delivered up to the governor, to be punished by
the same English laws as if he were an Englishman.”

This was the substance of the first treaty between
the British and the Cherokee nation; and a
precious specimen it is, of cunning beguiling simplicity,
and of unfair relationship between parties
originally contracting on an equal footing of advantage.
The Cherokee chiefs heard it first from
the lips of George, who paused at every sentence,
and, as the interpreter explained it, clause by
clause, a nobleman presented to the expecting
chiefs a rich present of cloths or ornaments.

When the king had got through his task, he suddenly
withdrew through a private door, glad to
escape any farther embrace from his Cherokee
brethren. The further business of the treaty was
then concluded by Alured Popple, secretary to the
lords commissioners of trade and plantations, on
the one side, and by the marks of the Indian
chiefs on the other. The secretary, at the same
time, addressed them in a speech confirming the
words of the great king whom they had just seen;
and, as a token that his heart was true and open
to the Cherokees, a belt was given the warriors,
which the king desired them to show to their
children and children's children, to confirm what
was now spoken, and to bind this agreement of
peace and friendship between the English and
the Cherokees, “as long as the rivers shall run,
the mountains shall stand, or the sun shall shine.”

Such was the glowing termination of the secretary's
speech. When he had concluded, the old
chief Tonestoi gave way to Skiajagustha, the famous
orator, who seemed to know his own claims to
reply for the rest. Gathering his robe over his
left shoulder, so as entirely to free the right arm, he
began his reply, the greater portion of which is
preserved as follows. It will be found to contain

quite as much good sense, dignity, and beauty, as
was called for by the occasion:

“We are come higher from the mountains, where
there is nothing but darkness. But we are now
in a place of light. We see the great king in
you — we love you as you stand here for him.
We shall die in this thought. The crown of Cherokee
is not like that in the tower; but, to us, they
are the same — the chain shall be carried to our
people. The great king George is the sun — he
is our father — the Cherokees are his children.
Though we are red and you are white — yet our
hearts and hands are tied together. We shall say
to our people what we have seen, and our children
shall remember it. In war we will be one with
you — your enemies shall be ours — we shall live
together as one people — we shall die together.
We are naked and poor as the worms that crawl
— but you have all things. We that have nothing
must love you. We will never break the chain
that is between us. This small rope we show you
is all that we have to bind our slaves — You have
chains of iron for yours. We will catch your
slave that flies — we will bind him as strongly as
we can, and we shall take no pay when we bring
him back to you. Your people shall build near
ours in safety. The Cherokee shall hurt them

not — he shall hurt nothing that belongs to them.
Are we not children of one father — shall we not
live and die together?”

Here he paused, and one of the other chiefs
coming forward at a signal from the speaker, presented
him with a bunch of eagle feathers. Taking
them in his hand, Skiajagustha presented them
to the secretary with these words:

“This is our way of talking, which is the same
thing to us as your letters in the book to you.
These feathers, from the strong bird of Cherokee
— these shall be witnesses for the truth of what I
have said.”

Thus discoursing eloquently together, the parties
contracted to their mutual satisfaction, and
however unequal were the general advantages obtained,
there was certainly no dissatisfaction expressed
among them. The terms were agreed
upon without discontent or difficulty, and it will
not be premature or anticipative, in this stage of
our narration, to say, in the language of the historian,
Ramsay, that in consequence of this treaty,
the Cherokees, for many years after, remained in
“a state of perfect friendship and peace with the
colonists, who followed their various employments
in the neighborhood of these Indians, without the
least terror or molestation.”

But the nine days' wonder was now over in the
British metropolis. The Indian chiefs began to
lose their importance in the sight of their European
brethren. Some new monster soon occupied
their place, and Sir Alexander Cumming being
now prepared to return to Carolina, and the vessel
ready to depart, they had little reluctance at leaving
a land, where, though every kindness and
courtesy had been shown them, they had found so
few objects and features at all like or kindred with
their own. They set sail from England on the
23d September, 1730, and, under favoring aspects
of wind and weather, were soon out upon the comprehensive
world and void of ocean.

But the second voyage was more tedious to the
chiefs than the first. That had novelty to recommend
it — the strange mass of all objects at sea,
relieved, in the first instance, its general monotony.
But the second brought all this home to them;
and, what added to their dulness still more, was
the absence of Jacko — the monkey was no longer
one of their fellow passengers. The sailor
who owned, had sold him, while in London, and
nothing could exceed the dissatisfaction of old Tonestoi,
on hearing of the circumstance. The first
thing he did on coming aboard the vessel, was to
call aloud for Toostenugga. But he called in

vain, and was with difficulty made to understand,
that his goblin acquaintance was left behind them.
He refused consolation, and chafed and almost
quarrelled with those who offered it. He drank
with Sir Alexander Cumming; but that was all, in
the way of relief or amusement, that he could be
persuaded to do. In a state of moody absence,
as soon as his fit of sea sickness was well over, he
roamed about the ship, tumbling from side to side,
and, in his own language, muttering continually
of Toostenugga. Dreadfully, indeed, did he suffer
from blue devils, and, in this mood, shooting
with his arrows wantonly at little spots in the sails,
he soon exhausted all his quiver, as the flying
shafts would generally, after a few discharges, find
their way into the bosom of the ocean. The other,
and younger, chiefs bore the voyage with far more
philosophy than their ancient comrade; and with
that aptness which belongs to man in all situations,
and which we have erringly denied to the
Aborigines, they, at length, began to accommodate
themselves to the novel employments of the
sea. Skiajagustha, the great orator himself, was
the first to set an example of this discipline. He
seized upon the ropes on one occasion, and began
to tug away lustily along with the sailors. His
companions followed him, all but old Tonestoi,
and, from a sport at first, it grew to be a common
resort for exercise among them. Sir Alexander
Cumming, however, thought such practices unbecoming
in those who had royal blood in their
veins; but, as there was no alternative, he could
suggest no objection. To Tonestoi, alone, he
could address himself; and, as the old chief took
no part in the amusements of his companions, he
was the more ready to sit gloomily and gravely
over the lengthened glass with the Englishman.
But his ennui continued to increase, and, at length,
to the great consternation of Sir Alexander, the
poor savage grew sick, and his free habit of drinking
only made him worse. The liquor was then
withdrawn from him; and this seemed to increase
his malady. The attack was a very severe one,
and, unhappily, but few precautions had been taken
against such an occasion. There were scarcely
any medicines on board; and even these, the old
chief, with all the fretful obstinacy of a spoiled
child, could not be persuaded to take. Day by
day he grew worse, and it now became evident to
all that the danger was alarming. The younger
chiefs assembled about him, and Sir Alexander,
with deep concern, strove, through them, to persuade
him to the adoption of those remedies which
he proposed. He resolutely rejected all their
suggestions, and tossing about in his fever, from
side to side, he exhibited a feeble peevishness to all
around him — his own people not excepted. Several
days passed over in this manner, and it was
evident to all that he had sunk amazingly. At
this stage of his illness, and while he was chafing
querulously with all of them, Skiajagustha approached
him where he lay. The brow of the
orator was stern and full of rebuke, and the first
words which he uttered, in his own sweet but solemn
and emphatic language, rivetted the attention
of the dying warrior. He ceased to tumble
upon his couch — he ceased to chafe and chide
those about him. The appeal of Skiajagustha had
been made to his manhood — to his sense of the
dignity and the courage of a brave of Cherokee:

“Shall Tonestoi go to the Manneyto with the
word of a child on his tongue? Shall he say to
the Master of Life, wherefore hast thou called me?
The brave man has another spirit when the dark
spirit wraps him.

“Tonestoi — it is the word of the Cherokee —
is a brave among the braves. He has taken scalps
from the light-heeled Catawba — he has taken
scalps from the cunning Shawanese — he has taken
scalps from the Creek warrior that rages — he has
taken scalps from all the enemies of Cherokee.

He should have a song for his victories, that the
Great Manneyto shall be glad to receive him.”

“Achichai-me!” cried Tonestoi in reply — and,
in his own language, proceeded as follows:

“It is good, Skiajagustha — it is good what thou
hast spoken. But I heard not before the words of
the Great Manneyto. I hear them through thee.
He has called me — I hear him speaking in the
heart of Tonestoi — I am going to the land of
spirits — to the plum groves where my fathers
journey on the long hunt. I am not afraid to go.
The Master of Life knows I am ready.”

“Ha! ha!” he sang a moment after —

“Ha! ha! I laugh at my enemies. The Catawba
could not take the scalp — he could not
drink blood from Tonestoi. Ha! ha! That for
the Shawanee — that for the Creek that rages —
that for all the enemies of Cherokee. The Master
of Life only can kill, and Tonestoi is ready for
him.

“Bring me arrows, Skiajagustha — bring me arrows,
young Ee-fistoe of the Green Birds — bring
me arrows, young braves of Cherokee — the arrows
shall speak for my victories.”

They brought him arrows at his request, and he
separated the bundles, laying each shaft by itself.
The younger chiefs curiously gathered around

him, as they well knew they were now to hear a
chronicle of his own and his country's achievements;
and for every arrow, he had the story of
some brave adventure — some daring deed. One
of them stood for his first battle with the Chickasaw,
when, yet a mere boy, he went forth with his
old father, Canonjahee, on the war path against
that subtle nation. Another arrow was made to
signify his escape from a band of roving Shawanese
who had made him a prisoner while hunting;
a third told the affair with the Creeks, for his bravery
in which his countrymen had made him a
chief — feather chief and arrow chief; a fourth
recounted his long personal combat with Sarratahay
of Santee, the big boned chief from that river,
who had come up on purpose to contend with him,
at the lower town of Chinebee. Tonestoi was the
victor after a long struggle, and this he dwelt upon
the most emphatically of all his victories. And
so, with a dozen other events, he associated the
arrows. For an hour his strain proceeded, and
the Indians listened with unrelaxing attention.
Sir Alexander Cumming, apprised of the nature
of the scene, hung over the dying chief with the
deepest interest; and even the sailors, several of
them came as nigh to listen as they well might
without manifest impropriety. The old man lay
silent for some time after his song was ended. But
his chosen arrows had all been carefully gathered
up by Skiajagustha, who tied them closely together
with the sinews of the deer. Towards evening
the chief grew much weaker, and he muttered
fitfully, and started every now and then like
one from sleep. When the sun was about to set,
its faint delicate light streamed through the little
aperture in the cabin just where the dying man
lay. He started and strove to raise himself up to
behold the orb now sinking like himself. But failing
to do this, he only raised his right hand and
waved it towards the bright object which he could
not see. Skiajagustha bent towards him, and uttered
two or three words in his own language, at
which all the other chiefs rose and bent over him.
Tonestoi gave each of them a look of recognition,
and, while muttering a brief sentence, probably one
of parting, his lower jaw suddenly dropped, then
caught up as in a spasm, then as suddenly again
relaxed and fell, never again to move. The light
grew dim in the eyes which yet opened upon the
spectators.

Skiajagustha laid the bunch of arrows upon the
breast of Tonestoi, where they remained until the

next day, when his body was committed to the
deep. They were then carefully preserved by the
survivors, as witnesses of the whole transaction,
and received as such by the people. They form
one of the tokens of Cherokee valor, and are preserved
to this very hour, among the trophies of the
nation.