University of Virginia Library

SCENES ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

It has been the policy of the United States
government to remove the Indians west of the Mississippi.
There, there is still a vast extent of country
unoccupied, in which he can pursue, comparatively
unrestrained, his inclinations, and pluck a few
more days of happiness before his sun entirely sets.
Occasionally may be seen in the south-west a large
body of these people, under the charge of a “government
officer,” going to their new homes provided
for them by their “white father.” These “removals”
are always melancholy exhibitions. The
Indians, dispirited and heart-broken, entirely unconscious
of the future, with dogged looks, submit
to every privation that is imposed on them, and appear
equally indifferent as to the receipt of favours.
Throwing aside every mark of etiquette among
themselves, the chief, who, among their native
haunts, is almost a sacred person, lies down, or takes
food promiscuously with the noblest or most degraded
of his people; all distinctions of ages, as
well as caste, are thrown aside, and they seem a
mere mass of degraded humanity, with less seeming
capability of self-preservation than the brute.

Some two or three years ago, we took passage on
board of a boat bound from New Orleans to St.
Louis, which boat the government had engaged to

carry, as far towards their place of destination as
practicable, near four hundred Seminoles, who with
their chiefs had agreed to emigrate west of the Mississippi.
We were not particularly pleased with
our numerous and novel passengers, but the lateness
of the season lessened the chances of getting a boat,
and as most of the Indians were to remain in a tender,
lashed to the side of the steamer, we concluded
that a study of their manners and habits would beguile
away the time of a long trip, and thus pay us
for the inconveniences we might be put to. Unfortunately
the novelty of our situation too soon
passed away. The Indians, who on first acquaintance
kept up a little display of their original character,
gradually relapsed into what appeared to be a
mere vegetable existence, and slept through the
entire twenty-four hours of the day. Of all the remarkable
traits of character that dignify them in
history, we could not discern the least trace; yet,
among the brutal, insensible savages at our feet,
were many daring spirits, who had displayed in
their warfare with the whites dangerous talents, and
taken many a bloody scalp. The girls were possessed
of little or no personal charms, while the
women, the labourers of the tribe, were as hideous
as any hags that can be imagined.

The heat of the weather and the confinement of
the boat had a dreadful effect on these poor wretches;
sickness rapidly broke out among them, and as they
stoutly refused to take the white man's medicine,
their chances of recovery were poor indeed. The
tender was turned into a perfect lazar-house, and

nothing could be seen but the affecting attentions
of the old squaws to their friends and relatives, as
they wasted away before their eyes. The infant
and patriarch lay side by side, consuming with slow
fever, while the corpse of some middle-aged person
lay at their feet, waiting for the funeral rites and the
obscurity of the grave. Vain were the prescriptions
of the “medicine man” of their tribe, he blew his
breath through a gaudy coloured reed upon the faces
of his patients, and recited his incantations without
success. He disfigured his person with new paint,
and altered his devices daily, still his patients would
die, and at every landing where the boat stopped
some poor Indian was taken ashore and hastily
buried. No one mourned over the corpse but the
females, and they only when intimately related to
the deceased. The father, son, or husband, as they
saw their relatives falling around them, scarce turned
their glazed eyes upon the dead, and if they did, it
was only to exclaim in guttural accents, “Ugh!”
and then turn away to sleep. Not an article belonging
to the dead but was wrapped up with it or
placed in the coffin; the infant and his playthings,
the young girl and her presents, the squaw with her
domestic utensils, and the “brave” with his gun
and whatever property there was in his possession.
A beautiful custom, indeed; one that brings no
crocodile tears to the eyes of the living heir, or gives
the lawyer a chance for litigation.

Among those who died was one old veteran warrior,
who had particularly attracted our attention by
his severe looks and loneliness of habit, and we

watched attentively his exit from the world. He
seemed, as near as we could judge, to have no realtives
about him; no one noticed him but the doctor,
who was markedly attentive. The old man was
a chief, and the scars that covered his body told of
many a dreadful encounter with man and beast.
His huge skeleton, as he moved about in his ill-concealed
agony, looked like the remains of a giant,
exaggerated by its want of flesh. His hands were
small, and of feminine delicacy, occasionally he
would move them about in mute eloquence, then
clutch at the air, as if in pursuit of an enemy, and
then fall back exhausted. Recovering from one of
these fits, he tried to stand, but found it impossible,
he got however upon his elbow, and opening his
eyes for the first time in a long while, stared wildly
about him. A smile lit up his features, his lips
moved, and he essayed to speak. The sun, which
was at this time low in the west, shone full upon
him, his smooth skin glistened like burnished copper,
his long-neglected hair, of silvery whiteness, hung
over his head and face, while the scalp-lock displayed
itself by its immense length, as it reached
his shoulder. His muscles, shrunken by age and
disease, moved like cords in performing their offices.
A very old man was dying. As his mouth opened
a faint chant was heard, the doctor, at the sound,
bent his head, and assumed an air of reverence.
The chant, as it continued to swell on the evening
breeze, reached the ears of the slumbering warriors
that lay about, and as they listened to the sounds, I
could discern their sottish eyes open and flash with
unearthly fires, sometimes exhibiting pleasure, but
oftener ferocity and hatred. The old man sang on,
a few raised to their feet, and waved their hands in
the air, as if keeping time, and occasionally some
aged Indian would repeat the sounds he heard. The
old man ceased, turned his face full to the setting
sun, and fell back a corpse. The Indians cast a
look in the direction of their homes, gave an expression
of malignity, as well as sorrow, and then
silently and sluggishly sank into repose, as if nothing
had happened. “That old fellow brags well of his
infernal deeds,” observed one of the white men accompanying
the Indians, “and the red skinned
devils about here drink it in as a Cuba hound would
blood.”

The intense heat of the weather, and the quietness
that reigned so profoundly among the Indians,
broken only by the saw and hammer of the carpenter
at the capstan, making coffins, made us sigh for a
landing-place, and a separation from such melancholy
scenes. This desire was encouraged from the
well-known fact, that the savages grew every hour
more discontented and troublesome, and the song of
the dying old chief had not allayed their feelings,
or made them more comfortable.

The morning following the death of the old chief
had been preceded by one of those nights in which
the fog rose from the water so thick, that, in the hyperbolical
language of the boatmen, you could make
feather-beds of it. The pilot had “felt his way

along” for many hours, until the sudden crash that
shook every thing in the boat, convinced us that we
were aground. The engine stopped, and left us in
perfect silence and obscurity. Long after our accustomed
late hour of rising, we dressed and went
on deck. The fresh mist blew in our faces with
sickening effect, and the sun — then two hours
high—was invisible. The shore, which was so near
that the breaking of twigs could be heard, as cattle,
or game moved about in it, was indiscernible.
Even the end of the boat opposite to the one on
which we stood was in obscurity. A deep, damp,
opaque Mississippi river fog, had swallowed us up.
As the sun continued to rise and gain strength in its
ascent, its rays penetrated through the gloom, and
we at last discovered it, looking about as brilliant
as illuminated cheese. On it came, working its way
through the fog by its rays, reaching them out as a
debilitated spider would his legs, and apparently
with the same caution and labour.

With the growing heat a gentle breeze sprang up,
and the fog rolled about in huge masses, leaving
spots of pure atmosphere, and then closing them up;
gradually it became more and more rarified, and
things at a distance began to appear all magnified
and mysterious. On came the sun, brightening and
enlarging, until his streaming rays dipped into the
water, and shot up to the zenith. The fog, no longer
able to keep its consistency, retired before its splendour
in little clouds, which would sometimes rally,
and spread over the surface of the river, then, breaking
asunder, vanish away into air, with a splendour

that rivalled the dying dolphin's tints. Now, for
the first time, could we learn our whereabouts. The
broad bosom of the Mississippi stretched far to the
front of us, while at the stern of our boat was one of
those abrupt banks that denote a sudden bend in the
river. This had deceived the pilot. On our right,
within a few hundred yards, lay the shore, lined
with huge trees, tangled with gigantic vines, and
waving with festoons of moss, giving them a sombre
appearance that was singular and repulsive. Wild
ducks and geese went screaming by, heron and
crane innumerable would come near us, but discovering
the dark form of our boat, fly precipitately
away. The water glistened in the sun, and there
would rise from its quiet surface little columns of
mist, that would ascend high in the air and sail
along on the surface of the water, until striking
the distant shore, they would roll over the
landscape, enveloping parts in momentary obscurity,
and not until near noon did the fog entirely disappear.
Then the sun, as if incensed with the veil
that had for a time kept him from his scorching
work, poured down its heat with more intensity,
leaving a foggy day, hotter before its close, than if
the sun had been unobscured in its appearance in
the morn.

While sitting in the cabin, congratulating ourselves
on the prospect of getting off the bar, on
which we had so long been detained, the report of
a rifle was heard, fired from the deck, accompanied
by a loud yell. Another rifle was discharged, and
a loud Indian whoop followed, that made our blood

run cold. The ladies present turned pale, and the
commanding officer who had charge of the Indians,
somewhat astonished, left the cabin. A momentary
alarm seized upon us all. Could the old warrior's
death-song have incited mutiny! Crack! went another
rifle outside, and another shout; we could stand it
no longer, but rushed on deck. What a scene!
Not an Indian that was able but was upon his feet,
his eyes sparkling with fire, and his form looking as
active as a panther's. The sluggards of yesterday
were as sleek and nervous as horses at the starting
post, so perfectly had a little excitement altered
them. Their rifles, however, thank Heaven, were
not turned upon the white man—their enemy was
between the boat and the shore—in the water—in
the form of a very large black bear. It was a beautiful
sight to see the savage springing with a graceful
bound on some high place in the boat; and raise
his rifle to his eye, and before the report was heard
you could mark a red furrow on the head of the bear,
where it was struck by the ball as it passed its way
through the skin and flesh, without entering the
bone. While the bear, at these assaults, would
throw himself half out of the water, brush over the
smarting would with his huge paw, and then dash
on for life. Another shot, and another yell brought
the bear on the defensive, and showed he was dangerously
wounded. While this firing was going
on, some Indians, armed only with knives, launched
a canoe that lay among their movables, and paddled
hurriedly out to the bear. No sooner was the canoe
within his reach than he put his huge paws on its
side, in spite of the thrusts aimed at his head, and
turned his enemies, with a somerset, into the water.
Loud shouts of laughter greeted this accident; the
little “papooses” and women fairly danced with
joy, while the crew of the boat yelled and shouted,
and swore at the sport as much as the savages themselves.—The
bear turned from the boat, and looked
for his victims, but they were not to be seen; precipitated
so suddenly into the water, they sank below
the surface, like the duck when much alarmed,
and then thrust out their shining polls far from the
friendly hug of the bear. Laying their plans of attack
at once (for the firing of rifles was suspended,)
one of the Indians attracted the bear's attention, and
made towards him; they met, the floating canoe between
them, and while thus skirmishing, the unoccupied
Indian came up behind the bear, raised his
knife, and drove it deeply into his side, and then
disappeared, as a lump of lead would have done
about his own weight. The bear turned in the direction
of this new attack, snapped and clawed in
the water in the greatest agony. Another stab was
given in the same way, and as the Indians again disappeared,
a “white hunter,” who had been looking
on, rifle in hand, quite coolly, sprang upon the
guards of the boat, and singing out “red devils,
look out below,” fired. The bear leaped entirely
out of the water, fell upon his back, and after a convulsive
kick or two, floated a dead body on the
water. This exploit of the white man, so sudden
and unexpected, was greeted by a loud shout from
all parties. “You see.” said the hunter, as he
coolly laid down his rifle—“you see, the bar has
feeling, stranggers, and whar is the use of tormenting
the varmint? my old shooting iron never misses,
but if it had hit a red skin, by accident, I should
not have been ashamed of the shot—for the bar is
the best of the two, and a perfect Christian, compared
with the best copper skin in the tender thar.”

The Indians in the water, at this last shot, expressed
a significant “ugh,” and approaching the
bear, gave him repeated thrusts with their knives;
that showed they thought him a hard lived and dangerous
animal. In a few minutes they recovered
their canoe, and were towing the dead carcass
ashore. Fifty Indians at least now threw their blankets
aside, and leaping into the river, swam after the
bear ashore. The tearing off of the huge skin, and
jerking the meat, was despatched so rapidly, that it
indicated an accustomed work.

This little incident relieved the monotony, of all
others the most disagreeable, that of being aground
in the Mississippi, and the hours of labour which
were spent in releasing the boat, passed quickly
away, and by the time the Indians on shore returned
to their friends in the tender, the bell sounded;
we moved: and the steamer pursued its way.