27. CHAPTER XXVII.
SOME ACCOUNT OF A MAN OF QUESTIONABLE MORALITY, BUT WHO,
NEVERTHELESS, WOULD SEEM ENTITLED TO THE ESTEEM OF THAT EMINENT ENGLISH MORALIST
WHO SAID HE LIKED A GOOD HATER.
"COMING to mention the man to whose story all thus far said was but the
introduction, the judge, who, like you, was a great smoker, would insist upon
all the company taking cigars, and then lighting a fresh one himself, rise in
his place, and, with the solemnest voice, say—'Gentlemen, let us smoke
to the memory of Colonel John Moredock;' when, after several whiffs taken
standing in deep silence and deeper reverie, he would resume his seat and his
discourse, something in these words:
"'Though Colonel John Moredock was not an Indian-hater par excellence, he yet
cherished a kind of sentiment towards the red man, and in that degree, and so
acted out his sentiment as sufficiently to merit the tribute just rendered to
his memory.
"'John Moredock was the son of a woman married thrice, and thrice widowed by a
tomahawk. The three successive husbands of this woman had been pioneers, and
with them she had wandered from wilderness to wilderness, always on the
frontier. With nine children,
she at last found herself at a
little clearing, afterwards Vincennes. There she joined a company about to
remove to the new country of Illinois. On the eastern side of Illinois there
were then no settlements; but on the west side, the shore of the Mississippi,
there were, near the mouth of the Kaskaskia, some old hamlets of French. To the
vicinity of those hamlets, very innocent and pleasant places, a new Arcadia,
Mrs. Moredock's party was destined; for thereabouts, among the vines, they meant
to settle. They embarked upon the Wabash in boats, proposing descending that
stream into the Ohio, and the Ohio into the Mississippi, and so, north-wards,
towards the point to be reached. All went well till they made the rock of the
Grand Tower on the Mississippi, where they had to land and drag their boats
round a point swept by a strong current. Here a party of Indians, lying in wait,
rushed out and murdered nearly all of them. The widow was among the victims with
her children, John excepted, who, some fifty miles distant, was following with a
second party.
" He was just entering upon manhood, when thus left in nature sole survivor of
his race. Other youngsters might have turned mourners; he turned avenger. His
nerves were electric wires—sensitive, but steel. He was one who, from
self-possession, could be made neither to flush nor pale. It is said that when
the tidings were brought him, he was ashore sitting beneath a hemlock eating his
dinner of venison—and as the tidings were told him, after the first
start he kept on eating, but slowly and deliberately, chewing the wild news
with the wild meat, as if both together, turned to chyle, together
should sinew him to his intent. From that meal he rose an Indian-hater. He rose;
got his arms, prevailed upon some comrades to join him, and without delay
started to discover who were the actual transgressors. They proved to belong to
a band of twenty renegades from various tribes, outlaws even among Indians, and
who had formed themselves into a maurauding crew. No opportunity for action
being at the time presented, he dismissed his friends; told them to go on,
thanking them, and saying he would ask their aid at some future day. For upwards
of a year, alone in the wilds, he watched the crew. Once, what he thought a
favorable chance having occurred—it being midwinter, and the savages
encamped, apparently to remain so—he anew mustered his friends, and
marched against them; but, getting wind of his coming, the enemy fled, and in
such panic that everything was left behind but their weapons. During the winter,
much the same thing happened upon two subsequent occasions. The next year he
sought them at the head of a party pledged to serve him for forty days. At last
the hour came. It was on the shore of the Mississippi. From their covert,
Moredock and his men dimly descried the gang of Cains in the red dusk of
evening, paddling over to a jungled island in mid-stream, there the more
securely to lodge; for Moredock's retributive spirit in the wilderness spoke
ever to their trepidations now, like the voice calling through the garden.
Waiting until dead of night, the whites swam the river, towing after them a raft
laden
with their arms. On landing, Moredock cut the fastenings of
the enemy's canoes, and turned them, with his own raft, adrift; resolved that
there should be neither escape for the Indians, nor safety, except in victory,
for the whites. Victorious the whites were; but three of the Indians saved
themselves by taking to the stream. Moredock's band lost not a man.
" Three of the murderers survived. He knew their names and persons. In the course
of three years each successively fell by his own hand. All were now dead. But
this did not suffice. He made no avowal, but to kill Indians had become his
passion. As an athlete, he had few equals; as a shot, none; in single combat,
not to be beaten. Master of that woodland-cunning enabling the adept to subsist
where the tyro would perish, and expert in all those arts by which an enemy is
pursued for weeks, perhaps months, without once suspecting it, he kept to the
forest. The solitary Indian that met him, died. When a murder was descried, he
would either secretly pursue their track for some chance to strike at least one
blow; or if, while thus engaged, he himself was discovered, he would elude them
by superior skill.
" Many years he spent thus; and though after a time he was, in a degree, restored
to the ordinary life of the region and period, yet it is believed that John
Moredock never let pass an opportunity of quenching an Indian. Sins of
commission in that kind may have been his, but none of omission.
" It were to err to suppose,' the judge would say, that this gentleman was
naturally ferocious, or peculiarly
possessed of those qualities,
which, unhelped by provocation of events, tend to withdraw man from social life.
On the contrary, Moredock was an example of something apparently
self-contradicting, certainly curious, but, at the same time, undeniable:
namely, that nearly all Indian-haters have at bottom loving hearts; at any rate,
hearts, if anything, more generous than the average. Certain it is, that, to the
degree in which he mingled in the life of the settlements, Moredock showed
himself not without humane feelings. No cold husband or colder father, he; and,
though often and long away from his household, bore its needs in mind, and
provided for them. He could be very convivial; told a good story (though never
of his more private exploits), and sung a capital song. Hospitable, not backward
to help a neighbor; by report, benevolent, as retributive, in secret; while, in
a general manner, though sometimes grave—as is not unusual with men of
his complexion, a sultry and tragical brown—yet with nobody, Indians
excepted, otherwise than courteous in a manly fashion; a moccasined gentleman,
admired and loved. In fact, no one more popular, as an incident to follow may
prove.
"'His bravery, whether in Indian fight or any other, was unquestionable. An
officer in the ranging service during the war of 1812, he acquitted himself with
more than credit. Of his soldierly character, this anecdote is told: Not long
after Hull's dubious surrender at Detroit, Moredock with some of his rangers
rode up at night to a log-house, there to rest till morning. The horses being
attended to, supper over, and sleeping-places assigned
the troop,
the host showed the colonel his best bed, not on the ground like the rest, but a
bed that stood on legs. But out of delicacy, the guest declined to monopolize
it, or, indeed, to occupy it at all; when, to increase the inducement, as the
host thought, he was told that a general officer had once slept in that bed.
"Who, pray?" asked the colonel. "General Hull." "Then you must not take
offense," said the colonel, buttoning up his coat, "but, really, no coward's
bed, for me, however comfortable." Accordingly he took up with valor's
bed—a cold one on the ground.
" At one time the colonel was a member of the territorial council of Illinois,
ends at the formation of the state government, was pressed to become candidate
for governor, but begged to be excused. And, though he declined to give his
reasons for declining, yet by those who best knew him the cause was not wholly
unsurmised. In his official capacity he might be called upon to enter into
friendly treaties with Indian tribes, a thing not to be thought of. And even did
no such contingency arise, yet he felt there would be an impropriety in the
Governor of Illinois stealing out now and then, during a recess of the
legislative bodies, for a few days' shooting at human beings, within the limits
of his paternal chief-magistracy. If the governorship offered large honors, from
Moredock it demanded larger sacrifices. These were incompatibles. In short, he
was not unaware that to be a consistent Indian-hater involves the renunciation
of ambition, with its objects—the pomps and glories of the world; and
since religion, pronouncing
such things vanities, accounts it
merit to renounce them, therefore, so far as this goes, Indian-hating, whatever
may be thought of it in other respects, may be regarded as not wholly without
the efficacy of a devout sentiment.'"
Here the narrator paused. Then, after his long and irksome sitting, started to
his feet, and regulating his disordered shirt-frill, and at the same time
adjustingly shaking his legs down in his rumpled pantaloons, concluded: "There,
I have done; having given you, not my story, mind, or my thoughts, but
another's. And now, for your friend Coonskins, I doubt not, that, if the judge
were here, he would pronounce him a sort of comprehensive Colonel Moredock, who,
too much spreading his passion, shallows it."