[or-roots] The Whitman Massacre

[Cecil Houk]

Stories about Nineveh Ford by Cecil Clark Rulaford
  These stories were hand written to my mother circa 1955 by her father (my
grandfather), Cecil Clark Rulaford.  There is a funny story about fresh
bread, the new baby, and he tells of the death of Dr. and Mrs. Marcus
Whitman, and the escape of one family from the slaughter at the Whitman
Mission.
FROM:
http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~cchouk/ccrulaford.htm

The Whitman Massacre

        More than a hundred years ago, a white man, who was a trapper in the
Western wilderness happened to spend the night with a wandering band of
friendly Indians.  As night drew on and they sat around the campfire, the
Indians noticed the white man take a small book from his pocket and after
looking at the pages, slowly turn them.  Presently he closed the book, shut
his eyes, and moved his lips in some magical incantation (they supposed).
When he had finished, they asked him what he had been doing and he told them
that he had been reading from the White Man's Book, which pointed the way to
a better land, and he had been praying to the White Man's God.  The Indians
showed that they were interested and soon this news spread throughout their
tribe.  Some time later, four Nez Perce chiefs started out to find the White
Man's Book of Heaven, and in September, 1831, they appeared in St. Louis.
Two years had been spent by them on their strange quest, years of suffering,
danger and doubt.  They were unable to find words with which to make known
their wants.  They wandered tongue tied through the streets.  Finally coming
under the notice of Governor Clark, they were sent to a Catholic Priest and
from him the story reached the country.
       It produced a profound interest among the churches, seeming to them a
veritable Macedonian cry.  The result being, that missionaries were sent to
the great Northwest.  So, in the early spring of 1836, in company with his
newly made bride, Narcissa (Prentice) Whitman, and Rev. H. H. Spalding and
wife, Dr. Whitman started across the plains.  They traveled part way with
the fur company's annual detachment until they met a body of Nez Perce
Indians who had come to meet them, into whose hands they committed their
fortunes and lives the rest of the way.

       They reached Fort Walla Walla on September 1, 1836.  Whitman
  established his mission six miles west of Walla Walla where he brought
over two hundred acres under cultivation, built a grist mill and also a
sawmill.  Mrs. whitman's was the first school for teaching the Indians.  Dr.
Whitman heard rumors that the United States was about to make a treaty with
England whereby England would get the Oregon country.  The more Whitman
thought of it, the more he became convinced that it was his patriotic duty
to go to Washington and inform the authorities of the nature and value of
this great country.  So, in the winter of 1842-43, Whitman crossed the
continent on horse back.  He had an Indian guide part of the way, but the
going got so bad that the Indian turned back and Whitman went on alone.  He
was received by President Tyler and Secretary Webster, who took an entirely
new stand and began to raise the demand of "Fifty-four forty" or fight.

       As a result of his published broadcast, Whitman succeeded in
conducting a thousand people with wagons and cattle to the promised land of
Oregon.  The immigration of 1843 was the deciding contest in the struggle
for the possession between England and the United States.  The American home
vanquished the English fur trader.  My Grandfather, Nineveh Ford, was with
this caravan.  The people scattered to different parts of the West.
Grandfather went on down the Columbia until he reached The Dalles.  Here he
took two wagon boxes, lashed them to a raft and floated down the Columbia to
Fort Vancouver.  From there, he went overland to Oregon City, driving the
first ox team to enter the town.  Here he went into the tannery business,
then started a shoe factory.  In 1847 the Indians of the Eastern part of
Oregon country went on the war path.  Grandfather Ford volunteered and went
with a company of soldiers.  When they reached the Whitman Mission, they
found that the Indians had killed fourteen people and burned the mission.
Mrs. Whitman was the only woman killed.  Forty-seven women and children were
taken prisoners, and were later ransomed from the Indians for several
hundred dollars.  After the return of Dr. Whitman from the East in 1843, the
Indians became restive and ugly.  They could only see that the coming of the
Americans was a sign that their wild hunting grounds would soon be no more.
During the summer of '47, measles broke out among the Cayuse Indians and
became epidemic.  The native method of treating anything of a feverous
nature was to enter into a sweat house, stripped of clothing, and remain
there until thoroughly steamed.  Then plunge, naked and perspiring, into a
cold stream.  Death was the most inevitable result.

       At this time, a renegade half-breed by the name of Joe Lewis, who
  had been befriended by Dr. Whitman, exercised his vile nature.  He made
the Indians believe that Whitman was poisoning them.  To prove the point
they took an old sick woman that was nearly dead; they gave her some of Dr.
Whitman's medicine.  The woman died.  Then the Indians laid their plans to
kill the missionaries.  Whitman was warned by a friendly Indian by the name
of Istickus of the Umatilla tribe.  But the Dr. laughed it off.  Mrs.
Whitman, with her womanly intuition, felt the darkening of the approaching
tragedy.  The Dr. promised her that he would make arrangements to move down
to The Dalles at once.  But the next day, the fatal 29th of November, 1847,
dawned.  Dr. Whitman was sitting reading about 1 o'clock on the 29th when a
number of Indians entered and requested medicine from the Dr..  While he was
preparing it an Indian by the name of Tomahas drew forth his hatched and
buried it in the back of the head of his benefactor.  None of the white men
scattered and unsuspecting, could offer effective resistance.  All were shot
down except some who were in remote places and could hide and glide away
when night came.  Five men escaped in this manner after suffering many
hardships.

       Here is an account of his escape, given by Mr. Osborn to Mr. Spalding
years after.  Mr. Osborn says, "I and my whole family were sick in bed with
measles.  When I heard the firing of the guns and the yells of the Indians,
I leaned my head upon the bed and committed myself and family to my maker.
My wife removed some loose board from the floor.  Then we all dropped under
the floor in our night clothes, taking only two woolen sheets, a piece of
bread, and some cold mush.  Then pulled the loose floor over us.  In five
minutes, the room was full of Indians, but they did not discover us.  The
firing of guns and yells of the savages and the crash of clubs and knives
and the groans of the dying continued until dark.  Soon after this we
removed the floor boards and went out, I carried my two youngest children
and my wife held onto my clothes in her great weakness.  We had all been
sick with measles.  The naked painted Indians were dancing the scalp dance
around a large fire at a little distance.  A dense cold fog shut out every
star, and it was so dark we could not see our hand before our face.  We had
to feel out the trail with our feet.  We bent our steps toward Fort Walla
Walla.  We had to wade Mill Creek which was high and came up to the waist.
My wife was almost washed away.  I had to cross the stream five times for
the children.  The water was ice cold.  We had gone about two miles when
Mrs. Osborn fainted and could go no further.  We crowded into the wet brush
of the Walla Walla River.  We could see nothing.  I spread one wet sheet on
the frozen ground; wife and children crouched upon it.  I covered the other
over them.  I kneeled down and commended us to our Maker.  When the day
finally dawned we could see the Indians riding furiously up and down the
trail.  The day seemed a week.  Expected every moment my wife would breathe
her last.  Tuesday night felt our way to the trail and staggered along to
Dog Creek (Sutucksinna), which we waded as we did Mill Creek.  We had gone
about two miles when my wife fainted and could go no further.  Again we
crawled into the brush to shake and suffer on from hunger and cold and
without sleep,  The children, wet and cold, called incessantly for food.
But what they had heard and seen frightened them so that they did not speak
loud.  Wednesday night my wife was too weak to stand.  I took my second
child and started for Walla Walla.  Had to wade the Touched.  Had to stop
and rest quite frequently from weakness.  I reached Fort Walla Walla after
daylight.  I begged Mr. McBean for horses and dry clothing so I could bring
my family into the fort.  He refused and said I could not bring my family
into his fort.  I next begged the priests to show pity, as undoubtedly I and
my family would parish, but they refused to aid me in any way."

       He finally did get help and rescued his family -- his wife never
fully recovered.