A narrative of the captivity and adventures of John Tanner
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No one in the canoe recognised me, though Mr. Stewart and Mr. Grant were both well known to me. I had not been able to wash the blood off my body, and it is probable that the suffering I had undergone had much changed my appearance. They were very eager and rapid in their inquiries, and soon ascertained who I was, and also became acquainted with the principal facts I have related. They made a bed for me in the canoe, and at my urgent request went to search for my children in the direction where I had heard them crying, and where I told them I feared we should find they had been murdered; but we sought here, and in other places, to no purpose.
Having ascertained who it was that had wounded me, these two traders agreed to take me immediately to the village of Ome-zhuh-gwut-oons, and they were determined, in case of discovering and taking him, to aid me in taking my revenge by putting him immediately to death. They therefore concealed me in the canoe, and on landing near the lodges, an old man came down to the shore, and asked them, “what was the news in the country they came from?” “All is well there,” answered Mr. Stewart; “we have no other news.” “This is the manner,” said the old man, “in which white people always treat us. I know very well something has happened in the country you have come from, but you will not tell us of it. Ome-zhuh-gwut-oons, one of our young men, has been up the river two or three days, and he tells us that the Long Knife, called Shaw-shaw-wa-ne-ba-se, (the falcon,) who passed here a few days since, with his wife and children, has murdered them all; but I am fearful that he himself has been doing something wrong, for he is watchful and restless, and has just fled from this place before you arrived.” Mr. Stewart and Mr. Grant, notwithstanding this representation, sought for him in all the lodges, and when convinced that he had indeed gone, said to the old man, “It is very true that mischief has been done in the country we come from; but the man whom Ome-zhuh-gwut-oons attempted to kill is in our canoe with us; we do not yet know whether he will live or die.” They then showed me to the Indians who had gathered on the shore.
We now took a little time to refresh ourselves and examine my wounds. Finding that the ball had entered my body, immediately under the broken part of my arm, and gone forward and lodged against the breast bone, I tried to persuade Mr. Grant to cut it out; but neither he nor Mr. Stewart being willing to make the attempt, I was compelled to do it myself, as well as I could with my left hand. A lancet which Mr. Grant lent me was broken immediately, as was a pen knife, the flesh of that part of the body being very hard and tough. They next brought me a large white handled razor, and with this I succeeded in extracting the ball. It was very much flattened, and the thong of deer’s sinew, as well as the medicines Ome-zhuh-gwut-oons had inserted in it, were left in my body. Notwithstanding this, when I found that it had not passed under my ribs, I began to hope that I should finally recover, though I had reason to suppose that the wound being poisoned, it would be long in healing.
After this was done, and the wound in my breast taken care of, we went on to Ah-kee-ko-bow-we-tig, (the Kettle Fall,) to the village of the chief Waw-wish-e-gah-bo, the brother of Ome-zhuh-gwut-oons. Here Mr. Stewart used the same precaution of hiding me in the canoe, and then giving tobacco, which he called every man in the village, by name, to receive; but when there appeared no prospect of finding him, they made me again stand up in the canoe, and one of them told the chief that it was his own brother who had attempted to kill me. The chief hung his head, and to their inquiries about Ome-zhuh-gwut-oons he would make no answer. We, however, ascertained from other Indians, that my daughters and their mother had stopped here a moment in their way towards Rainy Lake.
When we arrived at the North West Company’s house at Rainy Lake, we found that my daughters and their mother had been detained by the traders on account of suspicions arising from their manifest agitation and terror, and from the knowledge that I had passed up with them but a few days before. Now when I first came in sight of the fort, the old woman fled to the woods taking the two girls with her. But the Company’s people sent out and brought them in again. Mr. Stewart and Mr. Grant now left it to me to say what punishment should be inflicted on this woman, who, as we all very well knew, had been guilty of aiding in an attempt to kill me. They said they considered her equally criminal with Ome-zhuh-gwut-oons, and thought her deserving of death, or any other punishment I might wish to see inflicted. But I told them I wished she might be sent immediately, and without any provisions, away from the fort, and never allowed to return to it. As she was the mother of my children, I did not wish to see her hung, or beaten to death by the labourers as they proposed; but as the sight of her had become hateful to me, I wished she might be removed, and they accordingly dismissed her without any punishment.
Mr. Stewart left me at the Rainy Lake trading house in the care of Simon M’Gillevray, a son of him who many years ago was so important a partner in the North West Company. He gave me a small room where my daughters cooked for me, and dressed my wounds. I was very weak, and my arm badly swollen, fragments of bone coming out from time to time. I had lain here twenty-eight days when Major Delafield, the United States commissioner for the boundary, came to the trading house, and having heard something of my history, proposed to bring me in his canoe to Mackinac. But I was too weak to undertake such a journey, though I wished to have accompanied him. Finding that this was the case, Major Delafield gave me a large supply of excellent provisions, two pounds of tea, some sugar and other articles, a tent, and some clothing, and left me.
Two days after this, I pulled out of my arm the thong of deer’s sinew which had been attached, as I have before stated, to the bullet. It was still about five inches long, but nearly as large as my finger, and of a green colour. Ome-zhuh-gwut-oons had two balls in his gun at the time he shot me; one had passed near my head.
Immediately after the departure of Major Delafield, the unfriendly disposition of Mr. M’Gillevray made itself manifest; it had been only fear of Major Delafield that had induced him hitherto to treat me with some attention. Insults and abuses were heaped upon me, and at last I was forcibly turned out of the house. But some of the Frenchmen had so much compassion as to steal out at night, and without Mr. M’Gillevray’s knowledge, furnish tent poles and set up my tent. Thanks to the bounty of Major Delafield, I had a supply of every thing needful, and my daughters still remained with me, though Mr. M’Gillevray repeatedly threatened that he would remove them. His persecutions did not abate when I left the fort, and he went so far as to take my daughters from me, and send them to sleep in the quarters of the men; but they escaped, and fled to the house of an old Frenchman, near by, who was Mr. M’Gillevray’s father-in-law, and with whose daughters mine had become intimate.
Forty-three days I had lain in and near this trading house, and was now in a most miserable condition, having been for some time entirely deprived of the assistance of my daughters, when my former acquaintance and friend, Mr. Bruce, unexpectedly entered my tent late in the evening. He was with Major Long and a party of gentlemen then returning from Lake Winnipeg, who, as Mr. Bruce thought, would be willing and able to afford me some assistance in taking my daughters out of the hands of Mr. M’Gillevray, and perhaps in getting out to Mackinac.
Three times I visited Major Long at his camp at that late hour of the night, though I was scarce able to walk, and each time he told me that his canoes were full, and that he could do nothing for me; but at length becoming a little acquainted with my history, he seemed to take more interest in me, and when he saw the papers I had from Governor Clark and others, he told me I was a fool not to have shown him these before. He had, he said, taken me for one of those worthless white men who remain in the Indian country from indolence, and for the sake of marrying squaws, but now that he understood who I was, he would try to do something for me. He went himself, with several men, and sought in the trading house for my daughters. He had intended to start early the next morning after his arrival, but having been stirring nearly all night in my affairs, he determined to remain over the next day, an
d make farther exertions for the recovery of my children. All the search we could make for my daughters at and about the trading house resulted in the conviction, that through the agency of Mr. M’Gillevray, and the family of his father-in-law, they had fallen into the hands of Kaw-been-tush-kwaw-naw, a chief of our village at Me-nau-zhe-tau-naung. This being the case, I was compelled to relinquish the hope of bringing them out the present year, and miserably as I was situated, I was anxious to come to my own people, and to my three children at Mackinac, to spend the winter.
I knew the character of Mr. M’Gillevray, and also that the traders of the North West Company generally had less cause to feel friendly towards me than they might have had if I had not concerned myself with Lord Selkirk’s party in the capture of their post at Red River. I knew also that my peculiar situation with respect to the Indians would make it very difficult for me to gain permission to remain at or near either of the houses of the North West, or of the American Fur Company. I had been severely and dangerously wounded by an Indian, and according to their customs, I was bound, or at least expected, to avenge myself on any of the same band that might fall in my way; and should it be known that I was at either of the trading houses, very few Indians would venture to visit it. Taking these things into consideration, I determined to accept the friendly offer of Major Long to bring me to the States, and accordingly took a place in one of his canoes. But after proceeding on our way an hour or two, I became convinced, as did Major Long and the gentlemen with him, that I could not safely undertake so long and difficult a journey in my present situation. Accordingly they put me in charge of some people belonging to the traders, and sent me back to the fort.
I knew that the doors of the North West Company’s house would be closed against me, and accordingly made application to my late employers, the American Fur Company. Young Mr. Davenport, in whose care the house then was, granted a ready compliance with my request, and gave me a room; but as provisions were scarce on that side, I was supplied daily by Dr. M’Laughlin of the North West, who had now taken the place of Mr. M’Gillevray. He sent every day as much as sufficed to feed me and Mr. Davenport, together with his wife.
I had not been long here when Mr. Cote arrived, and took charge of the house in place of Mr. Davenport. Mr. Cote came to my room, and seeing me on the bed, only remarked, “Well, you have been making a war by yourself.” That night he allowed my supper to be brought me, and early next morning turned me out of doors. But he was not content with driving me from the house; he forbade me to remain on the United States side of the boundary, and all my entreaties, together with the interference of Dr. M’Laughlin, could not influence Mr. Cote to change his determination. In this emergency, Dr. M’Laughlin, though he knew that the success of his post in the winter’s trade must be injured by the measure, consented to receive me on the British side where he fed and took care of me. Early in the winter, my wounds had so far healed that I could hunt a little, holding my gun in my left hand. But about new-years, I went out one evening to bring water, slipped and fell on the ice, and not only broke my arm in the old place, but also my collar bone. Dr. M’Laughlin now took the management of my case into his own hands, it having been left entirely to my own treatment before, and I was now confined as long as I had been in the fall.
In the spring, I was again able to hunt. I killed considerable numbers of rabbits, and some other animals, for the skins of which the Doctor paid me in money a very liberal price. As the time aproached for the traders to leave the wintering grounds, he told me the North West had no boats going to Mackinac, but that he would oblige Mr. Cote to carry me out. It was accordingly so arranged, and Mr. Cote promised to take me to Fond Du Lac in his own canoe. But instead of this, he sent me in a boat with some Frenchmen. In the route from Fond Du Lac to the Saut De St. Marie, I was dependent upon Mr. Morrison; but the treatment I received from the boatmen was so rough that I induced them to put me on shore, to walk thirty-five miles to the Saut. Mr. Schoolcraft now wished to engage me as an interpreter, but as I heard that the little property I had left at Mackinac had been seized to pay my children’s board, and as I knew their situation required my presence, I went thither accordingly, and was engaged by Col. Boyd as Indian interpreter, in which situation I continued till summer of 1828, when being dissatisfied with his treatment, I left Mackinac, and proceeded to New-York for the purpose of making arrangements for the publication of my narrative; and upon my return to the north, was employed by Mr. Schoolcraft, Indian agent at the Saut De St. Marie, as his interpreter; to which place I took my family, and have since resided there.
Three of my children are still among the Indians in the north. The two daughters would, as I am informed, gladly join me, if it were in their power to escape. The son is older, and is attached to the life he has so long led as a hunter. I have some hope that I may be able to go and make another effort to bring away my daughters.
Notes for the Text
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Sa-gui-na. The word Sau-ge-nong, appears to mean, “the town of the Saukees.”
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Tanner has much of the Indian habit of concealing emotion; but when he related the above to me, the glimmering of his eye, and a convulsive movement of his upper lip, betrayed sufficiently, that he is not without the enduring thirst for revenge which belongs to the people among whom he has spent his life. “As soon,” said he, in connection with this anecdote, “as I landed in Detroit on my return from Red River, and found a man who could speak with me, I said ’where is Kish-kau-ko?’ ’He is in prison.’ ’Where is Manito-o-geezhik, his father?’ ’Dead two months since.’ ’It is well he is dead.’” Intimating that though more than thirty years had elapsed, he intended now to have avenged himself for the injury done him when a boy not eleven years of age. – Ed.
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War-gun-uk-ke-zeemeans, as Tanner says, the bent tree; and the pine, which gave name to the place called by the French L’Arbre Croche, was standing when he first visited that village. He spoke with great indignation of the Indian who, through mere wantonness, cut down this remarkable tree.
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Sug-gus-swaw-waw – the Smoker, in Ojibbeway.
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Pe-twaw-we-ninne. – This, however, is a Cree word; the name among the Ojibbeways, is Sug-guo-swaw-we-ninne. Muskegoe is from Mus-keek, a swamp, and is applied to a band of the Ojibbeways, enjoying in general no very good name.
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This word, Win-ne-peg, is derived from win-ne-be-a, “dirty water,” or ween-au-gum-ma, which has nearly the same meaning. The lake is called by the Indians Win-ne-be-a Sau-gie-gun, “Dirty Water Lake.”
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Assinneboins, Stone Roasters, from using heated stones to boil their provisions.
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Puk-kwi, the cat-tail flag, (Typha Latifolia,) of which we made the coarse mats called by the Menomonies (O-pah-keuk, by the Ojibbeways of the Upper Mississippi, O-pah-kwi-wuk. There is a lake on the route from Green Bay to the Wisconsan, called on the maps Puckaway, but the word is, in the country, pronounced Puk-kwi.
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Gah-menomonie gah-wun-zhe-gaw-wie see-bee, (the river of the wild rice straw.) Gaw-wun-je, or Gaw-wunzk, is applicable to the stalks or trunks of many plants, shrubs, etc. as Mee-na-gaw-wunge, (whortleberry bush,) or, in the plural, Mee-na-gaw-wa-cheen, (whortleberry bushes.)
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Lakes of the largest class are called by the Ottawwaws, Kitchegawme; of these they reckon five; one which they commonly call Ojibbeway Kitchegawme, Lake Superior, two Ottawwaw Kitchegawme, Huron and Michigan, and Erie and Ontario. Lake Winnipeg, and the countless lakes in the north-west, they call Sahkiegunnun.
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Nebeninnah-ne-sebee – High Craneberry River; since called Pembinah. The In
dian name is derived from that of the viburnum, with large red edible berries, somewhat resembling the craneberry; thence called v.oxycoccus. “Red River” is from the Indian Miskwawgummewesebee.
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Pronounced by the Indians, We-ge-wham.
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A-gutch-a-ninne-wug, the settled people, called by the white Minnetarees.
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Jebiug-neezh-o-shin-naut – Two dead lie there.
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From tub-buz-zeen, imperative, “Do thou dodge down.”
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