Little Eight-Year-Old Girl Scalped by the Indians Who also Burned a Cabin Killing the Mother and Her Children

Water Street is an old place and was settled prior to the Revolution. A stream of water from the Canoe Mountain, supposed to be the Arch Spring of Sinking Valley, passes down a ravine and empties into the Juniata at this place. For some distance through a narrow defile, the road passed directly through the bed of this stream,—a circumstance which induced the settlers to call it Water Street when the original settlement was made.

This for a long time was an important point, being the canoe-landing for the interior country. Hence the name of Canoe Valley applied to the country now known as Catharine township, in Blair county. At this place was General Roberdeau's landing, where he received his stores for the lead mines, and where he shipped the lead-ore to be taken to Middletown for smelting.

The number of persons living about Water Street and in the lower end of Canoe Valley, during the Revolution, was fully as great as at the present day.

Among the first settlers was Patrick Beatty. He was the father of seven sons, regular flowers of the forest, who never would fort during all the troubles, and who cared no more for an Indian than they did for a bear. They lived in a cabin about a mile west of Water Street.

It is related of John, the oldest son, that, coming through the woods one day, near his home, he met two Indians in his path. They both aimed at him, but by successful dodging he prevented them from shooting, and reached the house. He found one of his brothers at home; and the two, seizing their rifles, started out after the Indians, and followed them sixty miles, frequently getting sight of them, but never within shooting distance. The Indians knew the Beattys, and feared them, for a more daring and reckless party of young fellows never existed in the valley.

It is a remarkable coincidence that of the Beattys there were seven brothers, seven brothers of the Cryders, seven of the Ricketts, seven of the Rollers, and seven of the Moores,—constituting the most formidable force of active and daring frontier-men to be found between Standing Stone and the base of the mountain.

In the winter of 1778 or the spring of 1779, Lowry's Fort was erected, about two and a half or three miles west of Water Street, for the protection of the settlers of Water Street and Canoe Valley. Although built upon Lowry's farm, Captain Simonton was by unanimous consent elected the commander. Thus, during the year 1779 and the greater part of 1780, the people divided their time between the fort and their farms, without any molestation from the savages. Occasionally an alarm of Indian depredations sent the entire neighborhood to the fort in great haste; but just so soon as the alarm had subsided they all went to their farms again.

Some few of the neighbors, for some reason or other, would not fort at Lowry's; whether because they apprehended no danger, or because they felt quite as secure at home, we have no means of knowing. Among these was Matthew Dean, Esq., one of the most influential men in Canoe Valley, who lived but half a mile from the fort. His reason for not forting there, however, arose from an old personal animosity existing between himself and Lowry, and not from any fancied security at his own house, for he had several times, during the alarms of 1779, made preparations to remove his family to Huntingdon.

In the fall of 1780, on a Sunday evening, Captain Simonton and his wife, and his son John, a lad eight years of age, paid a visit to Dean's house. They spent the evening in conversation on the ordinary topics of the day, in the course of which Captain Simonton told Dean that he had heard of Indians having been seen in Sinking Valley, and that if any thing more of them was heard it would be advisable for them to fort. Dean gave it as his opinion that the rumor was false, and that there was no cause for alarm, much less forting.

The family of Mr. Dean consisted of himself, his wife, and eight children, with the prospect of another being added to the family in a day or two. The last words Mrs. Dean spoke to Mrs. Simonton were to have her shoes ready, as she might send for her before morning. When the Simontons were ready to start, the lad John was reluctant to go; and at the request of Mrs. Dean he was allowed to stay with their children until morning, at which time Mrs. Simonton promised to visit her neighbor.

In the morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Dean, with his two boys and two oldest girls, went to a cornfield for the purpose of breaking it up preparatory to sowing rye in it. The boys managed the plough, while the girls made what was called "steps," or holes between the corn-hills, where the plough could not be brought to bear. Mr. Dean had taken his rifle with him, and, after directing the work for a while, he saw large numbers of wild pigeons flying in the woods adjoining the field, and he went to shoot some of them. He had been in the woods but a short time when he happened to look in the direction of his house, and saw smoke issuing from it, when he immediately went to his children and informed them of it. By that time the volume of smoke had so increased that they were satisfied the house was on fire, and they all started for home at their utmost speed.

In the mean time Mrs. Simonton, according to promise, came over to Dean's house. She, too, saw the smoke some distance off, and by the time she reached the gate, which was simultaneously with the arrival of the family from the corn-field, the house was in a sheet of flame. Up to this time no one had supposed that the fire was the work of Indians. Mrs. Simonton saw a little girl, about eight years of age, lying upon the steps, scalped; but she did not notice its being scalped,—merely supposing that the child had a red handkerchief tied around its head, and had fallen asleep where it lay. But when she went into the gate to get the child out, and the blood gushed up between the boards on which she trod, the fearful reality burst upon her mind; then she thought about her own little son, and for a while was almost frantic.

News of the disaster was conveyed to the fort, and in a few hours the entire neighborhood was alarmed. A strong force, headed by the Beattys, started in pursuit, and got upon the track of the savages, but could not find them. They even waylaid the gap through which the war-path ran; but all to no purpose, for they got clear of the settlements by some other route.

Captain Simonton, at the time of the outrage, was at Minor's Mill, getting a grist ground. On his return, he heard the news at Water Street, when he threw the bag of flour from the horse, and rode as fast as the animal could carry him to the scene of the disaster, where he arrived in a state of mind bordering closely upon madness—for he passionately loved his little boy—just as the neighbors were taking the roasted and charred remains of Mrs. Dean and her three children out of the ashes. One of the neighbors so engaged was a daughter of Mr. Beatty, now Mrs. Adams, still living in Gaysport, at a very advanced age, who gave us a graphic account of the occurrence.

The remains taken out were joined together, and the skeletons of Mrs. Dean and her three children could be recognised; but no bones were found to conform to the size of Simonton's son. The Dean girls then recollected that, when last seen, he was playing near the front door with the little girl. It was then suggested that he might be killed, and that his body was perhaps lying somewhere near the house; but a most thorough search revealed nothing of the kind, and it was only too evident that the Indians had carried the child into captivity.

The murder of the Deans was the cause of universal regret, for they were known and respected by every person in the upper end of the Juniata Valley, and it did not fail to spread consternation into every settlement, even where people thought themselves beyond the reach of the merciless and bloodthirsty savages.

The reason why Simonton's child was carried into captivity, instead of being murdered and scalped, was believed to be because the Indians knew the child and expected that Simonton would follow them and pay liberally for his ransom.

The remains of the Deans were buried, and the family bore up as well as they could under the sad infliction; but it was some years before Matthew Dean fairly recovered from the blow.

The descendants of the Dean family are numerous—a majority of them living in the neighborhood of Williamsburg, Blair county. One of the young girls in the cornfield at the time of the massacre married a Mr. Caldwell, and was the mother of David Caldwell, at present one of the associate judges of Blair county.

Captain Simonton never became reconciled to the loss of his son. He made all the inquiries he could; wrote to government, and even went from his home as far as to Chillicothe, Ohio, to attend a treaty; but all to no purpose: he could obtain no tidings of him. While there, he caused proclamation to be made to the Indians, offering a reward of £10 for any information as to his whereabouts, or £100 for his recovery. This was a munificent sum for the ransom of a mere boy, considering the financial condition of the country; and the Indians promised to find him, if possible.

A year after his return home, the final treaty for the delivery of prisoners was held in the Miami Valley. Again Captain Simonton undertook the journey—then a more formidable undertaking than traversing half the Union would be now.

But he was again doomed to bitter disappointment. The children were brought forward, but none bore the slightest resemblance to his lost boy. So the captain returned to his home, bereft of all hope. The last feeble prop was gone, and Simonton was as near being a broken-hearted man as any one could well be without giving way entirely to despair.

When the late war with Great Britain broke out, Huntingdon county, notwithstanding it had more than its proportion of tories in the time of the Revolution, furnished three companies to go to the Canadian frontier. In Captain Moses Canan's company were two, probably three, of Captain Simonton's sons. They knew they had a brother abducted by the Indians, but it never occurred to either of them that they should ever see him.

The companies of Captains Allison, Canan, and Vandevender, encamped in Cattaraugus, New York,—a country then occupied by the Seneca Indians.

These Indians were neutral at that time, although they favored the American cause and readily furnished supplies to the soldiers. Among them was a white man, who appeared to hold a very prominent position. He owned lands, cattle, horses, lived in a well-constructed house, and was married to a squaw, by whom he had several children. This was the long-lost John Simonton. After Captain Canan's company had left, two men belonging to Vandevender's company, originally from Water Street, commenced talking about this white man among the Indians; and both of them agreed that he bore a most striking resemblance to the Simonton boys.

Next day, happening to meet him in front of his own house, one of them accosted him with the somewhat abrupt question of "What is your name?"

He answered, in broken English, "John Sims."

"Are you from the Juniata?" continued the man.

"I think I am," was Simonton's reply.

"Do you remember any thing of the country?"

"I remember my father, who used to have two big fires, and large barrels, in which he stirred with a long pole."

This answer satisfied them. Old Captain Simonton had a small distillery, and the man remembered the process of distilling very correctly.

"Wouldn't you like to go to your old house and see your relatives?" inquired one of the men.

He answered that he should like very much to do so, but that he was so much of an Indian that he doubted whether his presence would afford much satisfaction to his friends.

On being told that some of his brothers were in one of the companies, he was so much affected that he shed tears, and expressed great anxiety to see them. He evidently felt himself degraded, and saw between himself and his brothers an insurmountable barrier, built up by upward of thirty years of life among the savages; and yet he longed to see them.

While talking to the men, his wife took him away, and he was not seen again by them while they remained there. His wife had a powerful influence over him, and she used it to the best advantage; for she really began to suspect that the men had traced his origin.

Poor old Captain Simonton!—he never lived to learn the fate of the boy he so much doated upon.

One of the sons of Captain Simonton—a very old man—still lives several miles west of Hollidaysburg.

 

Indian  Massacre in Florida

Oppechancanough massacre in 1622

….they fell again upon the dead bodies, making as well as they could a fresh murder, defacing, dragging, and mangling their carcasses into many pieces, and carrying some parts away in derision,....

The resentment on the part of the Indians indicated by such behavior would surely have resulted in torturing of the practice had been known to them.

He himself cites a case where he applied torture to an Indian:

The Council concluded, that I should terrify them with some torture, to know if I could know their intent. The next day, I bound one in the hold to the mainmast: and presented six muskets....forced him to desire life.....I frightened the other, first with the rack, then with muskets:....

….otherwise he (Powhatan) threatened to destroy us in a strange manner. First, he said he would make us dumb and then kill us... Had torture been practiced it would have made a much more efficacious deterrent.

  Excerpt from "Captured and Tortured: Trilogy of Terror"

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Scalped on the Western Frontier

Buffalo Hunter Ralph Morrison was scalped by the Cheyenne Indians near Fort Dodge in 1868

57 gruesome stories of Indian capture and torture

Delaware Indians Accused of Being a Witch and Burned at the Stake at Present Day Muncie Indiana

20th  Century History of Delaware County, Indiana  1908   
    Until recently it was supposed that the following incidents, as described by Dillon, took place in the Indian village which stood at the site of Yorktown: "An old Delaware chief, whose name was Tate-e-bock-o-she, through whose influence a treaty had been made with the Delawares in 1804, was accused of witchcraft, tried, condemned and tomahawked. His body was then consumed by fire. The wife of the old chief, his nephew, who was known by the name of Billy Patterson, and an aged Indian whose name was Joshua, were then accused of witchcraft and condemned to death. The two men were burnt at the stake; but the life of the wife of Tate-e-bock-o-she was saved by her brother, who suddenly approached her, took her by the hand, and, without meeting with any opposition from the Indians who were present, led her out of the council-house. He then immediately returned, and checked the growing influence of the Prophet by exclaiming, in a strong, earnest voice: 'The evil spirit has come among us, and we are killing each other.' " A comparison of the different authorities has led Judge Dunn (in an article in the Indianapolis News, March 17, 1906) to the conclusion that "Joshua was killed at the principal Delaware town, which was what the whites called Muncie- town and the Indians Woopicamikink or Wapecomekoke. This is commonly spoken of as being on the site of Muncie, but it was on the north side of the river, directly opposite where Muncie now stands. The traditional site of the mission [the old Moravian mission] where Tatapachkse [Tate-e-bock-o-she] was executed is the southeast quarter of section 17, range 8 east, township 19 north, the location of Little Munsee Town, ' ' in Madison County at the resort now known as ' ' Indian Mounds. ' ' Concerning the old Indian village on the north bank of the river at Muncie there is the following testimony by a pioneer, William Jackson: "The old Indian village and graveyard stood on the north bank of White River, a short distance to the westward of the bridge, on the Muncie and Granville Pike. When I came here many distinct features of the graveyard were still visible. The graves in many instances were surrounded with pens, or poles piled around them. Many skeletons were exhumed and a number of skulls have been preserved."

57 gruesome stories in Indian capture and torture

Paranormal Activity  at the Site of a Man Burned at the Stake by Algonquian Indians

Paranormal activity was located near the city of Muncie, Indiana where a man was burned and tortured at the stake by the Munsee Indians


Indianapolis News, June 15, 1907
  "There is no doubt in my mind that a man was burned to death," he continued, "for I remember well the spot on which it said the Indians burned him.  It was on the Cissel farm about two miles below here." (Windsor, Indiana)
Even the Ground Was Haunted
   "The thing that was most convincing to me was that for years and years nothing would grow on this particular spot.  The ground positively refused to respond to cultivation, although efforts were made repeatedly to get things to grow on it. Funny, isn't it."

57 gruesome stories of Indian capture and torture

Tortured by the Apaches: Running the Gauntlet

Tortured by the Apaches: Running the Gauntlet

THE TORTURE.

Another morning dawned; again we were brought forth, and from the information gained from the old trapper, I knew that our time for action had come. Lying in a group on the green sward, we watched the movements of our enemies with painful interest. Our hands and feet were bound, but we were not otherwise secured, and were therefore enabled to sit up and look around us; we saw that the Indians were divested of every superfluous article of dress or ornament, that their movements might be light and unimpeded. We saw them enter the woods and return with clubs freshly cut from the trees, an ominous indication of the fate in store for us. To the number of several hundred the savages had gathered upon the plain and were arranging the preliminaries for their fiendish sport. We watched their preparations with a peculiar interest; at length, all seemed in readiness—two rows of Indians stretched along the plain for a distance of about three hundred yards—all were armed with clubs, and stood to face each other; an interval of three or four paces 

separating the ranks. Between these lines, we had to run and receive blows in passing, from all who were quick enough to hit us. We were told that if any of our numbers achieved the apparently impossible feat of passing the entire line, and could reach the foot of the cliff without being overtaken that our lives would be spared. I asked the old trapper if he believed this. "Not by a durn sight," was his reply; "its all a cussed injun lie, just to make us do our puttiest; they'll roast us all the same, blast 'em." I was satisfied that the promise was of no value, even if they should adhere to it; for the fleetest runner could never pass the lines.

    Several of the warriors now approached us, and untied one of the Mexicans; he was to run first. Although an athletic and active specimen of his race, he was quickly disposed of; running barely ten paces before he was stretched senseless, and brought back helpless and bleeding, while the air resounded with the wild yells of the savage bystanders. Three of the other captives soon met the same fate, and then it came to my turn; I was unbound and led forward and stood awaiting the signal to begin the terrible race. Within a few moments a wild scheme had formed itself in my mind, and although fully realizing its desperate nature, I had determined to make the effort, even if I perished in the attempt. I had noticed that, with the exception of those forming the lines between which I was to run, the Indians all stood behind me;] and for a considerable space around me the ground was entirely clear. My plan was to start as if with the intention of entering the lane of savages, but to suddenly diverge to the right or left, as might seem most expedient, and run directly down the valley, with the hope that I might be able to reach the dense and tangled forest which fringed it, and conceal myself in its recesses until I could find some way out of my rock-environed prison. As I look back at it now, I can only wonder that I should have had the hardihood to attempt it. Not an Indian among the hundreds around but knew well all the paths and windings of the wooded borders of the valley, even supposing that I was fortunate enough to reach it, but that was improbable. Among so many it was likely there would be several able to outstrip me in speed, a fast runner as I deemed myself; and if overtaken, I could expect nothing but more cruel treatment than I had yet experienced. Besides, although I did not know it at the time, the valley had but two entrances and these were constantly guarded by a watchful picket. But at the time I thought of none of these things—"drowning men will catch at straws," says the old adage—and my hastily formed plan seemed to me to promise success. Having formed my resolution I was necessitated to put it in practice at once. The Indians were already impatient for another victim, and the signal being given I started on my race for life at the top of my speed. At first I 
ran directly for the living lane, where my enemies waited with poised clubs each eager to strike the first blow, but as I neared it I made a sudden break to the right, and gathering all my energies for one mighty effort, I broke through a group of old men and idlers who were watching the sport. Despite their efforts to intercept me I cleared them in an instant, and ran down the valley with the whole yelling mob at my heels. Some half dozen of my pursuers being swifter of foot forged ahead of their comrades, but they did not seem to gain upon me, and for a time it seemed that I would distance them entirely; but I had overestimated my strength, and to my alarm found myself growing weak, and running heavily and with painful effort.

I had now, however, nearly reached the timber, and strained every nerve to gain its welcome shadow; looking back, I saw that one of my pursuers was within two hundred yards of me, and gaining rapidly; straining every nerve, I kept up my headlong pace, but when within fifty paces of the woods and with my enemy but little further behind me, I tripped and fell, and had barely time to spring to my feet before he was upon me; he was entirely unarmed, having thrown away his club during the chase. As he rushed upon me, I met him with a blow from my fist, delivered with all the force of which I was capable. Striking him directly under the chin, it knocked him completely off his feet, and he measured his length 
upon the grass. I turned with a spring, and was about to plunge into the thicket, when the dense undergrowth parted directly before me, and I stood face to face with an Indian of gigantic size and most singular appearance. For a moment I was completely paralyzed; not so my new opponent. Realizing the situation at a glance, he sprang upon me, and bore me to the ground with scarcely an effort. Emerging from the lethargy which had enthralled me for a moment, I struggled frantically to free myself, but in vain. Several others had now come up, and my fallen antagonist, who had been stunned for a moment, recovered himself, with his temper not at all improved by the rough handling he had received, and snatching a knife from the belt of one of the new comers, aimed a blow at me which would have ended my life on the instant, and prevented this narrative from being written. My captor seized his arm, and rebuked him so sternly, that he slunk away abashed. I was then allowed to rise to my feet, and my hands being bound, the huge Indian, who seemed to be in authority, and of whom the others evidently stood in awe consigned me to the custody of two warriors, and dismissing the rest with a wave of his hand, again disappeared in the thicket.

Led between my two guards, I was soon taken back to the village, followed by an excited crowd of Indians, who showed a disposition to handle me pretty roughly, but their unwelcome attentions were 
prevented by my conductors who pushed rapidly through the crowd, and soon reached the lodge in which I had previously been confined. I was soon reinstalled in my gloomy prison, and after tying me in the usual manner, my attendants left me to solitude and misery.

Bitterly disappointed by the failure of my daring scheme at the very moment when it seemed to promise success, my thoughts were the reverse of pleasant; and when my mind reverted to the fate of my wife, I suffered such mental agony, as I pray that you, kind reader, may never know.

Another night passed, and remembering the words of the old trapper, I awoke filled with the conviction that it was to be my last day on earth. The usual scanty meal was supplied to me, and about an hour later I was again brought forth upon the plain. I was soon among my companions in misfortune, and like them securely tied to stakes; but allowed to sit upright, as if the red demons wished us to fully observe the preparations now going forward.

Over 100 First-Hand Accounts of Torture and Terror on the Ohio

57 gruesome stories of Indian capture and torture

Cases of Murder Among the Ottawa and Chippewa Indians

     It may be said, this is not true; it is a mistake. We have known several cases of murders among the Ottawas and Chippewas. I admit it to be true, that there have been cases of murders among the Ottawas and Chippewas since the white people knew them. But these cases of murders occurred sometime after they came in contact with the white races in their country; but I am speaking now of the primitive condition of Indians, particularly of the Ottawas and Chippewas, and I believe most of those cases of murders were brought on through the bad influence of white men, by introducing into the tribes this great destroyer of mankind, soul and body, intoxicating liquors! Yet, during sixty years of my existence among the Ottawas and Chippewas, I have never witnessed one case of the murder of this kind, but I heard there were a few cases in other parts of the country, when in their fury from the influence of intoxicating liquors.

57 gruesome stories of Indian capture and torture

Robbed by Indians in Early DeKalb County, Indiana

"At that time there was a large Indian Village where Denmark now is, 
And some traders came among them with whiskey, and made them drunk, so 
they came to rob us. We had worked hard all day, until nearly sundown, 
when we went to the house to eat supper. The Indians came yelling and 
soon filled the house. They then drew their knives, bows and arrows, and 
tomahawks, stuck their hands into our supper pot, and our supper was gone 
in a trice. Samuel Houlton drew a large poker, and was about to strike 
when Avery exclaimed, 'Don't strike, Sam, or they will kill us all !" Hughes 
also told him not strike, but let them take what they wanted, and he would go 
to the Indian agent at Fort Wayne and make them pay for it. They then acted 
as true lords of the soil. 

"They poured out their whiskey into their camp kettles, knocked in the 
head of a flour barrel, and also of a pork barrel, and in fifteen minutes flour, 
pork and whiskey were gone. They crossed the creek about twelve rods off, 
and camped for the night, While they were making their fires and drinking 
the whiskey, we rolled out our last barrel of flour and hid it in a brush heap. 
We had also about thirty pounds of pork up in the chamber, they did not 
get, and that was all that saved us from starvation. The two hundred Indians 
fought and screamed all night. A better sample of the infernal regions never 
could be gotten up in this world. 

"As soon as we had secured our barrel of flour, we next resolved that 
when they had generally got drunk, we would alight on them with a vengeance, 
and kill the last one nf them. So we loaded our four guns with slugs and then 
 got two tomahawks and two hand-axes, and waited until they would become 
more drunk. In this, however, we were disappointed. They did not seem 
to get more intoxicated. After drinking twenty gallons of whiskey, eating 
two hundred and thirty pounds of pork, and using up two hundred and fifty 
pounds of flour, with several bushels of potatoes, they started off about eight 
in the morning, well satisfied with what they had done. 

"We made application to the Indian agent at Fort Wayne, but never got 
any compensation for the articles taken. Every time I think of Indian 
tragedy, I feel thankful that we were prevented from imbruing our hands in 
their life blood. It was the traders, with their whiskey, that made all this trouble. 

57 gruesome stories of Indian capture and torture

General Washington Retaliates Against the Hostile Indians in New York

Under these incentives many savage cruelties were enacted, sometimes by the Indians alone and sometimes by British troops accompanied by Indians. The little village of Springfield at the head of Otsego Lake was destroyed in the spring of 1778, by Brant and his warriors. In July, 1778, the terrible massacres at Wyoming* on the Susquehanna were perpetrated. The whole country was aroused, and the result was the sending of the Sullivan expedition, in order to exact due vengeance for the numberless barbarities which had been committed on the frontiers. This expedition was planned by General Washington who insisted on the adequate punishment of the hostile Indians, who for so many years had acted as the willing agents of the British in harrying and raiding the New York settlements. The forces of the expedition were to consist of two parts;—one under the command of General Sullivan, which was to ascend the Susquehanna; the other under the command of General James Clinton (the father of De\Vitt Clinton) which was to be gathered in the Mohawk valley, to ascend the river in boats to Canajoharie, drag the 210 boats across the portage of twenty miles to the head of Otsego Lake, launch them there and traverse the lake to the outlet of the Susquehanna, thence to descend the river and join the first division at the junction of the Chemung and Susquehanna. The task of this second division was most diflicult, but was performed with promptness and entire success. One difliculty General Clinton surmounted in a most original and effective manner. It was in August, 1779, that he and his expedition arrived at the outlet of the lake. The drought had so lessened the flow into the river that it was too low to float the boats which had been brought thither with such labor. Clinton had a dam erected across the outlet by which the flow was interrupted. In a few days the water of the lake was raised to the necessary height. The boats had been in the mean time moored in the stream below the lake. Then when everything was ready the dam was removed, and the boats were carried down on the crest of the swollen stream, until they arrived August 22 at the designated place of rendezvous. The westward campaign at once began, under the command of General Sullivan. A considerable battle was fought at Newtown the site of the present city of Elmira. It is called the battle of the Chemung. A combined force of Indians under Brant and of British troops under Colonel John Butler, opposed Sullivan’s army. But the British and Indians were swept away and the march westward continued. The Indian towns which were found were everywhere deserted, and as a revenge for the long series of depredations upon white settlements, these towns and the crops about them were destroyed. The beautiful country* of the Cayugas and Senecas was the blossom of the highest Indian civilization. The Indians everywhere fled as Sullivan’s expedition advanced. A slight and ineffective stand was made before Sullivan entered the beautiful valley of the Genesee. Everything was devastated and destroyed. The ripening crops on which the Indians depended for their winter’s supply were burnt. “ The town of Genesee contained one hundred and twenty-eight houses, mostly large and very elegant. It was beautifully situated, almost encircled with a clear flat extending a number of miles; over which extensive fields of corn were waving, together with every kind of vegetable that could be conceived.”This town with all its accumulated supplies was utterly destroyed, besides forty other Indian towns and villages. One hundred and sixty thousand bushels of corn were burned or cast into the river. Fruit trees were cut down and fields of growing vegetables were utterly devastated. On the 16th of September Sullivan re-crossed the Genesee river and commenced his return. It had been intended that he should advance on Fort Niagara and reduce this principal stronghold  But perhaps fearing that his force had been too much reduced to undertake such a task, he did not venture upon the advance. He had accomplished the immediate object of his campaign. He had administered a stern and unsparing punishment upon the Indians for their barbarities committed upon the white settlements.   Perhaps such cruelties are justifiable under such circumstances; but modern rules of warfare would not justify the destruction of peaceful towns and villages, without absolute evidence that they belonged to the guilty authors of the depredations.

                                          57 gruesome stories of Indian capture and torture

Being Captured by Native Americans

It was their custom to carry off the women and children. If the children were hindered the march of their mothers, or if they cried and endangered or annoyed their captors, they were tomahawked, or their brains were dashed out against the trees. But if they were well grown, and strong enough to keep up with the rest, they were hurried sometimes hundreds of miles into the wilderness. There the fate of all prisoners was decided in solemn council of the tribe. If any men had been taken, especially such as had made a hard fight for their freedom and had given proof of their courage, they were commonly tortured to death by fire in celebration of the victory won over them; though it sometimes happened that young men who had caught the fancy or affection of the Indians were adopted by the fathers of sons lately lost in battle. The older women became the slaves and drudges of the squaws and the boys and girls were parted from their mothers and scattered among the savage families. The boys grew up hunters and trappers, like the Indian boys, and the girls grew up like the Indian girls, and did the hard work which the warriors always left to the women. The captives became as fond of their wild, free life as the savages themselves, and they found wives and husbands among the youths and maidens of their tribe. If they were given up to their own people, as might happen in the brief intervals of peace, they pined for the wilderness, which called to their homesick hearts, and sometimes they stole back to it. They seem rarely to have been held for ransom, as the captives of the Indians of the Western plains were in our time. It was a tie of real love that bound them and their savage friends together, and it was sometimes stronger than the tie of blood. But this made their fate all the crueler to their kindred; for whether they lived or whether they died, they were lost to the fathers and mothers, and brothers and sisters whom they had been torn from; and it was little consolation to these that they had found human mercy and tenderness in the breasts of savages who in all else were like ravening beasts. It was rather an agony added to what they had already suffered to know that somewhere in the trackless forests to the westward there was growing up a child who must forget them. The time came when something must be done to end all this and to put a stop to the Indian attacks on the frontiers of Pennsylvania and Virginia. The jealous colonies united with the jealous mother country, and a little army of British regulars and American recruits was sent into Ohio under the lead of Colonel Henry Bouquet to force the savages to give up their captives.

57 gruesome stories of Indian capture and torture

Ottawa Indians Cede Land to the Chippewa For a Rare Case of Murder

The murders in cold blood among the Ottawa and Chippewa nations of Indians in their primitive state were exceedingly few, at least there was only one account in our old tradition where a murder had been committed, a young Ottawa having stabbed a young Chippewa while in dispute over their nets when they were fishing for herrings on the Straits of Mackinac. This nearly caused a terrible bloody war between the two powerful tribes of Indians (as they were numerous then) so closely related. The tradition says they had council after council upon this subject, and many speeches were delivered on both sides. The Chippewas proposed war to settle the question of murder, while the Ottawas proposed compromise and restitution for the murder. Finally the Ottawas succeeded in settling the difficulty by ceding part of their country to the Chippewa nation, which is now known and distinguished as the Grand Traverse Region. A strip of land which I believe to have extended from a point near Sleeping Bear, down to the eastern shore of the Grand Traverse Bay, some thirty or forty miles wide, thence between two parallel lines running southeasterly until they strike the head waters of Muskegon River, which empties into Lake Michigan not very far below Grand Haven. They were also allowed access to all the rivers and streams in the Lower Peninsula of Michigan, to trap the beavers, minks, otters and muskrats. The Indians used their furs in former times for garments and blankets. This is the reason that to this day the Odjebwes (Chippewas) are found in that section of the country.

57 gruesome tales of Indian capture and torture

1642 Mohawk Indians Torture a French Jesuit Catholic Priest

1642 Mohawk Indians Torture a French Jesuit Catholic Priest

   A party of about 70 Mohawks set out in July on a foray, and from both sides of the St. Lawrence attack a party of Huron Indians accompanied by French priests from Canada, among them Father Isaac Jogues, who were going in twelve canoes to their country near the big lake (Huron) and the Mohawks take 22 of them prisoners. The occurrences, of a most horrible nature, transpiring then, and the tortures to which they were subjected on their travel to the Mohawk river, when Father Jogues was beaten senseless for displaying sympathy for a prisoner being tortured, (as described in a letter written at Rensselaerswyck, on Aug. 5, 1643, by Father Jogues himself) being as follows: "Scarcely had I begun to breathe, when some others, attacking me, tore out, by biting, almost all my fingernails, and crunched my two forefingers with their teeth, giving me intense pain.  No trial, however, came harder upon me than to see them, five or six days afterward, approach us jaded with the march, and in cold blood, with minds nowise excited by passion, pluck out our hair and beard, and drive their nails, which are always very sharp, deep into parts most tender and sensitive to the slightest impression." The day of the ambushed attack, Aug. 4. Father Jogues, describes in his letter the cruelties perpetrated by the victorious Mohawks, states: "On the eighth day we fell in with a band of two hundred Indians going out to fight (on an island in Lake Champlain); and as it is the custom for savages, when out on war-parties, to initiate themselves, as it were, by cruelty, under the belief that their success will be the greater as they shall have been the more cruel, they thus received us: First rendering thanks to the sun, which they imagine presides over war, they congratulated their countrymen by a joyful volley of musketry. Each then cut some stout clubs in the neighboring wood in order to receive us. After we had landed from the canoes, they fell upon us from both sides with their clubs in such fury, that I, who was the last and therefore the most exposed to their blows, sank overcome by their numbers and severity before I had accomplished half the rocky way that led to the hill on which a stage had been erected for us. I thought I should quickly die there; and therefore, partly because I could not, partly because I cared not, I did not rise. How long they spent their fury upon me He knows for whose love and sake it is delightful and glorious thus to suffer. Moved at last by a cruel mercy, and wishing to carry me to their country alive, they ceased to strike. And thus half dead and covered with blood, they bore me to the scaffold. Here I had scarce begun to breathe, when they ordered me to come down to load me with scoffs and insults, and countless blows upon my head and shoulders, and indeed my whole body. I should be tedious were I to attempt to tell all that the French prisoners suffered. They burnt one of my fingers, and crushed another with their teeth; the others already thus mangled they so wrenched by the tattered nerves that even now, though healed, they are frightfully deformed."

Revenge of the Burning at the Stake and Murder of Colonel Crawford

History of Ashland County, Ohio 1909
"Another legend claims that friends and relatives of Colonel Crawford swore uncompromising revenge against every Indian who helped handle the fagots that tortured him and that they carried this oath out to the letter. That they were with Harmer, St. Clair and Wayne marking these Indians and shooting them at every opportunity and even made a hunt on the banks of the San dusky for this bloody purpose. It is said the last one was shot in Holmes county in time of peace. Here is the Story : "An Indian once came to a tavern in Killbuck, where under the influence of liquor he boasted that he was present at the burning of Colonel Crawford and said that after the Big White Chief had fallen that he and several other Indians jumped on him and cut his heart out and he had eaten a piece of the raw heart, and, smacking his lips, said it tasted good. Billy Crawford heard this boast and when the Indian left he followed him. Billy afterward admitted that he had killed him near Holmesville and buried the body and gun in a pile of stone. Years afterward the body was found, but such was the sympathy of the people for those who suffered from Indian outrages that nothing was ever thought about it.

      "Society in those days had been worked up to a fearful spirit of revenge. Men had suffered under Indian outrages until their natures became fierce and drove out that high sense of human love taught by the Savior, and they went forth, guns in their hands, to hunt and shoot Indians as though they were wolves or bears."

                                         57 gruesome stories of Indian capture and torture

A Hundred Stories of Frontier Terror