Donald McKay and his scouts hurried to the scene, and arrived in time to prevent the annihilation of the entire party. That the soldiers were demoralized at the suddenness of the attack, there is no doubt. It seems to have had an unusual combination of circumstances attending the carnage. That Capt. Thomas should have permitted himself to be surprised by an enemy, for whose destruction he was at that time seeking a location for the batteries, is strange, especially after the warning suggestions of Lieut. Wright, whose long experience on the frontier—of almost a life-time—should have given weight to his views. Strange, too, that every officer should have fallen so early in the attack, and that Donald McKay, with his Warm Springs, should have been thirty minutes behind time, and then, when coming to the rescue, should have been held off by the fire of the soldiers, who
mistook him and his men for Modocs, and compelled them to remain out of range so long that the soldiers were nearly all killed or wounded before Donald was recognized.
Singular that this butchery should have continued three hours in sight of the signal station before reinforcements were ordered to the rescue. Indeed, it is stated on good authority, that soldiers who escaped made their way into camp one or two hours before Col. Green was ordered to go to the scene with his command. Singular, indeed, that fifty-three men were killed or wounded by twenty-four Modocs, on ground where the chances were even for once, and not one of the twenty-four Modocs was wounded.
What is still more unaccountable is, that the Modocs should have become surfeited with the butchery, and desisted from satiety, calling out in plain Boston English,—“All you fellows that aint dead had better go home. We don’t want to kill you all in one day.”
This speech was heard by soldiers who still live, and for the truth of which abundant evidence can be had. We have it on Modoc authority that Scar-face Charley made this speech, and repeated it several times, and that he insisted that the Modocs should desist, because his “heart was sick seeing so much blood, and so many men lying dead.”
Follow the advancing wave of civilization from ocean to ocean, and no parallel can be found living, on printed page, or tradition’s tongue. Seventy-six well-armed men, with equal chances for cover, shot down by a mere handful of red men, until in charity they permitted twenty-three to return to camp!
Can we understand how this was done? It seems incredible, and yet it is true. While we shudder, and in our rage vow vengeance on the perpetrators, we are compelled to admit that there was behind every Modoc gun a man who was far above his white brother in fighting qualities. Much as we are inclined to underrate the red man, we are forced to admit that twenty-four men leaving a stronghold, and going out among rocks that gave even chances against them, was an act of heroism that if performed by white men would have immortalized every name, and inscribed them among the bravest and most successful warriors that this country has produced. Performed by a band of red-handed Indians, it is scarcely worthy of mention. While we do most emphatically condemn all acts of treachery, no matter by whom committed, we are not insensible to emotions of admiration for acts of bravery, no matter by whom performed. In speaking of this battle Gen. Jeff. C. Davis says, “It proved to be one of the most disastrous affairs our army has had to record. Its effects were very visible upon the morale of the command, so much so that I deemed it imprudent to order the aggressive movements it was my desire and intention to make at once upon my arrival, in order to watch the movements of the Indians.”
What, is it so, that with all the slaughter reported from time to time, Captain Jack still has men enough left to cause an army of one thousand to wait for recuperation and reinforcements before again attacking him?
This battle was fought on the 26th of April, ten days after the three days’ battle. Curious that “the
press,” or that portion of it that was so loud in denunciation of the Peace Commissioners, did not find fault, and enter “protest” against the delay. The commission has been “out of the way” since the 11th inst., and three days’ battle has been fought, and one day’s slaughter withstood, and it has not cost much over half a hundred lives, that were required to satisfy the clamor for vengeance, and now why not raise your trumpet notes again, brave editors, and a proportionate howl for vengeance? You are safely seated behind your thrones, where no shot could reach you.