Travels and Adventures of Monsieur Violet

by Frederick Marryat

Early the next morning we were awakened by the warbling of innumerable singing birds, perched among the bushes along the borders of the stream. Pleasing as was the concert, we were obliged to leave it behind and pursue our weary march. Throughout the day we had an excellent road, and when night same, we had travelled about thirty-five miles. The mountains, the summits of which we had perceived the evening before, were now plainly visible, and answered to the descriptions of the Wakoes, as those in the neighbourhood of the narrows of the Red River.

We now considered that we were near the end of our journey. That night we swallowed a very scanty supper, laid down to sleep, and dreamed of beaver tail and buffalo hump and tongues. The next day, at noon, we crossed the bed of a stream, which was evidently a large river during the rainy season. At that time but little water was found in it, and that so salt, it was impossible even for our horses to drink it.

Towards night, we came to the banks of a clear stream, the waters of which were bubbling along, over a bed of golden sand, running nearly north and south, while, at a distance of some six miles, and to our left, was the chain of hills I have previously mentioned; rising above the rest, were three peaks, which really deserved the name of mountains. We crossed the stream and encamped on the other side. Scarcely had we unsaddled our horses, when we perceived coming towards us a large party of savages, whose war paint, with the bleeding scalps hanging to their belts, plainly showed the errand from which they were returning; they encamped on the other side of the stream, within quarter of a mile from us.

That night we passed watching, shivering, and fasting, for we dared not light a fire in the immediate vicinity of our neighbours, whom we could hear singing and rejoicing. The next morning, long before dawn, we stole away quietly and trotted briskly till noon, when we encountered a deep and almost impassable ravine. There we were obliged to halt, and pass the remainder of the day endeavouring to discover a passage. This occupied us till night-fall, and we had nothing to eat but plums and berries. Melancholy were our thoughts when we reflected upon the difficulties we might shortly have to encounter; and gloomy were our forebodings as we wrapt ourselves in our blankets, half starved and oppressed with feelings of uncertainty as to our present position and our future destinies.

The night passed without alarm, but the next morning we were sickened by a horrible scene which was passing about half a mile from us. A party of the same Indians, whom we had seen the evening before, were butchering some of their captives, while several others were busy cooking the flesh, and many were eating it. We were rooted to the spot by a thrill of horror we could not overcome; even our horses seemed to know by instinct that something horrible was acting below, for they snuffed the air, and with their ears pointed straight forward, trembled so as to satisfy us that for the present we could not avail ourselves of their services. Gabriel crept as near as he could to the party, leaving us to await his return in a terrible state of suspense and anxiety. When he rejoined us, it appeared our sight had not deceived us. There were nine more prisoners, who would probably undergo the same fate on the following day; four, he said, were Comanches, the other five, Mexican females,—two young girls and three women.

The savages had undoubtedly made an inroad upon San Miguel or Taos, the two most northern settlements of the Mexicans, not far from the Green Mountains where we were ourselves going. What could we do? We could not fight the cannibals, who were at least one hundred in number, and yet we could not go away and leave men and women of our own colour to a horrible death, and a tomb in the stomach of these savages. The idea could not be borne, so we determined to remain and trust to chance or Providence. After their abominable meal, the savages scattered about the prairie in every direction, but not breaking up their camp, where they left their prisoners, under the charge of twelve of their young warriors.

Many plans did we propose for the rescue of the poor prisoners, but they were all too wild for execution; at last chance favoured us, although we did not entirely succeed in our enterprise. Three or four deer galloped across the prairie, and passed not fifty yards from the camp. A fine buck came in our direction, and two of the Indians who were left in charge started after him. They rushed in among us, and stood motionless with astonishment at finding neighbours they had not reckoned upon. We, however, gave them no time to recover from their surprise, our knives and tomahawks performed quickly and silently the work of death, and little remorse did we feel, after the scene we had witnessed in the morning. We would have killed, if possible, the whole band, as they slept, without any more compunction than we would have destroyed a nest of rattlesnakes.

The deer were followed by a small herd of buffaloes. We had quickly saddled and secured our horses to some shrubs, in case it should be necessary to run for our lives, when we perceived the ten remaining Indians, having first examined and ascertained that their captives were well bound, start on foot in chase of the herd of buffaloes; indeed there was but about twenty horses in the whole band, and they had been ridden away by the others. Three of these Indians we killed without attracting the attention of the rest, and Gabriel, without being discerned, gained the deserted encampment, and severed the thongs which bound the prisoners.

The Mexican women refused to fly; they were afraid of being captured and tortured; they thought they would be spared, and taken to the wigwams of the savages, who, we then learned, belonged to the tribe of the Cayugas. They told us that thirteen Indian prisoners had already been eaten, but no white people. The Comanche prisoners armed themselves with the lances, bows, and arrows left in the camp, and in an hour after the passage of the buffaloes, but two of the twelve Indians were alive; these, giving the war-whoop to recall their party, at last discovered that their comrades had been killed.

At that moment the prairie became animated with buffaloes and hunters; the Cayugas on horseback were coming back, driving another herd before them. No time was to be lost if we wished to save our scalps; we gave one of our knives (so necessary an article in the wilderness) to the Comanches, who expressed what they felt in glowing terms, and we left them to their own cunning and knowledge of the localities, to make their escape. We had not overrated their abilities, for some few days afterwards we met them safe and sound in their own wigwams.