Mrs. Tannatt often urged this witness of the heartrending tragedy to publish her recollections, and had the pleasure of reading the manuscript for this narrative which she said contained the most comprehensive and truthful description of the Whitman massacre she had seen. She consented to write the Foreword, but before doing so was summoned by her Heavenly Father.
MIRIAM TANNATT MERRIAM.
The house on the left was called the Mansion House, where emigrants wintered.
The house in the center, the Blacksmith Shop. The house in the distance was the mill. The house to the right was the Whitman's home.
[Seven] A SURVIVOR'S RECOLLECTIONS
of the
WHITMAN MASSACRE
by
MATILDA J. SAGER DELANEY
In the spring of 1844 we started to make the journey across the plains with ox teams. I was born in 1839, October 16th, near St. Joseph, Mo., which was a very small town on the extreme frontier, right on the Missouri River, with just a few houses. My father's name was Henry Sager. He moved from Virginia to Ohio, then to Indiana and from there to Missouri. My mother's name was Naomi Carney-Sager. In the month of April, 1844, my father got the Oregon fever and we started West for the Oregon Territory. Our teams were oxen and for the start we went to Independence, the rendezvous where the companies were made up to come across the plains. There were six children then—one was born on the journey, making seven in all.
The men of the company organized in a military manner, having their captain and other officers, for they were going through the Indian country and guards had to be put out for the protection of the travellers and to herd the stock. The immigration of '43 was piloted through by Dr. Whitman and ours was the second immigration across the mountains. The road was only a trail and was all Indian territory at that time, from the Missouri River to the Rocky Mountains. We had to ferry streams, sometimes with canoes fastened together and the wagons put on them; and the Indians rowed us across the rivers in some places. The mountains were steep and sometimes we had to unyoke our cattle and drive them down, letting the wagons down by ropes. The Captain of our company was named William Shaw. There were vast herds of buffalo on the plains and wandering bands of Indians. We had to guard the cattle at night by taking turns. After we started across the plains we traveled slowly; and one day in getting out of the wagon my oldest sister caught her dress and her leg was broken by the wheel running over it. There was no doctor in our company, but there was a German doctor by the name of Dagan in the following company and he and my father fixed up the leg and from that time on the old doctor stayed with us and helped. My father was taken sick with the mountain fever and he finally died and was buried on the banks of the Green River in Wyoming. His last request was that Captain Shaw take charge of us and see us safe through to the Whitman station. He thought that was as far as we could go that winter. Twenty-six days later my mother died. She made the same request of Captain Shaw and called us around her and told my brothers to always stay with us and keep us together—meaning the girls of the family. Dr. Dagan came on and helped to care for us with the boys' help. When my mother died, my injured sister could walk only with the help of a crutch. Mother was wrapped in a blanket and buried by the side of the road. So the Captain and his wife looked after us and the other immigrants showed their concern for the orphans by taking an interest in us. A kind woman, Mrs. Eads, took the tiny baby and the big-hearted travelers shared their last piece of bread with us. We finally arrived at Dr. Whitman's station on the 17th day of October, 1844, seven months from the Missouri River to the Whitman station. It was a long time!
Mrs. Whitman wanted to keep the girls, but she did not care for the boys. Dr. Dagan went on the Willamette valley and left us there. Doctor Whitman finally concluded he would keep the whole seven of us and took us in charge. We lived there three years. I might say something of the home incidents. The first thing Mrs. Whitman did was to cut our hair, wash and scrub us, as we were very much in need of a cleaning up; then she gave us something to eat and the bread seemed very dark to us—it was unbolted flour. Mrs. Eads, who had been caring for my baby sister, five months old, arrived three days later and then Mrs. Whitman took the motherless little one in charge and she grew to be a fine baby. Everything was so different from what we had been used to. The Whitmans were New England people and we were taken into their home and they began the routine of teaching and disciplining us in the old Puritan way of raising and training children—very different to the way of the plains. They hired a teacher and the immigrant families all had the privilege of sending their children to this school during the winter months. We had a church and Sunday school every Sabbath and we had our family worship every morning and evening. We had certain things to do at a certain hour. We never had anything but corn meal mush and milk for our suppers and they were very particular in our being very regular in all our habits of eating and sleeping.
When the spring came all the immigrants left and went on down to the Willamette valley—the families who had wintered at the Mission leaving the Sager children behind with the big-hearted Dr. and Mrs. Whitman. We had our different kinds of work to do. We had to plant all the gardens and raise vegetables for the immigrants who came in for supplies. We got up early in the morning and we each had our piece of garden to weed and tend. We had to wipe the dishes and mop the floors. We had verses of scripture to learn each morning which we had to repeat at the family worship. The seven verses would be our Sunday school lesson. We took turns in giving our passages of Scripture. Everything was done in routine. Sometimes we had to walk in the afternoon. Mrs. Whitman would go with us; we would gather specimens and she would teach us botany. During the summer when the Indians went to the buffalo grounds, we were alone and we looked forward to the coming of the immigrants as one of the great events of our life. Sometimes in the summer we went bathing in the river. We would get the Indian girls to teach us to swim. Once, Missionary and Mrs. Eels came down from Walker's Prairie, having with them a girl by the name of Emma Hobson, and the latter went in bathing with us children; she could not swim and the current swept her down the river. She caught on an overhanging bush and an Indian took her out of the river and put a blanket around her. Mrs. Eels gave the alarm. We always called that "Emma's place." We cut water melons in two and strung them together and would play for hours with those water melon boats, having a great deal of enjoyment. Still, discipline was strict and when we were told to do a thing, no matter what, we went.