A Survivor's Recollections of the Whitman Massacre

by Matilda Sager

The Osborn family hid under the floor in the Indian room and remained hidden until in the darkness of the night they came out, put a little food together, wrapped a coverlid about Mrs. Osborn and went out into the cold. There were Mr. Osborn and three children in the party. Mrs. Osborn had been confined to the bed and this was the first time she had been out of doors in some days, though that day she had been able to go into Mrs. Whitman's part of the house. They climbed the fence and took the irrigation ditch, as it offered more protection for them, being quite deep with the wild rye grass and buck brush growing thick and tall on the banks; then they got into the main road and went on for some distance, finally hiding for the day; besides Mrs. Osborn was unable to travel further. Their sufferings were terrible, all being thinly clad. At last Mr. Osborn concluded to take the oldest boy and go to the Fort, if possible, leaving his wife and the other children hidden in the bushes. He made his way to Fort Walla Walla, carrying his boy on his back; the boy had nothing with which to cover his head. When Mr. Osborn arrived at the Fort he asked Commander McBaine to take him in and to furnish him horses and food to use in the rescue of his wife and the other children. McBaine refused, saying he "Could not do it."

"I will die at the Fort gates, but I must have help," was Osborn's reply.

In the happy days before these tragic happenings, an artist by the name of Stanley came to the Mission. He had been sent out by the Government for the Smithsonian Institute to take pictures. At the time of the Massacre he was again on his way to visit the Mission. He and his Indian guide intended to go down into the Willamette valley, near Oregon City, to winter. Meeting an Indian woman, she told him everyone was killed at the Mission; he was asked if he was a "Boston man" or a Frenchman and replying that he was a Frenchman, was allowed to proceed unmolested. He reached the Fort in safety and when McBaine refused to let Mr. Osborn have horses, said to the latter, "You can have my horse and what provisions I have," and he also gave him a silk handkerchief to tie on the child's head. Stitkus, an Indian, took his own French chapeau and put it on Mr. Osborn's head. McBaine at last gave an Indian a blanket if he would go with Mr. Osborn and rescue the family; but he instructed him not to bring them to the Fort, but to take them to an Indian village. The mother and children were found with some difficulty, and as they came to the fork in the road on the return, one leading to the Umatilla Indian village where their lives would not have been safe, and the other to the Fort and security, the Indian, disregarding McBaine's explicit directions, refused to take the one to the village and insisted that they proceed to the Fort. The little party did so, and were finally admitted. Their hardships were many, even there; but they remained until such time as we were all ransomed. This is as I remember hearing from sister Catherine as she, later, lived close to the Osborn family in the Willamette valley and she and Mrs. Osborn were together frequently; also from the account sworn to by Mr. Osborn in Gray's History.

Tuesday morning, Miss Bewley made some gruel, hoping to be able to send it over to her sick brother. Chief Tilokaikt came in and she told him of her brother and he was very sympathetic and took a number of us in charge to go over to the Mission house. Some of the party went inside of the fence on the north side, while some took the south side which was the public road. When we were a few yards from the house, we saw Mr. Sander's body lying there; then we heard a cry and saw Catherine and Elizabeth coming, each carrying a sick child in their arms. The women hastened to meet them and helped them to the house, which had sheltered us through the night. Poor Mary Ann Bridger was tottering along by herself. They had to leave Helen Meek alone and we could hear her screaming and begging to be taken also, disregarding Catherine's assurance that she would soon return for her. At last all the sick ones were transferred to the immigrant house, save Mr. Bewley; and Mr. Sales, who was also very ill in the blacksmith shop. Sister Louise died five days after this and Helen Meek a few days after her.

This same morning (Tuesday) we were given muslin to make sheets to wrap the dead in and Wednesday morning Joe Stansfield and the women helped to cover and sew them in these sheets. He had dug a long trench about three feet deep and six feet long; then all the bodies were put in a wagon and hurried to the grave. They were all piled up like dead animals in the wagon bed. A runaway occurred and scattered some of the bodies along the road and they had to be picked up. There was a Catholic father who was visiting the Indians and he went up to the hole where they were burying them and helped. He would take hold of one end of a body and Joe Stansfield hold of the other and they would lay them in this shallow place until all the victims were ranged side by side—Mr. and Mrs. Whitman, then the two Sager boys and Mr. Rogers, and so on, then covered with the earth.

There were two families living about twenty miles away at a sawmill which belonged to Dr. Whitman. Mr. Young had three grown boys and Mr. Smith also had a family, one of whom, Mary Smith, was attending the Mission school. The morning after the massacre the oldest son of the Young family, in entire ignorance of what had occurred, started for the Mission with a load of lumber and to get provisions for the return trip. The Indians killed him two miles from the Mission. His family could not understand why he did not return and became alarmed. They finally sent another son by another road and he arrived without being attacked, but was informed by Joe Stansfield that his brother had been killed by Indians and had been buried where he fell. This young fellow, finding that we were getting out of flour, remained at Waiilatpu as there was no man to run the grist mill. Mr. Bewley and Mr. Sales became better and were able to sit up and get about a bit. One day Mr. Sales was sitting by the stove and an Indian began talking to him, telling him he was getting stronger and would soon be able to work for the Indians; that they were soon to put out all the women and children and they would all have to work all the time. Mr. Sales replied that he was a good worker and would labor constantly for them if they would only spare his life. It was only a day or two after this that the two men were attacked while on their bed, beaten with clubs and whips and finally killed and their bodies thrown out of doors. Most of the women and children started to run out of doors, but an Indian caught and held me until they had finished the terrible deed.

Miss Bewley was sent for by the chief of the Umatillas and in spite of heartrending protests was obliged to accompany the messenger sent for her.

One morning Joe Stansfield saw wolves at the grave and went up there to find that they were digging into it. He heaped more earth over it, but later, after we had left the place and had been redeemed, soldiers going there found that the wolves had succeeded in desecrating the last resting place of our loved ones. Bones were scattered about and on some of the bare bushes were strands of Mrs. Whitman's beautiful, long, golden hair. They collected the bones and again buried them, heaping the earth high and turning a wagon-box over the grave. For fifty years nothing more was done to it.

Mr. Spalding came within two miles of the Mission on Wednesday morning, when he met a Catholic father, his Indian interpreter and another Indian. Sending the two Indians ahead, the priest told Mr. Spalding of the massacre, assuring him that all the women, save Mrs. Whitman, and all the children had been spared; that his daughter was alive and that now was his time to escape, as the Indian who had joined him and his interpreter intended to kill him. The father gave him what food he had and Mr. Spalding turned his horse's head towards the Walla Walla river. He followed down the bank of the Walla Walla, traveling by night and hiding by day. For a time he kept his horse, but Indians passed near his hiding place and he had to rub his mount's nose to keep his from neighing and thus betraying him. The horse got away from him finally and he had to travel afoot in the storm. All the subsistence he had was wild rose-hips. After a week's travel he reached the Clearwater, close to where his family was, though he did not know this fact, believing that they also might have been killed. He proceeded very carefully, thinking the Indians hostile, but knowing that if he could make in safety the lodge of an Indian by the name of Luke, he would be safe. He was tired and worn out with travel. At last he was close enough to the lodge to listen to family worship and assured by the knowledge that they still acknowledged the white man's God, knew it would be safe for him to enter; but so exhausted was he that he fell when just inside the door of the tepee and his cap fell off. At first the Indians thought he was a ghost, but when they saw his bald head, they realized he was still in the flesh and then proceeded to feed and care for him. They told him that his family was at Craig's mountain and later they took him back up there. Mrs. Spalding, when she heard of the massacre, called the head men of the tribe and put herself on their mercy and under their protection. They said they would protect her and suggested that they start at once for Craig's home. She said that this was the Sabbath and they must not travel on that day. The Presbyterian Indians never travel on the Sabbath and the brave little woman, reminding them of their religion, knowing at the same time that it might lessen her chances of escape, induced them to postpone starting until the following day, when they took her to Craig's, where she remained until rescued from the Indians. She sent two Indians, Timothy and Grey Eagle, down to the Mission to ask if her captors would not release Eliza Spalding and let them take her to her mother; but they would not listen and refused to give her up. These two Indians came when Helen Meek was dying from the measles. Timothy went in to see her and fell on his knees by the side of her bed, praying in his own language; when he arose, he pointed upward, indicating that the spirit had flown.

When the news of the massacre was taken to Fort Vancouver, Peter Skeen Ogden, the chief factor, declared he must take goods and go to the rescue of the women and children before the volunteers could go up there; he believed that if the Indians thought the volunteers were to attempt a rescue, that they would kill all their prisoners, for they well knew that they deserved punishment for their dastardly deeds. With no prisoners to hamper them, they could perhaps elude any pursuing band of volunteers. Douglass objected, reminding his superior that he would be obliged to use in barter goods belonging to another government than the United States, without knowing if the latter government would reimburse him for them or not. "If the United States will not pay for them, then I will pay for them out of my own pocket, but those unfortunate captives must be rescued at once," said this great-hearted man. He proceeded to Fort Walla Walla and called a council of chiefs and other Indians and finally after some days of discussion, made this treaty with them. They were to deliver the prisoners to him, for which they would receive goods valued at five hundred dollars from the Hudson Bay people; it was stipulated that Mr. Spalding's family and Miss Bewley should all be brought in. During the time of the parley small bands of Indians were constantly passing the Mission, going to and from the place of treaty-making. One party in passing thought to play a joke on those who were guarding us and shot off their guns, making quite a commotion and causing our captors to think that the "Boston men" were at hand. They began to grab up some of the children to kill them; one caught me up and started to thrust a tomahawk into my brains. Just then the Indians outside began laughing and the brutes, on murder bent, concluded the noise was all a joke and did not hurt any of us.