[633] Helm's narrative of the massacre, Appendix VI; letter of Forsyth to Heald, January 2, 1813, supra, note 632; Forsyth to John Kinzie, September 24, 1812, in Magazine of History, March, 1912, p. 89.
[634] In Wau Bun, p. 187, occurs a moving story of Mrs. Helm's journey from Detroit to Fort George on the Niagara frontier. It represents that Helm rejoined his wife in Detroit, where both were arrested by order of the British commander and sent on horseback in the dead of winter through Canada to Fort George. No official appeared charged with their reception, and on their arrival they were forced to sit waiting outside the gate for more than an hour, without food or shelter, notwithstanding the fact that Mrs. Helm was a delicate woman and the weather was most cold and inclement. When Colonel Sheaffe learned of this brutal inhospitality he expressed his indignation over it, and treated the prisoners kindly until they were exchanged, when they made their way to their friends in New York. Aside from the improbability that Helm, finding himself safe among his own countrymen at St. Louis, would voluntarily go to Detroit to become a prisoner of the British, the truth of Mrs. Kinzie's detailed narration is disproved by the explicit statement of Helm in his narrative of the massacre that after separating from his wife near the fort on the day of the massacre they met again at his father's home in the state of New York, "she having arrived seven days before me after being separated seven months and one week."
The story of Mrs. Simmons and her infant daughter is in some respects the most interesting and heroic of the narratives of the Fort Dearborn captives.[635] Her husband was one of the little band of soldiers who died fighting in defense of the wagons. Among the children in the wagon was his son, David, two years of age, who perished beneath the tomahawk of the young fiend who slaughtered the children collected there. Mrs. Simmons on foot survived the massacre and succeeded in preserving her daughter, Susan, a babe of six months, whom she carried in her arms. Perceiving the delight which the savages derived from tormenting their prisoners, she resolved to suppress any manifestation of anguish. If the family narrative may be credited, her resolution was promptly put to a terrible test. The slain children were collected in a row, among them the gory corpse of her son, and she was led past them in the effort to discover from her bearing whether any of them had belonged to her. She passed through the ordeal without a sign of recognition, and according to the same account, endured the long months of her terrible captivity without once shedding a tear.
[635] For the story of the captivity of Mrs. Simmons the principal source is the family narrative. Heroes and Heroines of the Fort Dearborn Massacre. A Romantic and Tragic History of Corporal John Simmons and His Heroic Wife, by N. Simmons, M.D. The book is of value only for its story of the experiences of Mrs. Simmons and her daughter. The Fort Dearborn muster-roll for May, 1812, shows that Simmons was not a corporal as stated, but only a private. In general the book must be used with great caution.
In the division of the captives Mrs. Simmons fell along with others into the hands of some savages from the vicinity of Green Bay. On the morning after the massacre they crossed the Chicago River and began the homeward march. The weather was warm and the hardship of the journey for Mrs. Simmons, aside from the fatigue of the travel, consisted mainly in being compelled to do the drudgery of her captors, such as gathering fuel and building fires. On the march she walked, carrying her baby the entire distance, two hundred miles or more. The hardships of the march were as nothing in comparison with the reception which awaited its conclusion. Runners were sent in advance to announce the approach of the war party to the members of the tribe in camp, and as it drew near the women and children streamed forth to meet it. They saluted the captives with a fusillade of insults, kicking and otherwise abusing them. Arrived at the village, they were put under close guard until the following day.
In the morning the village was early astir, and preparations were made for subjecting the captives to the ordeal of running the gauntlet. A long double line was formed by the women and children in an open space before the wigwams, and each of the soldiers was compelled to run between the lines, receiving the blows dealt out with sticks and clubs by those composing them. Mrs. Simmons' hope of being spared this ordeal proved vain, and she was led to the head of the line. Wrapping her babe in her blanket, and enfolding it in her arms to shield it, she ran rapidly down the path of torment and reached the goal, bleeding and bruised, but with the infant unharmed.
At this stage of her persecutions the mother encountered an unexpected act of kindness. An elderly squaw led her into her wigwam, washed her wounds, and gave her food and an opportunity to rest. The new-found friend continued her kindly services as long as Mrs. Simmons remained in the same camp with her; and the captive ever afterward spoke of her as her "Indian mother," and regretted her inability to repay the favors received from her.
Meanwhile Robert Dickson was collecting the western tribes to lead them to the scene of war on the Lake Erie frontier. The warriors rendezvoused at Green Bay, from which place the chieftain, Black Hawk, destined to play a prominent role in the Northwest twenty years later, led a party of live hundred southward around Lake Michigan, past the slaughtered garrison of Fort Dearborn, and onward to the frontier.[636] The band to which Mrs. Simmons belonged seems to have participated in this movement of the western tribes. The captive retraced her weary way from Green Bay to Chicago and the bones of her murdered husband, carrying her baby as before. From Chicago her captors led her around the lake to Mackinac; the length of the entire journey was about six hundred miles, and winter closed in before it was completed. Scantily clad, suffering from cold, weariness, and hunger, the mother strove desperately to save her child, and accomplished the almost incredible exploit of carrying it in safety to Mackinac.
[636] Black Hawk, Life, 40-42.
Here she was cheered by the prospect of ransom or exchange; but the sequel proved that her trials were as yet but half surmounted. To accomplish her release she was sent to Detroit. The terrible march was again resumed, this time in the dead of winter. The route led through three hundred miles of wilderness; deep snows with occasional storms impeded the progress; her clothing was in rags, and food was so scarce that she was often constrained to appease her hunger by eating roots, acorns, and nuts, found under the snow. The child, now a year old, had much increased in weight, while the mother's strength was diminishing. But the prospect of release at the end of the journey buoyed up her hopes and she continued to struggle on.