I ought possibly to state that at the request of Hillory Butler, a dear friend and pioneer, who was present and participated in the fight, I wrote his biography, from which the following is taken. Further to understand the situation, it ought to be remembered that the side-hill fronting the bay from the east line of Second Street (now Avenue) eastward was a dense copse of fern and brush, logs and tree tops, as well as standing timber to the top of the ridge and beyond, affording an excellent cover, or ambuscade for the Indians.
"In the fall of 1855 the Indian tribes east of the mountains became hostile. A small force under Major Haller was sent into the Yakima country to reduce the hostiles to subjection. This force was defeated and driven back to The Dalles. This but aggravated the discontent of the Indians and well-nigh precipitated a general uprising. A feeling of dread and insecurity among the settlers was everywhere present. As precautionary measures, block-houses were built and stockades constructed, in many cases none too soon. A block-house was built in Seattle near where the Boyd building now stands. Hostile emisseries were known to be at work among the Puget Sound tribes. Some of the tribes were known to be wavering in their allegiance to the whites and many individuals of all these tribes had joined the ranks of the hostiles. The people of Seattle, however, felt quite secure for the 'Decatur,' a thirty-gun United States war-ship, under the command of Capt. Gansworth, lay at anchor in the harbor. Her crew consisted of 150 men. There was aboard of her also a company of marines, under the immediate command of Lieut. Morris. Notwithstanding all this, the evidence of an impending attack, became from day to day more convincing to those who calmly studied the situation, and had an accurate knowledge of the Indian character. They were, however, the few; the large majority were unbelievers, and the block-house was tenantless. On the morning of the 7th day of February, 1856, friendly Indians brought the dire intelligence that the town was entirely surrounded with a force of from five to eight hundred hostile Indians, under the command of Leschi, and other hostile chiefs. Even then, no other attention was paid to this startling information than the sending word to the commander of the 'Decatur.' He, however, immediately acted on the information and sent Lieut. Morris, with the company of marines and one of the ship's guns, to the shore. They landed on the point a short distance south of where the New England Hotel now stands. It was about seven o'clock in the morning. Not an Indian was to be seen. All work had ceased. Silence reigned supreme. Men, women and children quietly went to the block-house, or stood in the door-way, or beside their cabins, watching the movement of the soldiers. Lieut. Morris loaded his cannon with a shell and directed aim to be taken at an abandoned cabin, situate on the point a short distance beyond where the gas works now are. The aim was accurate. The shell struck the cabin, exploded, and demolished it. That shot of defiance was immediately answered by the Indians, by a volley from, three to five hundred rifles. Then followed a general stampede of men, women and children for the block-house or the friendly protection of the shore bank—and had it not been for the fact, that the rifles in the hands of the Indians had been generally emptied by the first volley, many of the inhabitants would have fallen on their way to the sheltering bank or block-house. The Indians were here, and skepticism was at an end. The smoke from the rifles indicated clearly that the front line held by the Indians extended along where Third Street or Avenue now is until Marion Street was past, where it curved towards the bay. It was a complete semi-circle, and every part of the then town was within easy rifle range, from said line.
"The 'Decatur' opened with solid shot and shells—alternating with canister and grape. All day long the roar of the Decatur's cannon continued. The ground beyond Third Street was torn up by exploding shells—huge logs and trees were splintered by solid shot—and seemingly every space covered by showers of grape and canister, but still Leschi's warriors held their lines. They kept up a desultory firing all day and continued the same until about midnight, when they withdrew as noiselessly as they came. Three whites were killed during the day—Young Holgate was struck by a bullet between the eyes, while he was standing in the block-house door, and was instantly killed. The others were killed in the attempt to go, or return from their cabins. Every house was struck by Indian bullets. Strange to say, no one was hit by the first general volley fired by the Indians. How many Indians, if any were killed or wounded, during the fight, has never been known.
"When the first gun was fired Mr. Butler and his wife were just sitting down to breakfast. They both jumped from the table and went to the door. The bullets from the answering volley struck all around them. Mrs. Butler hastened to the block-house and safely reached it. Butler gathered up a few valuables and followed in a short time. He, however, sought the friendly protection of logs and stumps, for the Indian rifles were now reloaded and the closeness of the whizzing bullets indicated that the Indians were watching his stealthy flight. He returned to his house in the same manner during the day for some portable valuables. While there, he went up stairs, but the bullets were rattling around in a manner a little too spiteful and plentiful, and he did not stay long. Those of the men who had rifles, took positions behind some protecting log or friendly stump, and fired at the spot where the puff of a rifle indicated an Indian warrior concealed. Whether these shots were effective or not, is unknown—they often caused a cessation of firing from that ambuscade. As full of terror as were the events of that February day, the duration of its effect on the minds of the pioneer settlers of the embryo city was but brief. It was but a thrilling passage in the unwritten history of pioneer life. After the roar of the Decatur's cannon and the sharp crack of the rifle had ceased, all returned to cabins and homes, and soundly slept and sweetly dreamed of the good time coming. Such is pioneer life, and such the mental conditions, and characters it begets. Still we cannot disguise the fact that had it not been for the presence of the war-ship Decatur, with her complement of guns and fighting men, the town would have been plundered and burned, and its inhabitants would have perished in a terrible massacre.
"During that fated morning Chief Seattle with many of his tribe lay under the cover of the friendly shore-banks, silent and stolid spectators of the raging battle. During a lull in the firing, he, to the astonishment of all, leaped upon the bank and with arms flying, and voice roaring defiance, commenced a bending, bounding and contortion war-dance of the most intensified order. The hostiles quickly got the range, but as soon as the bullets commenced to sing around him in dangerous proximity, Seattle's feet flashed in air as he made a headlong plunge down the bank. Seattle's war-dance was over, and he attempted no repetition of the performance on that gloomy day. Many who witnessed this strange performance supposed that the old chieftain had received a mortal shot, but he had escaped without a scratch.
"The Indians, in giving an account afterwards, of the firing from the ship, said that they were not afraid of the solid shot and grape and canister, but the guns that 'poohed' (or shot) twice were a mystery and terror to them. This was their description of the firing and explosion of shells.
"This was in harmony with the idea of the Indians on the plains in their first intercourse with the immigrants. The first immigrants' trains had with them mountain howitzers mounted on strong gun carriages. The Indians spoke of the Bostons as a tribe of men who could shoot their wagons at them.
"A kindred idea was entertained by the Mexicans, of the Spaniards when Cortez first invaded Mexico. The Mexican had no written, but a pictorial language. The Spaniard on his horse was pictured as one animal with two heads, four legs and two arms. This was the description which the correspondents of those days first sent to the Halls of Montezuma for the inspection of an affrighted monarch.
"We have already stated that during the battle a large number of shells fell upon the benches between Third Street and the bluff beyond. Most of them exploded when they struck the ground, or a log, or a tree. Some of them, however, did not, but buried themselves in the earth or under the roots of huge trees, retaining all their latent forces. It is said that our friend Dextor Horton on one of his tours of inspection of the improvements going on in his loved city one chilly day, passed by the lots on which Mr. Colman's fine residence now stands. Noticing a crater of fire burning in the center of a mammoth cedar stump, he drew near to it to enjoy the genial heat. As is always characteristic of man, he turned his back to the fire, parted his coat tails, and was comfortable. As the day, although cold, was clear and the bright waters of the Sound were before him—the dark forests beyond and still beyond, the Olympic Range with its ragged ridges then snow-crowned—as he was drinking in this scene of beauty and grandeur, lo! a terrific explosion occurred. Impelled by the impetus of the explosion he made a quick start and very fast time, for a short distance. Convinced, however, that the shooting was over, he stopped and turned to see what had happened. The stump was gone, the fire extinguished, and he left with the mournful remark, that he had no idea the durn stump was loaded."