John Tanner - A narrative of the captivity and adventures of John Tanner

Forty-three days I had lain in and near this trading house, and was now in a most miserable condition, having been for some time entirely deprived of the assistance of my daughters, when my former acquaintance and friend, Mr. Bruce, unexpectedly entered my tent late in the evening. He was with Major Long and a party of gentlemen then returning from Lake Winnipeg, who, as Mr. Bruce thought, would be willing and able to afford me some assistance in taking my daughters out of the hands of Mr. M’Gillevray, and perhaps in getting out to Mackinac.

Three times I visited Major Long at his camp at that late hour of the night, though I was scarce able to walk, and each time he told me that his canoes were full, and that he could do nothing for me; but at length becoming a little acquainted with my history, he seemed to take more interest in me, and when he saw the papers I had from Governor Clark and others, he told me I was a fool not to have shown him these before. He had, he said, taken me for one of those worthless white men who remain in the Indian country from indolence, and for the sake of marrying squaws, but now that he understood who I was, he would try to do something for me. He went himself, with several men, and sought in the trading house for my daughters. He had intended to start early the next morning after his arrival, but having been stirring nearly all night in my affairs, he determined to remain over the next day, and make farther exertions for the recovery of my children. All the search we could make for my daughters at and about the trading house resulted in the conviction, that through the agency of Mr. M’Gillevray, and the family of his father-in-law, they had fallen into the hands of Kaw-been-tush-kwaw-naw, a chief of our village at Me-nau-zhe-tau-naung. This being the case, I was compelled to relinquish the hope of bringing them out the present year, and miserably as I was situated, I was anxious to come to my own people, and to my three children at Mackinac, to spend the winter.

I knew the character of Mr. M’Gillevray, and also that the traders of the North West Company generally had less cause to feel friendly towards me than they might have had if I had not concerned myself with Lord Selkirk’s party in the capture of their post at Red River. I knew also that my peculiar situation with respect to the Indians would make it very difficult for me to gain permission to remain at or near either of the houses of the North West, or of the American Fur Company. I had been severely and dangerously wounded by an Indian, and according to their customs, I was bound, or at least expected, to avenge myself on any of the same band that might fall in my way; and should it be known that I was at either of the trading houses, very few Indians would venture to visit it. Taking these things into consideration, I determined to accept the friendly offer of Major Long to bring me to the States, and accordingly took a place in one of his canoes. But after proceeding on our way an hour or two, I became convinced, as did Major Long and the gentlemen with him, that I could not safely undertake so long and difficult a journey in my present situation. Accordingly they put me in charge of some people belonging to the traders, and sent me back to the fort.

I knew that the doors of the North West Company’s house would be closed against me, and accordingly made application to my late employers, the American Fur Company. Young Mr. Davenport, in whose care the house then was, granted a ready compliance with my request, and gave me a room; but as provisions were scarce on that side, I was supplied daily by Dr. M’Laughlin of the North West, who had now taken the place of Mr. M’Gillevray. He sent every day as much as sufficed to feed me and Mr. Davenport, together with his wife.

I had not been long here when Mr. Cote arrived, and took charge of the house in place of Mr. Davenport. Mr. Cote came to my room, and seeing me on the bed, only remarked, “Well, you have been making a war by yourself.” That night he allowed my supper to be brought me, and early next morning turned me out of doors. But he was not content with driving me from the house; he forbade me to remain on the United States side of the boundary, and all my entreaties, together with the interference of Dr. M’Laughlin, could not influence Mr. Cote to change his determination. In this emergency, Dr. M’Laughlin, though he knew that the success of his post in the winter’s trade must be injured by the measure, consented to receive me on the British side where he fed and took care of me. Early in the winter, my wounds had so far healed that I could hunt a little, holding my gun in my left hand. But about new-years, I went out one evening to bring water, slipped and fell on the ice, and not only broke my arm in the old place, but also my collar bone. Dr. M’Laughlin now took the management of my case into his own hands, it having been left entirely to my own treatment before, and I was now confined as long as I had been in the fall.

In the spring, I was again able to hunt. I killed considerable numbers of rabbits, and some other animals, for the skins of which the Doctor paid me in money a very liberal price. As the time aproached for the traders to leave the wintering grounds, he told me the North West had no boats going to Mackinac, but that he would oblige Mr. Cote to carry me out. It was accordingly so arranged, and Mr. Cote promised to take me to Fond Du Lac in his own canoe. But instead of this, he sent me in a boat with some Frenchmen. In the route from Fond Du Lac to the Saut De St. Marie, I was dependent upon Mr. Morrison; but the treatment I received from the boatmen was so rough that I induced them to put me on shore, to walk thirty-five miles to the Saut. Mr. Schoolcraft now wished to engage me as an interpreter, but as I heard that the little property I had left at Mackinac had been seized to pay my children’s board, and as I knew their situation required my presence, I went thither accordingly, and was engaged by Col. Boyd as Indian interpreter, in which situation I continued till summer of 1828, when being dissatisfied with his treatment, I left Mackinac, and proceeded to New-York for the purpose of making arrangements for the publication of my narrative; and upon my return to the north, was employed by Mr. Schoolcraft, Indian agent at the Saut De St. Marie, as his interpreter; to which place I took my family, and have since resided there.

Three of my children are still among the Indians in the north. The two daughters would, as I am informed, gladly join me, if it were in their power to escape. The son is older, and is attached to the life he has so long led as a hunter. I have some hope that I may be able to go and make another effort to bring away my daughters.

Sa-gui-na. The word Sau-ge-nong, appears to mean, “the town of the Saukees.”

Tanner has much of the Indian habit of concealing emotion; but when he related the above to me, the glimmering of his eye, and a convulsive movement of his upper lip, betrayed sufficiently, that he is not without the enduring thirst for revenge which belongs to the people among whom he has spent his life. “As soon,” said he, in connection with this anecdote, “as I landed in Detroit on my return from Red River, and found a man who could speak with me, I said ’where is Kish-kau-ko?’ ’He is in prison.’ ’Where is Manito-o-geezhik, his father?’ ’Dead two months since.’ ’It is well he is dead.’” Intimating that though more than thirty years had elapsed, he intended now to have avenged himself for the injury done him when a boy not eleven years of age. – Ed.

War-gun-uk-ke-zeemeans, as Tanner says, the bent tree; and the pine, which gave name to the place called by the French L’Arbre Croche, was standing when he first visited that village. He spoke with great indignation of the Indian who, through mere wantonness, cut down this remarkable tree.