Brown County, Minnesota - Chapter 5: The Indian Massacre of 1862, 1916 (part 3 of 3)

of 1862. Since 1868 the fort has not been occupied and the buildings have been allowed to go to utter decay. It was closely connected with the Indian wars of Minnesota and Dakota. All that remains of any interest now is the cemetery, in which are situated two monuments - one to the honor of Captain Marsh and the brave men of his command; the other dedicated to Mrs. Dr. Eliza Mueller, who devoted herself to the care of the wounded at the time of the Sioux outbreak. A railroad was once projected from the south, known as the Ft. Dodge & Ft. Ridgely, which was to pass through this section, but a survey turned its course to that of the present Minneapolis & St. Louis.

[By Charles S. Brant, jiJithor of the well-known work entitled "History of the Minnesota Valley," from which is taken the following, perhaps the most authentic account of this siege.]

Foiled on the attack of New Ulm by the timely arrival of reinforcements under Colonel Flandrau, the Indians turned their attention toward Ft. Ridgely, eighteen miles northwest. On Wednesday, at about one o'clock in the afternoon, August 20, the attack commenced. It was not unexpected, however, as some authors put it, for the garrison had pickets out for several days and at no time within ten days could Indians have "surprised" the soldiers there.

The fort is situated on the edge of the prairie about a half mile from the Minnesota river, a timbered bottom intervening and a wooded ravine running up out of the bottom around two sides of the fort within about twenty rods

Siege Of The Fort

The first knowledge the garrison had of the presence of the foe was given by a volley from the ravine which drove in the pickets. The men were instantly formed by order of Lieutenant Sheehan in line of battle on the parade ground inside the works. Two men, Mark M. Grear, of Company C, and William Goode, of Company B, fell at the first fire of the concealed foe after the line of battle was formed - the former was instantly killed, the latter badly wounded, both being shot in the head. Robert Baker, a citizen who had escaped from the massacre at the Lower Agency, was shot through the head and instantly killed while standing at a window in the barracks at about the same time. The men soon broke for shelter and from behind boxes, from windows, from the shelter of the buildings and from every spot where concealment was possible, watched their opportunities, wasted no ammunition, but poured their shot with deadly effect upon the wily and savage foe, whenever he suffered himself to be seen.

The forces in the fort at this time were the remnant of Company B, Fifth Regiment, Lieutenant Culver, fifty-one men ; about fifty men of Company C, same regiment, Lieutenant Sheehan ; the Renville Rangers, Lieutenant Gorman, numbering fifty men - all under command of Lieutenant Sheehan. There were also about twenty-five armed citizens.

Sergt. John Jones, of the regular army, a brave and skilful man, was stationed at this fort as post sergeant, in charge of the ordnance, and took immediate command of the artillery, of which there were in the fort six pieces. Three only, however, were used - two six-pounder howitzers and one twenty-four pounder field-piece. A sufficient number of men had been detailed to work these guns and at the instant of the first alarm, were promptly at their post. One of the guns was placed in charge of a citizen named J. C. Whipple, an old artillerist, who had seen service in the Mexican War and in the United States navy, and had made his escape from the massacre at the Lower Agency; and one in charge of Sergeant McGrew, of Company C. The other in charge of Sergeant Jones in person. In this assault there were probably not less than five hundred warriors led by their renowned chief, Little Crow.

So sudden had been the outbreak and so weak was the garrison that there had been no time to construct any defense work whatever, or to remove or destroy the wooden structures and hay stacks in which the enemy could take position and shelter. The magazines were situated some twenty rods outside the main works on the open prairie. Men were at once detailed to take the ammunition into the fort Theirs was the post of danger - but they passed through the leaden storm unscathed.

In the rear of the barracks was a ravine up which the St. Peter road passed. The enemy had possession of this ravine and road, while others were posted in the buildings at the windows and in sheltered portions in the sheds in the rear of the office quarters. Here they fought from three o'clock until dark, the artillery all the while shelling the ravine at short range and the rifles and muskets of the men dropping the yelling demons like autumn leaves. In the meantime the Indians had got into some of the old outbuildings and had crawled up behind the hay stacks from which they poured a heavy volley into the fort. A few well-directed shells from the howitzers set them on fire and when night rolled over the scene the lurid light of the burning buildings shot up with a frightful glare and served the purpose of revealing to the weary sentinel the lurking foe should he again appear.

The Indians retired with the closing day and were soon in large numbers on their ponies, making their way rapidly toward the agency. The great danger feared by all was that under cover of darkness the savages might creep up to the buildings and with fire-arrows ignite the dry roofs of the wooden structures. But about midnight the heavens opened and the earth was deluged with rain, effectually preventing the consummation of such a design, if it was intended. As the first great drops fell upon the upturned faces, there was a glad shout of "Rain, rain, thank God." Stout-hearted, strong-armed men breathed free again ; and the weary, frightened women and children slept once more in comparative safety.

In this engagement there were two men killed and nine wounded and the government mules were stampeded by the Indians. Jack Frazir, an old resident of the Indian country, volunteered as bearer of dispatches to Governor Ramsey, and availing himself of the darkness and the furious storm, made his way safely out of the fort and reached St. Peter, where he met Colonel Sibley and his command on their way to the relief of the fort.

Rain continued to fall until nearly night Thursday when it ceased and the stars looked down upon the weary, but still wakeful and vigilant watchers in Ft. Ridgely. On that night a large quantity of oats in sacks, stored in the granary, near the stables, and a quantity of cord-wood piled near the fort, were disposed about the works in such a manner as to afford protection for the men in case of another attack. The roof of the commissary building was covered with earth, as a protection against fire-arrows. The water in the fort had given out, and as there was neither well nor cistern in the works, the garrison were dependent upon a spring, some sixty rods distant in the ravine, for a supply of that indispensable element. The only recourse was now to dig for water, which they did at another, less-exposed point, and by noon had a supply sufficient for two or three days, secured inside the fort.

The Attack Renewed

In the meantime the small arms ammunition having become nearly exhausted in the battle of Wednesday, the balls were removed from some of the spherical case-shots, and a party of men and women made them into cartridges, which were greatly needed. Small parties of the Indians had been seen about the fort, out of range, during Thursday and Friday forenoons, watching the fort to report if reinforcements had reached it.

At about one o'clock in the afternoon Friday, the 22nd, they appeared again in force, their numbers greatly augmented, and commenced a furious and most determined assault. They came apparently from the Lower Agency, passing down the Minnesota bottoms, and around into the ravine surrounding the fort. As they passed by the beautiful residence of R. H. Randall, post sutler, they applied the torch and it was soon wrapped in flames. On came the painted savages yelling like demons let loose from the bottomless pit ; but the brave men in that sore-pressed garrison, knowing full well that to be taken alive was certain death to themselves and all within the fort, each man was promptly at his post.

The main attack was directed against that side of the works next to the river, the buildings here being frame structures, and the most vulnerable part of the fort. This side was covered by the stables, granary and one of the old buildings, besides the sutler's store on the west side. Made bold by their augmented numbers and the non-arrival of reinforcements to the garrison, the Indians pressed on, seemingly determined to rush at once into the works, but were met, as they reached the end of the timber and swept round up the ravine, with such a deadly volley of musketry poured upon them from behind barracks and the windows of the quarters, and of grape and canister and shell from the guns of the heroic Jones, Whipple and McGrew, that they beat a hasty retreat to the friendly shelter of the bottom, out of musket range. But the shells continued to scream wildly through the air, and burst around and among them. They soon rallied and took possession of the stable and other outbuildings on the south side of the fort, from which they poured terrific volleys upon the frail side of the wooden buildings, the bullets actually passing through their sides, and through the partitions inside of them. Here Joseph Vanosse, a citizen, was shot through the body by a ball which came through the side of the building. They were soon driven from the buildings by the artillery, which shelled them out, setting the buildings on fire. The scene now became grand and terrific. The flames and smoke of the burning buildings, the wild demoniac yells of the savage besiegers, the roaring of cannon, the screaming of the shells as they hurled through the air, the sharp crack of the rifle, and the unceasing rattle of musketry, presented an exhibition never to be forgotten by those who witnessed it.

The Indians retired hastily from the burning buildings, the men in the fort sending a shower of bullets among them as they disappeared over the bluffs toward the bottoms. With wild yells they now circled round into the ravine, and from the tall grass, lying on their faces, and from the shelter of the timber, continued the battle till night, their leader, Little Crow, vainly ordering them to charge on the guns. They formed once for that purpose, about sundown, but a shell and round of canister sent into their midst closed the contest, when, with an unearthly yell of rage and disappointment, they left. These shots, as was afterward learned, killed and wounded seventeen of their number. Jones continued to shell the ravine and timber round the fort until after dark when the firing ceased, and then, as had been done on the night before, since the investment of the fort, the men all went to their several posts to wait and watch for the coming of the wily foe. The night waned slowly ; but they must not sleep ; their foe is sleepless, and that wide area of dry shingled roof must be closely scanned, and the approaches be vigilantly guarded, by which he may, under cover of darkness, creep upon them unawares.

Morning broke at last, the sun rose up in a clear, cloudless sky, but the foe came not. The day passed away, and no attack; the night again, then another day; and yet other days and nights of weary, sleepless watching but neither friend or foe approached the fort until about daylight on

Wednesday morning, the 27th, when the cry was heard from the lookout on the roof, "There are horsemen coming on the St. Peter road across the ravine." Are they friends or foes, was the question on the tongues of all. By their cautious movements they were evidently reconnoitering and it was yet too dark for those in the fort to be able to tell at that distance friend from foe. But as daylight advanced, one hundred and fifty mounted men were seen dashing through the ravine; and amid the wild hurrahs of the assembled garrison, Col. Samuel McPhail at the head of two companies of citizen cavalry, rode into the fort. In command of a company of these men were Anson Northrup, from Minneapolis, an old frontiersman, and R. H, Chittendon, of the First Wisconsin Cavalry. This force had ridden all night, having left St. Peter, forty-five miles distant, at six o'clock the night before. From them the garrison learned that heavy reinforcements were on their way to their relief under Col. (later brigadier-general) H. H. Sibley. The worn out and exhausted garrison could now sleep with a feeling of security. The number of killed and wounded of the enemy is not known but must have been considerable, as at the close of the battle they were seen carrying away their dead and wounded. Our own fallen heroes were buried on the edge of the prairie near the fort and the injuries of the wounded men were carefully attended to by the skilful and excellent post surgeon, Dr. Alfred Mueller.

Tribute To Mrs. Eliza Mueller

to one whose name will ever be mentioned by them with love and respect. The hospitals of Sebastopol had their Florence Nightingale and over every blood-stained field of the South in our own struggle for national life, hovered the angels of mercy, cheering and soothing the sick and wounded, smoothing the pillows and closing the eyes of our fallen braves. And when in after years the brave men who fell sorely wounded in the battles of Ft. Ridgely, Birch Coulie and Wood Lake, fighting against the savage hordes who overran the borders of our beautiful state in August and September, 1862, carrying the flaming torch, the gleaming tomahawk and bloody scalping knife to hundreds of peaceful homes, shall tell their children and children's children the story of the "dark and bloody ground,' ' of Minnesota and shall exhibit to them the scars those wounds have left, they will tell with moistened cheek and swelling hearts of the noble, womanly deeds of Mrs. Eliza Mueller, the " Florence Nightingale' * of Ft. Ridgely.

Sergeant John Jones

We feel that the truth of history will not be fully vindicated should we fail to bestow upon a brave and gallant officer that need of praise so justly due him. The only officer of experience left in the fort by the death of its brave commandant was Sergeant John Jones, of the regular army artillery; and it is but just to that gallant officer that we should say but for his cool courage and discretion, Ft. Ridgely would in the first day's battle have become a funeral pyre for all within its walls. And it gives us more than ordinary pleasure to record the fact that the services he

[O. G. Wall, who was then in his teens, and who participated in the expeditions against the Indians as a member of Captain Marsh's company, and saw service with General Sibley in 1863, kept a daily diary of all passing events of importance during all those trying days on the frontier. Twenty years later, having entirely forgotten that upon leaving for the far West to engage in business he gave his mother his diary, while back home on a visit his mother handed him the book and he utilized those previous entries in the publication known as " Recollections of the Sioux Massacre/ ' From this work are taken several extracts.]

At about ten o'clock in the forenoon, August 18, 1862, came like lightning flash from a clear sky, the startling news of the horrible massacre begun three hours previously at the Redwood Agency. Down from the northwest, nearing the fort, was seen the approach of people in great haste. The attention of the garrison was generally attracted to the unusual spectacle, but without once suspecting the cause of it. J. C. Dickinson was in advance and was the first to enter the fort. He had scarcely told in a few words of the uprising when a team immediately followed him and entered under lash with a load of refugees, among them a wounded man, who had made his escape after being wounded at the Lower Agency. That savage wrath had burst like a flame was at first inconceivable, but the testimony that the scalping-knife had flashed from its sheath to follow the deadly work of the gun was all too evident to be questioned. The soldiers gathered around the refugees, whose tales were told in a shocking manner and in dramatic detail. Captain Marsh, commander of Ft. Ridgely, did not deliberate, but ordered the assembling of the company at once. Charles M. Culver, the drummer-boy, for the first time sounded with meaning emphasis the long-roll. Thrilled with the story of the massacre and the clamor of the drum, men were quickly in line to receive orders. With a haste that seemed imperative a detail of forty-six men was made at once to proceed to the scene of carnage, under the belief that the situation was yet controllable, and in any event demanded the presence of soldiery at the Lower Agency. It was simply a matter of moments between the receipt of the news and the departure of Captain Marsh and his detail for the scene of the bloody work thirteen miles away.

At the command ' 6 Forward/ J the men moved out with elastic step, the very embodiment of splendid soldiery. Teams were hastily hitched up, and carrying light supplies of ammunition and provisions, followed and soon overtook the command. Captain Marsh and Interpreter Quinn were on mule-back, and the men now climbed into the wagons that the better time might be made in reaching the agency.

Captain Marsh Plans To Restore Order

to the ferry one destined to end in the greatest disaster. This was neither reassuring nor comforting to the remnant of the company left in the fort, and was rendered less so because the convictions expressed were those of men of keen discernment, who were well informed on the deplorable situation. In fact, these fugitives, when meeting Captain Marsh, cautioned him of his danger, and advised him if he would not turn back, at least not to enter the valley of the Minnesota river, which he must do three miles from the Lower Agency if he persisted in reaching the ferry.

Before Captain Marsh had covered half the distance to the agency his command had witnessed buildings aflame and corpses by the wayside to warn him of the danger that threatened him, and the whole frontier as well. There was no time to deliberate. To march into the jaws of death, as seemed imminent, might make the fall of Ft. Ridgely a certainty, and thus expose the frontier settlement to annihilation. On the other hand, if a brave and almost superhuman effort could yet stay the savage hand dripping with blood, incalculable loss of life could be prevented. Captain Marsh knew his men. He had no doubt of their splendid courage. The fleeing refugees warned them that to enter the valley was almost certain death, but all this was met with a stoical determination to do faithfully and bravely the duty pointed out to them by their commander, who believed the great good possible to be accomplished was worth the hazard the undertaking involved.

While this march was being made on the quiet summer day, hearts were beating anxiously at the fort. As the men passed out to the northwestward in the forenoon, they watched for a mile or so, and disappeared, with a "bon voyage/ 9 below the intervening prairie ridge, entering, as it proved, on the threshold of eternity. Refugees came in in increasing numbers, and pointed to the distant columns of smoke as those of burning homes. Some of these people were wounded and all were fatigued and terror-stricken.

There were none so dull as not to realize that the situation was profoundly critical. Marsh and his little detail were well within the environment of the savages. That they would stay the bloody hand, or even extricate themselves from their perilous predicament, became hourly more doubtful. There was no reserve force to go to their assistance. The fort itself and all in it must fall if vigorously attacked. This was self-evident.

When within six miles of the agency Captain Marsh, seeing evidences of danger on every hand, ordered his men to abandon the wagons and resume their former order of march. The pace of the men was quickened, and believing the Lower Agency the center of the disturbance, and that once their cool, wise heads could be conferred with and a stop put to the hellish work, the command hurried with a zeal worthy of a better fate than awaited the brave detachment. Reaching the top of Faribault hill, three miles from the agency, a view of the Minnesota valley presented itself. Sickening scenes had been witnessed by the wayside, and there was little else than desolation to be seen from the hilltop. Only men of the rarest courage and of the most perfect discipline would have entered that valley of death in the face of all that was known.

Ambush Planned By The Indians

At the fort the horrible condition of the Lower Agency had now been fully detailed, striking terror to every heart and sealing the doom of Marsh and his men. Among the refugees who arrived in the afternoon from the agency was Rev. J. D. Hinman, an Episcopal missionary, stationed at Redwood. He had started between six and seven o'clock that morning from the agency to make a trip to Faribault, when unusual signs for that hour in the day among the Indians attracted his attention. The Indians were almost naked, and carried their guns. Their numbers increased, and the peole began to wonder at their unusual appearance, which some interpreted to mean that a raid was to be made on some Chippewa band known to have invaded the neighborhood. The Indians squatted on the steps of various buildings, their demeanor betraying no sign of hostility.

Now a signal gun broke the silence in the upper part of town. Even this was doubted to be a sign of hostility until other shooting up the street and hasty fleeing of the people toward the bluffs overlooking the river became alarming. White Dog ran past Mr. Hinman at this juncture, and to an inquiring word replied that "awful work had been started.' ' He was no doubt himself taken by surprise, though later in the day his cunning and his treachery played an important part in the betrayal of Marsh. Little Crow also passed Hinman about this time, but with a scowl declined to answer an inquiry of the missionary, though they knew each other well, and the chief now sullen, had always been polite and friendly. The firing had now become a f usilade, and the people were being shot down on every hand. The traders were the first objects of hatred to fall, riddled with bullets. As the bloody work progressed the savages grew wild and furious, their hideous yells, the crash of their guns, work of the torch, the shrieks of their helpless victims, begging vainly for mercy, creating a scene horrifying in the extreme. Reverend Hinman fled before the spreading tide of death and had reached the river, fortunately found a skiff with which he hastily crossed, making good his escape to Ft. Ridgely.

Private James Dunn and William B. Hutchinson were the first to arrive at the fort with the story of the frightful disaster at the ferry, they having been dispatched by Sergt. John F. Bishop, who was in command of the only known remnant of Company B to escape the merciless slaughter at the ferry. The little party were carrying a badly wounded comrade, while Bishop himself was wounded. Their progress being thus impeded, Bishop dispatched Dunn and Hutchinson to apprise the garrison of the disaster, himself and party reaching the fort at ten o'clock at night.

The Struggle At The Ferry

Captain Marsh's slender detachment descended the Minnesota valley at Faribault hill at about mid-day and marched across the bottom for three miles over a road not unfavorable to a treacherous foe, grass of a rank growth affording them shelter on either hand. When within a mile or so of the ferry (as Privates Dunn and Hutchinson relate the story), the captain halted his men for a moment's needed rest. Resu min g his march the men were moved in open order by single file to minimize the danger from ex-

Along the river, at the ferry, were clumps of willows and other brush, together with a rank growth of weeds and grass, with here and there a sandbar deposited by the river in flood-time. Knowing the stealthy nature of the Sioux, and that war had been inaugurated, the surroundings were such as any American soldier, willing to meet his foe in the open, would feel ill at ease in.

On the high bluff just across the river was the Redwood agency, the objective point of Captain Marsh, and where he had hoped to meet prominent Sioux chiefs, and through their co-operation restore order. He apparently could not realize that the agency had been blotted out, and that every soul that had made up its white citizenship lay prostrate where he fell, shot to death and mutilated beyond recognition. The slope leading from the river to the brow of the agency hill was studded with a thick growth of brushy timber. The disembowled body of the ferryman had already been found, with the ferry boat on the north side of the river, ready for the soldiers to enter upon, as the Indians had no doubt carefully planned, divining that Marsh would seek to cross to the agency side.

Indians there were in plenty concealed, but kept very quiet. A few warriors on horseback revealed themselves indifferently on the prairie south of the agency, and at a considerable distance from the ferry, their evident purpose being to attract attention from the forces masked in the region of the ferry. Near the ferry landing on the opposite side of the river from the agency, was a lone

Indian, chosen for a conspicuous part in the tragedy to be enacted when the plans of the cunning Indians were matured. This was recognized to be no less personage than White Dog, who himself was clearly taken by surprise by the outbreak, as his demeanor to Reverend Hinman revealed in the early morning. White Dog was a prominent Indian at the agency, having been president of the Indian Farmers Organization, and his selection as a man likely to inspire confidence in Captain Marsh was neither spontaneous nor accidental. Through interpreter Quinn, Captain Marsh addressed White Dog, who in reply, suavely invited Marsh across the river, assuring him that the Indians did not wish to fight the soldiers, and that if Marsh would cross to the agency a council would be called to meet and confer with him. Two soldiers who went to the river's brink to obtain water as this conversation was being carried on, discovered in concealment on the opposite side, near White Dog, many Indians. However, Captain Marsh ordered his men forward from the ferry house to the ferry landing, purposing to cross, his men halting at a front along the river. Sergeant Bishop having stepped to the water's edge for a drink as the ferry ropes were being adjusted, saw evidences in the roily condition of the water that Indians were crossing up-stream with a view of a rear attack. This conviction expressed to Captain Marsh, was intuitively grasped by White Dog, who knew the moment was critical, and now doubted that Marsh would enter the ferry. He therefore fired the signal gun, as was his part in the tragedy, to which Quinn, the white-haired interpreter, sensing its meaning instantly, in his last breath cried, "Look out!" A deadly volley came from the am- buscade on the opposite side of the river, killing many a brave soldier who had no opportunity to defend himself. Quinn was among those to fall at the first volley, riddled with no less than a dozen bullets. The volley was high and mainly passed over the soldiers' heads. Marsh and Quinn stood nearly side by side when the volley was fired, but the Captain was unscathed, and instantly ordered his men to fall back to the ferry house. Now came the awful realization of Bishop's prediction, for with deafening yells there rose from ambush in the rear, and within short range, a legion of naked frantic devils who poured a merciless volley into the already staggered ranks of Marsh. The effect was deadly. Now the men fought for their lives, and to extricate themselves from their perilous predicament. The losses were already so great that to attempt a stand would be simply to blindly challenge fate. As stated by Chaska in 1863, when referring to this bloody incident, White Dog gave the death-signal prematurely, for which he was bitterly assailed by Little Crow and other prominent leaders in the massacre. The signal was not to have been given until the savage cordon had been so extended as to prevent the escape of a single man of Marsh's command, in event the soldiers could not be gotten upon the ferry and there annihilated.

Death Of Captain Marsh

By this time the Indians had secured possession of the ferry house. The fighting now was of the most desperate character, being hand to hand, or a few paces range. The soldiers made deadly work among the ranks of the savages, who were no match for the trained infantrymen in open combat; but realizing they could not withstand the already overwhelming and constantly increasing numbers, Marsh gave the order to gain at all hazards the thicket along the river, of which the savages had not yet secured possession. This was accomplished under a furious fire, fifteen out of the original number, after fighting like demons, reaching the sheltering copse. To reach the fort over an unknown country, pathless, and beset with a desperate enemy, was the only hope of the brave commander and his shattered forces. The thicket was raked with guns of the savages, but the men were now fighting from cover with a deliberateness of aim that kept the enemy well at bay. Covering their retreat carefully, the men fought their way down through the brush until they apparently must soon expose themselves to Indians seen out on the fort road, who were believed to be moving eastward to intercept the retreating detachment. Captain Marsh believed that safety lay alone in crossing to the south bank of the river, and led in an effort to accomplish this end. This was about four o'clock p. m. At this point the Minnesota river was fifty or more yards across. Lifting his sword and revolver above his head the Captain waded successfully two-thirds of the way across. Getting beyond his depth he could no longer retain his weapons of defense, and dropping them, attempted to swim. In this he was unsuccessful, and called to his men for assistance. Brennan, Dunn and Van Buren, all men of heroic mould, hastened to the rescue of their commander, but he was doomed by the treacherous waters and though seized by the strong arm of Brennan as he was sinking the second time and brought to the surface, and although the Captain grasped the shoulder of the athletic hero daring all to save him, the hold of the officer and that of the soldier were broken in the struggle, and Captain Marsh disappeared beneath the merciless waters to rise no more.

Now the command devolved upon Sergt. John F. Bishops, than whom there was no better or braver soldier. Beset with calamity, dogged with disaster and wounded besides, with one of his men, Private Svendson, so seriouslywounded that he must be carried by his comrades, Bishop was put to test summoning all his tact, courage and endurance. He at once decided to keep the north side of the river and not attempt its crossing as had Marsh. This decided the fate of the little company now left. There were only fourteen, men and Sergeant Bishop. The Indians, believing they had crossed the river, also crossed and lay in ambush for them. While the mistaken Sioux were lying there awaiting the soldiers made their escape under cover of hills to a safer place. Night came on and Ft. Ridgely several miles in the distance, and in fact they half believed that the Indians had destroyed the post. But Bishop sent Privates Dunn and Hutchinson, as before related, on into the fort, and twelve hours from the time the company under Marsh had left the garrison what there were left of them arrived at the garrison.

Experience Of Sutherland

Early on the morning of August 20, William A. Sutherland and William Blodgett arrived at the fort, after experiences and endurances almost unbelievable. These men were shot down in the engagement at the ferry. Their escape, their sufferings and their heroic struggle for life can scarcely be matched in history. Sutherland was shot in the breast, the ball passing through the right lung and out near the point of the shoulder blade, at his back.

The wound rendered him unconscious for a time, and while in this condition the Indians took from him his gun, cartridge-belt and box, his cap, coat and shoes, leaving him destitute of clothing, save his shirt and trousers. The mystery is that he was not scalped, but his escape was no doubt due to a distracted state among the savages, who were rent with dissension over the personal effects of their victims. Sutherland fell near the river, where he lay for several hours. Returning to consciousness, he found himself crazed with pain and thirst. Lifting his head cautiously, he looked about him, half stupefied, yet curious to learn whether his comrades, who were in action when he fell, had been annihilated. While the savages had completed their hellish work, they were still in the vicinity, and he heard their voices near, and the firing of guns far and near warned him of the havoc being wrought upon the settlement. He determined to crawl to the river to slake his thrist, even though to do so should cost him his life. He tested his strength in an effort to turn over, having fallen on his face when shot. He found he could move his body, and down through the high grass and weeds he dragged himself to the water's edge, leaving a trail stained with blood to betray him should an Indian cross his path. He was much refreshed with copious draughts of water and crawled back into the weeds, where he meditated and wondered if escape was possible for him. He reasoned that no attempt to escape should be made until nightfall. Thirst compelled him to make several trips to the river. Near his drinking place was a skiff lodged against the river's bank, and partly filled with water. The waterlogged boat suggested a possible means of escape and he resolved that if not discovered and slain before dark he would make a superhuman effort to save his life. At about ten o'clock at night, after all the savages had joined in the hideous orgies of the scalp-dance on the agency side of the river, he felt that now if ever he must carry out his resolution. He crept cautiously to the water's edge, removed as much water from the boat as possible with his hands while the craft lay on its edge, then pushed it into the stream, and got in. There was no seat in the boat, no oars or paddles, and nothing with which to bail out the water of which there was considerable at the outset. He sat down in this in the bottom of the boat, hatless and without clothing to protect his shattered body from the penetrating chill of night, with no nourishment of any kind. Thus he began his silent journey, dependent wholly upon his boat and the current of the sluggish river. As he drifted silently away under the southwestern hills, the hideous din of the scalp-dance, conducted but a matter of rods away from where he had lain for hours, became less and less distinct, until croaking frogs or an occasional bittern alone broke the silence of the night. In this help- less plight, this country boy of twenty summers, who had left all the comforts of a happy home, tenanted with loved ones, to enter the army and serve his country, began a voyage under conditions seeming to challenge fate and which fiction, in all its reckless extravagance, would scarce attempt to parallel.

All that night, all the next day, and all the following night, until nearly dawn, this ghostly figure drifted silently along, now backwards, now side-wise and now for an hour or so whirled helplessly in an eddy. The nights were gloomy and solemn, but not more so than the light of day, that revealed the pall of death on every hand. Sutherland was seized with delusions that haunted him against reason, from the outset of his journey. He felt that he was helplessly being carried in the wrong direction - that he should go up stream instead of down, and this fantasy gave him no end of trouble. He was shot on Monday afternoon. He entered his boat Monday night, and there remained until the break of day Wednesday morning. He knew his progress had been very slow, but he felt that if the boat had carried him in the proper direction, he must be in the vicinity of the fort. At all events he found that he must abandon the waterlogged boat, for he had become so stiffened he could scarcely move. Against his better judgment, the bewildering delusion that had been his pursuing nemesis, impelled him to land, by paddling with his hands, on the wrong side of the river, or on the side opposite the fort. Benumbed and weakened, but stimulated with the hope that he would soon reach the garrison, he picked his way through a jungle of underbrush, and out of the valley and up the wooded hills until he reached the open prairie on the highlands. He saw Indian cabins that were strange to him, but no trace of the garrison or of any fa mili ar object. His heart sickened, despair overwhelmed him and he sank to the earth. But his great will power triumphed, and he rose to his feet again.

The sun had now risen to flood the earth with its exhilarating light. Sutherland realized that he must return to the shelter of the river valley, as he was in great danger of being discovered ; and as he turned his face to the northward and west, to his amazing astonishment and joy he beheld Ft. Ridgely in the favoring light of the morning sun, on the hills beyond the river, the colors flying at full mast, assuring him that without doubt the fort had not fallen. He now knew that he abandoned his boat not far above the road crossing the river by the ferry, and leading to the fort. He sent out to reach the river at the ferry crossing, but on his arrival at the stream a new disappointment awaited him. The rope spanning the river had been cut and the ferry was gone. There was but one alternative; he must swim the river or perish in the attempt to do so. He lost no time, but got down into the water, which was soon beyond his depth, compelling him, while suffering excruciating pain in the effort, to exert himself to keep from sinking. By the assistance of the current he landed on the opposite side, where having been carried several rods down stream, he experienced great difficulty in pulling himself up the abrupt and brush-grown river bank. He accomplished all this, however, and walked a mile, most of the way up hill, and reached the fort, a gaunt, bent, bloodstained, half-naked specter, as if risen from the dead to affright his surviving comrades. He arrived in the gar- rison between eight and nine o'clock, Wednesday morning, August 20, and an hour later the Indians came in swarms over the road by which he had barely made his escape. Sutherland recovered and served with his company in the south until the close of the Civil War.

About 1902 the state of Minnesota passed an act by which all defenders at the time of the Indian massacre who were in any way injured or became afflicted by bodily ailment as a result of that war, subsequently, should receive a pension, which was fixed at twelve dollars per month. In many instances this small pension from the state has materially aided those who fought for their homes and families in 1862.