Occupations of the victims immediately before the massacre.—Description of the mission buildings.—The Doctor called into the kitchen to be murdered.—Joe Lewis, the leader in the massacre.—The scene outside.—The Doctor’s house plundered.—Mrs. Whitman shot.—Brutalities to the dead and dying.—Escape of some and murder of others.—Safety of the French Papists and the servants of the Hudson’s Bay Company.—Fate of Joe Lewis.

Joseph Stanfield had brought in the ox from the plains, and it had been shot by Francis Sager. Messrs. Kimball, Canfield, and Hoffman were dressing it between the two houses; Mr. Sanders was in the school, which he had just called in for the afternoon; Mr. Marsh was grinding at the mill; Mr. Gillan was on his tailor’s bench in the large adobe house, a short distance from the doctor’s; Mr. Hall was at work laying a floor to a room adjoining the Doctor’s house; Mr. Rogers was in the garden; Mr. Osborn and family were in the Indian room adjoining the Doctor’s sitting-room; young Mr. Sales was lying sick in the family of Mr. Canfield, who was living in the blacksmith shop; young Mr. Bewley was sick in the Doctor’s house; John Sager was sitting in the kitchen but partially recovered from the measles; the Doctor and Mrs. Whitman, with their three sick children, and Mrs. Osborn and her sick child, were in the dining or sitting room.

The mission buildings occupied a triangular space of ground fronting the north in a straight line, about four hundred feet in length. The Doctor’s house, standing on the west end, and fronting west, was 18 × 62 feet, adobe walls; library and bedroom on south end; dining and sitting room in the middle, 18 × 24; Indian room on north end, 18 × 26; kitchen on the east side of the house, 18 × 26, fireplace in the middle, and bedroom in rear; schoolroom joining on the east of the kitchen, 18 × 30; blacksmith shop, 150 feet east; the house called the mansion on the east end of the angle, 32 × 40 feet, one and a half stories; the mill, made of wood, standing upon the old site, about four hundred feet from either house. The east and south space of ground was protected by the mill-pond and Wallawalla Creek—north front by a ditch that discharged the waste water from the mill, and served to irrigate the farm in front of the Doctor’s house, which overlooked the whole. To the north and east is a high knoll, less than one-fourth of a mile distant; and directly to the north, three-fourths of a mile distant, is Mill Creek. In a military or defensive question, the premises could be easily protected from small-arms or cavalry.

While the Doctor was sitting with his family as above stated, several Indians, who had come into the kitchen, came to the door leading to the dining-room, and requested him to come into the kitchen. He did so, taking his bible in his hand, in which he was reading, and shut the door after him. Edward Sager sat down by his side and asked for medicine. Tilokaikt commenced a conversation with him, when Tamsaky, an Indian, called the Murderer, and the one that told the bishop at Wallawalla he would give him the Doctor’s station, came behind him, and, drawing a pipe tomahawk from under his blanket, struck the Doctor on the back of his head. The first blow stunned him and his head fell upon his breast, but the second blow followed instantly upon the top of his head, and brought him senseless but not lifeless to the floor.

John Sager, rising up, attempted to draw a pistol; the Indians before him rushed to the door by which they had entered, crying out, “He will shoot us;” but those behind seized his arms and threw him upon the floor; at the same time he received shots from several short Hudson’s Bay muskets, which had been concealed under their blankets. He was cut and gashed terribly with knives, his throat was cut, and a woolen tippet stuffed into it,—still he lingered. In the struggle, two Indians were wounded, one in the foot, the other in the hand, by each other.

Mrs. Whitman, as soon as the tumult commenced, overhearing and judging the cause, began in agony to stamp upon the floor and wring her hands, crying out, “Oh, the Indians! the Indians! That Joe (referring to Joe Lewis) has done it all!” Mrs. Osborn stepped into the Indian room with her child, and in a short time Mr. Osborn and family were secreted under the floor.

Without coming into the other rooms, the Indians left the kitchen, to aid in the dreadful destruction without. At this moment Mrs. Hays ran in from the mansion-house, and, with her assistance, Mrs. Whitman drew her dying husband into the dining-room, and placed his mangled, bleeding head upon a pillow, and did all her frightful situation would allow to stay the blood and revive him, but to no purpose. The dreadful work was done. To every question that was put to him, he would simply reply, “No,” in a low whisper. After receiving the first blow, he was probably insensible.

About this time, Mr. Kimball ran into the room through the kitchen, and rushed up-stairs with a broken arm hanging by his side. He was immediately followed by Mr. Rogers, who, in addition to a wounded arm, was tomahawked in the side of the head and covered with blood. He assisted Mrs. Whitman in making fast all the doors, and in removing the sick children up-stairs.

Joe Lewis, a Roman Catholic Indian, is asserted, by those who have traced his course, to have come from Canada with the party of priests and French that crossed the plains in 1847, and by whom it is affirmed the measles were brought into the immigrant trains that year. The priests’ party brought him to Boise, and there left him to find his way to Dr. Whitman’s. He attempted to make arrangements with an immigrant family to come to the Wallamet, but was afterward furnished with a horse and supplies, and traveled with a Cayuse Indian. While at Boise, making his arrangements with the immigrant family, he told them there was going to be a great overturn at Dr. Whitman’s and in the Wallamet. How or what the overturn was to be, the party did not learn, but supposed it might be from immigration or some change in the government of the country. He arrived at Dr. Whitman’s apparently destitute of clothes and shoes. He made himself at home at once, as he could speak English, French, and a little Nez PercÉ. He had been at the station but a few days, before the Doctor and the two Sager boys learned that he was making disturbance among the Indians. The Doctor finding some immigrant families who wanted a teamster, furnished him with shoes and a shirt, and got him to go with them. He was gone three days, and the second night ran away from the man he had agreed to go with, and returned about the station. He spent most of his time in the lodge of Nicholas Finlay, the common resort of Stanfield and the Indians engaged in the scenes we are relating; and was the leader in the whole affair. He was seen several times approaching the windows with a gun, but when Mrs. Whitman would ask, “Joe, what do you want?” he would ran away.

The scene outside, by this time, had attained the summit of its fury. The screams of the fleeing women and children, the groans and struggles of the falling, dying victims, the roar of musketry, the whistling of balls, the blows of the war-club, the smoke of powder, the furious riding of naked, painted Indians, the unearthly yells of infuriated savages, self-maddened, like tigers, by the smell of human blood,—the legitimate fruits of Romish superstitions faithfully implanted in the savage mind.

Mrs. Whitman remained by the side of her husband, who was pale and gasping in death. Two Americans were overpowered and cut down by the crowd under her window, which drew her attention, and gave an opportunity for an Indian, that had always been treated kindly by her, to level his gun. His victim received the ball, through the window, in her right breast, and fell, uttering a single groan. In a few moments she revived, rose and went to the settee, and kneeling in prayer was heard to pray for their adopted children (the Sager family, who had lost father and mother in crossing the plains, now again to be left orphans), and for her aged father and mother in the States, that they might be sustained under this terrible shock (made a thousand-fold more so by the infamous account of it given by Sir James Douglas in his Sandwich Islands letter), which the news of her fate must occasion. Soon after this she was helped into the chamber, where were now collected Mrs. Whitman, Mrs. Hays, Miss Bewley, Catharine Sager, Messrs. Kimball and Rogers, and the three sick children.

They had scarcely gained this temporary retreat, when the crash of windows and doors, and the deafening war-whoop, tore the last hope from their fainting hearts. The rooms below were plundered of their property,—the furniture dashed to pieces and cast out. Joe Lewis was seen to be among the foremost to dash in the windows and bring out the goods. Here a deed was perpetrated similar to that of the refined and Christian Catholic people of Burgos, in Spain, when they murdered and cut up their governor for attempting to obey the law and take an invoice of church property.

The Cayuse Indian Tilokaikt went into the room where the Doctor lay yet breathing, and with his hatchet deliberately chopped his face terribly to pieces, but left him still alive. Some Indian, also, cut the face of John Sager while he was yet alive.

About this time, Joe Lewis went into the schoolroom and sought out the children, who were hid in the upper loft, and brought them into the kitchen to be shot. As Francis passed by his mangled, gasping brother, he stooped and took the woolen tippet from the gash in his throat, when John attempted to speak, but immediately expired. Upon this, Francis turned to his sister and said, “I shall soon follow my brother.” The children were kept in this painful position for some time. Eliza Spalding was among them, and understood every word spoken by the Indians, who, having finished their terrible slaughter without, were filling the room and the doorways, with their guns pointed at the heads and hearts of the children, constantly yelling, “Shall we shoot?” Eliza says her blood became cold, and she could not stand, but leaned over upon the sink, covering her face with her apron, that she might not see them shoot her. From this place they were removed out of the door by the side of the Indian room, just before Mrs. Whitman was brought out to be shot.

Immediately after breaking into the house, the Indians called to Mrs. Whitman and Mr. Rogers to come down, and on receiving no answer, Tamsaky (the Indian who was the most anxious to have the bishop and his priests take the Doctor’s place), started to go up-stairs, but discovering the end of an old gun (placed there by Miss Bewley), he desisted, and entered into conversation with those above. He urged them to come down, assuring them that no one should hurt them. Mrs. Whitman told him she was shot, and had not strength to come down, besides she feared they would kill her. Tamsaky expressed much sorrow on learning that Mrs. Whitman was wounded, and promised that no one should be hurt if they would come down. Mrs. Whitman replied, “If you are my friend, come up and see me.” He objected, and said there were Americans hid in the chamber with arms to kill him. Mr. Rogers, standing at the head of the stairs, assured him there were none, and very soon he went up and remained some time, apparently sympathizing with the sufferers, assuring them that he was sorry for what had taken place, and urged Mrs. Whitman to come down and be taken over to the other house where the families were, intimating that the young men might destroy the house in the night. About this time the cry was heard from Joe Lewis, “We will now burn.”

Mrs. Whitman was assisted down by Mr. Rogers and Mrs. Hays; on reaching the lower room, becoming faint, she was laid upon a settee, and taken through the kitchen over the dead body of young Sager, and through a crowd of Indians. As the settee passed out of the door, the word was given by the chief not to shoot the children. At this moment Mr. Rogers discovered their treachery, and had only time to drop the settee, raise his hands and exclaim, “O my God!” when a volley of guns was fired from within and without the house, part at Mrs. Whitman and part at himself. He fell upon his face, pierced with many balls.

An Indian seized Francis Sager from among the children, and Joe Lewis drew his pistol, and with the expression, “You bad boy,” shot him. All manner of Indian brutality and insult were offered to the mangled bodies while they lay groaning and dying, till night closed upon the scene, and the Indians retired to Finlay’s and Tilokaikt’s lodges to consult as to further outrage upon the still living and helpless victims.

The Canadian-Indian, Joe Lewis, was as active in abusing the helpless girls as he had been in selecting the children of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s servants to be protected and sent away from such as were to be abused and slaughtered.

Mr. Kimball, the three sick children, and Catharine Sager remained in the chamber all night. Mr. Osborn lay under the floor of the Indian room till the Indians retired. He then made his escape to the fort at Wallawalla, with his family. The three men at the beef found themselves surrounded, and in the midst of a volley of balls from pistols and guns pointed at them. All three were wounded, but neither fell. They fled as best they could: Mr. Kimball to the house; Mr. Canfield to the blacksmith shop, and thence to the mansion, where he hid himself, and remained till night; then fled and reached Lapwai before Mr. Spalding did. Mr. Hall wrenched a gun, which had missed fire, from an Indian’s hand, and ran for the bushes; reached the fort next morning; was put across the Columbia River by Mr. McBean’s order; and was lost,—starved to death, or murdered by the Indians, we know not which. Mr. Gillan was shot upon his bench. Mr. Marsh was shot at the mill; ran a short distance toward the Doctor’s house and fell. Mr. Saunders, hearing the guns, rushed to the door of the schoolroom, where he was seized by several Indians, who threw him upon the ground amid a shower of balls and tomahawks. Being a strong and active man, he rose, though wounded, and ran some rods, but was overtaken, surrounded, and cut down. Mr. Hoffman was cut down, after fighting desperately with a knife, his body cut open, and his heart and liver torn out.

In the midst of all this fury and savage shedding of blood, no children or servants of the Hudson’s Bay Company, or Roman Catholics, or such as professed friendship for that faith, were harmed in the least. Finlay, a half-breed of the company’s, who had formerly kept its horses, was stopping close to the station, assisting and counseling with the Indians; Joe Lewis selected the two Manson boys and a half-breed Spanish boy the Doctor had raised, and arranged to send them to the fort. Whoever this Indian was, or wherever he was from, he seems to have understood and acted fully and faithfully his part in the “great overturn” that he said, while at Boise, was to take place at that station and in the lower country. How he came to know there was to be any change or overturn is yet a secret only to be guessed at. Mr. McBean says he returned to Boise and Fort Hall; and Mr. McDonald, that he killed the guide to a company of United States troops in the mountains, and was himself shot.