1863-1866.—The Dakota Prisoners Taken to Davenport.—Camp McClellan.—Their Treatment.—Great Mortality.—Education in Prison.—Worship.—Church Matters.—The Camp at Snelling Removed to Crow Creek.—John P. Williamson’s Story.—Many Die.—Scouts’ Camp.—Visits to Them.—Family Threads.—Revising the New Testament.—Educating Our Children.—Removal to Beloit.—Family Matters.—Little Six and Medicine Bottle.—With the Prisoners at Davenport.

The course of the Mississippi forming the eastern line of the State of Iowa is from north to south; but its trend, as it passes the city of Davenport, is to the west; so that what is called “East Davenport” is a mile above the city. At this point, in the beginning of the civil war, barracks had been erected for the accommodation of the forming Iowa regiments, to which was given the name of “Camp McClellan.”

Thither were transported the condemned Sioux who had been kept at Mankato during the winter. On the opening of navigation in the spring of 1863, a steamboat ascended to Mankato, took on the prisoners, and, on reaching Fort Snelling, put off about fifty men who had not been condemned, to unite their fortunes with those in the camp. The men under condemnation were taken down to Davenport, where, at Camp McClellan, they were guarded by soldiers for the next three years.

After a little while, their irons were all taken off, and they enjoyed comparative liberty, being often permitted to go to the town to trade their bows and arrows and other trinkets, and sometimes into the country around to labor, without a guard. They never attempted to make their escape, though at one time it was meditated by some, but so strongly and wisely opposed by the more considerate ones, that the plan was at once abandoned. Generally the soldiers who guarded them treated them kindly. It was remarked that a new company, whether of the regular army or of volunteers, when assigned to this duty, at the first treated the prisoners with a good deal of severity and harshness. But a few weeks sufficed to change their feelings, and they were led to pity, and then to respect, those whom they had regarded as worse than wild beasts.

The camp was not a pleasant place, except in summer. The surroundings were rather beautiful. The oak groves of the hill-side which bordered the river were attractive. And the buildings occupied by the troops were comfortable. But within the stockade, where the prisoners were kept, the houses were of the most temporary kind, through the innumerable crevices of which blew the winter winds and storms. Only a limited amount of wood was furnished them, which, in the cold windy weather, was often consumed by noon. Then the Indians were under the necessity of keeping warm, if they could, in the straw and under their worn blankets.

In these circumstances, many would naturally fall sick go into a decline,—pulmonary consumption, for which their scrofulous bodies had a liking,—and die. The hospital was generally well filled with such cases. The death-rate was very large—more than ten per cent. each year, making about 120 deaths while they were confined at that place. About one hundred men, women, and children, who came afterward into the hands of the military, were added to those who were first brought down. These latter were uncondemned. As some, women had been permitted to come with the prisoners at the first, and now more were added, a good many children were born there. And thus it came to pass that all who were released and returned to their people from this prison numbered only about two hundred and fourscore.

For the first two years of their abode at Davenport, Dr. Williamson had the chief care of the educational and church work among them. During this time I only visited them twice. Once, when a difficulty and misunderstanding had arisen between Dr. Williamson and a General Roberts, who at one time commanded that department, the doctor was obliged to return to his home in St. Peter. On learning the fact, I counselled with General Sibley, who gave me a letter to General Roberts. Before I reached there, however, Roberts had become ashamed of his conduct, as I judged, and so I found it quite easy to restore amicable relations. No such difficulties occurred thereafter.

For the prisoners these were educational years. They were better supplied with books than they could be at Mankato. A new edition of our Dakota hymn-book was gotten out, and in 1865 an edition of the Dakota Bible so far as translated, besides other books. The avails of their work in mussel-shells and bows gave them the means of purchasing paper and books.

With only a few exceptions, all in the prison who were adults professed to be Christians. A few had been baptized by Rev. S. D. Hinman, of the Episcopal church, who visited them once while at Davenport. But while a number were recognized as members of that church, they worshipped all together. Morning and night they had their singing and praying; but especially at night, when they were not likely to be disturbed by any order from the officer in command.

In church matters they naturally fell into classes according to their former clans or villages. In each of these classes one—or more than one—Hoonkayape was ordained. He was the elder and class-leader. This arrangement was made by Dr. Williamson. It was one step toward raising up for them pastors from themselves. On our part it was a felt necessity, for we could not properly watch over and care for these people as they could watch over and care for each other. So the work of education and establishment in the faith of the Gospel was carried on.

Let us now return to follow for a little the fortunes of those in the camp at Fort Snelling. The winter of suspense had worn away, and in the month of April, soon after the Mankato prisoners passed down into Iowa, those at Snelling were placed on a steamboat, and floated down to St. Louis and up the Missouri to Crow Creek, where they were told to make homes. Mr. J. P. Williamson went with them, and remained with them, during those terrible years of suffering and death. Who can tell the story better than he?

“As they look on their native hills for the last time, a dark cloud is crushing their hearts. Down they go to St. Louis, thence up the Missouri to Crow Creek. But this brings little relief, for what of the men; and can the women and children ever live in this parched land, where neither rain nor dew was seen for many weeks?

“The mortality was fearful. The shock, the anxiety, the confinement, the pitiable diet, were naturally followed by sickness. Many died at Fort Snelling. The steamboat trip of over one month, under some circumstances, might have been a benefit to their health, but when 1300 Indians were crowded like slaves on the boiler and hurricane decks of a single boat, and fed on musty hardtack and briny pork, which they had not half a chance to cook, diseases were bred which made fearful havoc during the hot months, and the 1300 souls that were landed at Crow Creek June 1, 1863, decreased to one thousand. For a time a teepee where no one was sick could scarcely be found, and it was a rare day when there was no funeral. So were the hills soon covered with graves. The very memory of Crow Creek became horrible to the Santees, who still hush their voices at the mention of the name.

“Meetings, always an important means of grace, were greatly multiplied. Daily meetings were commenced at Fort Snelling; the steamboat was made a Bethel for daily praise, and the Crow Creek daily prayer-meetings were held each summer under booths, which plan was continued the first summer at Niobrara. Women’s prayer-meetings were commenced at Crow Creek, deaconesses being appointed to have charge of them. The children also had meetings, conducted by themselves. All these means were blessed of the Holy Spirit to the breaking of the Herculean chains of Paganism.”

Soon after reaching Crow Creek, Mr. Williamson called to his assistance Mr. Edward R. Pond and his wife, Mrs. Mary Frances Pond—born Hopkins—both children of the old missionaries, who continued with these people until the year 1870.

For the security of the Minnesota frontier, and to further chastise the Sioux, military expeditions were organized in the spring and summer of 1863. The one that went from Minnesota was in command of Gen. H. H. Sibley. Attached to this expedition was a corps of scouts, forty or fifty of them being Dakota men, who had in some way, and to some extent, showed themselves to be on the side of the white people, at the time of the outbreak. In this expedition I had the position of interpreter.

The families of these Sioux scouts were sent out to the frontier, and maintained by the government, not only during that summer, but for several years. This was known as the “Scouts’ Camp,” and the church among them was called by the same name, until 1869, when several churches were formed out of this one, as they began to scatter and settle down on the new Sisseton Reservation.

In the summer of 1864, I visited their camp at the head of the Red Wood. The next summer I was with them for a short time at the Yellow Medicine. At each of these visits quite a number of additions was made to the roll of church members—infants and grown persons were baptized, marriages were solemnized, and ruling elders were ordained. During these years we had licensed and ordained as an evangelist John B. Renville, who accompanied me on each of the visits mentioned.

Let me now gather up, and weave in, some threads of our home-life. For three years Mary and the children made their home in St. Anthony, now East Minneapolis, in a hired house. Our three boys, at the commencement of this period, being fifteen and thirteen and seven respectively, were at a good age to be profited by the schools of the town. Thomas and Henry soon commenced the rudiments of the Latin in Mr. Butterfield’s school. While, to add to the family finances, Isabella and Martha, in turn, and sometimes both, engaged in teaching.

When a student in Chicago Theological Seminary, Alfred formed the acquaintance of Mary Buel Hatch. Her father had died in her childhood; and her mother had resided a while in Rockford, Ill., educating her daughters, but was now living in Chicago. The attachment then formed resulted in marriage, after Alfred had been located a year at Lockport, Ill., where he was called, immediately on graduating, to be the religious teacher of the Congregational church.

In the month of June, 1863, they took their wedding journey, and visited the improvised home of the family in St. Anthony, whence they returned and made their own home at Lockport for four years. This first daughter introduced into the family has charmed us all by her active, sunshiny Christian life.

Returning from the military campaign in the fall of 1863, when there seemed to be no special call for my services with the Indians, I addressed myself for the next six months to a revision and completion of the New Testament in the Dakota language. It was a winter of very hard and confining work, and right glad was I when the spring came, and I could find some recreation in the garden.

The next autumn I went to New York and spent three months in the Bible House, reading the proof of our new Dakota Bible, and having some other printing done. To the New Testament above mentioned, Dr. Williamson had added a revised Genesis and Proverbs. It was at this time the Bible Society commenced making electrotype plates of the Dakota Scriptures.

Mary’s health, always tenacious but never vigorous, had received a severe shock by the outbreak and what followed. But she did not at once succumb. Her will-power was very strong, which often proved sufficient to keep her up when some others would have placed themselves in the hands of a physician. But the house she lived in became more frail and worn in the summer and autumn of 1864, and she was obliged to take some special steps toward upbuilding. For some weeks at the close of the year, when I was absent, she was prevailed upon to try a residence at a water-cure, but without any permanent benefit.

As yet, the Dakota work, while it had given each one of us plenty to do, did not assume anything like a permanent shape. Things were still in a chaotic state. What would be the outcome, no one could tell in the year 1865. There was a time when I seriously asked the question, “What shall I do? Shall I seek some other work, or still wait to see what the months will bring forth?” I had even made it a subject of correspondence with Secretary Treat, whether I might not turn my attention partly to preaching to white people, and do a kind of half-and-half work. That plan was at once discouraged by Mr. Treat; and then Mr. G. H. Pond came to my relief, giving it as his decided conviction that I should hold on to the Dakota work. So that question was settled.

But where this work would be located did not then appear. There did not seem to be any great reason why we should remain in St. Anthony. The immediate family business was the education of our children. In the autumn previous, I had taken Thomas to Beloit, where, after making up some studies, he had entered the freshman class. Could we not better accomplish this part of our God-given trust by removing thither, and for a while making that our home? By so doing, I might be farther away from any permanent place of work among the Dakotas. On the other hand, I would be nearer the prisoners at Davenport, and could relieve Dr. Williamson for the winter, which was desired. In this state of doubt, it often seemed that it would have been so comforting and satisfying if we could have heard the Lord’s voice saying, “This is the way, walk ye in it.” But no such voice came. However, as Mary recruited in the summer, and it seemed quite probable she would be able to remove, our judgment trended to Beloit, and I made arrangements for a family home by the purchase of a small cottage and garden, which have been a comfort to us in all these years.

And so, in the month of September, we came to the southern line of Wisconsin. Anna had just completed the course at Rockford Female Seminary, and was ready to do duty in our new home. Martha accepted a call to teach at Mankato. Isabella accompanied us to Beloit, having under consideration the question of going to China with Rev. Mark W. Williams. This decision was not fully reached until the meeting of the American Board in Chicago, in the fall of 1865. One day she and I walked down Washington street together, and talked over the subject, and she gave in her answer.

In the early days of that year, two of the leaders in the outbreak of 1862 were captured from beyond the British line, and, after a trial by a military commission, were condemned to be hanged. These men were commonly known as Little Six and Medicine Bottle. While in Chicago at the meeting of the Board, I received a note from Colonel McLaren, commanding at Fort Snelling, asking me to attend these men before their execution. The invitation was sent at their request. I obeyed the summons, and spent a couple of days with the condemned. But while I was there a telegram came from Washington giving them a reprieve. This relieved me from being present when they were hanged, one month afterward.

The winter that followed, I gave to the prisoners at Davenport. They had passed through the small-pox with considerable loss of life; and that winter only the ordinary cases of sickness and the ordinary number of deaths occurred. These were numerous enough. The confinement of nearly four years, and the uncertainty which had always rested upon them like a nightmare, had all along produced many cases of decline. And even when the time of their deliverance drew nigh, and hope should have made them buoyant, they were too much afraid to hope—the promise was too good to be believed.

Before their release, I was called home to attend, on the 21st of February, the marriage of Isabella and Mr. Williams, and to bid them God-speed on their long journey by sailing vessel to China.